Monasteries and the Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity: Cognition and Discipline 9781107184015 Hardback

Citation preview

MONASTERIES AND THE CARE OF SOULS I N L AT E A N T I Q U E C H R I S T I A N I T Y

In Monasteries and the Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity, Paul C. Dilley explores the personal practices and group rituals through which the thoughts of monastic disciples were monitored and trained to purify the mind and help them achieve salvation. Dilley draws widely on the interdisciplinary field of cognitive studies, especially anthropology, in his analysis of key monastic “cognitive disciplines”, such as meditation on scripture, the fear of God, and prayer. In addition, various rituals distinctive to communal monasticism, including entrance procedures, the commemoration of founders, and collective repentance, are given their first extended analysis. Participants engaged in “heart-work” on their thoughts and emotions, which were understood to reflect the community’s spiritual state. This book will be of interest to scholars of early Christianity and the ancient world more generally for its detailed description of communal monastic culture and its innovative methodology. Paul C. Dilley is Assistant Professor of Ancient Mediterranean Religions at the University of Iowa and has published widely on early Christianity in Late Antiquity, especially in Egypt and Syria. He is co-editor of the Dublin Kephalaia Codex and co-author of Mani at the Court of the Persian Kings (2014).

MONASTERIES AND THE C A R E O F S O U L S I N L AT E ANTIQUE CHRISTIANITY Cognition and Discipline

PAU L C .  D I L L E Y University of Iowa

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, NY 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia 4843/24, 2nd Floor, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, Delhi – 110002, India 79 Anson Road, #06-04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107184015 DOI: 10.1017/9781316875094 © Paul C. Dilley 2017 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2017 Printed in the United Kingdom by Clays, St Ives plc A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Dilley, Paul C., author. Title: Monasteries and the care of souls in late antique Christianity: cognition and discipline / Paul C. Dilley, University of Iowa. Description: New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017008236 | ISBN 9781107184015 (hardback) Subjects: LCSH: Monastic and religious life – History – Early church, ca. 30-600. Classification: LCC BX2465.D55 2017 | DDC 271.009/051–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017008236 ISBN 978-1-107-18401-5 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

MONASTERIES AND THE CARE OF SOULS I N L AT E A N T I Q U E C H R I S T I A N I T Y

In Monasteries and the Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity, Paul C. Dilley explores the personal practices and group rituals through which the thoughts of monastic disciples were monitored and trained to purify the mind and help them achieve salvation. Dilley draws widely on the interdisciplinary field of cognitive studies, especially anthropology, in his analysis of key monastic “cognitive disciplines”, such as meditation on scripture, the fear of God, and prayer. In addition, various rituals distinctive to communal monasticism, including entrance procedures, the commemoration of founders, and collective repentance, are given their first extended analysis. Participants engaged in “heart-work” on their thoughts and emotions, which were understood to reflect the community’s spiritual state. This book will be of interest to scholars of early Christianity and the ancient world more generally for its detailed description of communal monastic culture and its innovative methodology. Paul C. Dilley is Assistant Professor of Ancient Mediterranean Religions at the University of Iowa and has published widely on early Christianity in Late Antiquity, especially in Egypt and Syria. He is co-editor of the Dublin Kephalaia Codex and co-author of Mani at the Court of the Persian Kings (2014).

MONASTERIES AND THE C A R E O F S O U L S I N L AT E ANTIQUE CHRISTIANITY Cognition and Discipline

PAU L C .  D I L L E Y University of Iowa

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, NY 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia 4843/24, 2nd Floor, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, Delhi – 110002, India 79 Anson Road, #06-04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107184015 DOI: 10.1017/9781316875094 © Paul C. Dilley 2017 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2017 Printed in the United Kingdom by Clays, St Ives plc A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Dilley, Paul C., author. Title: Monasteries and the care of souls in late antique Christianity: cognition and discipline / Paul C. Dilley, University of Iowa. Description: New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017008236 | ISBN 9781107184015 (hardback) Subjects: LCSH: Monastic and religious life – History – Early church, ca. 30-600. Classification: LCC BX2465.D55 2017 | DDC 271.009/051–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017008236 ISBN 978-1-107-18401-5 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

To Roxanna, Sienna, and Sebastian, And In Memoriam Julie Anne Dilley (1948–2015)

Contents

Acknowledgments List of Abbreviations

page ix xi

Introduction Part I:

1

E valuati ng Postul a nts

21

1

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

39

2

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

67

Part II: 3

C o g ni ti ve Di sci pli nes

97

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape: Writing on the Heart

110

4

Learning the Fear of God

148

5

Prayer and Monastic Progress: From Demonic Temptation to Divine Revelation

186

Part III: 6 7

C ollecti ve Hea rt- Work

221

The Lives (and Minds) of Others: Hagiography, Cognition, and Commemoration

233

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness: Rituals of Collective Repentance

260

Conclusion

292

Bibliography Index Locorum Subject Index

299 329 341 vii

Acknowledgments

This book is the culmination of a decade of research conducted in multiple locations, including Connecticut, Germany, Egypt, France, Pennsylvania, and Iowa. It is based on my 2008 Yale dissertation, which has been significantly expanded and refocused over the years. During this time I was happily immersed in various humanities-based approaches to understanding cognition and culture, and realized their potential for understanding the early monastic care of souls; I also decided to restrict my studies to coenobitic communities, in which the sources provided the clearest evidence for the connection between cognition, community, and bodily practices. I am grateful for the support of many people who have helped me to bring this project to completion, offering feedback on the manuscript at multiple stages. First, my dissertation director, Bentley Layton, whose scholarly acumen and dedication has provided an invaluable example for my academic development, for providing encouragement throughout the long course of this book’s development; to Stephen Davis, who hosted me in Cairo during my first trip to Egypt in 2002, and has offered sage advice on this work and others throughout my graduate student career and beyond; to David Brakke, who offered crucial feedback on both the dissertation and the manuscript submitted to CUP for review. Tanya Luhrmann has been an inspiring conversation partner on theory of mind and other aspects of research in cognitive anthropology; she graciously read the book manuscript and offered valuable feedback in key points of methodology. Other colleagues have generously read selections from the manuscript at various stages and offered helpful advice:  Harold Attridge, Elizabeth Bolman, Sebastian Brock, Catherine Chin, Malcolm Choat, Ann Hanson, Mariachiara Giorda, Becky Krawiec, Dale Martin, Ellen Muehlberger, and Brent Nongbri. Any remaining shortcomings in this book are of course my own. I have enjoyed significant financial support from various funding agencies for work on this book:  the Jacob K.  Javits Fellowship in the ix

x

Acknowledgments

Humanities; the American Research Center in Egypt and the National Endowment for the Humanities, which made possible onsite study of relevant Coptic monasteries; the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation, for a renewal of my German Chancellor fellowship during the summer of 2006, through the generous hospitality of my host at the Westfälische-Wilhelms Universität, Münster, Professor Dr.  Stephen Emmel; and the Woodrow Wilson Foundation, for a Charlotte Newcombe Dissertation Fellowship. I have also benefited from the mentoring and sage advice of colleagues in Religious Studies and Classics at my own institutions: at Penn State, Anne Rose, Gonzalo Rubio, and the late Paul Harvey; at the University of Iowa, Diana Cates, John Finamore, Craig Gibson, Robert Ketterer, Linda Maxson, Raymond Mentzer, Kristy Nabhan-Warren, and Ahmed Souaiaia. A University of Iowa Old Gold Fellowship provided funding for a summer of research and writing. I have also benefited from the work of two RAs: Joshua Langseth, for assistance in checking the footnotes; and Peter Miller, who helped to format the manuscript according to the guidelines of Cambridge University Press. I would like to thank Michael Sharp and his colleagues at CUP for their sound advice, skill, and professionalism at every stage. I thank my parents, Julie and Gerald, for encouraging my academic pursuits from a young age, happily taking me to the Metropolitan and the Natural History Museums as my interests shifted between and across the humanities and sciences. I thank my brother Jason for his empathy and always-inspiring conversations. I thank my wife Roxanna Curto for sharing with me in love and intellectual curiosity, from our time as graduate students at Yale to our work on the University of Iowa. Along the way, she has read several drafts of this book and provided vital feedback and suggestions from the perspective of a humanities scholar in another discipline. During the course of writing this book, we have experienced the joy of welcoming two amazing children into the world and beginning our journey together. This book is dedicated to Roxanna, Sienna, and Sebastian, and to the memory of my mother Julie, who died before any of us were ready to say goodbye.

Abbreviations

Unless otherwise specified, abbreviations of authors and titles follow Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon, and Blaise, Dictionnaire latin-français des auteurs chrétiens. CCSL CSEL CSCO C. Th. Ep. Am. HL HM Hors., Instr. Hors., Test. LR Paralip. Pach., Instr. P, PInst, PIud, PLeg PG PL PO RB

Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina, (Turnhout, 1953–) Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum, (Vienna, 1866–) Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, (Louvain, 1903–) Codex Theodosianus Epistula Ammonis, ed. J. Goehring Palladius, Historia Lausica, ed. D.C. Butler Historia Monachorum, ed. A.-J. Festugière Horsiesius, Instructions, ed. L-Th. Lefort Horsiesius, Testament, ed. D.A. Boon Longer Responses=Regulae Fusius Tractatae, PG 31:890–1052 Paralipomena from the Life of Pachomius, ed. F. Halkin Pachomius, Instructions, ed. L-Th. Lefort Pachomius, Praecepta, Praecepta et Instituta, Praecepta atque Iudicia, Praecepta ac Leges, ed. D.A. Boon, L-Th. Lefort Patrologia cursus completus:  Series graeca, ed. J.-P. Migne (Paris, 1857–1886) Patrologia cursus completus:  Series latina, ed. J.-P. Migne (Paris, 1844–1864) Patrologia Orientalis (Paris, 1907–) Regula Benedicti, ed. A. de Vogüé xi

xii RBas RM SC SR Theo., Instr. V. Pach. Ar. V. Pach. SBo V. Pach. S1, S2, etc. V. Pach. G1 V. Pach. G2, G3, etc.

Abbreviations Basili Regula, ed. K. Zelzer Regula Magistri, ed. A. de Vogüé Sources chrétiennes (Paris, 1943–) Shorter Responses= Regulae Breviter Tractatae, PG 31:1079–1309. Theodore, Instructions, ed. L-Th. Lefort Arabic Life of Pachomius, ed. É. Amélineau 1889 Great Coptic Life of Pachomius, ed. L-Th. Lefort Sahidic Lives of Pachomius, ed. L-Th. Lefort First Greek Life of Pachomius, ed. F. Halkin Greek Lives of Pachomius, ed. F. Halkin

Introduction

In Sheneset, a small village in Upper Egypt near the desert, the young Pachomius, formerly a soldier in the Roman army, set out to overcome human sinfulness. He was particularly concerned with evil thoughts, which he came to identify as both the reason for and consequence of Adam and Eve’s disobedience. Pachomius gradually built a large federation of monasteries, the Koinonia, gaining fame for his guidance of disciples, including scriptural instruction. In one catechesis, he offers a striking reformulation of God’s warning not to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge: thus, “you will perish” (Gen. 2:17) is interpreted as “you will sin against me, and evil and wicked thoughts will multiply for you.”1 When Adam and Eve neglected God’s command, “their eyes were opened in evil, through disobedience, and thus he cast into their heart many evil passions.”2 In another instruction, Pachomius similarly claims that God created Adam “upright,” but “through his own will he turned to evil thoughts, and he angered the God who created him.”3 While Adam’s disobedience had severe consequences for human nature, and especially human cognition, Pachomius found cause for hope in biblical salvation history. In what is probably an address to monastic catechumens of a pagan background, like himself, he explains:  “Since the beginning of the world, after the transgression of Adam, humans have erred, not desiring the law of the conscience, nor recognizing God, maker of all, through the wondrous, fearful, many-faceted creation.”4 As a result, humans make Gods for themselves, fulfilling Satan’s promise in Paradise, 1

2

3 4

V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99–100: 323). Unless otherwise stated, all translations of Greek, Latin, Coptic and Syriac are my own, and the footnote refers to the original text. V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99–100: 325). Pachomius explains that God did not want Adam to know good and evil because “it is a burden for him, because he is a fleshly person, and whenever he considers evil he will be moved by it.” V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 142). Paralip. 37 (Halkin: 161).

1

2

Introduction

“you will be like gods” (Gen. 3:5). Pachomius continues with an exposition of godlessness through the time of Noah, when God, recognizing humans’ free will, demonstrated his mercy through the law of Moses, which offered guidance in many areas of life, “including how to think and how to speak.”5 He describes the Israelites wandering in the wilderness as a proto-monastery, with God “nourishing them, free from care, with bread from heaven.”6 As a monastic founder, Pachomius sought to provide the same kinds of care he understood the Israelites to have received.7 By the time of his death around 345 CE, he had established a confederation of nine affiliated monasteries, the Koinonia. He endowed these monasteries with an institutional structure based on an evolving set of written regulations. Monks were expected to work on behalf of the community, in return for which Pachomius provided them with basic material support, including food, clothing, and burial. He also claimed the right to assign them labor, to regulate their daily schedule, to enforce discipline when necessary, and even to question and advise them on their thoughts and emotions. The biographical tradition offers a clear and succinct account of Pachomius’s two-fold care for his disciples: “After so many monasteries came under his administration and oversight, Father [Pachomius] took care (epimeleian) of them in a double sense: he provided their bodily needs for them, and offered reform and progress for souls.”8 Pachomius thus provided both material support and care for the soul. A negative articulation of this double responsibility is found in the Testament of his later successor Horsiesius, who issues a warning to monastic leaders: “Do not refresh them with respect to bodily things and neglect to provide them with spiritual food. Or conversely, do not teach them spiritual things and afflict them with respect to bodily things, that is, food and clothing.”9 Shenoute likewise describes “people who care for them [monastics] in every thing, whether in scriptural teaching or in food and clothing, and also in their illness and all the things through which caregivers serve them.”10 The same 5 6 7

8 9

10

Paralip. 38 (Halkin: 162). Paralip. 38 (Halkin: 162). Described as the “care of the siblings” (fratrum cura) in Test. 10 (Boon: 114). There are similar injunctions to “take care (rowsh) of the siblings’ souls” in the Greek (V. Pach. G1 28) and Coptic (V. Pach. SBo 26) Lives. Similarly, Basil of Caesarea speaks of the “care of the siblings” (LR 45, PG 31: 1032C). V. Pach. G4 49 (Halkin: 450); cf. V. Pach. G4 33 (Halkin: 432). Hors., Test. 7 (Boon:  112); cf. Hors., Instr. 5.  The Coptic biographical tradition includes similar juxtapositions (e.g. V. Pach. SBo 51, 52). Layton 2002, 32, with notes. His successor Besa more closely recalls the basic dichotomy of Horsiesius: “Take care (2nd person pl.) of their souls according to God and do not allow them to lack what they need for our way of life” (Besa, Frag. 27, CSCO 157: 87).

Introduction

3

complementary responsibilities are recognized outside the Egyptian tradition: for example, Basil associates the responsibility of providing for “bodily need” (sōmatikēn chreian) with “the care of souls” (epimeleian psychōn).11 This dual provision of care positioned the monastery as a surrogate family, in which basic needs, including emotional support, were met by significant others.12 Yet disciples were not born into this monastic family: they were first subjected to various entrance procedures, including property renunciation, and had to practice obedience and follow community rules, under threat of expulsion. Pachomius’s social experiment thus also recalls the pervasive structure of Late Antique patronage: a reciprocal exchange that is both enduring and asymmetrical, in which each party must fulfill certain expectations.13 Basil uses the traditional language of patronage in his description of the monastic superior’s responsibility for the “care and direction of the many” (epimeleian kai prostasian tōn pleiōnōn).14 The disciples, in turn, were required to accept their living arrangements and job assignments, as well as to participate actively in the care of souls, for example by revealing and disciplining their thoughts. The care of souls in cenobitic monasticism was an elaborate process of instruction, discipline, and ritual with the goal of salvation, which placed leaders and disciples in a reciprocal relationship of obligations. I do not directly address the material aspects of patronage, which would require a separate study of monastic economics; but material effects indirectly affected the care of souls in various ways. With respect to power relations, many disciples were rendered completely dependent on the monastery through the renunciation of property; they were unlikely to leave, even when faced with harsh discipline, if they had few options for self-support outside the monastery. More generally, division of labor through a complex institutional structure provided time and resources for key activities in the care of souls, such as literary instruction, scriptural discussion, and communal prayer. The earliest account of Pachomian monasticism by an outside observer, the Lausiac History, marvels at the complexity of its institutional structure. Its author Palladius describes various aspects of daily life, such as eating, sleeping, and praying; as well as the monastery’s organizational structure, 11 12

13 14

Basil, LR 33 (PG 31: 997). For the monastery as a surrogate family, see Krawiec 2002, 144–159, noting the provision of food, clothing, and emotional support; see further Crislip 2005a, 39–67, with a focus on health care. For care of the elderly and permanently disabled, see Layton 2014, 55. Following the generalized definition of patronage in Saller 1982, 1. Basil, SR 235 (PG 31: 1240); the same two terms are also combined in V. Pach. G4 (Halkin: 455).

4

Introduction

including the house system and dress.15 Unlike other sections of this work, which praise the impressive renunciations, miracles, and teaching of individual ascetics, Palladius locates the virtue of communal monasticism in the organized pursuit of salvation by anonymous disciples. Although the Pachomian Rules have long been cited as a key early witness for cenobitic institutions, the best-documented example is the monastery of Shenoute, a large community in middle Egypt across the Nile from Panopolis, from which over several thousand rules have survived. Drawing on this extensive source material, Bentley Layton has described the “totalising new world” encountered by new monks, in which “each thing that the monastery provided came with its own, new set of fixed patterns (of roles, attitudes, bodily performances, terminology, etc.). The substitution of these new patterns in place of the ones belonging to the old civilian life is the essence of monastic resocialization or world replacement.”16 The process of joining a monastic community thus involved learning the daily routine, new roles, and activities; that is, the internalization of cognitive schemas directed toward the goal of salvation. Indeed, Layton notes the extensive mental training enmeshed in the institutional structure: “the totalising character of the system even extends into the mind and voice of the monk when he is alone in his cell, for in this situation he is commanded to continue doing simple handiwork with his hands while he meditates [Greek meletan is the verb] with his brain and his vocal cords.”17 This intense cognitive activity distinguished monasticism from other ancient “total institutions,” such as the army: while becoming a soldier certainly involved learning a new ideology, there were no institutional settings and roles in the Roman army which required a similar exercise of the mind.18 Within monastic communities, by contrast, illiterate monks were taught to read, while all disciples memorized Scripture and were encouraged to insert various biblical passages into their own stream of cognition. Despite the size and imposing structure of cenobitic institutions, the care of souls involved substantial individual counseling between superiors and their disciples, as is particularly evident in Pachomian sources. Yet 15 16 17

18

Pall., HL 32. Layton 2007, 59. Layton 2007, 71. Elsewhere in the same essay he refers to “institutional order, an inevitable reality that almost totally filled the mental and social space inside the walls of the monastery” (Layton 2007, 73). On Roman army discipline and its ideology, see Phang 2008. Conversely, the organization and material care found in monasticism was absent from the informal circles of Graeco-Roman philosophy.

Introduction

5

studies on spiritual direction have largely focused on the semi-eremitic system, especially as found in the Apophthegmata Patrum, going so far as to claim that the cenobium precluded detailed attention to individual disciples, and did not include confessions.19 The earliest sources for cenobitic monasticism also emphasize the efforts of the community’s director to offer counseling to every individual in the community. Thus, Pachomius is said to have toured the cells of individual monks, “examining the brothers, and correcting the thoughts of each one.”20 Pachomius’ efforts to provide material and psychological care for his disciples are likened to a “shepherd truly taking care of his flock: the weak he nourished in the pastures of righteousness, and the vicious he bound with the cords of the Gospel.”21 This strategy of pastoral care recalls classical psychagogy’s “mixed method” of praise and rebuke according to individual character, except for its emphasis on Scripture. Despite the large community, his personal concern for each “sheep” is again emphasized: “And he would fashion the souls of each of them according to their measure, being very zealous that, if someone turned away from him, no one else would be able to return him to the work of God thereafter.”22 Pachomius’s responsibility for his disciples is here formulated negatively: disciples who leave, or are expelled from the monastery, are condemned, because no one else is able to care for their souls more effectively. Horsiesius offers a lengthier statement of monastic pastoral authority in his Testament: Chapters 7–18, and 39–40, form an “Obernspiegel,” or “mirror for superiors.”23 He urges those in authority to “take care of the flock committed to him with all caution and solicitude.”24 Appealing to both Luke 2 and John 10:11–13, at multiple points he demands that monastic leaders “keep watch” over their sheep through nightly vigils, guarding them against attacks from the “wolves,” namely temptations. Horsiesius reminds them how Pachomius constantly emphasized the stakes of otherworldly reward and punishment, for both master and disciple: “Let us not despise any soul, lest someone perish on account of our hardness [of heart]. For, if 19

20

21

22 23

24

E.g. Dörries 1962, 297, who further contrasts the use of punishment by Pachomius and Basil with the semi-eremitic ethic, which allowed disciples to make mistakes and learn from experience. Paralip. 27 (Halkin: 15). Similar claims are made of his successor Theodore; see the Introduction to Part Two for more details. V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99/100: 118). On Pachomian spiritual direction, see Ruppert 1971, Rousseau 1985, Brakke 2006, 78–96, Giorda 2009. V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99/100: 119). I borrow the term from the discussion of the relevant passages, namely Precepts and Institutes 18, and Testament 7–18, 39–40, in Ruppert 1971, 328–337. Hors., Test. 17 (Boon: 119).

6

Introduction

someone has died because of us, our soul will be held accountable, in place of that one’s. . .”25 In particular, leaders must not favor some and neglect others, because this jeopardizes their care for both the favored and the despised.26 In his Tanner Lectures on Human Values, delivered at Stanford in October 1979, Michel Foucault outlined a provocative yet understudied analysis of the pastor as a figure of authority in early Christian spiritual direction.27 While acknowledging occasional descriptions in classical literature of rulers as shepherds – an image frequently ascribed to God in the Hebrew Bible – he argued that the ideal of pastoral authority took on new configurations related to the exercise of power in early Christianity. Foucault specified four interrelated developments, contrasting them with earlier Graeco-Roman notions of governance. First, authority is directed over a group, a “flock,” rather than a specific territory. Second, power is not exerted in defense of a territory, nor to attain victory over another group, but through the constitution and maintenance of the flock. Third, it is based on knowledge of the flock’s individual members, who practice obedience, especially through the practices of selfexamination and confession. Fourth, and finally, the goal of pastoral authority is the otherworldly salvation of the flock, in return for their renunciation of the world. Foucault’s analysis is helpful in its emphasis on the novelty of pastoral authority, and largely reflects early monastic sources, even if it overlooks the importance of material provisions.28 There is no question that Christian psychagogy was distinguished from its predecessors by the goal of salvation, as achieved through the general practice of obedience, and individual counseling sessions (“confession”) in particular.29 References to 25

26

27

28

29

Hors., Test. 13 (Boon: 117). Cf. Hors., Test. 15, in which the housemasters are held responsible for any offences committed in their house because of their negligence. Hors., Test. 15–16. A similar vision of pastoral authority is found in the Rule of the Master; see the discussion of the later influence of Horsiesius’s Testament in de Vogüé 1961, 100–113. According to Foucault, the monastic notion of pastoral authority and the classical notion of citizenship are the two major antecedents of the modern Western state: Foucault 1999a. Pastoral authority was further analyzed in the fourth volume in the History of Sexuality series, “Confessions of the Flesh,” which was incomplete at the time of his death and remains unpublished; however, the main outlines can be discerned in several articles and lectures, to which I occasionally refer in the course of this study. For a recent historical treatment of ancient Christian pastoral care, especially as practiced by bishops, see Allen and Mayer 2000. They emphasize patronage networks related to justice, charity, and social welfare, while identifying monastic pastoral care as the “spiritual guidance” of individuals. Demacopoulos 2006 explores how ascetic practices were adapted to the responsibilities of the episcopal office. Foucault elsewhere emphasizes the importance of obedience for the monastic care of the self (Foucault 1999b, 174–175).

Introduction

7

obedience as a practice of ethical cultivation are indeed largely absent from Graeco-Roman philosophy. More recently, Giorgio Agamben has suggested that the absoluteness of monastic obedience is at the root of totalitarianism.30 By contrast, Louis Dumont has argued that monasticism gave rise to modern Western individualism.31 This latter view is consistent with the emerging consensus among specialists of Late Antiquity that significant new conceptions of individuality, associated with Christianity, were emerging in the late Roman period.32 So what to make of these dueling assertions of monasticism’s place in cultural history? The earliest monastic sources on obedience suggest a complex answer. In the Pachomian tradition, as well as Shenoute’s writings, obedience was due both to the rules and to the leader who transmitted and enforced them.33 A  number of Latin monastic authors suggest that cenobites are distinguished from anchorites by this requirement of obedience towards a superior.34 In one sense, this is a consequence of the superior’s patronage of individual disciples, who, in exchange for basic material support, had to accept all work assignments, living arrangements, scheduling, and discipline, including corporal punishment. But unlike conventional patronage, obedience was not simply about behaving as expected: “Even if the disciple fulfills what has been ordered, nevertheless God will not accept it, because he sees his complaining heart. . .”35 Thus, the disciple’s obedience to orders and rules had to be matched with the correct internal disposition, and this was a matter of personal agency: monks were encouraged to imagine that they had the freedom and responsibility for sculpting their own cognitive life. The most important practice of the Pachomian care of souls was its novel focus on the training of thoughts, including the reformation of

30

31 32

33

34

35

Agamben, in his discussion of the Rule of the Master, suggests that “the whole life of the monk has been transformed into an Office and the very harshness of the prescriptions concerning prayer and reading articulate just as meticulously every other aspect of life in cenoby” (Agamben 2013, 82–83). Dumont 1992. For example, Stroumsa describes “the new sensitivity to the individual that appears in Late Antiquity” (Stroumsa 1990, 26, with bibliography); cf. Zachhuber and Torrance 2014. For an analysis of changing conceptions of the self in Origen, Plotinus, and Proclus, see Cox Miller 2009, 18–41. For the history of the distinction between “abbot” and “rule” in the Western coenobitic tradition, see de Vogüé 1971. Cass., Conf. 18:4. Cf. Hier., Ep. 22:34. Sulpicius wrote that, for the many disciples in the monasteries near the Egyptian desert, “the highest law is to live according to the command (imperio) of the abbot” (Dial. 1:10, Halm: 161–162). Basil, for his part, writes that monks have “delegated to another to direct their activity” (LR 41, PG 31: 1024). RM 7 (SC 105: 396). Cf. Theo., Instr. 3:13; Besa, Frag. 1 (quoting Shenoute, Frag. 16, cf. Emmel 2004a, 90); and Faustus, Hom. Ad Monachos 3:5 (CCL 101A: 443–444).

8

Introduction

“complaining hearts.” This training was not limited to professing the correct theological doctrine, but was focused on the regulation of the disciples’ cognitive stream. It is an important component of a rising interest in the individual during Late Antiquity, which was at the same time cultivated in a strictly hierarchical community, under the supervision of monastic leaders. Thus, the revelation of thoughts was an act of obedience to the superiors, as was following their advice and accepting discipline. Yet this process also involved the monk’s willing and active participation in cognitive discipline. According to Pachomius, everyone was born with free will, and had the obligation to exercise it in the struggle against temptation:36 Every person whom God has created, from Adam on, has the power to choose for themselves between good and evil; and even if someone’s nature is evil from childhood, he has surely received it from his parents’ evil nature. But the Lord is not to blame for this, because such a person has the freedom to gain control over the passion by fighting against it.

This emphasis on universal free will suggests a radical individualism, based on responsibility for regulating one’s own thoughts, which must be carried out under the care of the spiritual director. The training of thoughts distinguished monastic paideia from traditional rhetorical and philosophical instruction. Thus, the ancient rhetorical trope that moral speech must be reflected in moral action was expanded by the Egyptian ascetic Paphnutius: “For the faithful and good man must think the thoughts sent by God; he must say what he thinks and act according to what he says. For if the way a person lives is not in accord with the truth of his words, then such a person is like bread without salt.”37 Here proper speech and action is grounded in divinely sent thoughts. A story from the Syriac version of the Apophthegmata Patrum explicitly asserts that attention to thoughts renders monastic paideia superior to its classical counterparts. When some philosophers visit a group of desert fathers, asserting that they too fasted and lived in continence, a monk declares, “We keep watch over our minds,” to which the philosopher responds: “We are unable to keep watch over our minds.”38 The importance of thoughts for ethical practice is succinctly captured in 36

37 38

V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 142). Similarly, Pachomius claimed that God offered the law of Moses as an aid to “free-willed humans, free-willed not only for evil, but also for good” (Paralip. 38, Halkin: 161). For a similar understanding of the consequences of Adam and Eve’s transgression in On the Origin of the World (NHC II, 5), see Painchaud and Wees 2002. Pall., HL 47. Budge 1934, 53.

Introduction

9

Basil’s monastic rule, which distinguishes between sins “in thought, word, and deed.”39 In short, the monastic care of souls was founded especially on metacognition, that is, “one’s knowledge concerning one’s own cognitive processes and outcomes and anything related to them.”40 This concept is frequently used in developmental psychology to describe the various learning strategies of students, but it is equally apt for the constant evaluation of mental processes required of monastic disciples and their directors. A story about the young Pachomius’s vigilant attention to his own mental life offers an authoritative example of such metacognition:41 As an anchorite, before the establishment of the Koinonia, he attended to the other Beatitudes very much, in order to be found pure in heart. And while struggling he did not allow a foul thought into his heart to dwell in it. He was always meditating on the fear of God, the remembrance of the judgements, and the torments of the eternal flame. His heart was as vigilant as a bronze door, secure against robbers.

Thus, Pachomius was at once a shepherd of disciples and of thoughts – his own and others’.42 The institutions he would develop within the Koinonia provided support for this pastoral guidance of the mind:  new forms of discipline to regulate cognition. Such vigilance was necessary because of the constant parade of thoughts faced by monks, a dangerous and disorderly cognitive stream that had to be evaluated and controlled. There is certainly some overlap with the Stoic idea of propatheia, psychological movements which can be rejected, but not prevented. But in Christianity, many of these thoughts have become malevolent: persistent demons whose goal is to make monks consent to sin.43 The disciple faced an ongoing struggle against temptation and selfwill, drawing on the direction and support of a counselor, as well as institutional training in Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer. In the midst of the imposing structure of the early Christian monastery, freed from the concern of providing one’s physical needs, the internal world of the mind became a primary site of discipline. 39

40 41 42

43

Basil SR 75, RBas. 195, trans. Silvas 2005, 314. He is probably drawing on Origen, who argued that “words, deeds, and thoughts” must be kept free from sin to obtain purity of heart (Or., Hom. in Gen. 3:7, PG 12: 185C); for additional passages, see Tavares-Bettencourt 1945, 76. Flavell 1976, 232. V. Pach. G1 18 (Halkin: 11). Cf. the presentation of the anchorites as shepherds of their own cognitive representations in Evagr. Pont., Thoughts 17. The substitution of evil thoughts for propatheia is traced back to Origen in Sorabji 2000, 343–356.

10

Introduction

Towards a Cognitive Historicism Given the emphasis on evaluating and reforming thoughts in the monastic care of souls, I  will draw upon the insights of cognitive science, the interdisciplinary study of the human mind and its processes, including perception, attention, memory, emotion, imagination, consciousness, and reason.44 Within the humanities, scholars of literature were among the first pioneers in adapting insights from this new field, and “cognitive cultural studies” continues to gain momentum.45 Many of the early studies draw on cognitive linguistics, and in particular Lakoff and Johnson’s conceptual metaphor theory, which explores how basic metaphors shape human thought, while recent work has turned especially to Fauconnier’s conceptual blending theory, which accounts for how new concepts are formed from old ones.46 In the academic discipline of Religious Studies, a vibrant field of research known as the Cognitive Science of Religion (CSR) has developed. The cognitive science of religion draws heavily on evolutionary psychology to argue that “religion” develops from certain discrete areas (“modules”) of adapted human cognition.47 For example, Pascal Boyer explains belief in “supernatural agents” as an offshoot of the evolved tendency for “agent detection,” that is, the attribution of human agency to a wide variety of events, including natural phenomena, even if there is no evidence for it.48 In the area of ritual, McCauley and Lawson have proposed an influential typology based on presumed innate mental capacities for generative “ritual grammar.”49 Several recent studies apply CSR to Late Antique religions, including early Christianity.50 Unlike most work in CSR, I  do not seek to explain religious beliefs and practices by assuming and appealing to various evolutionarily adapted 44

45 46

47

48 49 50

For a recent introductory overview of cognitive science, see Frankish 2012. Hogan 2003 remains an effective introduction to cognitive science as it relates to the humanities. For some representative studies in this area, see the contributions in Zunshine 2010. Conceptual metaphor theory is introduced in Lakoff and Johnson 1980, conceptual blending theory is laid out in detail in Fauconnier and Turner 2002. For the applicability of the latter to the study of late antique religion, see Lundhaug 2010, who offers cognitive readings of two Nag Hammadi texts, Exegesis on the Soul and the Gospel of Philip. For recent overviews of the Cognitive Science of Religion, see Pyysiäinen 2012 and Geertz 2010. For its connections to “classical” theories of religion, see Xygalatas and McCorckle 2014. Boyer 2001. McCauley and Lawson 2002. E.g., the collection of essays in Luomanen, Pyysiäinen, and Ustro 2007, and the work of István Czachesz, e.g. Czachesz 2012, discussed in Chapter 4. For an extensive, if provisional, application of CSR to an ancient religion, see Beck 2006, a study of Mithraism.

Introduction

11

mental capacities; nor do I draw upon the controversial “just-so” stories of evolutionary psychology, which appeal to diachronic and reductionist explanations.51 Anthropologist Tanya Luhrmann notes the failure of this approach to take into account cultural complexity: “Evolutionary psychology does not explain how God remains real for modern doubters. This takes faith, which is often the outcome of great intellectual struggle.”52 Similarly, Vlaud Naumescu, in his ethnology of contemporary Ukrainian monasticism, urges scholars to begin “reconsidering the relationship between cognition and culture beyond the strictly evolutionist approach of the cognitive science of religion,” while taking into account “historicity, emotionality, and materiality.”53 Finally, research in CSR often includes a reductive cross-cultural definition of religion, for example as belief in and transmission of “minimally counterintuitive concepts.”54 This approach has been critiqued by cognitive anthropologist Maurice Bloch, who refuses to define religion, instead arguing that it is a varied outgrowth of specifically human imaginative capacities.55 While there are multiple approaches to cognitive anthropology, a useful synopsis is provided by one of its first practitioners, Roy D’Andrade, who states that it “investigates cultural knowledge, knowledge which is embedded in words, stories, and in artifacts, and which is learned from and shared with other humans.”56 This insight is in conflict with Clifford Geertz, who condemned early cognitive psychologists (as well as their behaviorist predecessors) as reductionist; for him, culture is public, and thus not subject to individual thoughts and emotions, which are hidden from others. While Geertz’s insistence on the importance of symbols is a fundamental insight, cultural symbols are not just external. They also form mental schemas which have motivational force: “Cultural models are presupposed, taken-for-granted models of the world that are widely shared (although not necessarily to the exclusion of other models) by the members of a society and that play an enormous role in their understanding of that world and their behavior in it.”57 Monastic discipline certainly 51

52 53

54 55

56 57

The term was first used in Gould and Lewontin’s critique of adaptationism (1979), and applied to evolutionary psychology in Gould 1997. Luhrmann 2012a, xii. For a similar critique of CSR, see Laidlaw 2007. Naumescu 2012, 227. Whitehouse 2007 proposes combining the “cognitivist” and “interpretive” approaches to anthropology, while maintaining the evolutionist assumptions of CSR. Boyer 1994. Bloch 2008, a position of significant overlap with recent critical genealogies of religion (e.g. Nongbri 2013). D’Andrade 1995, xiv. Holland and Quinn 1987.

12

Introduction

involved “public” acts, such as bodily asceticism, biblical recitation, or corporal punishment in front of the congregation; at the same time, these practices were intimately connected to the deliberate cultivation of specific cognitive, affective, and imaginative capacities. My engagement with cognitive theory, and especially cognitive anthropology, necessitates comparative research that draws connections between ancient monasticism and groups that are far removed chronologically and geographically.58 Such an approach strives for a delicate balance of crosscultural similarities and local specificity: as Tanya Luhrmann notes in her study of theory of mind, “There is no doubt that humans in all known cultures learn to infer intention and knowledge from the behavior of other humans; yet at the same time, ethnographers observe that the inferences they draw are probably shaped not only by developmental capacity but by cultural specificity.”59 I thus reject the strict universalism of Luther Martin’s proposal for a “cognitive historiography” dedicated to discovering universal historical “rules” based on evolutionary trends.60 By contrast, this book pursues a “cognitive historicism,” on the model of New Historicism, with its emphasis on understanding texts in their historical and ideological context, as well as uncovering the mechanisms of power in cultural representations.61 Similar approaches are found in the recent historiography of emotions. For example, Barbara Rosenwein’s concept of “Emotional Communities” has particular resonance for this study: “Groups in which people adhere to the same norms of emotional expression and value – or devalue – the same or related emotions.”62 As highly structured environments, cenobitic monasteries were also “Cognitive Communities,” in which disciples were taught how to monitor, evaluate and regulate their thoughts and emotions, guided by the advice, support, and discipline of their superiors. In fact, emotions are closely tied to cognitive activity. As Robert Kaster notes in his study of emotions in Latin literature, “any emotion term is just the lexicalized residue of what happens when the data of life are processed in a particular way  – through a sequence of perception (sensing,

58

59 60 61 62

For the necessity of comparison in the study of Late Antique religions, see Frankfurter 2012, with an elegant argument in favor of using ethnographic comparanda and anthropological models. Luhrmann 2011, 6. Martin 2011. The term has already been used in cognitive literary studies: see Spolsky 2003. Rosenwein 2006, 2. On Shenoute’s White Monastery federation as an emotional community, see now Crislip 2017.

Introduction

13

imagining), evaluation (believing, judging, desiring) and response (bodily, affective, pragmatic, expressive)  – to produce a particular kind of emotionalized consciousness, a particular set of thoughts and feelings.”63 When reconstructing ancient emotions, Kaster recommends attending to this whole sequence of events, called a “script,” which offers a much richer picture than a reduction of emotions to simple, “hard-wired” biological events.64 While ancient sources do not provide access to the unmediated experience of emotions, they offer insight into “the structures of thought that shape emotional scripts. . . .”65 This is particularly evident in monastic instruction in the fear of God and various related types of prayer, which describe how to evaluate new thoughts, the proper mental response to them, and the resulting emotions. The most important concept from the cognitive sciences for the training of thoughts in ancient monasticism is the “theory of mind,” namely “the cognitive capacity to attribute mental states to self and others,” in which “mental states” include “perceptions, bodily feelings, emotional states, and propositional attitudes (beliefs, desires, hopes, and intentions).”66 Theory of mind has been famously explored by developmental psychologists through the “false belief ” test, in which children are interviewed to determine whether they understand that other people can possess inaccurate knowledge about, for instance, the location of chocolate which has been moved.67 These experiments concluded that, around the age of four, children begin to recognize that others have particular mental states of which they and others are unaware, but which can be inferred. While theory of mind as elaborated by cognitive psychologists is based on the idea that humans have the capacity to infer mental states, cognitive anthropologists have observed that these mental states are imagined

63 64

65 66 67

Kaster 2005, 8. For Kaster, attending to the role of cognition in emotion allows for a deeper consideration of cultural specificity: “Returning the spotlight to cognition means that culture too – with its role in shaping judgements or beliefs and in giving us the emotion-talk by which we make our experiences intelligible – has gained a central place in the little drama that must be grasped as a whole” (Kaster 2005, 9). See also the observation that “Unlike the neo-Darwinian view, the cognitivist model is hospitable to the idea that the nature of the emotions is strongly conditioned by the social environment” (Konstan 2006, 22). Kaster 2005, 10. Goodman 2012, 402. In the classic test (Wimmer and Perner 1983), children observe a puppet show in which one of the characters, “Maxi,” is outside playing while someone moves a piece of chocolate; when “Maxi” returns, the children are asked where Maxi will look for the chocolate. While three to four-year-olds point to its actual location, four to five-year-olds point to its former location, because they infer that Maxi will assume, incorrectly, that it is still there.

14

Introduction

in culturally varied ways. Building on a variety of ethnographic evidence assembled for an international conference devoted to this subject, Luhrmann proposes six different theories of mind which can be identified across cultures: the Euro-American secular theory of mind; the EuroAmerican modern supernaturalist theory of mind; the opacity theory of mind; the transparency of language theory; the mind-control theory; and perspectivism.68 According to the Euro-American secular view, “Entities in the world, supernatural or otherwise, do not enter the mind, and thoughts do not leave the mind to act upon the world. . .At the same time, what is held in the interior of the mind is causally important. Intentions and emotions are powerful and can even make someone ill.” This strongly bounded view of the mind is modified in the Euro-American supernaturalist theory as follows:  “The mind-world boundary becomes permeable for God, or for the dead person, or for specific ‘energies’ that are treated as having causal power and, usually, their own energy. The individual learns to identify these supernatural presences, often through implicit or even explicit training.”69 Luhrmann’s distinction between the “secular” and “supernaturalist” types in the modern West implies that various theories of mind can co-exist within a single culture, and that a developmentally acquired theory of mind can be modified through training, as in the case of early Christian monasticism. The six models in Luhrmann’s proposed typology are distinguished by their differences with respect to various “dimensions of mind:” whether the mind is perceived as “bounded” or “porous;” the significance attached to “interiority,” that is, “are emotions and thoughts understood to be causally powerful and significant?;” the “epistemic stance,” namely, the status of imagination as a privileged path to reality or simply a transient figment; the “sensorial weighting,” for instance, the particular emphasis given to sight (at the expense of smell) in the modern West; and “relational access” to the thoughts of others, including “relational responsibility” to act upon this knowledge.70 These dimensions make it possible to apply the anthropological theory of mind to ancient monasticism, which has strongly marked positions within them. In this study, I argue that the training of thoughts practiced by early Christian monks led to the gradual acquisition of a new and particularly 68 69 70

Luhrmann 2011, 7. Luhrmann 2011, 6–7. Luhrmann 2011, 7–8.

Introduction

15

monastic theory of mind. Through instruction and discipline, monks learned the various “dimensions” of the monastic theory of mind. First, that the mind is permeable: thoughts arise not only from the interior self, but also through divine guidance or demonic temptation. Second, whatever the origin of these thoughts, they were of fundamental moral significance, even if they did not directly lead to action, and disciples were responsible for managing them with the help of a more experienced counselor. Third, learning how to cope with bad thoughts required training one’s imaginative capacities, for example through meditating upon emotionally charged visualizations of heaven and hell. Fourth, in addition to such visionary practices, audition was a key aspect of the monastic sensorium, as monks trained their ear to internalize the biblical proclamations of monastic rhetoric, while ignoring demonic “whispers.” Finally, the monastic theory of mind had a very particular view of “relational access:” disciples learned that God was aware of their private thoughts, which were also known to certain inspired saints. The monastic theory of mind was acquired by what I call “cognitive disciplines,” a group of related practices intended to develop the mental, emotional, and imaginative capacities of disciples. The three primary cognitive disciplines are the study, meditation, and recitation of Scripture, which disciples learned to incorporate into their speech and thought stream; the “fear of God,” which was based on the emotionally charged imagination of sinners’ shame and guilt at the divine judgement; and prayer, which cultivated mental focus and an attitude of thanksgiving, by visualizing the grandeur of God’s creation and the heavenly court. Scriptural practice, the fear of God, and prayer all required individual effort, as well as participation in monastic institutional procedures. Indeed, cognitive disciplines trained embodied minds, through “heartwork” on thoughts and emotions that was closely integrated with vigils, labor, fasting, corporal discipline, and other forms of physical exertion.71 They should not be construed through the strict Cartesian division of mental processes (res cogitans) from the physical world (res extensa), including the body, which was absent from Graeco-Roman culture.72 Embodied cognition in ancient Christian monasticism took many forms. For example, the “recurring patterns of kinesthetic, proprioceptive action that 71

72

I adopt the term “heart-work” from Barsanuphius’s phrase “labor of the heart” in Letter 265, on acquiring discernment, written to his famous disciple Dorotheus (SC 450: 244). For the inapplicability of the strict mind/body distinction to the Graeco-Roman world see, e.g., the recent discussions in Holmes 2013.

16

Introduction

provide much of people’s felt, subjective experience,”73 which enacted the coordination of body posture, speech, emotion, and memorization during scriptural recitation and prayer. Cognitive disciplines also demonstrate that “many abstract concepts are partly embodied, because they arise from embodied experience and continue to remain rooted in systematic patterns of bodily action.”74 Thus, corporal punishment cultivated the sense of pain associated with the fear of God. Finally, embodied monastic cognition involved close interaction with the material environment, including the habit, church paintings, and the cell.75 The cognitive disciplines of scriptural practice, fear of God, and prayer were employed in a variety of monastic (and other ancient Christian) lifestyles. Evagrius of Pontus, who lived and taught in the communities of Nitria and Kellia to the south of Alexandria, frequently touches on them in his elaborate and highly theorized descriptions of the ascetic life.76 His treatises include Thoughts, in which the sinful logismoi are chronicled, and the Antirrheticus, which prescribes scriptural responses to them; he discusses prayer in On Prayer and several advanced treatises, including the Kephalaia Gnostica.77 While the Evagrian corpus and related texts offer a rich source for ancient Christian cognitive and affective theories, I have not included them in this study, because they do not offer the detailed evidence for the social and institutional context of thoughts and emotions that is found in cenobitic sources. Cenobitic communities included various institutional supports for cognitive discipline, such as education in literacy, scriptural instruction, closely monitored group prayer meetings, and extensive discipline. And the care of souls in cenobia involved several distinctive components, such as the entrance procedures to assess commitment and determine character, and group rituals of commemorating the community’s founder and collective repentance.78 All of these practices encouraged the adoption of a particularly monastic understanding of the mind, and were intended 73 74 75

76

77

78

Gibbs 2006, 12. Gibbs 2006, 12. See the important study of Chin 2013, who highlights the importance of materiality in applying Edwin Hutchins’s theory of socially distributed cognition to ascetic communities. For Evagrius’s teachings on the monastic life, see, e.g., Driscoll 1994, Guillaumont 2004, and Kalvesmaki and Young 2016. The Antirrheticus is translated, with commentary, in Brakke 2009; on Evagrian prayer, cf. Stewart 2001, Dysinger 2005, and Bitton-Ashkelony 2011. In addition to cognitive anthropology, I draw upon other recent work in the resurgent anthropology of religious instruction (on which see Berliner and Sarró 2007). Particularly relevant for early Christian monasticism are the studies of Saba Mahmood (Mahmood 2005) and Charles Hirschkind

Introduction

17

to fashion an ideal form of that mind. Disciples carried out this heartwork on their thoughts and emotions through their own efforts, but also under the direction of significant others, from charismatic leaders such as Pachomius, to house directors who enforced penalties. I explore this process over seven chapters, divided into three parts. The Introduction to Part One gives a brief outline of the sources for cenobitic monasticism and its spread across the Late Antique Mediterranean. Rather than identify a primary social or cultural cause of its growth, I  dwell on the evaluation of prospective monks, which Augustine commented upon from the perspective of theory of mind. In Chapter 1 I analyze how prospective monks’ motivations for joining, and their potential for long-term commitment, were assessed primarily based on their gender, status, and age; accordingly, this chapter also serves as the first comprehensive description of the diverse social backgrounds of cenobitic disciples. While monastic literature praises the ascetic life, presenting it as the best path to salvation, there are also frequent appeals to more mundane advantages, such as the avoidance of childbirth, civic office, crushing poverty, or slavery. But this also led to an anxiety that some monks joined due to necessities of personal circumstance, or a coercive recruitment process, rather than the pursuit of heavenly virtue. Commitment narratives sought to answer these concerns by asserting free choice in adopting monasticism, while framing this decision in terms of accepted typologies of personal vocation. Chapter  2 explores the extensive set of monastic entrance and initiation protocols, from the interview at the gate to hazing, oaths, property renunciation, and ritual investiture. Monastic sources note the difficulty in assessing the character of individual entrants, a problem that Augustine explicitly linked to theory of mind. While hagiographical accounts suggest that charismatic leaders such as Pachomius “knew the hearts” of prospective disciples, the demanding entrance procedures functioned as an institutionalized strategy to test their commitment and capacity for obedience. Conferral of the monastic habit usually marked the postulant’s full acceptance into the community and carried the full weight of new behavioral – and cognitive – expectations. Part Two examines the cognitive disciplines by which disciples acquired and maintained a distinctively monastic theory of mind. The introduction to this section outlines the “folk-model” of mind in cenobitic monasticism, (Hirschkind 2006) on Islam in contemporary Cairo, which consider the role of emotion and cognition in self-formation from the perspective of critical theory.

18

Introduction

especially as related to the practice of revealing and evaluating thoughts, and defines its three primary “cognitive disciplines,” namely Scriptural practice (Chapter 3), the fear of God (Chapter 4), and prayer (Chapter 5), which are intended to improve the monk through purifying and perfecting the mental processes elaborated in the folk-model. Chapter 3 explores the different methods employed by new monks to internalize Scripture, through both individual study and regular group catechesis, which I relate to the first stages of Greco-Roman instruction in literacy. Through a focused audition of monastic instructions, disciples learned basic interpretive schemas for monastic life. They also incorporated key bodily-affective states, including joy and grief, by actively listening to a very distinctive style of speech that I call the “rhetoric of ekpathy.” Monks were encouraged to inscribe the Bible “on the heart,” through writing, recitation, attentive listening, and meditation. By doing so, they incorporated scriptural verses into their own cognitive stream, using them to interact with others, struggle against demons, communicate with God through prayer, and more generally regulate their mental and emotional lives. Chapter 4 is the first extended study of the “fear of God,” a central monastic practice of imagining, especially through visualization and audition, the shame and guilt felt by sinners before the divine tribunal. This fear was not an involuntary experience of the awful divine majesty, such as Otto’s famous mysterium tremendum, but a “technology of the imagination” to be deployed strategically in situations of temptation. Through constant meditation on the last judgement, as well as undergoing related forms of discipline, such as public shaming and corporal punishment, monks acquired the “fear of God” as an enduring disposition, to be drawn upon especially in moments of cognitive distress. In particular, tempting thoughts and affective urges could be tempered through harnessing the fear of God by active imagination of post-mortem condemnation. In Chapter  5, I  explore the third major cognitive discipline, prayer, broadly understood as communication with God. The different forms of prayer correspond to the stages of disciples’ progress, from the initial focus on obeying the commandments and confronting evil thoughts, to more advanced forms of spiritual perception. I analyze a number of brief “casestudies” of monks at various points in their development, including: condescension, in which neophytes lacking basic knowledge of God are allowed to break some rules lest they abandon the profession; the struggle with the temptation of porneia, especially through prayer which overlaps substantially with meditation upon scripture and the fear of God; and the

Introduction

19

cultivation of a distinctive practice of prayer based on thankful contemplation of God’s cosmic majesty and the divine court. Finally, I link the frequent meditation on these images, especially during prayer vigils, to the importance and frequency of revelations in Pachomian monasticism. In Part Three, I examine a distinctive component of the care of souls in cenobitic monasticism: collective rituals, which were also intended to shape the minds and emotions of the disciples who participated in them. The introduction to this section outlines the responsibilities of monastic leaders for their entire flock, especially as related to the annual meetings, drawing on the substantial evidence from the Pachomian Koinonia and White Monastery federation. Pastoral responsibilities for the entire community are fulfilled through the direction of two key rituals at the annual meetings:  the joyful commemoration of the community’s founder, who served as the obedient disciples’ mediator before God, in a ritual inaugurated by Theodore (Chapter 6); and the rites of collective repentance, in which the leader’s harsh rebuke led to collective weeping and a renewed commitment to follow the rules, another ritual developed by Theodore, but most fully evolved in Shenoute’s Canons (Chapter 7). In Chapter 6, I explore the role of hagiography in the training of disciples, especially the commemoration of monastic founders. I am particularly interested in how ancient sources portray the expected cognitive and affective responses of disciples while observing the lives of other monks, as expressed in the recurring figure of the “monastic voyeur.” Reading or listening to the lives of saints is often described as pleasurable. In the cenobitic context, this enjoyment stemmed from a carnivalesque inversion of institutional norms: instead of being the objects of surveillance, disciples gained a privileged view into the hidden practices and mental lives of their leaders; in other words, an opportunity to practice the monastic theory of mind from the perspective of the clairvoyant saint. The annual commemorations of deceased monastic founders were a time to rejoice over their spiritual patronage, as revealed in their intimate prayer life with God in life, and continued advocacy for their obedient disciples after death. Chapter  7 considers Shenoute’s self-presentation as a reluctant leader of the White Monastery federation, who experiences constant emotional distress, in particular a divinely sanctioned grief, due to rebellious members of his community. In the Canons, especially those letters and speeches directed to the entire monastic federation, Shenoute provides a “reverse confession,” revealing his personal turmoil and consciousness of his own sin, as well as his ongoing communication with God through prayer and

20

Introduction

revelations. In response to various conflicts, he exhorts his disciples to imitate his repentance, and thus bring about individual and collective purification. Just as Shenoute has expelled sinners from the monastic body, the disciples must banish impure thoughts – including complaints against his leadership – from their hearts. His Canons suggest the triple correlation of heart, body, and society: the individual disciple is thus a mesocosm between the microcosm of the heart and the macrocosm of the monastic community.

P a rt   I

Evaluating Postulants

Introduction to Part I Pachomius stands at a pivotal point in the history of Christian monasticism, drawing on several centuries of earlier Christian asceticism, and providing an influential model for the rule-based, highly organized cenobitic groups that spread across the late Roman Mediterranean.1 While Pachomius and Antony were not the first to struggle with demons and train disciples in the deserts of Egypt, both formed their communities around the reign of Constantine, at the end of the Great Persecution.2 As the fame of Egyptian monasticism increased throughout the fourth century, these two holy men became emblematic for two differing styles of life: anchorites, who lived alone or in small groups under the direction of an elder, often in remote areas; and “cenobites,” who lived in large communities with a rigid institutional structure, as expressed in detailed rules.3 Pachomius’s federation of monasteries, the Koinonia, was among the earliest, largest, and most famous of the cenobitic groups.4 The ancient sources imply significant continuity between the care of souls in anchoritic and cenobitic monasticism.5 Cassian, a Latin-speaking ascetic author who had trained in Egypt, suggested that the communal life 1

2

3

4

5

For state-of-the-art overviews of Late Antique asceticism and monasticism, see Krawiec 2008 and Harmless 2008/Caner 2009, respectively. The early use of the term “monk” (monachos), the primary self-reference used by the Pachomians, is analyzed in Choat 2002. On the evidence for Egyptian asceticism before Antony and Pachomius, see Goehring 1992a/1999a, 18–32. As Goehring convincingly argues, Pachomius’s innovation was the use of rules and the creation of a monastic federation, the Koinonia; there is evidence for early cenobitic communities, who later join the Koinonia, in the biographical tradition itself. Modern scholars usually make a distinction between solitary anchorites and “semi-eremitic” communities, consisting of several disciples trained by an elder, which is absent in the ancient sources. I retain the term anchorite, which may refer to those living by themselves, or with several disciples. The size of these communities must have varied widely, and the reliability of the surviving figures is doubtful: HL 7:6 (3,000); 18:13 (1,400); 32:8 (1,300 at Phbow, 7,000 total); 32:9 (200 or 300 in others). According to the Life of Shenoute, the monastic federation he directed included 2,200 monks and 1,800 nuns. I use “anchoritic,” following ancient typologies (e.g. Hier., Ep. 22:38), which distinguish between “anchoritic” and “cenobitic” monasticism, both accepted as legitimate lifestyles, in contrast to other

21

22

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

was necessary preparation for the anchoritic one, which should only be attempted by those suitably advanced in virtue.6 Indeed, by the fifth century, many cenobitic monasteries had affiliated anchorites, some of whom had likely “graduated” from the community.7 Pachomian writings offer a different perspective on the anchoritic life:  in a passage from the biographical tradition, Pachomius suggests that habitual sinners should tame their passions through harsh asceticism as anchorites, rather than endanger the salvation of other monks by living in a cenobium; the surprising implication is that stricter ascetic practices may be a sign of hidden sin, rather than advanced virtue.8 In another anecdote, Antony himself proclaims the superiority of the cenobitic to the anchoritic life, explaining that saving others from sin represents the highest, apostolic virtue.9 These passages emphasize the cenobitic leader’s responsibility for the salvation of the entire flock; and that severity of ascetic renunciation was not the clearest path towards achieving this goal. Other distinctive qualities of cenobia, as described by Layton, are of importance for the care of souls: “a hierarchically structured world,” a life marked by uniformity and substantial face-to-face interaction with other disciples, and finally, institutionalized education.10 The evidence considered in this study demonstrates that cenobitic monasteries expanded and systematized training in the cognitive disciplines of Scripture, fear of God, and prayer, which it shared with anchoritic groups, while maintaining the role of the individual monastic leader in instruction (Chapters 3–5). Furthermore, communal monasticism featured highly developed initiation protocols to assess the character and motivations of potential entrants, an important concern for the monastic theory of mind (Chapters 1–2); and distinctive group rituals, in particular commemoration of the founder and collective repentance, which helped to mold disciples’ cognitive and affective capacities (Chapters 6–7). This study draws on the extensive and diverse collection of sources from the Pachomian Koinonia – rules, letters, speeches, and a rich biographical tradition  – as the core evidence for the care of souls in early

6

7

8 9 10

groups, such as urban and wandering ascetics, who are criticized. For a survey of ancient monastic typologies, see Dietz 2010, 73–88; for their connection to the apotaktikoi of Egypt, see Goehring 1992b/1999a, 54–60. For Cassian’s relative positioning of the cenobitic and anchoritic life, see most recently, Sheridan 2007, with references. A Pachomian homily implies that some anchorites were affiliated with the Koinonia (Pach., Instr. 1:18 and 1:22). Similarly, the White Monastery Federation included affiliated anchorites, who were bound by the community’s rules (Layton 2014, 59). V. Pach. SBo 107. V. Pach. SBo 127. Cf. Basil’s critique of anchorites in LR 7. Layton 2014, 6–9, with a chart distinguishing cenobitic and semi-eremitic monasticism.

Evaluating Postulants

23

cenobitic monasticism. I also make frequent reference to the sources for the White Monastery federation, especially Shenoute’s Canons, which are closely related to the Pachomian tradition, as noted by previous scholars and further confirmed in this study.11 The influence of the Koinonia was also felt beyond Egypt, especially in the ascetic writings of Jerome, whose Latin translation of Pachomian Letters and Rules was frequently copied. Cassian similarly presented his own interpretation of cenobitism to a Western audience, appealing to his tutelage under Egyptian ascetics as the source of his authority. While Jerome and Cassian’s writings on cenobitism were probably not precisely followed by any ancient community, they were nonetheless circulated widely and adapted by interested parties, forming what Conrad Leyser has memorably called “a coenobium of letters.”12 Other sources used extensively in this study include Basil of Caesarea’s monastic writings, especially the Long Rules and Short Rules, composed by the bishop for his ascetic communities in Asia Minor, which later became popular in both the East (Palestine and Syria) and the West (through Rufinus’s Latin translation); and the Rule of the Master, from sixth-century Italy, which offers the most comprehensive view of institutional order in any early monastic text. In addition, I draw on numerous other sources for cenobitic monasticism in Greek, Coptic, Latin, and Syriac, which testify to its substantial popularity and distribution across the late Roman Mediterranean. I do not assume uniformity within this diverse corpus of evidence, but leverage it to offer a nuanced sense of continuity and difference between regions and periods. What follows is a brief critical survey of the sources for early Christian cenobitism, especially those relevant for the care of souls, in roughly chronological order.13 I begin with Pachomius, who was raised in a pagan family, evidently of modest means, at the turn of the fourth century.14 While 11

12 13

14

Layton argues that the founder of the White Monastery federation, Pcol, was a Pachomian monk, “because the Naples Fragment tells us that he had an insider’s knowledge of Pachomius’s monastic rules,” as confirmed by four Pachomian Precepts identified in Shenoute’s Canons (Layton 2014, 20); see Goehring 2008 for more on the connections between the rules. Leyser 2000, 59. My goal is to highlight all the major clusters of evidence for cenobitism; no full survey exists. For a helpful overview of the spread of monasticism, especially Western, which nonetheless omits important materials, see Dunn 2000. De Vogüé’s twelve-volume history of Latin sources for monasticism (1991–2008) has no equivalent for texts in other languages. Much of the Egyptian evidence is introduced in Harmless 2004; for a survey of modern historiography on early Egyptian cenobitism, see Sheridan 2004. For an excellent general overview of early Christianity in Egypt, see Van der Vliet 2013. Important book-length studies of Pachomius and his Koinonia include Ladeuze 1898, Veilleux 1968, Ruppert 1971, Rousseau 1985, and Goehring 1999a. An extensive bibliography of Pachomian

24

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

nothing is said of his childhood education, if any, he was drafted into the Roman army around 312 CE, during the civil war among the successors of Diocletian.15 Pachomius was impressed by the kindness of the Christians who tended to the needs of indigent recruits, and was baptized in approximately 313, following his discharge. Several years later he sought out the anchorite Palamon, who instructed him in the ascetic life for approximately five years. Following his teacher’s death, Pachomius began to form his initial monastic community, gathering several groups of disciples, many of whom ultimately rejected his leadership.16 By 323 CE, Pachomius had founded his first large monastery at Tabennesi, which became significant enough to warrant a visit from Athanasius, archbishop of Alexandria, in 329 CE.17 His most famous disciple, Theodore, had arrived at Tabennesi a year earlier, attracted by Pachomius’s growing reputation. Over the following two decades, a number of monks joined the Koinonia, which expanded through the creation of new communities in various nomes around the Middle Nile. When he died during an outbreak of the plague in 346 CE, Pachomius was directing eleven communities, while residing at the monastery at Phbow. According to the biographical tradition, he visited them regularly, taking a personal interest in the spiritual health of all the disciples, and communicating regularly with their leaders, as evidenced in the surviving letters. The entire Koinonia assembled twice per year, during the week of the Pascha and in Mesore (late summer) for “Remission” (the settling of accounts). Pachomius collaborated extensively with Theodore, a fellow native of the Latopolite nome, training him in spiritual direction and prayer, and assigning him to positions of authority within the Koinonia.18 Despite (or because of ) his privileged relationship with the founder, Theodore was demoted for prematurely agreeing to the elders’ request to succeed him as leader of the community. Although Pachomius rehabilitated him, he chose Petronius as his successor, who died after only several months, having selected Horsiesius, another senior and well-respected monk, to

15

16

17 18

studies through approximately 2007, compiled by Armand Veilleux, is maintained online at: www .scourmont.be/studium/pachom_bibliography.htm (last consulted 12 June 2017). Following the chronology in Veilleux 1980; for a slightly earlier chronology, see, most recently, Joest 2011. Pachomius’s childhood is discussed in V. Pach. SBo 3–5/ V. Pach. G1. Pachomius’s time in the army is described in V. Pach. SBo 7; his baptism, V. Pach. SBo 8; his early career under Palamon, V. Pach. SBo 10–18; for a balanced historical synopsis of Pachomius’s early career and foundation of the Koinonia, see Rousseau 1985, 57–76. For Athanasius’s relationship with Pachomian monasticism, see Brakke 1995, 111–129. For an insightful account of the politics behind the leadership roles of Theodore and Horsiesius, see Goehring 1986b/1999a, 168–172.

Evaluating Postulants

25

succeed him. Horsiesius led the Koinonia for several years until a revolt led to his resignation in 350, with Theodore taking his place. As I argue in Part Three, Theodore instituted a number of important reforms, among them innovative rituals of collective repentance and the commemoration of Pachomius. After Theodore’s death in 368, Horsiesius again assumed leadership of the Koinonia, which he directed until his own death in 387. The golden age of Pachomian literary production occurred under the leadership of Pachomius, Theodore, and Horsiesius, who each authored important texts.19 Pachomius’s Letters, for all their obscurity, are the earliest surviving literary compositions in Coptic. Theodore spurred the consolidation of biographic traditions related to Pachomius, and developed a particular form of impassioned monastic oratory that was later perfected in Shenoute’s Canons, as I argue in Chapter 3 and the Introduction to Part Three. And Horsiesius’s writings, including multiple Coptic Instructions and a collection of Regulations, are notable for the unparalleled thickness of scriptural allusion; his Testament, preserved only in Latin translation, is a lengthy exhortation covering multiple aspects of the care of souls, from biblical and monastic commandments to Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer. Given the importance of the Pachomian literature for this study, I will outline it in some detail below. The rules of Pachomius were assembled in various collections already in Late Antiquity, no doubt based on the particular needs of the communities that used them. Jerome translated four groups, the Precepts, Precepts and Institutes, Precepts and Judgements, and the Precepts and Laws.20 Pachomius (and his successors) probably delivered the individual rules as responses to particular situations, or sometimes included them in formal instruction; they were later assembled into collections, for example when a new monastery joined the Koinonia.21 The rules are key sources for the institutional structure of the monastery, and seem to have been a means of acquiring prestige, perhaps because they were understood as a kind of new Mosaic Law.22 For the purposes of this study, they offer crucial evidence regarding 19 20

21

22

See the helpful chart of Pachomian literary chronology in Goehring 1986b/1999a, 164. Praecepta, Praecepta atque Instituta, Praecepta atque Iudicia, and the Praecepta ac Leges. The Latin text is edited in Boon 1932, 13–74; Coptic and Greek texts, which correspond more or less to Jerome’s translation, are found in Lefort 1956, 26–36, and Boon 1932, 169–182. Pachomius himself is said to assemble his rules in V. Pach. SBo 23 and V. Pach. SBo 27. For a discussion of their chronological development, see Rousseau 1985, 48–53, with bibliography. The Pachomian Regulations, attributed to Horsiesius by their editor (Lefort 1956, 82–99), include a mixture of rules and paraenesis typical of the Canons of Shenoute. Theodore suggests that new disciples were recruited based on an appeal to sharing “the holy commandments that God gave Apa” (Theo., Instr. 3:20, CSCO 159: 49); see Chapter 1.

26

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

entrance procedures, basic instruction in reading and writing, and various punishments that encourage the fear of God. Other than the Rules, the only independently transmitted works ascribed to Pachomius are his Letters, which were almost certainly written by him.23 While these frequently concern the care of souls, they contain many references to an obscure cryptographic code identified as angelic speech, and I have made little recourse to them in this study.24 In contrast, there is much of relevance for cognition and discipline in the two Instructions attributed to Pachomius.25 Indeed, the various homiletic and instructional texts attributed to him, as well as to Theodore and Horsiesius, constitute an important, largely overlooked source for Pachomian monasticism.26 Some were delivered at the weekly catechetical sessions, while others are longer treatises circulated among the monasteries in advance of the joint meetings for Easter and the festival of remission at the end of the Egyptian year (20 Mesore, approximately August).27 Perhaps the most influential Pachomian work for Western monasticism is the Testament of Horsiesius, with its practical summary of Pachomian spiritual direction couched in heavily biblical language.28 23

24

25

26

27

28

Choat rightly emphasizes that Pachomius’s Letters, as we have them through Jerome’s translations and early Greek and Coptic manuscripts, were collected for different purposes, and include content related to rules and homilies, suggesting that “genre boundaries are blurred and porous” (Choat 2015, 88). Like the rest of the sources for the Koinonia, these survive in a complex mixture of Coptic, Greek, and Latin versions, on which see Quecke 1975a, 41–72. Christoph Joest has proposed an intriguing solution to the obscure cryptography in the Pachomian letters: see, e.g., Joest 1999, 2005, 2008, and 2014, a German translation of the corpus. The resulting decoded text contains standard advice regarding the care of souls. For a recent, skeptical evaluation of Joest’s suggested readings, see Kalvesmaki 2013. The instruction includes some Athanasian material, and appears to have a complex redactional history. For a cogent argument in favor of its Pachomian context, see Choat 2010; cf. Joest 2007, who proposes that it was composed by Pachomius and later edited by Horsiesius. In this study, I refer to this text as the First Instruction, rather than its longer manuscript title (abridged in Veilleux 1982 as “Instruction Concerning a Spiteful Monk”). In addition, a number of instructional material attributed to Pachomius (as well as Theodore and Horsiesius) has been preserved in the biographical tradition; this will be considered with the independently transmitted texts in Chapter 3. For the Instructions of Pachomius, see Lefort 1956, 1–26; of Theodore, see Lefort 1956, 37–60; of Horsiesius, Lefort 1956, 66–79. There are also acephalous Fragments of homiletic material attributed to all three leaders in Lefort 1956, 26–30, 60–62, and 81–82. Horsiesius’s Testament is edited in Boon 1932, 109–147. A small number of surviving Letters by Theodore and Horsiesius were also circulated among the communities of the Koinonia in advance of the two yearly meetings, as discussed in the Introduction to Part Three. For Theodore, see Boon 1932, 105–106 (Ep. 1, Latin), and Quecke 1975b (Ep. 2, Coptic); for Horsiesius, see Lefort 1956, 63–65 (Ep. 1–2, Coptic), and Veilleux 1982, 157–168 (Ep. 3–4), an English translation of the still unedited Coptic text in Chester Beatty Library Ac 1494. Latin text in Boon 1932, 109–147. See also the revised text, German translation, and commentary in Bacht 1972.

Evaluating Postulants

27

A variety of literature beyond the Bible and monastic writings was available to monks, despite efforts to control what was read, as evidenced especially by Theodore’s discussion, translation, and display of Athanasius’s Festal Letter 39 in 367, forbidding the use of apocryphal literature.29 While the works of Athanasius and other Alexandrian theologians, including Origen, were certainly studied, “heretical” texts such as the Nag Hammadi Library would also have been of interest to monks, who may have even copied them.30 Indeed, many of the Nag Hammadi writings share an interest in visionary ascent through prayer found in Pachomian writings and the works of Shenoute, as discussed in Chapters  5 and 7; others, such as the Exegesis on the Soul, emphasize the central monastic practice of repentance.31 The most extensive evidence for the Pachomian care of souls is the large and diverse biographical tradition.32 The transmission history is quite complex, with large collections in Greek, Bohairic and Sahidic Coptic, and Arabic.33 One early recension, the Great Coptic Life, was written originally in Sahidic, but is now extant in lengthy Bohairic and Arabic versions that share substantial material; some of the many fragmentary Sahidic Lives also appear to be related to the Great Coptic Life.34 Another important early recension is the First Greek Life, the authors of which were familiar with the Life of Antony.35 While there is an ongoing debate about which versions are the earliest, in my view it is impossible to obtain a secure chronology. My goal here is not to study the historical Pachomius, nor the development of the Koinonia; thus I  do not attempt to identify chronological 29 30 31 32

33

34

35

Described in V. Pach. SBo 189; on Festal Letter 39, see most recently Brakke 2010. See the series of arguments for a Pachomian milieu presented in Lundhaug and Jennot 2016. Ibid., 257–258, and Lundhaug, forthcoming. For treatments of the complex multilingual biography, see Veilleux 1968, 11–107, and the English summary in Veilleux 1980, 1–21; Rousseau 1985, 38–48; Goehring 1986a, 3–23. There is also evidence for an encomium of Pachomius by (Ps.-)Athanasius: see Van der Vliet 1992. The Bohairic text is edited in Lefort 1925; the fragmentary Sahidic versions are in Lefort 1933–1934. The Arabic text, based on a single Vatican manuscript, is found in Amélineau 1889, with French translation; while closely related to the Coptic versions, it contains important unique passages. Jerome did not translate the Life – whether because he was unaware of it, or perhaps because of its length – though a Latin version was produced by Dionysius Exiguus in the sixth century, edited by Van Cranenburgh in 1969. I follow Veilleux’s reconstruction of the Great Coptic Life, based on the Bohairic version, but with some additions and modifications based on the fragmentary Sahidic Lives (denoted V. Pach. SBo). However, I offer my own translation for all quoted passages, which does not follow the occasional modifications to the Bohairic text made in Veilleux’s English translation. I also make frequent reference to Sahidic fragments that Veilleux did not incorporate into V. Pach. SBo, in which case I use Lefort’s division of the various fragmentary lives (V. Pach. S1, V. Pach. S2, etc.). The critical edition of the First Greek Life, and a number of other abridged versions, is in Halkin 1932.

28

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

development in Pachomius’s care of souls, for example by trying to identify “early” and “late” strata of the biographical tradition. As with other monastic hagiography, these sources are primarily of value for understanding the assumptions of the monks who composed, read, and listened to them.36 However, several references in the writings of the White Monastery have been ignored in previous treatments of the Pachomian Lives; these suggest that an early Coptic version existed, and was influential in the development of Egyptian cenobitism.37 In my view, Shenoute alludes to the Pachomian biographical tradition in Canons 1, which would be the earliest testimony for it, and suggests that a Coptic version was in circulation sometime before 385 CE, while Horsiesius was still alive and leading the Koinonia: “You read the life of some others who resemble you in their garb (schēma) and you find that God taught them with signs and wonders.”38 The “signs and wonders” likely refer to the many visions given to Pachomius and Theodore in the Life, as Shenoute then explains that the monks of the White Monastery are sinners and should not expect similar miracles, because they cannot distinguish between demonic and angelic revelations. The Pachomian Lives are also mentioned in the undated Naples Fragment: “Read in their biography (bios) and you will learn about their strength, how they are at the maximum of virtue, and there is no limit to their labours.”39 Indeed, the Pachomian context appears crucial to the formation of the White Monastery federation during the middle of the fourth century, at the northern edge of the Koinonia, in the village of Atripe near Panopolis.40 In about 360 (around the time of Theodore’s death), the shadowy figure Pcol founded a sizable men’s community, establishing a set of rules to govern it in the tradition of Pachomius, but with greater ascetic rigor.41 He later formed a federation with two other communities: a smaller men’s 36

37

38

39 40

41

As David Brakke observes in his study of early monastic narratives, “literary works about early monasticism are primarily sources for the circumstances and goals of their authors. . . Only secondarily, if at all, do they provide evidence for the earlier events that they narrate” (Brakke 2013, 250). There has been a long, ongoing debate over the priority of the Greek or Coptic versions, and their relationship to one another, though it appears that neither V. Pach. SBo or V. Pach G1 depends on the other. Previously, the earliest external reference to the Lives was thought to be Evagrius Ponticus, De oratione 108, composed sometime in the 390s, which presumably alludes to a Greek version. Canons 1, unedited: YG 219, FR-BN 130s f. 37r; see the text in Emmel 2004b, 155–156, including chronological discussion. Layton 2014, 18. The early history of the community is recounted in the “Naples Fragment,” translated into English for the first time on the basis of a new collation in Layton 2014, 14–19, followed by a historical reconstruction and further analysis in 19–34. For a study of the White Monastery federation’s rules, see Layton 2014, 35–49, arguing that some were established by Pcol, who was familiar with the Pachomian corpus, and others by Shenoute.

Evaluating Postulants

29

monastery organized by Pshoi, and an affiliated women’s monastery. The federation’s third leader, Pcol’s nephew Shenoute, came to power around 385 (just before Horsiesius’s death) following an internal struggle, and appears to have governed for the extraordinary period of 80 years, until his death in 465 CE.42 He was a dominant personality with significant influence locally, both within his monastic community and in the area surrounding nearby Panopolis;43 as well as in the broader arena of Roman ecclesiastical politics, cultivating a relationship with powerful Alexandrian patriarchs such as Cyril and Dioscorus.44 Shenoute’s literary oeuvre, while fragmentary, is unparalleled in Coptic literature for its scope and complexity.45 It includes three primary components:  nine volumes of Canons, a collection of letters and speeches addressed to individual monks, or more frequently the congregation as a whole; eight volumes of Discourses, which include homilies given to a mixed audience of monks and lay people at the monastic church; and his Letters, many addressed to high-profile recipients such as the archbishop of Alexandria and the comes of the Thebaid.46 While I  frequently draw on Shenoute’s writings, which have numerous close affinities with the Pachomian material, my use of this evidence is necessarily selective, given the ongoing publication of his extensive literary corpus. After the death of Shenoute in ca. 465 CE, the “golden age” of Egyptian cenobitism that began with Pachomius comes to an end. Indeed, there is relatively little extant written evidence from the Pachomian Koinonia dated after the Testament of Horsiesius. Several fragmentary panegyrics of later archimandrites survive, including for Abraham, who resigned from his position of leadership after the emperor Justinian in Constantinople demanded that he accept the Chalcedonian definition.47 Meanwhile, 42

43 44

45

46

47

I use the detailed chronology elaborated in Emmel 2004, 7–13, despite the implication that Shenoute reached an extreme old age, rather than the suggestion that his activities as abbot should be dated to ca. 420–460 in López 2013, 131–133, which is critiqued in Dijkstra 2015. López 2013. For a list of Shenoute’s Letters, including correspondence with patriarchs, see López 2013, 140–141; for a letter of the patriarch Dioscorus to Shenoute against certain “Origenists,” see Lundhaug 2013. For the reconstruction of Shenoute’s literary corpus see Emmel 2004a. Stephen Emmel is executive editor of the international editorial team charged with publishing Shenoute’s collected works. Because this project is ongoing, I have often consulted earlier editions for the text of Shenoute’s works, except in the case of the landmark editions of Behlmer 1996 and Boud’hors 2013. In the few instances where I refer to an unpublished passage, I cite the manuscript and page number, and, when applicable, other publications in which it has appeared. Pioneering monographs on Shenoute’s writings include Krawiec 2002 and Schroeder 2007, primarily drawing on the Canons; and López 2013, primarily drawing on the Discourses. The Koinonia presumably disbanded soon after that: for a history of later Pachomian monasticism, including the literary evidence, see Goehring 2006.

30

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

Shenoute’s successor Besa produced a number of letters and discourses in a style similar to that of the Canons.48 Some of the work of his younger contemporary Moses of Abydos, who presided over a monastic federation near Panopolis, survives in the form of brief sections of a Canon and four letters to the affiliated women’s community, in which Shenoute is quoted with authority.49 Monasticism to the south of the Pachomian federation is best represented in the region of the Thebaid, where ascetics settled in and around the Middle Kingdom tombs. Numerous monastic sites have been excavated over the last century – often cleared for pharaonic remains – yielding a rich variety of material and textual evidence.50 Among the most important communities was the Monastery of Phoibammon atop the ruined Temple of Hatshepsout (Deir al-Bahri) on the left bank of the Nile;51 and the nearby Monastery of Epiphanius at Thebes, founded in the early sixthcentury by an anchorite who bears the same name.52 Their organization appears to have been semi-eremitic, but there seem to have been structured community activities, possibly including instruction in writing, as in the Pachomian monasteries.53 Both sites have yielded a wealth of written materials, in the form of ostraca (potsherds), papyri, and inscriptions, which offer valuable evidence for monastic literary culture. Another important Late Antique monastic community was located to the north in Upper Egypt, at Bawit, near Hermopolis. Like Pachomius, its founder Apollo lived first as an anchorite, attracting followers as his reputation grew, and then eventually established a cenobium. According to the author of the Historia Monachorum, the founding disciples numbered 500, all of whom shared a common table, although some of them lived as anchorites in the surrounding area.54 The ongoing excavations at the monastery of Bawit, begun over a century ago, provide unique evidence for the large size of some Egyptian cenobia; this monastery was distributed over 48

49 50

51 52 53

54

Besa’s surviving writings are edited in Kuhn 1956; an important recent study is Behlmer 2009, who is preparing a monograph on his rhetorical use of Scripture. For an overview of Moses’s writings, and his later Life, see Moussa 2003. On Late Antique monasticism near the Thebaid, see now Wipszycka 2015. The fourth-century figure Stephen of Thebes may be the earliest known ascetic author from this region, but the evidence for this does not go beyond his toponym: see Suciu 2015. Godlewski 1986. This monastery is richly documented in Winlock, Crum, and Evelyn-White 1927. In the Upper Egyptian Life of Pisentius, the first four leaders of the Koinonia (Pachomius, Petronius, Horsiesius, and Theodore) are described as “holy anchorites” (Budge 1913, 105). Crum suggested that the monasteries in the area followed the Pachomian Rule (Crum 1902, xviii), though he does not offer evidence for this, and I am not aware of any. HM 8.

Evaluating Postulants

31

approximately forty hectares of land near the desert, with over one hundred buildings, many richly painted, including several churches. Apollo is said to have delivered “instructions and commandments,” probably like Shenoute’s Canons. He and his companion Phib were venerated by other communities to the north, most notably the monastery of Apa Jeremias at Saqqara, which participated in an annual ritual of collective repentance similar to those at the Koinonia and White Monastery.55 Monasticism in the Latin West drew heavily on Egyptian traditions, which were adapted to various contexts.56 The biblical translator and polemicist Jerome was an avid promoter of the ascetic lifestyle who gained fame as an advisor to rich female renunciants in Rome. In his Letter 22 in praise of virginity, which is addressed to Eustochium, the daughter of his patron Paula, he presents an influential typology of semi-eremitic and cenobitic monasticism in Egypt. Later, while he and Paula directed a double community of male and female monks at Bethlehem, he translated a number of Pachomian texts into Latin at the request of Greek-speaking monks from the community at Canopus near Alexandria.57 His translation of the Rules of Pachomius and the Testament of Horsiesius, completed in 404 CE, circulated widely in the West, exerting significant influence on the later tradition of monastic rules. The most influential ascetic theorist writing in Latin, John Cassian, spent some years in the semi-eremitic communities of northern Egypt. His two ascetic works, the Institutes and Conferences, claim to be based on these experiences, and include interesting reflections on cenobitic monks.58 They are instructions for novice and advanced monks, respectively, and were intended for the several monastic communities forming in southern Gaul during the early fifth century, including the famous cenobium of Lérins, founded by Honoratus, which produced a number of important ascetic authors and church leaders during the fifth and sixth centuries.59 55 56

57

58

59

Attested in the Life of Apollo and Phib; see Vivian 1999, and the discussion in Chapter 7. De Vogüé identified four traditions of monastic rules in the West, based respectively on the various Regulae of Lérins, Jerome’s translations of Pachomian rules, Cassian, and Augustine. Rufinus’s translation of Basil’s rule is detectable in all of these, which are discussed below (De Vogüé 1977, 176). Jerome’s Homilies on the Psalms were delivered to the Bethlehem community, the organization of which is uncertain, but was conceivably influenced by the Pachomian translations. For a discussion of Jerome’s asceticism as reflected in his Letters, see Cain 1999; on the organization of the Bethlehem monasteries, see the Epitaphium Sanctae Paulae 20, with the extensive commentary in Cain 2013, 359–386. Excellent studies of Cassian and his writings are found in Stewart 1998 and Casiday 2007. For Cassian’s presentation of Egyptian monasticism to a Latin audience, see Driver 2013. Monasticism in Gaul is surveyed in Prinz 1988. For an overview of the monastery of Lérins in Late Antiquity, see, e.g., Nouailhat 1988 and Leyser 1999.

32

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

The writings of the abbots Hilary (later bishop of Arles) and especially Faustus (later bishop of Riez) provide evidence for the inner workings of the monastery at Lérins, including various homilies delivered to the community, much like Shenoute’s Canons.60 Augustine, Jerome’s younger contemporary who famously wrote of his passion for the Life of Antony, had no direct knowledge of Egyptian cenobites.61 Yet he was an enthusiastic supporter of monasticism, gathering a community of ascetics around him in Thagaste before he was ordained as priest. After Augustine had become bishop of Hippo, he presided over a community of ascetic clerics in the episcopal residence; this was likely the group for which he composed an idiosyncratic but popular Rule which enjoyed lasting popularity in the West.62 He addresses several of his letters to monastic communities (including one directed by his sister), and also makes a number of interesting observations about ascetic leadership, including the care of souls, in his Homilies.63 Monasticism in Gaza, which was found along well-traveled roads between Alexandria and the Holy Land, was influenced by both Egyptian and Basilian monasticism, and in particular the semi-eremitic movement as represented in the Apophthegmata Patrum and writings of Evagrius. In fact, the two most prominent teachers of this region, Isaiah of Scetis and Barsanuphius, settled there after traveling from Egypt; the latter’s native language was Coptic.64 Barsanuphius and John were the spiritual directors of the cenobitic monastery of Tawatha near Gaza, while its abbot Seridos handled the day-to-day administrative affairs. The Epistles of Barsanuphius and John are one of the most important sources for the early monastic care of souls; in fact, they are the only ancient evidence for sustained counseling between directors and disciples. In some cases, the texts relate extensive exchanges with certain individuals, including Dorotheus, a highly educated young man who assumed a position of leadership soon after joining the monastery, and may have been responsible for editing the Epistles.65 60 61 62

63

64

65

The monastic writings of Faustus are discussed in Kasper 1991. Aug., Conf. 8:6. The Latin text and translation of the Rule, as well as an extensive analysis of its place in Augustine’s life and writings, is found in Lawless 2000. For concepts of authority in Late Antique Western asceticism more generally, see Leyser 2000. Augustine’s discussions of monasticism are collected in Zumkeller 1986; for monasticism in Late Antique North Africa, the neo-latin monograph of Gavigan 1962 remains unsurpassed. For a survey of monasticism in Gaza, see Hevelone-Harper 2005, 10–60; see also the studies in Bitton-Ashkelony and Kofsky 2006, particularly Perrone 2006 on spiritual direction. As suggested in Hevelone-Harper 2005, 76–77. The correspondence with the sick disciple Andrew (Epistles 72–123) is analyzed in Crislip 2013, 138–166.

Evaluating Postulants

33

Dorotheus went on to write popular Discourses on monastic life, and was also featured in the Life of Dositheus. These varied sources present a rare opportunity to follow the personal development of an individual monk in some detail.66 Monasticism in the Holy Land, described most famously in Cyril of Scythopolis’ History of the Monks of Palestine, was highly international, driven by the numerous pilgrims who decided to settle in Jerusalem and the surrounding regions in order to practice asceticism.67 Since many of these monks were from Asia Minor, Basil’s rule became particularly influential in Palestine. Cenobitic monasticism was therefore widespread, and often represented a starting point for disciples, who later transitioned to a semi-eremitic lifestyle, as practiced in the community of Sabas. A number of biographies of monastic founders were produced in the sixth century, including one on Chariton, considered by tradition the first monk in the region, written by an anonymous member of his Old Laura.68 These offer valuable information about commemorative practices, especially in the case of orations performed before the community, such as the Life of Theognius, which Paul of Elusa delivered at the monastery he founded.69 The most influential early tradition of communal monasticism in the Greek East is associated with Basil of Caesarea, a member of a prominent Cappadocian family of Christians. His sister Macrina practiced a kind of domestic asceticism at the family estate at Annesi, and Basil lived in renunciation on an estate nearby with his friend Gregory Nazianzen;70 although mentioned by Eustathius, bishop of Sebaste (like Annesi, close to Neocaesarea), Basil traveled through the eastern provinces, including Syria and Egypt, where he surely encountered ascetics.71 After losing a controversial episcopal election in Caesarea, despite the support of local ascetics, Basil settled in Pontus in the early 360s, where he took charge of several monasteries, and founded an additional one.72 Basil became bishop of 66 67

68

69 70 71 72

A chapter is devoted to Dorotheus in Hevelone-Harper 2005, 61–78. The lifestyle of monasticism in the Holy Land is surveyed in Patrich 1995. See also the historical studies in Binns 1994 and Horn 2006; and Hirschfeld 1992 for a discussion of the archaeological evidence. The Life of Chariton, ed. Garitte 1941; Theodore, Life of Theodosius, ed. Usener 1890; Life of Gerasima, ed. Koikylides 1902; Antony of Choziba, Life of George of Choziba, ed. House 1888. Paul of Elusa, Life of Theognius, ed. van den Gheyn 1891. See the now classic account in Elm 1994, 78–105. Described in Ep. 223. According to the Church Histories of Socrates, Sozomen, and Rufinus, Basil and Gregory founded monasteries throughout Asia Minor (Soz., H.E. 4:17; cf. Socr., H.E. 4:20) in the cities of Pontus; Rufinus adds the rural districts (H.E. 2:9).

34

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

Caesarea in 370, and he established another monastery there by 372, which was probably connected to the hospital known as the Basiliad.73 The Basilian monasteries were smaller than the communities of the Koinonia, with an average of 30–40 disciples; the leadership structure of a director and second in command resembles the order of a Pachomian house.74 While there was no archimandrite (this role was filled by Basil as bishop), nor annual meetings of all the monasteries, a council of local elected new leaders heard appeals in disputes.75 Basil’s most important monastic writings consist of two sets of instructions, addressed to the communities he founded:  the Long Rules (in 55 extensive sections), and the Short Rules (in 313 short sections).76 They are heavily edited versions of Basil’s responses to questions posed by disciples in his communities, and are based on sessions recorded by a tachygrapher.77 The Rules sometimes deal with matters of institutional policy, but their primary concern is spiritual development, and they have substantial overlap in content with Pachomian homiletic materials. Basil’s monastic foundations in Asia Minor survived for at least a few generations after his death, and they continued to copy his works as well as produce new ones.78 His writings also influenced the burgeoning monastic movement in the new imperial capitol of Constantinople.79 But other ascetic trends are also evident in Late Antique Asia Minor: most notably, a set of treatises and letters associated with Nilus of Ancyra, which discuss how to regulate the use of property for both “freelance” ascetics and larger communities.80 Although Nilus’s work does not relate specifically 73 74

75

76

77

78

79

80

Basil, Ep. 94. For Basilian asceticism, see Fedgwick 1978 and Silvas 2005, 51–101. The only monograph exclusively devoted to Basil’s monasticism notes in passing its similarities to the Pachomian system, even arguing that Basil must have visited Tabennesi during his trip to Alexandria and the “rest of Egypt” (Clarke 1913, 34). While few examples are given, this study confirms a number of overlapping concepts and organizational strategies between the two traditions, but these need not be explained by direct influence. Basil, LR 43, 54; SR 119. For the importance of settling disputes in collective rituals of repentance, see the Introduction to Part Three. Also known by their Latin titles, Regulae Fusius Tractatae and Regulae Brevius Tractatae. For a new introduction and translation, see Silvas 2005, with a discussion of the complicated history of the text and its versions. For the first critical edition and translation of the Syriac version, see Silvas 2014. They correspond quite closely to the sorts of questions from disciples in the correspondence of Barsanuphius and John, which have also been edited, possibly by Dorotheus (who brought with him a copy of Basil’s Ascetica). This community presumably composed the sizable corpus of ascetic texts attributed to Basil, such as the Epitimia (PG 31: 1305–1314), a list of punishments for infractions. Basil’s model of urban asceticism, practiced at Caesarea, was particularly influential: see Hatlie 2011, 34, and 63–65. For a broad portrait of ascetic life in Ancyra, see Pall., HL 66.

Evaluating Postulants

35

to cenobitic communities, his extensive surviving corpus offers a number of thought-provoking reflections on the care of souls relevant to cenobitic monasticism.81 Rufinus translated a version of Basil’s Rule into Latin, presumably for use at Melania’s community on the Mount of Olives.82 This version appears to have circulated widely throughout Italy, where it greatly influenced the sixth-century Rule of the Master, the first extensive source for Italian monasticism and a likely inspiration for Benedict’s Rule, although the circumstances behind its composition and early use remain obscure.83 The Rule of the Master is delivered in the voice of an anonymous abbot who boldly assumes divine authority as he legislates, interspersing regulations with homiletic commentary. It offers a richly textured description of monastic life, and as such is an invaluable source for cenobitic monasticism, especially in areas such as admissions procedures, literary instruction, and discipline. The origins of communal asceticism in the Syriac-speaking world can be traced to two fourth-century Syrian ascetics, Jacob of Nisibis and Julian Saba, whose followers later wrote hymns in their honor but little is known about their organization or practices.84 More detailed evidence is found in Rabbula’s Admonitions for monks, which he composed sometime after becoming bishop of Edessa in 412 CE.85 In a later legend, Mar Awgin (Eugenius) is said to have left the monastery of Pachomius for Mount Izla in Tur ‘Abdin near Nisibis, where he befriended Jacob, and founded the first Syrian communal monastery.86 But this account was fabricated in the sixth-century, around the time that Abraham of Kashkar founded the Great Monastery, a cenobium, on Mount Izla. The history of 81

82 83

84

85

86

Communal monasticism in the area seems to have been represented by the monastery of Leontius, on a mountain beside the city (compare Antioch and Mount Silpius), and a Basilian foundation run by Prapidius: Soz., H.E. 6:34. For a new translation and introduction, see Silvas 2013. The authoritative discussion of the background of the Rule of the Master remains the introduction to de Vogüé 1964, although his assertion that the author was Benedict himself – who later abridged it – remains controversial. On the early development of monasticism in Italy, see Jenal 1995. On the hymns composed in honor of Saba by his community, see Griffith 1994, and the discussion in Chapter 6. Aptly described by Columba Stewart as “a communal form of monasticism lived in seclusion, with regular but carefully managed contact with the rest of society” in his typology of ascetics living in and around Antioch and Edessa (Stewart 2013, 220). For a historical overview of Syriac monasticism in Late Antiquity, see Escolan 1999. For the development of the legend, see Jullien 2008a. It is possible that the Syriac translation of the Pachomian Paralipomena – actually, as shown in Kessel 2013, the entirety of V. Pach. G6 – was translated at this time of increased interest in Egyptian cenobism. The Life of Eupraxia, which I am currently editing, may have been composed in a Pachomian milieu, and was also eventually translated into Syriac: see BL Add. MS 14,651, Fol. 49a-70a; cf. BL Add. MS 14,649, Fol. 148a-161b.

36

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

this community is described in Thomas of Marga’s Book of Governors, and there are several surviving rules from its first leaders: Abraham, his successor Dadīšō’, and his successor Babai.87 Finally, the monasteries in the region of the city Amida in northern Mesopotamia are vividly described in John of Ephesus’s Lives of the Eastern Saints, a series of hagiographic vignettes with substantial information about the communities’ institutional structure.88 Another important source for sixth-century monasticism is the legislation of Justinian, who devoted several lengthy novellas to empire-wide regulations.89 While early imperial laws concerned limited aspects of monastic life, such as eligibility for entry, Justinian sought to control the internal functioning of communities. The earliest comprehensive legislation was Novel 5 (issued in 535), which went so far as to declare a three-year novitiate for all postulants.90 Perhaps influenced by Basil, Justinian also favored cenobitic groups over anchorites, who had to be affiliated with a community. Despite his zeal for regulating monastic life, the emperor also praised it:91 “Monastic life is so honourable and can render the person embracing it so acceptable to God, that it removes from him every human blemish, declares him to be pure and conformed to natural reason, greatly enriched in understanding, and superior to human beings by virtue of his thoughts.” Justinian’s legislation, issued approximately two centuries after Pachomius founded his first community at Tabennesi, is a convenient endpoint for this study, given his regulation of the cenobitic lifestyle, which he promoted as the paradigmatic form of monasticism across the Mediterranean world. We have sketched out the development of communal monasticism across two centuries and multiple regions, yet the reasons for its growth remain elusive. Perhaps the simplest explanation is social networks: people join because they already have connections within the community, including relatives: Pachomius’s brother John and sister Mary eventually joined him, as did Theodore’s brother Paphnouti.92 Others were pious Christians

87 88 89

90 91 92

On Abraham and the Great Monastery, see Chialà 2005 and Jullien 2008b. John’s views of asceticism and monasticism are discussed in Harvey 1990, 43–56. The most comprehensive overview of Justinian’s monastic legislation remains Granić 1929. For a recent analysis of the laws in their late Roman context, see Hillner 2007. Key legislation includes Nov. 5 (Schöll: 28–35); Nov. 65 (Schöll: 344–347); Nov. 79 (Schöll: 388–400). Justn., Nov. 5 (Schöll: 28–31). For Pachomius’ sister, see V. Pach. SBo 27 (CSCO 89: 26–28); for Theodore’s brother, see V. Pach. SBo 38 (CSCO 89: 40–41). The extensive regulations regarding biological kin in the Canons suggest that families were distributed across all monastic ranks.

Evaluating Postulants

37

already attending mass at the monastic church.93 For those with no such connections, reference letters could build trust:  Pachomius, for example, accepted Theodore of Alexandria, the initial housemaster of the Greek-speaking monks, under the recommendation of archbishop Athanasius.94 But Pachomius also admitted disciples with no previous connection to the community, whether local residents or itinerants attracted by the holy man’s reputation for teaching or healing.95 Among the latter was Theodore himself, who left his community at Esna after hearing one of Pachomius’s scriptural interpretations.96 The motivations and character of unknown postulants was a matter of concern, leading Pachomius to establish an initial interview.97 Justinian’s Novel 5 shows that this was an ongoing challenge, noting the possibility of a “false pretext” and the psychological difficulty of making this personal transition: The most reverend abbots inquire of [postulants] whether they are freemen or slaves, and where the desire for the monastic life comes from; and, having learned that no evil pretext has led them to this, to place them among those who are still taught and admonished; and to gain knowledge of their endurance and sincerity. For the change of lifestyle is not easy, but occurs through concentration of the soul.98

It was Augustine, however, who most clearly articulated several dilemmas of evaluating candidates for monasticism. First, their social background might be cause to suspect their motivations for taking up the communal life: Moreover there frequently now come to this profession of the service of God, both people of servile condition, or also freedmen, or people freed for this purpose by their masters or about to be freed, and from the peasant life, and from the exertion and plebeian labor of workmen, people

93

94 95

96

97 98

V. Pach. SBo 40 describes visitors attending the synaxis; Shenoute preached regularly to nonmonastics at the White Monastery church, as recorded in the Discourses. Some who sought admission were still catechumens (V. Pach. SBo 81), others were clerics, who had to agree to abide by the same rules as non-ordained disciples (V. Pach. SBo 25). Cf. White Monastery Rule 472 (Layton 2014: 294–295). V. Pach. SBo. 89 (CSCO 89: 103). Pachomius’s reputation is explicitly acknowledged as a source of recruits in a passage about the various “Romans” who join the monastery (V. Pach. SBo 89). In one anecdote, Pachomius expels a spirit that had been disturbing a prospective monk (V. Pach. SBo 111). V. Pach. SBo 30 and V. Pach. G1 35; the episode is analyzed in more detail in Chapter 1. For suspicions about wandering monks, see Caner 2002, 19–23. P 49, discussed in detail in Chapter 2. Justn., Nov. 5:2 (Schöll: 29).

38

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity whose upbringing was more auspicious the more difficult it was; who, if not admitted, is a heavy sin.99

Augustine qualifies this prejudice by noting that many of poor background have become exemplary ascetics, quoting 1 Cor 1:27 in favor of accepting all such postulants: This pious and holy thought brings it about that such people are admitted even if they bring no demonstration that their life has changed for the better. For neither is it apparent whether they have come for the purpose of serving God, or whether, fleeing a poor and toilsome life, they want to be fed and clothed; and what is more to be honored by those from whom they had become accustomed to contempt and abuse.100

Second, regardless of status, it was crucial to determine a postulant’s character, in particular the propensity for sin and capacity for obedience. Augustine, who drew on both acquaintances and strangers for his clerical monastery at Hippo, describes the tense uncertainty of the interview in a striking passage from the Ennarrationes in Psalmos, a fictional dialogue with a monastic superior: “What is he going to say? ‘I will be cautious: I will admit no one bad.’ How will you not admit no one bad? . . . How do you know whom you might want to exclude? . . . Does everyone come to you with naked hearts? Those who intend to enter do not even know themselves. How much less do you know about them?”101 Augustine’s skepticism is unique, just as his straightforward appeal to theory of mind clarifies the key issue of monastic recruitment: it is impossible – at least for an ordinary superior – to accurately read the hearts of postulants, who are not even themselves aware of their own character. In Part One, I explore the admission of new disciples from the perspective of the anxieties about motivation and character articulated by Augustine. Chapter 1 examines general concerns about fitness for the monastic life that are based primarily on gender and social status, rather than the character or life history of a particular monk. Chapter 2 explores concerns about the character of the monks, including previous sinful behavior, as well as their capacity to obey monastic discipline. Although some monastic leaders asserted a charismatic ability to judge the hearts and motivations of postulants, a variety of entrance procedures, from interviews to hazing rituals, were used to assess their commitment.

99 100 101

Aug., De op. mon. 25 (CSEL 41: 570–571). Aug., De op. mon. 25 (CSEL 41: 571). Aug., Psal. 99:11 (PL 37: 1277)

Ch apter 1

Discerning Motivation I Status and Vocation

Archbishop Timothy of Alexandria: “If someone comes to you with a wife and child, do you accept him to you?” Horsiesius: “We have a rule, which is from our father [Pachomius], not to reject anyone who comes to us, on account of the Gospel commandment, ‘The one who will not leave behind wife and children on account of my name, is not worthy of me.’ So the one who comes to us, we receive joyfully.”1 So, because we see some among us whose heart has become estranged, both great and small, after they promised (erēt) God to walk in his law, and after renouncing (apotasse) their possessions for this vocation, each one according to his ability, incited by the Holy Spirit, and [after] they revealed themselves to everyone who saw them, “we are children of the holy vocation of the Koinonia,” and proclaiming to some, “there is no stumbling block in the path which we are on,” and instructing others who want to become monks, “come to us and share with us the holy commandments that God gave to Apa” Theo., Instr. 3:20.2

Why would individuals renounce their family and property to adopt an austere lifestyle of labor and asceticism? The sources promise salvation for those who fulfill their vow, and this is by far the most prominent goal in monastic discourse. Pachomius asserts that his monks are “already pledged an entry into the blessed life.”3 For subsequent leaders of the Koinonia such as Theodore, “the holy commandments that God gave to Apa” were the mechanism of salvation, the inheritance given by the founder Pachomius to his disciples.4 Some disciples evidently viewed their monastic habit as

1 2 3 4

Crum and Ehrhard 1915: 16. CSCO 159: 49. Paralip. 9:20 (Halkin: 145). Theo., Instr. 3:20 (CSCO 159: 49). Horsiesius describes them as a ‘ladder leading to the kingdom of heaven’ (Hors., Test. 22, Boon: 121).

39

40

Evaluating Postulants

the marker of salvation, but Theodore urged them instead to have faith in Pachomius as intercessor, provided they followed his rules.5 Of course, both ancient authors and modern scholars have suspected other reasons for joining the monastery. Perhaps the most important source for exploring the various motivations of postulants is protreptic literature, which praised the ascetic lifestyle, and urged the audience to adopt it. The earliest examples of this genre were addresses by bishops to young women, encouraging them to become virgins.6 The Epistle of Ammon demonstrates that proponents of the monastic life, such as Athanasius of Alexandria, adapted protreptic in praise of virginity for their cause. Ammon thus describes his decision to take up monasticism:  “Having listened to the blessed papa Athanasius in church discussing the way of life of the monks and perpetual virgins, and marveling at the hope laid up for them in heaving, I  fell in love with and chose their blessed life.”7 Although no Pachomian protreptic literature survives, and there is relatively little from cenobitic monasticism more generally, it is clear that prospective members of these communities shared concerns addressed in other examples of ascetic protreptic. Protreptic texts were directed to a variety of audiences, including female virgins, young male ascetics, and married people. They invoked otherworldly salvation, while at the same time criticizing “worldly” lifestyles, including motherhood, civil careers, and family life, depending on the group addressed. As anthropologist Claudia Strauss notes, “members of a society can use the same language and share exposure to many of the same repeated social messages while differing greatly in the penumbra of associations around their shared concepts, because no two people have exactly the same experiences.”8 The experience of entering a monastery varied widely, based on factors such as gender and social background: young women might follow their parents, or fight with them to avoid marriage; husbands might abandon their wives and children, or join together with them; slaves might follow their masters into the community, or hide in one after running away. According to Horsiesius, the requirement to accept all those interested in becoming a monk was so great that it overruled the Gospel commandment 5 6 7

8

V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 185), on which see Chapter 6. For a survey of the De virginitate literature, see Camelot 1952. Ep. Am. 2 (Goehring: 124). Athanasius wrote several protreptic works to virgins, including the First and Second Letter to Virgins, and On Virginity. For a discussion of their authenticity, see Brakke 1994; for the role of virgins in the archbishop’s ecclesiastic politics, see Brakke 1995, 17–79. Strauss 1992, 12.

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

41

to abandon one’s family in the pursuit of salvation.9 Indeed, early Christian monasticism was a family affair for many disciples.10 But such liberal admissions policies also meant that cenobitic groups included monks from a full range of gender and status backgrounds. As A. H. M. Jones correctly, if offhandedly, remarked: “Hermits, monks and nuns were drawn indiscriminately from all classes of society from the highest to the lowest . . .”11 This chapter provides extensive documentation for his assertion, exploring the particular situations of the following categories of postulant:  young women and men; the married, families, and elderly; children; as well as low-status laborers, slaves, and even fugitive criminals. Despite, or perhaps because of, this proclaimed openness to accepting new members, there is an acute anxiety about the abandonment of monastic life: those “whose heart has become estranged,” as Theodore calls them, who risk going back on their vocation and vow. This development is attributed to “stumbling blocks,” namely, circumstances that make it difficult to become a monk and then remain one. In this chapter, we will explore the general challenges faced by monks as a result of their backgrounds, while the next chapter examines tests for the moral shortcomings of individual disciples. All members, from the elite to slaves, faced suspicions regarding their motivations for joining the monastery, which were based on their particular social backgrounds. For instance, did they join to avoid civic responsibility or were they compelled by the rigors of poverty? A related anxiety was that external pressures, such as unsupportive family members, might encourage the monk to leave the community. For example, Theodore’s mother comes to retrieve him from the Koinonia, armed with letters from her local bishop.12 The perception that younger men and women had been coerced into joining through aggressive recruitment had to be avoided.13 Thus, monastic sources often emphasize the decision to become a monk was made freely, without compulsion. Postulants were not supposed to be motivated either by undue pressure from monastic leaders, or by some personal necessity, such as poverty. Commitment narratives, 9

10 11 12

13

Similarly, in the First Sahidic Life, Pachomius has a vision in which he is instructed to offer spiritual care to others, accepting all who come to him (V. Pach. S1, CSCO 99/100: 2). On biological families in Shenoute’s monastery, see Krawiec 2002, 161–174. Jones 1964, 2:931. In V. Pach. SBo 37 (CSCO 89: 39), Theodore’s mother brings a letter from the bishop of Sne. In the First Greek Life, she brings ‘letters’ from certain ‘bishops’: V. Pach. G1 37 (Halkin: 22–23). This episode is discussed in more detail below. While there is little evidence of recruitment in the Pachomian sources, in the passage quoted above Theodore notes that his disciples encouraged some prospective monks to embrace the ‘holy commandments that God gave to Apa’ (Theo., Instr. 3:20, CSCO 159: 49).

42

Evaluating Postulants

which we explore in this chapter’s final section, legitimate the adoption of the monastic life by emphasizing the role of God in personal vocations, and the individual’s free response to this call.

I.

Status, Motivations, and Pressures Single Women

Young women who pledged a life of celibacy were among the most distinctive Christians groups during the movement’s first several centuries, before a similar custom became widespread among men.14 When the first female monasteries were established, there was already a long tradition of dedicated virgins associated with churches. Indeed, Susanna Elm has demonstrated how the earliest monastic communities developed in aristocratic households under the direction of ascetic women such as Basil’s sister Macrina.15 But many young female virgins were of low status, and the frequent praise of virginity by ecclesiastic writers was directed at families from all social and economic backgrounds.16 Compared to the numerous sources on dedicated virgins, there is far less evidence for recruitment practices on behalf of female cenobia.17 Ammon describes how his three-year stay in a Pachomian monastery resulted from hearing Athanasius’s praise of virgins, alongside monks.18 And there are other hints of a close connection between earlier traditions of dedicated virgins and developing forms of cenobitic monasticism. Mary, the sister of Pachomius, who is said to have been “a virgin since childhood,” presides over a women’s community near Tabennesi.19 Unfortunately, Pachomian sources offer no more details about the female members of the Koinonia.20 14 15

16

17

18

19

20

Brown 1988, 33–64. Elm 1994, 92–105. For extensive reflections on the decision to take up virginity in the context of Late Antique family life, see now Vuolanto 2015. Of course, the assertion that ascetic renunciation leads to a higher rather than a lower status was a particular concern for aristocrats (Clark 1981). Papyrological evidence for female ascetics, living alone or in a community, is discussed in Albarrán Martínez 2015, 14–20. Ammon is led to the monastery of Phbow by two monks who have brought letters from Theodore to Athanasius. For Athanasius’s relationship with the Pachomians, see Brakke 1995, 111–129. V. Pach. SBo. 27 (CSCO 107: 26–27). The First Greek Life as we have it does not contain the story of Pachomius’ sister, and instead attributes to Pachomius the founding of women’s communities at Bechne, near Phbow, and Tsmine: V. Pach. G1 134 (Halkin: 84). On the Pachomian women’s community, see further Pall., HL 33–34. Paula and Eustochium also transitioned from dedicated virgins to cenobites at Bethlehem, in collaboration with Jerome. Details on the specific workings of double monasteries are scarce; the best attestation is for the Basilian system, on which see Stramara 1998.

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

43

Much more is known about the women’s monastery in the White Monastery federation. But Shenoute does not address the motivations of female monastics for joining the community in his extant Canons, beyond the frequent appeals to salvation.21 So it is necessary to look elsewhere, including the De virginitate literature, for this information.The best evidence for recruitment into women’s monastic communities is among wealthy families, including the Roman aristocracy.22 Elite women of all ages visited the homes of prominent female ascetics, such as the widow Marcella, the first Roman woman of rank to accept monasticism. She lived with her mother, Albina, on the Aventine and attracted a circle of female followers, including Paula and Eustochium. These ties among women often proved stronger than their relationships with male spiritual advisors: despite their long association with Jerome, and his continuous stream of advice,23 Paula and Eustochium refer to Marcella as their teacher and to themselves as her disciples.24 Similarly, Athanasius encouraged virgins to be “silent students” before “elder women” in his Second Letter to Virgins.25 The strong, if gradual attraction towards the charismatic teacher as a motivation to adopt asceticism in such circles is suggested in the Life of Syncletica by Ps.-Athanasius, probably composed in fifth-century Alexandria. After retreating to her family’s tomb outside the city, Syncletica (literally, “senatorial”) attracts a group of female disciples, probably similar in composition to the elite circles of Rome. The Life seems to have been written by one of them, who describes how her own ascetic commitment was tied to the process of “falling in love” with her teacher, Syncletica:  “Because we have an infantile and unpracticed soul, although we associated with the pearl which was next to us, we saw nothing great, paying attention to appearance alone, and we were far from a knowledge of her nature. But little by little we learned her beauty from companions, and a divine love was born in us, toward what was seen, and her very deeds were inflaming our mind toward desire.”26 This emphasis on the steady progression of love may reflect the frequent contact with female ascetic teachers that young women from pious families enjoyed, beginning at a young age. 21

22

23 24 25 26

Krawiec 2002, 21 identifies salvation as a significant reason for joining the White Monastery, in the case both of women and men. For the role of female virgins in the Christianization of the Roman aristocracy, see Brown 1988, 342– 345. Salzman admits their importance, but cautions against exaggerating their influence (Salzman 1989, 2). e.g. Hier., Ep. 22 (Labourt vol. 1: 110–160). e.g. Hier., Ep. 46:1 (Labourt vol. 2: 100). Ath., Ep. Virg. 2:8 (trans. Brakke 1995, 71–72). Ps.-Ath., V. Syncl. 1 (Abelarga: 183–184).

44

Evaluating Postulants

The treatises on virginity suggest a number of possible motivations that are equally relevant for cenobitic monasticism. All of them point to salvation, sometimes through the striking metaphor of marriage to Christ; Athanasius, for example, observes: “from this kind of blessed union, true and immortal thoughts come forth, bearing salvation.”27 Nevertheless, some authors appealed to physical and material considerations, such as freedom from the various troubles of married life, including childbirth, domestic responsibilities, and spousal abuse.28 Syncletica’s protreptic address, for example, says of wives: “For when they bear children, they perish from toils; when they don’t give birth because they are sterile, they waste away, childless, under reproaches.”29 From the perspective of parents, a daughter’s acceptance of virginity had advantages, from enhanced prestige (for low-status families) to avoiding the cost of a dowry.30 On the other hand, protreptic literature reveals that some young women might also face opposition from family members both before and after adopting a life of virginity. As Ambrose states in his On Virgins, “For I know many virgins who had the desire, but were prevented from going forward by their mothers. . .”31 He further suggests that some parents threatened to deny their daughters inheritance money (presumably the equivalent of their dowry) if they choose to become virgins.32 Virgins from elite families, such as Melania the Younger, were expected to produce male heirs to family traditions and fortunes. For poorer families, having a virgin at home could be a financial burden, though they might contribute to household economics through weaving or other activities; joining a cenobitic monastery would have been a less controversial solution than alternative living arrangements, such as receiving room and board from male ascetics in exchange for domestic upkeep.33 Ascetic literature also revealed concerns about maintaining commitment:  Ps.-Basil, for example, encouraged fathers to examine their daughters for any troubling signs, such as a wandering gaze, before allowing her to become a virgin.34 Many other works, such as Jerome’s famous Letter 27 28 29 30

31 32

33 34

Ath., Ep. Virg. 1:3 (trans. Brakke 1995, 275). For a discussion, see Castelli 1986, 68–70, with references. Ps.-Ath., V. Syncl. 42 (Abelarga: 216). Basil, Ep. 199, who is concerned that young girls are enrolled by their parents for material advantages without showing interest in the life of virginity: see discussion in Elm 1994, 140. Ambr., Virg. 1.10.57-8 (Gori: 156). See also the references in Castelli 1986, 81–82. For a discussion of this and similar threats, see Vuolonto 2015, 133–135, who is skeptical that such charges are accurate. On such ‘spiritual marriage’, and its critics, see Leyerle 2001. Ps.-Basil, De virg. 2:15–18.

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

45

22 to Eustochium, offer stern warnings against breaking the vow: “I do not want that pride develop in you as a result of your vow, but fear.”35 Jerome suggests that her aristocratic lifestyle will create special problems. Citing his own temptations while fasting in the desert, he asks, “What will become of a girl who enjoys luxuries?”36 Gerontius, biographer of the Roman senatorial ascetic Melania the Younger, notes that both she and her husband Pinian initially could not practice intensive asceticism because of their comfortable upbringing.37 Syncletica argued that the immediate renunciation of property could prove too difficult, instead suggesting a more gradual acclimation to the ascetic life through preliminary fasting and vigil.38 The tensions that could arise with high-status members of female monasteries is evident in several of Besa’s letters to nuns, all of which warn them not to leave the community: Aphthonia (Frag. 13), Antinoe (Frag. 14 and 29), Herai (Frag. 30 and 32), and an anonymous female recipient (Frag. 35).39 Besa’s letter to Aphthonia, daughter of comes Alexandros, concerns various aspects of her relationship with her parents, who have presumably remained seculars. He warns her to stop sending letters to them, complaining about discipline (“they fought with me,” or “they abused me”), and not to receive more gifts from them.40 Aphthonia, for her part, has threatened to go to another monastery. Although the resolution of this dispute is unknown, the letters to Antinoe and Herai suggest that they too have threatened to leave, taking property with them.41 In short, high-status women living in a female cenobium had more freedom to leave the community in situations of conflict, as they were able to draw on family resources, including wealth and donations. Single Men Young single men who considered monasticism as an alternative to marriage did so with a significantly different set of motivations and pressures than their sisters. Both Pachomius and Martin of Tours began their monastic 35

36 37 38 39

40 41

Hier., Ep. 22:3 (Labourt vol. 1: 112). Early canonical legislation such as the Council of Elvira (306 CE), Canon 13, and the Council of Ancyra (314 CE), Canon 19, specify punishment for breaking the vow. Hier., Ep. 22:8 (Labourt vol. 1: 118). V. Mel. 8 (SC 90: 140). Ps.-Ath., V. Syncl. 31. E.g. Besa, Frag. 13 (CSCO 157: 37–39), Frag. 14 (CSCO 157: 40–41), Frag. 30 (CSCO 157: 99–104), Frag. 32 (CSCO 157: 105–112), Frag. 35 (CSCO 157: 115–117). Besa, Frag. 13 (CSCO 157: 38). In both letters, Besa warns: ‘Let not the things which we promised to God be accounted to us from that hour; rather they are accounted to God’ (CSCO 157: 40–41) and ‘Let not the things which we promised to God be accounted to you from that hour; rather they are accounted to God (CSCO 157: 111). See Chapter 2 for a discussion of this text in relation to property renunciation.

46

Evaluating Postulants

careers after serving as soldiers in the late Roman army. This pattern was not restricted to community founders: the History of the Monks in Egypt relates how two military tribunes adopt the ascetic life after meeting the Macarii.42 Indeed, Noel Lenski has demonstrated that, by the late fourth century, “monastic and military ambitions clashed” in the aspirations of many young men.43 Some chose to become monks at the expense of other professions related to local or imperial administration – city council members and tax collectors, for example – as is suggested by legislation forbidding this.44 Among those expected to assume a career in the imperial or local government were elite males, including Basil of Caesarea, an important promoter of cenobitic monasticism. The traditional path was an education in rhetoric, and perhaps law, often from well-connected teachers, such as Libanius, in urban centers, such as Antioch. During these studies, they fell under the sway of teachers who encouraged them to adopt an ascetic lifestyle. While Basil says little about his early relationship with Eustathius, Hilary of Arles described how his relative Honoratus, founder of Lérins, left the island monastery to find him in Arles. Hilary, using an erotic language characteristic of such narratives, emphasizes the “violence” with which Honoratus recruited him, as well as his initial ambivalence: “How many times did ‘I want to’ and ‘I don’t’ succeed each other in my soul!”45 As an elite male with a promising career in civic administration, Hilary’s indecision was justified. Like the De virginitate literature, various protreptic treatises intended for men declared that the ascetic career was the most prestigious one. After John Chrysostom had become a monk and then a priest at Antioch, he wrote A Comparison between a King and a Monk (no doubt intended for other students of Libanius), which argued that the monastic life is far superior not only to the imperial administration, but also to the emperor himself. In other ascetic writings, Chrysostom frequently returns to these themes: in On Compunction, written to the ascetic Demetrius, he favorably contrasts a monk’s concerns with the greed and stress of “those who are charged with executing the commands of rulers or the administration of public offices, [who] do not trouble themselves with these [spiritual] things, but rather [are concerned] only if a practice brings

42 43 44

45

HM 23:2. See Lenski 2004, 102, with further examples. Valentinian III, Novel 35. An earlier edict of Valentinian I  (dated either 370 or 373)  argued that certain lazy monks had shirked their civic duties for the desert: C. Th. 12.1.63 (Mommsen). Hilar.-Arel., V. Hon. 23:3 and 23:6 (Valentin: 136).

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

47

profit.”46 Just as women are advised to avoid the toils of childbirth and marriage, asceticism for men is presented as an escape from the burdens and anxieties related to administration and finance, whether in official positions, or, as we shall see, as heads of household. After making the decision to renounce a secular career, many young elite males tended to join urban ascetic circles.47 Some later abandoned the city for more deserted locations: Basil and Gregory retreated to a wooded area near the river Iris; Chrysostom lived for a while with hermits on Mount Silpius, outside Antioch; and Jerome settled in the deserts south of that city. The rigor of renunciation could prove challenging, especially for those raised in relative comfort.48 Chrysostom illustrates well the anxieties of his class as he recalls the doubts he suffered before leaving Antioch to adopt the anchoritic life on Silpius:49 For, when I had first decided to seek out the habitations of monks, having abandoned the city, I was constantly examining and concerned with where the delivery of my necessities would come from; and whether I could eat fresh bread daily, and whether someone would not force me to use the same oil for my lamp and for my food, and whether someone would not force upon me a miserable meal of vegetables; and assign me some tiring work, such as digging, or carrying logs or hauling water, or to do all other such tasks. In short, I was greatly concerned about having rest.

Chrysostom may have overcompensated by adopting a regime so severe that it permanently ruined his health, forcing him to return to Antioch. Later, as a priest and bishop, he practiced a less strict form of asceticism. Chrysostom’s mother, who tolerated his vow of chastity, had strongly resisted his departure to Silpius, and succeeded in delaying it.50 Such resistance from family members is typical, and was addressed in protreptic treatises. His own Letter to Theodore urges a fellow member of Diodore’s circle in Antioch not to leave the group to marry a young woman and receive his patrimony.51 This was also a concern in cenobitic monasteries, as a fragmentary exhortation of Pachomius makes clear:

46 47

48

49 50 51

Chrys., Compunct. 1 1:1 (PG 47: 403). E.g. Chrysostom and Basil. became disciples of Diodore of Taursus at Antioch; Socr., H.E. 6:3 (Hussey). Stagirius, a monk from a wealthy Antiochene family known to Chrysostom, also had many difficulties adjusting to the ascetic life, which were attributed to this background: Chrys., Stag. 1 (PG 47: 425–426). Chrys., Compunct. 1 1:6 (PG 47: 403). Chrys., Sac. 1 (Nairn). Chrys., Thdr. (PG 47: 278–308).

48

Evaluating Postulants I exhort you, monastic siblings who love the Lord, to allow no such thought as this to fly upon your heart, saying: “Behold, the patriarchs and the prophets also participated in the married life and were pleasing to God”. . . . For, it is impossible that one who has promised himself to God should turn himself again to worldly toils and the many sorrows of those in the world.52

In Chrysostom’s response to the family pressure experienced by Theodore, he brings up the example of Urbanus, a wealthy orphan who had come to Antioch to study with Libanius, only to become a monk outside the city. The guardians of Urbanus eventually convince him to return to Antioch, criticizing his fellow ascetics for interrupting his studies and thus rendering him incompetent to administer his estate.53 A similar kind of familial pressure is evident in Jerome’s Letter 14, an ascetic treatise so popular that one of his disciples, Fabiola, even committed it to memory.54 Jerome’s bitter letter is addressed to Heliodorus, a former soldier who had accompanied him from their urban ascetic community in Aquilea to the desert of Syria in order to live as anchorites there. He soon decides to return to Italy to assume the priesthood, apparently to become head of his household after the death of his father. The same familial resistance is evident in the cenobitic life. Jerome himself adapted the case of Heliodorus to his literary portrait of the monk Malchus, which was composed around the time of Letter 14: the protagonist leaves his family to become a monk in Syria, but later returns when he learns that his father has died, despite the vehement protests of his superior.55 Family conflict in the Pachomian sources is most evident in the career of Theodore, who joins a community of ascetics near Latopolis at the age of twelve or fourteen.56 Nothing is said of parental opposition at this point, perhaps because he has remained close to his family’s residence. However, after Theodore moves north to join Pachomius’s community at Tabennesi, he encounters familial resistance.57 His mother arrives at the monastery with another son, Paphnouti, demanding that Theodore be given back

52 53

54 55 56

57

Pach., Frag. 4 (CSCO 159: 29–30). Chrys., Thdr. 1:17 (PG 47:  303–304). After continued pressure from his former colleagues, he becomes a monk again. Hier., Ep. 77:9 (Labourt vol. 4: 49). Hier., V. Malch. 3 (SC 508). According to the Great Coptic Life, Theodore receives a vision at the age of fourteen and then joins a monastery the next day: V. Pach. SBo 31 (CSCO 89: 33–35); while in the First Greek Life, he receives a vision at the age of twelve and then lives an ascetic life for two years before joining the ascetic community at Latopolis at the age of fourteen: V. Pach. G1 33 (Halkin: 20–21). V. Pach. SBo 30 (CSCO 89: 32–33); cf. V. Pach. G1 35 (Halkin: 21–22). See the discussion of commitment narratives below for further analysis of Theodore’s early ascetic career.

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

49

to her, and carrying a letter to Pachomius from the bishop of Latopolis expressing this request.58 Theodore refuses to meet with his mother; in the Great Coptic Life, his brother Paphnouti, who had accompanied her, remains to become a monk. Although no details are provided, it seems likely that his mother objected to Theodore’s departure from Esna, where he might have ascended the ecclesiastic hierarchy while still fulfilling his filial responsibilities; since the family had influence (they are cared for “in a place fitting their position [schēma]”59), such requests were taken seriously, and the Great Coptic Life is careful to note that Pachomius encouraged Theodore to meet his mother, but the young monk refused.60 Mary’s letter from her bishop is just one example of ecclesiastic authorities applying pressure to postulants or new monks. This is especially apparent for lectors, an office in urban churches frequently occupied by asceticallyinclined young men, in order to learn the Scriptures. This made them the clients of bishops, who often ordained them as priests. The young Basil, dividing his time between life at a monastery in Annisa and as a lector at Caesarea, fled to Pontus after being ordained by the new bishop Eusebius, with whom he disputed. Several decades later, John Chrysostom, who was not only a member of Diodore’s ascetic group at Antioch, but also a lector for bishop Meletius, adopted the ascetic life on Mount Silpius in order to avoid the responsibilities of the priesthood. Similar tensions are evident in the story of Theodore the Alexandrian, the leader of the Pachomian community’s Greek house. Theodore, originally from a pagan family, was “moved by the Spirit” to become a Christian as a young adult. At the same time, he resolved to practice asceticism, vowing: “If the Lord directs my path so that I may become a Christian, then I will also become a monk and I will preserve my body without stain until the day when the Lord will visit me.”61 Bishop Athanasius of Alexandria soon baptizes him, immediately making him a lector, and granting him a place in the church to live the ascetic life. When Theodore encounters Pachomian monks visiting the city, he asks to join them, but they refuse initially, “because of your parents and because of the archbishop.” After obtaining 58

59 60 61

The account is in both V. Pach. SBo 37 (CSCO 89: 39) and V. Pach. G1 37 (Halkin: 22–23); in the former, Theodore’s mother merely requests to see him. In the latter, she at first demands his return, but then decides to become a monastic in the affiliated community. Cf. the initial resistance of the aristocratic matron Mariana to her son Fulgentius’s decisjoin to join the local monastery, which included weeping at the gate (V. Fulg. 4, PL 65). V. Pach. SBo 37 (CSCO 89: 39). Ibid. V Pach. SBo 89 (CSCO 89: 102). Demonstration of Theodore’s free choice in the matter would have been especially important given his young age – perhaps still only fourteen.

50

Evaluating Postulants

Athanasius’s approval, Theodore joins the Koinonia, where he becomes leader of the Greek house. Other male elites seeking to become monks encountered opposition from family members. Dorotheus, who was from a wealthy Antiochene family, decided to enter the monastery of Tawatha in Gaza after his rhetorical (and possibly medical) education. Barsanuphius and John accept him as a monk, but his parents resist the idea of giving away his property.62 Probably as a compromise, he was granted extra clothing due to his poor health and his books were donated to the monastic library rather than sold.63 Dorotheus’s family wealth continued to influence his position in the monastery: he was appointed director of the infirmary that his brother had financed, and his Discourses suggest he continued to enjoy substantial authority at Tawatha.64 He was unable to complete more rigorous ascetic practices, a frequent concern regarding young male disciples from wealthy backgrounds.65 An interesting strategy for ensuring the future loyalty of young elites is found in the Rule of the Master.66 The abbot must interview the parents in order to ensure that they consent to the decision; if so, he should exhort them to disinherit their son, so that there is no temptation to abandon the monastery for the fortune. Alternately, they should divide his inheritance into three parts: one to be distributed to the poor; a second to the family “as a gift in the form of a bequest;” and a third to the common fund of the monastery, or the other members. Although it is not clear that a wealthy recruit such as Hilary would have followed such a procedure, the passage demonstrates an effort to provide a legal basis for encouraging wealthy disciples to remain in the monastery. The Married, Families, and Elderly Although famous saints usually committed to asceticism in their youth, older women and men – whether single, married, or widowed – probably formed a significant portion of new recruits. Sometimes parents would join the community with their children, either young or adult.67 Many in 62 63

64 65 66 67

Bars., Resp. 319. For more on Dorotheus’s early career as a monk, see Hevelone-Harper 2005, 62–68. Bars., Resp. 326 (SC 450: 323–324). Barsanuphius allowed him to keep a small plot of land, again because of his sickly condition (Resp. 254, SC 450: 212). V. Dos. 1 (SC 92). Bars., Resp. 257 ; Cf. V. Fulg. 3. RM 91 (SC 106). See further the discussion of property renunciation in Chapter 2. On family members in Shenoute’s monastery, see Krawiec 2002, 161–174.

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

51

this group were already pious Christians who attended services at the monastery, donated to it, and knew the leaders. On the other hand, making a clean break with family and civic responsibilities was difficult; and both the elderly and married faced suspicions about their motivation. Renunciation with one’s spouse was presented as the fulfillment of married life, as explained by Abba Abraham in the Conferences: “I previously had a wife in the lascivious passion of desire. Now I have this same woman in honourable sanctification and the true love of Christ.”68 Basil’s Introductory Outline of Asceticism contains a short protreptic addressed to mothers and fathers in favor of joining with their children: “Let us present to the Lord what was given through him, that we might share in the good reputation of our children, bringing and presenting ourselves.”69 Pachomius suggests a concern that married postulants were abandoning their children: “As for the secular life, it is not appropriate when someone has children, and the dangers of poverty overtake him, and he goes and abandons them on the pretext of monasticism.”70 On the other hand, there is some evidence that the Koinonia included multi-generational families: a passage in the First Greek Life on the women’s community directed by Pachomius’s sister Mary notes that it was possible for male monks to make arrangements to see sisters or mothers who were living there.71 The only multi-generational monastic family in the Koinonia about which we are informed is the one belonging to Petronius, whose parents are described as “of rank, possessed of great fortune.”72 Petronius builds a monastery on the family property, and is eventually joined by his brother and father, donating everything to the Koinonia upon the latter’s death; he directs his own monastery, and eventually the entire federation after Pachomius’s death. A  similar connection between donations and the entry of wealthy father-son groups is evident on a larger scale in Constantinople:  Dalmatius, a wealthy member of the imperial bureaucracy, developed a close relationship with Isaac, the abbot of an important monastery in the suburbs; after most likely donating a substantial amount of money, he eventually joins the community with his son Faustus, both

68 69 70

71 72

Cassian, Inst. coen. 24:26 (CSEL 13: 706). See the discussion in Stewart 1998, 67–69. PG 37: 625. Pach., Frag. 4 (CSCO 159:  29–30). It remained a problem in the sixth century:  see Severus of Antioch Ep. 2.10.6 (PO 12), in which Severus writes to the monastery of Mar Bassos about a monk who had abandoned his wife and children. V. Pach. G8 32 (Halkin 1982: 22). Cf. White Monastery Rules 258–260 (Layton 2014, 196–199). V. Pach. SBo 56/V. Pach. G1 80. Though in the First Greek Life Theodore’s mother is said to join the women’s community after he refuses to meet with her.

52

Evaluating Postulants

of whom later become its abbots.73 This seems to have been a relatively frequent occurrence among pious senators: Pharetrius, for instance, provides for the construction of new buildings at the famous monastery of the “sleepless monks” (Akoimētoi) that he later joined, along with his sons.74 Such joint father-son renunciations, along with donations of wealth, are probably the targets of the imperial law of 370, which stipulates that curiales who join monastic communities must first leave their property to a family member who will use it to fulfill civic obligations.75 The motivations and logic of ascetic renunciation for married people can be found in a fifth-century protreptic by Hypatius, abbot of the monastery of the Rufinianae in suburban Constantinople, which he delivered to both monks and lay people.76 Hypatius presents a long list of the burdens of “living in the world,” widely applicable across social class and status, especially the problem of providing material support for one’s family. He explains that those who are seized by the “spirit of compunction” realize that secular life has no value, whereas the benefits of being a monk include the gifts of tranquility, contemplation, and material support “through men who love God,” presumably supporters of the monastery. In this view, the monastic life offered freedom from financial care for one’s family, and the enjoyment of material support from others. The decision to join a monastery could lead to considerable conflict for married people if spouses or other family members did not approve. Already in the second century, the apocryphal Acts of the Apostles highlights the controversy resulting from the adoption of chastity by married people, especially women.77 In the next several centuries, the canons of various councils legislate against this practice: for instance, at the Council of Gangra in 340, the “Eustathians,” followers of an ascetic model later adopted by bishop Basil of Caesarea were condemned because “many married women . . . renounced their husbands, and men their own wives.”78 When large coenobitic monasteries became widespread in the fourth century, their leaders attempted to address this problem. Basil, for instance, clearly stated in his Long Rules that prospective monks were required to

73

74

75 76 77 78

Dalmatius’ career is outlined in two anonymous Lives, one edited by Banduri, the other by Gedeon; see Caner 218 n. 39. V. Marcelli 12 (PG 116: 718). It is not specified whether their sons were adults, nor are their wives mentioned. C. Th. 12.1.63 (Mommsen). Call., V. Hyp. 24 (SC 177). See Cooper 1996, and especially 92–115 on Late Antique elite women who seek chaste marriages. Conc. Gangrense (Joannou: 86).

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

53

have the consent of their spouses before becoming members of his communities in Asia Minor.79 Several sources provide insight into the complicated dynamics of married postulants who leave behind an unwilling spouse. In Cassian’s TwentyFirst Conference, Theonas describes how he decided to become a monk after hearing an address on grace and the law from Abba John, to whose community he made a donation.80 He then exhorts his wife, in turn, to adopt the ascetic life with him, a strategy recommended by Basil;81 she refuses, warning that she is young, and he will be to blame if she falls into adultery, again echoing Basil.82 Theonas instead chooses divorce, proclaiming: “It is safer for me to have a divorce with a human than with God.”83 Cassian, well aware of the controversy surrounding “ascetic separation,” adds a disclaimer that he does not wish to promote divorce.84 Yet he praises Theonas’s virtue, and other monastic sources are sympathetic to the onesided termination of marriage as a form of renunciation. The story of Matrona, who founded a monastery in Constantinople in the late fifth century, illustrates the dynamics of women ending a marriage to adopt asceticism. Her husband Dometianus disapproved of her goal to become a monk, leading to a bitter and contested separation. When she begins to visit saints’ shrines at Constantinople, becoming a disciple of Eugenia and adopting ascetic practices, Dometianus opposes these changes in her behavior, interpreting them as an affair. He finally allows Matrona to visit the Church of the Holy Apostles, where she stays the night with another female ascetic, the widow Susannah. This act of “adultery” is a clear sign of her intention to separate from Dometianus, and she soon joins the monastery of Babylas in Constantinople, disguised as a man. The author of the Life is careful to state that the decision is Matrona’s, not Eugenia’s, who even discourages her. Yet Eugenia helps her to hide from her husband, who pursues her relentlessly, though unsuccessfully. While Matrona’s actions violated earlier canon law, Justinian’s Novel 123 made them legally valid:  becoming a monk was considered the equivalent of divorce, provided some property was left to the former spouse.85 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

Basil, LR 12 (PG 31: 948–949). Cassian, Coll. 21:1–8. Basil, LR 12 (PG 31: 949). Basil, Moralia 734. Cassian, Coll. 21:9 (CSEL 13: 584). Cassian, Coll. 21:10. Iustn., Novel. 123:40 (Schöll: 622).

54

Evaluating Postulants

There was a reluctance to admit elderly postulants, regardless of marital status, which was in striking contrast to the praise for older disciples who had long practiced obedience in the monastery. According to the biographical tradition, an old man who “tarried long in the world before becoming a monk,” falsely accuses Pachomius before undertaking public repentance.86 Cassian describes how the famed abbot Pinufius hides his identity to live a humble life at the monastery of Tabennesi, but must first endure a lengthy stay at the gate. He details the suspicions of Pinufius:87 And when he had finally been admitted with much contempt, because he sought to enter the cenobium as a feeble old man who had lived all his life, when he no longer had the ability to satisfy his passions – as they claimed he was seeking this not for the sake of religion but because he was compelled by hunger and the necessity of poverty, he was assigned to the care and management of the garden, as an old man and not particularly fit for any work.

This passage suggests a concern that older postulants had delayed joining the monastery until they were forced to do so from lack of resources. While both accounts ignore the details of the old men’s backgrounds, they presume the special appeal of the cenobitic life for the elderly who have no family to provide material support. Young Children While some children joined monasteries with their parents, others were taken in as foundlings or orphans, or dedicated by their parents.88 The range of ages varied widely: only Caesarius of Arles offers specific details, stipulating that, “if possible,” children reach the age of seven or eight before entering the monastery, when they had the capacity to read and to obey.89 The Palestinian archimandrite Sabas did not allow children, including adolescents without beards, into his community, to avoid creating situations of sexual temptation; his predecessor Euthymius had remarked that they should instead be raised in a cenobium.90 Other sources suggest a

86 87 88

89

90

V. Pach. SBo 65; cf. V. Pach. G1 70. Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:30 (SC 109: 166). For ascetic communities rescuing exposed babies, see Aug. Ep. 98:6 (PL 33: 362); Gr. Nyss., V. Macr. 36–38 (SC 178). Caes.-Arel, Virg. 7 (SC 345: 186); cf. Aurelian, Mon. 17 (PL 68: 390), in which the minimum age of entry for monks is 10 or 12 years. In Italian monasticism, children (infantes) were further distinguished between ‘little kids’ (pueri parvi) and ‘adolescents’ (adulescentes), though the precise age ranges are uncertain: Ben., Reg. 70:4 (SC 182: 666); e.g. RM 59:10 (SC 106: 276) speaks of infantuli ‘under the age of 12’ (intra duodecim annos), while in RM 14:79 (SC 106: 60), infantuli are ‘under the age of 15’ (usque quindecim annorum). Cyr. S., V. Sab. (Schwartz: 91 and 113); see the discussion in Krueger 2011, 50–52, with further references.

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

55

persistent concern to establish that children were not held in the monastery against their will, and that, upon reaching maturity, they could exercise their own free will in choosing to remain in the monastery or depart. There is evidence that some children were members of the Pachomian Koinonia, although their backgrounds are rarely specified.91 According to the biographical tradition, Pachomius, citing Matthew 18, exhorted his disciples to instruct them through the study of scripture, including memorization of the Psalms, as well as his own rule, “so that, if they preserve their body pure from their youth, they may become temples of the Lord and the Holy Spirit may dwell in them.”92 The story of Silvanus, who is admitted as a child but later becomes undisciplined and is rebuked by Pachomius, illustrates the dangers of making any concessions for the young.93 On the other hand, as Pachomius notes in the First Greek Life, children will be able to show greater ascetic prowess than monks who joined in adulthood if they are “obedient from their earliest age.”94 Shenoute’s Canons frequently refer to “boys” (šēre) and “girls” (šeere) in the White Monastery federation.95 It is likely that many joined at the same time as their parents, but at least some of these children were orphans.96 Besa speaks of children in the monastery who have been “given to God.”97 The same basic conditions of membership apply to children:  they are allowed to remain in the federation when they “have developed judgment,” but the disobedient are expelled.98 They are the focus of a number of rules, including some related to sexuality, and their proper discipline seems to have been an area of substantial controversy.99 Many children were dedicated to monasticism by pious parents even before their birth, especially in cases when infertility had been overcome. The most famous example is bishop Theodoret of Cyrrhus (author of the Religious History, a survey of Syrian monasticism), whose mother swore

91 92

93 94 95

96 97 98

99

Schroeder 2010, 322–323. V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99–100: 33–36). According to Benedict’s Rule, children did not have a single spiritual director, but were supervised by the entire adult community, who could administer physical discipline; Ben., Reg. 30:2–3; 70:4–5 (SC 182). V. Pach. G1 104 (Halkin: 68). V. Pach. G1 49 (Halkin: 32). Layton 2014, 55 n. 7; it has been suggested that these terms may in some instances refer more generally to ‘novice’ (e.g. Wilfong 2002, 317), though Layton expresses skepticism and argues that the terms always refer to children. Crislip 2005a, 134–135. See Besa, Frag. 33 (CSCO 157: 113). Rule 420 (Layton 2014, 268–269); cf. Basil, LR 15, who recommends that children take a ‘vow of virginity’ only once ‘reason develops and the critical faculty arrives’ (PG 31: 956). For regulations on physical contact with children, see Chapter 5; for the controversy in Canons 8 related to the discipline of children, see Chapter 7.

56

Evaluating Postulants

that he would be raised to live an ascetic life when she finally became pregnant through the prayers of the holy man Macedonius. After visiting the monks around Antioch as a child, he was enrolled in the nearby monastery of Euprepius at the age of seven, where he remained until he was elected bishop.100 Later child donation documents from the Monastery of Phoibammon at Thebes suggest that parents promised to send ill children to the monastery if they recovered.101 Yet this practice was not without controversy:  the bishop Philoxenus of Mabbug, writing to monasteries under his jurisdiction in the early sixth century, expressed concern that some children were forced into the ascetic life by their families at an age when they were unable to exercise free choice.102 Basil of Caesarea had addressed this dilemma in the fourth century by stating that parents must consent to the admission of their children, who will decide whether or not to remain in the monastery upon reaching maturity.103 Poverty also seems to have been a motivation for such transactions: in another Theban document, a father pleads with a monastery not to return his daughter, apparently because he cannot afford to support her.104 On the other hand, donations might come from all classes: according to Gregory, Benedict accepted the children of senators and curiales at both Subiaco and Monte Cassino.105 Despite the concern that some children were placed in monasteries against their will, the Life of Eupraxia suggests that even the very young might join of their own initiative, with the consent of a parent. Eupraxia is the seven-year-old daughter of a pious aristocrat who flees Constantinople after she becomes a widow and is constantly beset by suitors. As the two tour their estates in Upper Egypt, they visit the local monasteries, giving alms. At one women’s community particularly famous for its piety, Eupraxia becomes instantly attached to the sisters, in a scene of unusual pathos:106 One day the deaconess [i.e. the abbess] Theodoule said pleasantly to the little girl, “Lady Eupraxia, do you love this monastery, and the sisters?” And 100 101

102 103 104 105

106

Thdt., Ep. 81. For Theodoret and his connections to monasticism, see Urbaniczyk 2002. Texts 78–103 in Crum and Steindorff 1912, 253–320. For analysis of their content, see Biedenkopf-Ziehner 2001, 12–14. For an overview of scholarly work on the documents, see Papaconstantinou 2002. Philoxenus, Homily 3:70. Bas., LR 15. Hall 1905, 93–94; discussed in Schroeder 2010, 332. For a curial boy, see Greg.-M., Dial. 2:11 (SC 260: 172); for the son of a ‘senator’ (patricius), see Greg.-M., Dial. 2:3 (SC 260: 150). V. Eupr. 8 (AAS Martii 13: 921).

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

57

she said, “Yes, my lady, and I love you very much.” The deaconess said to her again, sweetly, “If you love us, remain with us in the habit.” The little girl said to her, “Truly, if my lady mother is not distressed, I will not yet leave this place.” The deacon said to her, “Speak, my lady Eupraxia, whom do you love more, us or the one who is engaged to you?” The daughter said to her, “Neither do I know that one, nor he me. But I know you, and I love you. And you, lady, whom do you love, me or that one?” The deaconess said to her, “We love you, and our Christ.” The little girl said to her, “I love you and Christ.” And her mother sat, and shed a river of tears. The deaconess listened to the words of the little girl with pleasure – though a child in years, she spoke such beautiful words. For she was not yet seven when she spoke these words. And her mother, pained and crying bitterly, said “Here, child, let’s go home, because now it’s evening.”

The deaconess slowly and playfully coaxes professions of love from the young Eupraxia: for Christ, instead of her unknown fiancé, and then of the sisters. At this point her mother, visibly upset, intervenes, illustrating the potential conflict between monastic recruiters and parents, even pious ones. The following section continues to highlight the initiative of Eupraxia:107 The little girl said to her: “I remain here with the lady, the deaconess.” The deaconess said to the little girl, “Go on, mistress, you cannot remain here, because no one can stay, unless they are in the order of Christ.” The little girl said to her, “And where is Christ?” And the deaconess gladly showed her the lordly icon. And the little girl, getting up, kissed the icon, and, turning, said to the deaconess, “Surely I am engaged to Christ, and I will not now leave with my lady mother.” The deaconess said to her, “You do not have anywhere to sleep, child, and you cannot remain here.” And the little girl said to the deaconess, “Where you sleep, lady, also I.”

Crucially, the deaconess urges Eupraxia to leave the monastery with her mother, to avoid charges of coercion. The young child, it is emphasized, herself makes the final decision to stay, apparently not moved by her mother’s visible mourning. Although Eupraxia had an aristocratic upbringing, she is soon engaged in a number of menial chores, such as moving stones and chopping wood, work associated most often with domestic servants and slaves. This is consistent with documentary evidence from sixth- and seventh-century Egyptian monasteries, which stipulates the significant duties of children who have been donated by their parents.108 The legal status of these 107 108

Ibid. Texts 78–103 in Crum and Steindorff 1912, 253–320.

58

Evaluating Postulants

children is strongly contested by scholars:  although their position while in the monastery resembles slavery, upon reaching adolescence, they were allowed to leave. On the other hand, the pueri in Sulpicius Severus’s community were not necessarily children, but slaves who were brought to the monastic life by their master.109 In the following section, we explore these and other low-status groups, who are largely invisible in monastic documents, especially hagiography. Low-Status Individuals: Subsistence Laborers, Slaves, Freedmen The majority of disciples in communal monasteries were probably from low-status backgrounds, including subsistence laborers, slaves, or freedmen. Members of these groups would have brought little if any property with them; Augustine refers to such members of his community as “the poor.”110 They faced suspicions about their motivations for joining, including concerns that they will be unmasked as fugitive slaves or criminals, or that they were joining because of economic constraint rather than piety and a desire for salvation. The disciples in the Pachomian Koinonia and Shenoute’s monastic federation were engaged in various forms of menial labor, such as basket weaving, harvesting, shoemaking, and even large-scale construction. Agriculture, probably focused on grains for baking bread, seems to have grown in importance as monasteries gradually acquired land. Although work assignments seem to have been rotated, and were not necessarily based on former profession, the economic activities of Egyptian cenobia suggest that many monks were drawn from the class of subsistence laborers.111 Some would have been former coloni adscripticii, the title given to wage laborers employed on the vast estates of the Apion family in Middle Egypt.112 Such agricultural workers were legally tied to the estates on which they were registered, primarily for expediting tax collection; landowners 109

110

111

112

For a general treatment of slavery in Late Antiquity, see Harper 2011. Harper, however, does not consider monastic evidence in his otherwise thorough study. Aug. Serm. 356:8 (PL 39: 1577). Former soldiers should probably also be included in this group, such as the deacon Faustinus, who had only a few possessions, which he left to the brothers: Aug. Serm. 356:4 (PL 39: 1576). Many of the heroes in the Sayings of the Desert Fathers, for whom there is more biographical detail, held low-status professions before they became monks: e.g. Macarius the Great, one of the founders of the community of Scetis, had been a camel driver (and smuggler!): Apophth. Patr. “De abbate Macario Aegyptio” 31 (PG 65: 273). For a general overview of the social origins of Egyptian monks, see Wipszycka 2009, 355–360. Sarris 2006, 64–68.

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

59

could pressure the coloni to stay, perhaps leading to tension with monastic leaders.113 Although there is no evidence of slaves in Egyptian cenobia, they are well attested elsewhere, especially in the ascetic “households” of wealthy aristocrats, such as Macrina.114 For example, the double monastery of Paula and Jerome in Bethlehem had a separate house for slaves.115 At least one member of Augustine’s monastery at Hippo brought his slaves into the community without emancipating them first.116 Yet slaves could join monasteries independently of their masters, sometimes without their consent. A novel of Valentinian forbade slaves and adscripticii from entering a monastery, but this proved difficult to enforce. Basil directs that fugitive slaves be returned to owners, following the example of Onesimus.117 At the sixth session of the Council of Chalcedon, the emperor Marcian requested that bishops require slaves and adscripticii to obtain the consent of their owners/patrons before entering a monastery.118 And several monastic rules specify that owners must consent to the admission of their slaves.119 Yet abbots might defend their disciples against former owners. In the Life of Hypatius, four slaves of the ex-consul Flavius Monaxius joined the monastery; when the prominent senator demanded their return, Hypatius refused to give up the ex-consul’s “fellow servants . . . with respect to God.”120 Justinian’s Novel 5 eases the requirements of entry for slaves wishing to become monks; during the three-year probationary period, if the owner can prove that the slave has fled because of criminal activity, he may take him back; otherwise, slaves who completed this period would be manumitted and admitted to the monastery.121 In at least one instance, a 113

114 115

116

117 118 119

120

121

Similar tensions between Shenoute and the influential landowner Gesios are amply documented in López 2013. Elm 1994, 103. Jerome Epitaph to Paula 20.1.1 (Cain: 74). Cain argues that the infimum genus (‘lowest class’) that Jerome mentions in the Epitaph ‘probably were primarily the slaves of the nobiles’ (Cain 2013, 364). Indeed, their presence is clear from remarks such as Jerome makes in his letter to Eustochium: Hier., Ep. 22.29: ‘If any female servants (ancillae) are companions of your vow, do not lift yourself up against them, do not take pride that you are a mistress (domina)’ (Labourt vol.1: 142). The deacon Heraclius brought several slaves into the monastery; Augustine later orders him to emancipate them, but does not mention their names or whether they are considered monks; Aug., Serm. 356:7 (PL 39: 1577). Basil, LR 11. Con. S. (Schwartz vol. 2.3: 438), as reflected in the fourth canon of Chalcedon. See further, on slaves, the Canons of Maruta of Mayferqat in Vööbus (1960, 143–145); the topic is discussed briefly in Serap. Regula ad monachos 7:9–10 (PG 34: 973). See also Barone-Adesi 1990. Call., V. Hyp. 21 (SC 177: 138). Hypatius, however, claims that he did not personally instate the slaves; the ex-consul eventually relents. Justn., Nov. 5:2. (Schöll: 29–30).

60

Evaluating Postulants

former slave became a monastic leader: Sisinnius apprenticed as an anchorite near Jericho, before returning to his native Cappadocia, where he founded his own community of both male and female ascetics.122 Some sources openly admit to the presence of former criminals in monastic communities. Moses was a bandit before joining the semi-eremitic community at Scetis, and is said to have converted others who attempted to rob him.123 The Ladder of Climacus describes how a thief is allowed to become a member of the community after acknowledging his fault before all.124 Indeed, by the sixth century, the monastery as a site of reform for criminals had been institutionalized: they were used as spaces of confinement and penance, especially clerics who had broken ecclesiastic law, but also for civil crimes, including those committed by lay people. The term of penance varied, but some sentences were for life.125 Yet monasteries also sought to avoid harboring fugitive criminals. Pachomian Precept 49 stipulates that prospective monks should be scrutinized, “lest perhaps he has done something wrong, and, disturbed by fear, has fled at once, or lest he be under some other authority. . .”126 Similarly, the abbot of Tawatha explains to Dorotheus why he hesitates to accept the young soldier Dositheus: “I fear lest he belongs to one of these great men, and either stole or did something else, and wants to flee. . .”127 The implied concern is that the imperial government, or other powerful individuals, will remove the disciple from the community in pursuit of justice. Low-status postulants of all groups faced additional discrimination regarding their motives for becoming monks. For example, there was suspicion surrounding those who claimed abject poverty:  in the Rule of the Master, they must sign a special “oath of perseverance” swearing, with the witness of the community, that they have no property at all, and renouncing title to anything they make in the monastery.128 Nilus of Ancyra, a cultivated monastic author, reveals additional biases:129 122 123 124

125 126 127

128 129

Pall., HL 69. Pall., HL 19. Jo. Clim., Scal. 4:11. Iustn., Nov. 5:2 (Schöll: 29–30), cited above, only discusses slaves who have committed a theft, and can therefore be restored to their masters with sufficient proof; it says nothing regarding criminals more generally. Hillner 2015. Pach., P 49 (Boon: 25). V. Dos. 2 (SC 92: 124). Cf. John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 278), which associates them with fugitive slaves and husbands abandoning their families. RM 87, 90 (SC 106). Nil., De mon. ex. 9 (PG 79: 729).

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

61

And these [monks], neither having started [their profession] out of piety, neither knowing what the profit of tranquility is, have perhaps been pushed into the ascetic life without reflection by some necessity, and think this act [becoming a monk] to be a pretext for trafficking in the acquisition of necessities.

Such individuals, he claims, have a “Pharisaic” interest in the monastic habit; they soon abandon the monastery to be parasites at wealthy homes, thus fulfilling their desire for luxury. More generally, Nilus accuses them of joining the monastery due to necessity: lacking food and clothing, they seek care for their bodies, not their souls. In summary, disciples of all status backgrounds might be subject to the suspicion that they had not joined the monastery in pursuit of the care and salvation of their souls, but for some material comfort; or that they would be subject to strong pressures to leave the community. According to John of Ephesus, prospective monks were asked, “Has any worldly cause turned your thoughts to this purpose?”130 Was this postulant a poor laborer who joined for clothing and food, and was prone to theft? Perhaps he was a runaway slave, with an owner in pursuit. Was that postulant the son of local nobility fleeing his family and civic responsibilities? Perhaps his wealthy upbringing would make the rigors of asceticism and labor unbearable. This dilemma in discerning the motivation and outlook of prospective monks was also reflected in concerns about whether disciples had exercised their free will in joining the monastery. Thus, Theodore urges in his Third Instruction, “And let us truly follow him, according to what we vowed (homologei) to him, willingly, and without constraint.”131 Philoxenus of Mabbug makes a similar distinction between free choice and constraint in discipleship; he defines constraint as motivation arising from servitude, debt, an unhappy marital situation, or even parental pressure.132 It was also important to establish that disciples had joined voluntarily, in the event that they later left the monastery, for example because of family pressures, and demanded that their property be returned.133 Not everyone shared this concern for compulsion as an initial motivation. Cassian relates how the monk Moses flees to a monastery after committing murder, yet “he was so carried away by the compulsion of his conversion that, having changed it into a voluntary one through the 130 131 132

133

John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 279). Theo. Instr. 3:24 (CSCO 159: 51). Philoxenus, Homily 3:70. Escolan notes that this statement echoes Libanius’ complaint that monks are laborers who have abandoned their duties (Escolan 1999, 154). See the discussion of property renunciation in Chapter 2, especially the writings of Besa.

62

Evaluating Postulants

visible virtue of his soul he attained the highest summits of perfection.”134 These remarks belong to Cassian’s three-fold typology of vocation, which explores different motives for assuming the ascetic life. In the prologue to the Long Rules, Basil offers his own three categories of motivations for following the commandments, all of which he associates with “inescapable necessity:”135 fear of punishment, hope of reward, or filial love. Basil no doubt links these to compulsion because they all involve divine prompting to adopt a life of asceticism. In the following section, we shift from examining motivation in terms of social benefits and pressures, which vary by gender and status, to the more universal notion of vocation.

II. Typologies of Vocation/Commitment Narratives Cassian’s typology of vocations, though abstract, is intensely personal. He argues that identifying oneself with one of the three classes encourages the monk to make further progress in virtue: “when we recognize that we are identifiably at the first stage of our vocation to the service of God, we are careful that we act in accordance with the sublimity of our way of life, for it is of no value to have begun well if we do not exhibit an end similar to the beginning.”136 Indeed, there are a number of extant “commitment narratives,” short testimonies regarding an individual’s motivations and circumstances for adopting the ascetic life, which correspond clearly to Cassian’s three categories, and the slightly different, but reconcilable, categories of Antony. Antony and Cassian’s typologies of ascetic motivation draw on Hellenistic philosophy, as represented by Seneca, who identifies three classes of student:137 those who are self-driven in their pursuit of truth; those who at first need encouragement from a teacher, who leads them to success; and finally, those who must be “forced” into pursuing virtue. Cassian’s enumeration closely echoes Seneca’s: “So that these three types of vocations might be unfolded in their special distinction, the first is from God, the second is through a human, the third is from necessity.”138 For his part, Antony describes three types of disciples: those who respond immediately to the call of the Spirit; those who are motivated by the fear of punishment and the desire for reward; and the hard-hearted, whom 134 135 136 137 138

Cassian, Coll. 3:5 (CSEL 13: 72). Basil, LR prol. (PG 31: 896). Cassian, Coll. 3:3 (CSEL 13: 69). Seneca, Ep. 52. Cassian, Coll. 3:4 (CSEL 13: 69–70).

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

63

God spurs through chastisement.139 The overlap is self-evident, except for the second category, where Antony’s “fear of punishment and the desire for reward” corresponds with a standard theme of ascetic protreptic, the goal of salvation, which teachers (the focus of Seneca and Cassian) use to recruit students. As an example of the first group, Cassian points to holy men such as Abraham or Antony, who respond instantly to God’s call, either directly or through Scripture.140 The vocations of Pachomius and Theodore as recorded in the biographical tradition clearly fit this category. Although Pachomius is raised a pagan, he behaves virtuously in his youth, and is eventually introduced to charity-providing Christians while a conscript in Constantine’s army. After he is released, he journeys to a remote village, Sheneset, practicing asceticism in an abandoned temple; there “the Spirit of God moved him, ‘Struggle and remain here’.”141 Pachomius thus remains there after baptism, ministering to the villagers.142 At the age of twelve, Theodore adopts a regime of prayer and fasting in response to a piercing inner voice: “If you give yourself up to those dishes and wines, you will not see God’s everlasting life.”143 Although already in the middle of a fast, he immediately begins an ascetic regimen. Cassian explains that disciples in the second group might be encouraged by the example of a saint, or desire salvation after hearing their admonitions. Theodore joined a local monastery, where he heard the teachings of Pachomius from Apa Pecosh, a traveling monk from the Koinonia, and “his heart kindled as if with fire.” He surreptitiously follows Pecosh on his return trip, and Pachomius soon admits him to the community.144 Thus, Theodore resolves to join the Koinonia following his strong emotional response to Pachomius’s instruction, which moves him despite the physical 139 140

141

142

143

144

Trans. Rubenson 1991, 197–198. See, e.g., V. Ant. 2. In contrast, Seneca assumed an internal motivation rather than a divine command for this class of disciple. V. Pach. SBo 8 (CSCO 89: 6). The childhood of Pachomius through his conscription is described in V. Pach. SBo 3–7/V. Pach. G1 2–5. In the Great Coptic Life, Pachomius has an image of heavenly dew drop into his hand, turn into a honeycomb, and spread over the earth (V. Pach. SBo 8); in the First Greek Life, this is the first vision of his vocation (V. Pach. G1 5). The two major sources for this anecdote offer slightly different chronologies. According to the Great Coptic Life, Theodore receives this vision at the age of fourteen and then joins a monastery the next day: V. Pach. SBo 31 (CSCO 89: 33–35); while in the First Greek Life, he receives this vision at the age of twelve and then lives an ascetic life for two years before joining the ascetic community at Latopolis at the age of fourteen: V. Pach. G1 33 (Halkin: 20–21). The story is found in V. Pach. SBo 30 (CSCO 89:  32–33). The First Greek Life lacks the story of Theodore’s surreptitious journey to Pachomius’ monastery; instead, Theodore simply ‘was brought’: V. Pach. G1 35 (Halkin: 21–22).

64

Evaluating Postulants

absence of the teacher. Similarly, in response to a brief exhortation from her brother Pachomius, Mary weeps, and, “touched by compassion she inclines her heart toward salvation.”145 And the monk Theonas describes how after listening to a protreptic address from Abba John, “he burned with an insatiable desire for the perfection of the Gospel,” and soon leaves his wife to become a monk.146 The third group requires a more forceful divine intervention, which Antony suggests is the result of moral intransigence.147 Cassian offers Paul, alongside Moses, as a positive example of such motivation through compulsion: “And what was the disadvantage for Paul that, blinded suddenly [Acts 9], he seemed drawn, as if unwilling, to the path of salvation, who afterwards followed the Lord with complete fervor of soul, consummating a beginning through necessity with a voluntary devotion. . .”148 Many commitment narratives make the same appeal to divine intervention to justify a sudden or contested commitment to the ascetic life. The virgin Susannah, who is addressed in Ps.-Ambrose’s De lapsu virginis, is said to have overcome her father’s initial resistance by relating “the terrible revelations that had been granted to you.”149 Similarly, an elite young woman from Tripoli, about to be married, received a vision of Saint Leontius and the Virgin while in the basilica, and immediately took up a life of strict asceticism.150 And the young military officer Dositheus, who had previously shown no interest in Christianity, resolves to join the monastery of Tawatha when he has a vision of post-mortem punishment in the Church of Gethsemane.151 These commitment narratives suggest that personal reflection and experience, including attention to the heart, was an important factor in this decision, at least for some. Indeed, there is evidence that monastic recruiters instructed potential monks to attend to their thoughts, encouraging a sense of vocation. A letter by Nilus of Ancyra to Constantine the comes

145 146 147

148 149

150

151

V. Pach. G8 32 (Halkin 1982: 22). Cassian, Coll. 21:8 (CSEL 13: 580). Cassian’s further explanation confirms this: ‘When. . .temptations suddenly accost us, either threatening us with danger of death, or striking us with the loss and confiscation of our goods, or afflict us with the death of loved one, we are compelled to hasten to God, even unwilling. . .’ (Cassian, Coll. 3:4, CSEL 13: 71). Cassian, Coll. 3:5 (CSEL 13: 72). Ps.-Ambr., Laps. virg. 18 (Gamber:  28). Modern scholarship attributes the text to Niceta of Remesiana; see Gamber 18–22. The story is found in a Coptic version of a sermon about St. Leontius delivered by Severus of Antioch (Garitte 1966, 351). V. Dos. 3 (SC 92: 126).

Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation

65

thus requests that he compare the mental effects of his visits to ecclesiastic and secular events:152 If you really desire good direction for your soul, hasten to the Catholic Church, run to the ascetic dwellings of the monks, and you will truly find a great deal of discussion about good things, and the best therapy for the pangs of your heart. Then examine yourself later: “Who is it who leaves the church, and the monasteries, and who is it exiting the theater, and the hippodrome?” After comparing the days, you will not need to be admonished by another.

According to Nilus, with a little practice in self-examination, Constantine will recognize that only the monastery provides “therapy for the pangs of your heart.” The implication is that this is all the motivation he needs for becoming a monk. Commitment narratives do not reflect the sort of “conversion experience” proposed by William James, who emphasized the resolution of doubt and emotional anxiety; on the contrary, they mark the beginning of a long period of heart-work.153 While invariably formulaic, commitment narratives offered a more individualistic presentation of one’s reasons for entering a monastery, alongside background and personal history, for the interview process. For example, Pachomius admits a postulant after he tells him how he resisted joining for a while, before God “convinced” him.154 This description of personal resistance and divine encouragement corresponds to a typology on the “three classes of humans,” found in a prayer of Pachomius on their behalf. For those who have begun to act according to God’s will, he asks that they continue to do so; for those who have been held back from doing good by worldly concerns, he asks that they be freed from vain cares, except for bodily necessities, and thus gain salvation and avoid punishment; and finally, he prays that heretics and pagans might come to perceive the benefits offered by God.155 Like the typologies of Antony and Cassian, the Pachomian version emphasizes divine intervention in personal lives, but also implies that individual choice and effort is necessary to make progress towards God. Other Pachomian references to vocation emphasize both free will and constraint. Thus, Theodore refers to the “perfect free choice of the vocation 152 153 154 155

Nil. Ep. 2:290 (PG 79: 344). James 1902, 166–216. V. Pach. SBo 115. V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99–100: 168–169); the parallel passage in V. Pach. SBo 101 lacks the description of the third class.

66

Evaluating Postulants

of the holy Koinonia,”156 yet also identifies this calling as an urging from Christ or the Spirit.157 Horsiesius reminds the monks of the Koinonia, “we are free,” because they no longer need to acquire their own food and clothing, but elsewhere in his Testament urges strict obedience.158 In this sense, the choice to seek admission to a monastery involved a double movement of freedom and constraint:  Horsiesius in the same treatise describes the monastic life as both a “call to freedom”159 and “free servitude.”160

156 157 158 159 160

Theo., Instr. 3:41 (CSCO 159: 58). Theodore also refers to ‘vocation’ (tōhm) at Instr. 3:27 (CSCO 159: 52) and 3:43 (CSCO 159: 59). Hors., Test. 21 (Boon: 123). Cf. RM 7:53–56. Hors., Test. 47: ‘We have been called to freedom’ (Boon: 140). Cf. Hors., Test. 46. Hors., Test. 19 (Boon: 120).

Ch apter 2

Discerning Motivation II Trials of Commitment

“Now I want you to tell me why crowds of people come to you to become monks, and you turn away the majority, and do not accept them, to make them monks. What cause do you have not to receive these people in this way, saying ‘There is no repentance for them?’ And why do you also say about them, ‘They have not come with their whole hearts to become monks’?” V. Pach. SBo 107.1 “Let us understand this:  when the Lord tested (dokimaze) us with respect to the free choice (prohairesis) of childhood, we did not cease caring for what is his (for we are children), so let us not grumble in our hearts while being obedient” Theo., Instr. 3:13.2

We have seen that monks had diverse motivations other than salvation for joining a monastery. Some of these, endorsed by protreptic, were based on considerations of personal comfort and the prestige of the monastic life. Communal monasteries, in particular, provided the benefit of relatively secure access to food, clothing, health and elder care, and burial. If one or more of these reasons constituted the primary motivation for joining the cenobium, this might cause a “free-rider” problem in which the disciple sought to minimize physical labor,3 refused to be obedient and participate in the care of souls, or committed serious infractions, even corrupting other monks. An assessment of the background, character, and motivation of potential disciples was therefore an important challenge for monastic leaders and the community as a whole. Ultimate responsibility for the scrutiny of prospective monks seems to have been reserved primarily for Pachomius himself, or a senior disciple such as Theodore.4 In the previous chapter, we explored the assertion that 1 2 3 4

CSCO 89: 143–144. CSCO 159: 46. Hors., Reg. 18 (CSCO 159: 87). Theodore was placed in charge of accepting monks: V. Pach. SBo 78 (CSCO 89: 83–84).

67

68

Evaluating Postulants

all those who wished to become monks in the Koinonia were accepted. But there is a conflicting tradition, which instead emphasizes Pachomius’s identification and rejection of habitual sinners: in one passage from the Great Coptic Life, he claims to have rejected one hundred applicants in a single year, at a time when the Koinonia numbered only 360.5 This same episode describes at length Pachomius’s discernment in evaluating postulants. When three friends from Alexandria request to enter the Koinonia, Pachomius rebukes their leader for not revealing the sinful past of his companion, and then offers a lengthy apology for his frequent rejection of those who wish to become monks. Pachomius argues that, while repentance is possible for all through free choice, hardened sinners must be reformed through the sustained practice of strict asceticism, combined with close supervision. He has time to care for only a few such individuals, so as not to overlook the rest of his flock; the rest he advises to become anchorites.6 Moreover, former sinners are dangerous for other monks, especially if the community learns of their previous indiscretions:7 For I  tell you that if I  revealed their deeds to the siblings, so that they would pray for them before the Lord, not only would they not pray for them, but they would despise them, mock them, and refuse to eat and drink with them. Therefore we have not accepted them, lest one of the siblings fall through their evil actions, lest his heart be hardened by this, and he fall into the snares of the devil.

In other words, admitting sinners risks producing a “net loss” for the flock.8 In the same anecdote, Pachomius does accept the sinful Alexandrian, lest the two companions also become discouraged and no longer seek entry into the monastery, and he bears responsibility for all three souls. But after nine years of impressive asceticism, the Alexandrian assents to a negative thought, leading the clairvoyant Pachomius to expel him from the congregation.9 5

6

7 8

9

V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 141). In another passage, he expels fifty monks after learning “that fleshly thought was in them:” V. Pach. SBo 24 (CSCO 89: 23). Compare to Basil of Caesarea, who is also concerned that habitual sinners will not be truly committed to the monastic life, but trusts that they will be reformed through “the fear of God” (LR 10:2, PG 31: 945). For more on this topic, see Chapter 4. V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 143–144). Shenoute similarly presented his disciplinary problems as a result of his own acceptance of sinners to the monastery: “This is how I receive according to my merit; this is how these afflictions are upon me. Because I endure this sort of man and this sort of woman among us, and because I received them into these congregations” (Canons 8, Young 1993: 32–33). For more on assent to thoughts and Pachomius’s clairvoyance, see the Introduction to Part II and Chapter 5, respectively.

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

69

Pachomius is thus said to rely heavily on discernment in evaluating potential monks; in contrast, we have seen how Augustine argued that knowledge of past sins, character, and future temptations was not available to monastic leaders.10 Despite (or perhaps because of ) this uncertainty, Augustine seems to have maintained a relatively informal protocol for admitting new members: he refers only to an oath (professio), about which no details are known. On the other hand, numerous entrance procedures were developed in the Koinonia and other cenobitic communities in order to assess the commitment of postulants. Despite frequent assertions of his discernment, Pachomius is said to have “tested” his first three disciples to ensure that their intentions were indeed sincere.11 Later, in his Third Instruction, Theodore suggests that the Lord “tests” new monks to ensure that they are joining because of their own “free choice,” and are thus properly motivated. He seems to refer to an extensive period of labor, suggesting that it demonstrated their willing obedience  – which they must continue to show. Other scattered evidence from the Koinonia reveals various tests of character and obedience, including the preliminary interview, false rejection, hazing, property renunciation, oath, investiture, and tonsure.12 In this chapter, I examine this elaborate and diverse set of initiation rituals, which varied significantly across time and place. Although my basic framework is Pachomian, I draw upon a number of additional sources for Late Antique cenobitism, including the closely related Canons of Shenoute (especially volume 9), Basil, Cassian’s Institutes,13 the Rule of the Master, the Lives of the Eastern Saints, and Justinian’s Novella 5. Monastic entrance procedures were costly initiation rituals that required a substantial loss of wealth, as well as social capital, given the emphasis on absolute obedience. Recently scholars have argued that such costly rituals are an adaptive strategy for signaling commitment to a group, thus enabling social cohesion, an advantage in inter-group competition.14 Despite my skepticism regarding evolutionary theories of religion, I argue that the numerous trials and rituals for prospective monks were an institutional strategy for assessing their commitment. These procedures generally 10 11 12

13

14

See the Introduction to Part One. V. Pach. SBo 23 (CSCO 89: 22). Entrance procedures at the White Monastery federation constituted “a solemn commitment to world replacement, to resocialization as a monk;” see Layton 2007, 59–60. Cassian claims to be drawing on both the “rules of the Egyptians” (presumably the semi-anchoritic communities of Lower Egypt outside Alexandria) and the monks of Tabenna in the Thebaid, i.e. the Pachomians: Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:1 (SC 109: 122). Sosis and Alcorta 2003, 267.

70

Evaluating Postulants

involved several short, intense activities that occurred over a lengthy period of transition; this combination provided the opportunity to carefully monitor emotional reactions to the requirements of humility and obedience.15

I.

Preliminary Entrance Procedures

The most extensive statement of entrance procedures is found in the Pachomian Precept 49, according to Jerome’s Latin translation, which is worth quoting in full:16 If someone has entered the gatehouse of the monastery, wanting to renounce the world and to be added to the number of the brothers, he will not have freedom of entry, but first he will be announced to the father of the monastery, and he will remain for a few days outside, in front of the door, and he will be taught the Lord’s Prayer, and as many of the psalms as he is able to learn, and he will diligently prove himself, lest perhaps he has done something wrong, and, disturbed by fear, has fled at once, or lest he be under some other authority, and whether he is able to renounce his parents and to disregard his own property. If he seems acceptable with respect to all this, then he will also be taught the remaining rules of the monastery: which things he ought to do, and whom he ought to serve, whether he is in the assembly of all the brothers or in his own house, or in the refectory; so that, instructed in every good work, he will be joined to the brothers.

Thus, prospective monks begin outside the monastery itself: they are first made to stand in front of the door for a few days, while receiving basic instruction in the Lord’s Prayer and Psalms, suggesting the centrality of prayer for all disciples.17 After this initial test of commitment, they are generally moved to the gatehouse, where they are interviewed in an attempt to discern their motivation, character, and social status; their liminal state during this period is represented by this position at the community’s boundary. Theodore’s Third Instruction provides further details about this stay at the gatehouse, specifically with regard to family relations.18 He stipulates that if a monk’s brother is seeking to become a member of the community, he can only visit this relative once per week over the period of a month. During this time, the postulant is taught “the laws of eternal life,” 15

16 17 18

Recent work on the relationship between cognitive psychology and costly signaling suggests that rituals involving emotional signaling are especially difficult for participants to fake: Bulbulia 2014. Pach., P 49 (Boon: 25–26). More details on scriptural instruction are given in Pach., P 139 (Boon: 49–50): see Chapter 3. Theo., Instr. 3:16 (CSCO 159: 47).

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

71

including the need to renounce both siblings and parents. Theodore proposes a specific test for evaluating commitment: if the postulant’s father (presumably a non-monk) visits him while at the gatehouse, he must decline to meet with him, either through a representative or in person, declaring that he has renounced fleshly relatives.19 In the Pachomian biographical tradition, Theodore himself refuses to meet with his mother and brother, even though Pachomius allows it.20 According to Precept 49, the postulant is given basic instruction in the “rules of the monastery,” including responsibilities and the need for obedience (whether by the gatekeeper or monastic leader is not specified). At this point the process moves inside from the monastery’s periphery to its assembly: Then they will take off his worldly clothes and dress him in the habit of the monk. And he will be assigned to the gatekeeper, so that at the time of prayer he might lead him into the view of all the brothers; and he will sit in the place where has been assigned. And those who have been assigned will receive the vestments that he had taken with him, those who have been ordained to this thing will accept them, and they will bring them into the repository, and they will be in the power of the leader (princeps) of the monastery.21

Entry into the monastery is preceded by a symbolic removal of “worldly” clothing and investiture in the habit.22 The old vestments are placed under the authority of the leader and no longer belong to the novice. Indeed, the interview had sought to determine “whether he is free to renounce his parents and scorn his own property,” suggesting that property renunciation was a key condition of entry. While the description in Precept 49 is relatively expansive, and enjoyed broad influence thanks to translations into both Greek and Latin, it has certain ambiguities and does not mention practices that are widely attested elsewhere. A consideration of all the evidence, Pachomian and otherwise, suggests a number of possible stages for monastic initiation. There was an initial probationary period during which character and motivation were scrutinized, and which might involve an initial rejection, interviews, hazing activities to test humility and obedience, and basic instruction in

19 20 21 22

Theo., Instr. 3:17 (CSCO 159: 48). V. Pach. SBo 37 (CSCO 89: 39–40); cf. V. Pach. G1 37 (Halkin: 22–23). Pach., P 49 (Boon: 26). Rule 472 from the White Monastery specifies that those who join (er-monachos) cannot bring their own clothes with them (Layton 2014: 294).

72

Evaluating Postulants

scripture or the monastic discipline. The postulant might spend some of this time apart from the community, at the gatehouse, undergoing training. If these stages were completed successfully, they were followed by an oath, renunciation of property, and investiture/tonsure. Nor does Precept 49 specify the length of time for initiation, which seems to have varied greatly across Late Antique monastic communities.23 Other evidence suggests that the process proceeded quickly, over one or several days. Thus, in a description of Pachomius’s organization of his first community, the gatekeepers “retain with themselves those about to become monks, exhorting them on topics pertaining to salvation, until [Pachomius] invests them with the habit.”24 Ammon is similarly met at the gate by Theodore, who, “having said what was required, made me change my clothes and led me into the monastery.”25 On the other hand, a short instruction by Theodore associates “professing (epangeillamenos) monastic life” with baptism, suggesting that the wait could be longer for postulants who were also catechumens.26 According to the Pachomian “rule of the angel” described by Palladius, there was a three-year novitiate,27 but this is not supported in other sources that predate Justinian’s Novella 5, which decreed the same lengthy probationary period endured before receiving monastic vestment and tonsure.28 The procedure at the White Monastery suggests a rapid integration into community life, like the Pachomian sources, following an initial interview at the gatehouse; however, the extant canons mention an oath, saying nothing about investiture in the habit.29 In some communities, investiture in the monastic schema occurred in the middle of the probationary period: according to Cassian, once monks 23

24 25 26 27 28

29

There was no consistent terminology for postulants or novices:  the Pachomian and Shenoutean material usually refers to those who seek to become monks (er-monachos); more rarely, a Coptic calque on neophyte is used (tōji emberi), probably taken from 1 Tim. 3:6, which also denotes “newly baptized” (Lampe, s.v. neophytos). A single instance of the term remenberre, “new persons,” “who were invited through the Lord,” may refer to postulants (Theo., Instr. 3:27, CSCO 159: 52); cf. novellus in the Rule of the Master, below, note 33. Cassian speaks of “those who will renounce the world” and “juniors” (iuniores) (Inst. coen. 4:1 and 4:8, SC 109: 118, 130). The Pachomian Precepts contain frequent references to ranked seating in the monastic assembly, which was probably based primarily on seniority. V. Pach. G1 24 (Halkin: 18). Ep. Am. 2 (Goehring: 125). See discussion in Goehring 1986, 193. V. Pach. G1 140 (Halkin: 88). HL 32 (Butler). Justn. Novell. 5:2 (Schöll: 31). De Vogüé 1977 argues for an increase in regulations for joining monasteries in the sixth century. On entrance procedures and the experience of new monks, see Layton 2014, 78–80; the relevant canons are discussed below.

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

73

were invested in the habit, they spent a year of service at the gatehouse, in order to learn humility.30 A similar practice is found in the Rule of the Master: after making an initial commitment at the gatehouse, they remain there for two months, while participating in the daily activities of the monastery; they then renounce their property, and are assigned to a dean and live in the community, but are subjected to trials of obedience for a year.31 John of Ephesus describes a thirty-day waiting period at the door, followed by three months of hard labor, and then a full three years of penance, tonsured yet wearing a straw garment, before finally receiving the monastic schema.32 In the following section, I explore various aspects of what Peter Brown has described as “a long drawn-out, solemn ritual of dissociation,”33 with a focus on how the various initiation protocols were intended to assess the postulant’s commitment. Rejection/Scrutiny According to the Pachomian Precept 49, the postulant must remain at the door of the monastery for several days, a practice that is widely attested, often with an explicit initial rejection. Cassian reported that prospective monks in Egypt were forced to wait for at least ten days outside, where they were insulted, in order to test their humility and ability to complete further trials of obedience.34 This report may be based on the practices of monasteries around Alexandria: in the Life of Theodora of Alexandria, Theodora arrives at the Oktokaidekaton dressed as a man; the superior at first denies her entry, making her wait outside all night in order to test her commitment, which she then demonstrates by accepting the risk of attack from dangerous animals. In the morning, Theodora is admitted and given an interview.35 30 31

32 33

34

35

Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:7 (SC 109: 130). RM 87–88 (SC 106). The two-month probationary period before renouncing property in writing recalls White Monastery Rule 243, which states that a written transfer of possessions must be made one, two, or three months after entry; both the Rule of the Master and Rule 243 also require an initial oral commitment to property renunciation. John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 279–282). Brown 1989, 131. Brown contrasts this to the “histrionic feats of self-mortification” associated especially with Syrian holy men. Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:3 (SC 109: 124–126). Although this practice is not attested for the White Monastery, prospective monks were at first separated from the community: a rule prohibits disciples from visiting them until supervisors appointed for the purpose have examined the matter: Rule 538 (Layton 2014: 320). V. Theodorae (Wessely:  27–28). Although there is no explicit evidence for this practice in the extant Pachomian sources, his successor Theodore may refer to a similar custom in one of his

74

Evaluating Postulants

Similar practices were ascribed to Antony himself in the popular Lausiac History of Palladius. When Paul the Simple seeks out the famous anchorite because he would like to become his disciple, he is rebuffed several times. Antony is concerned that his regimen is too austere for a novice aged sixty years, so Paul stubbornly remains outside his cell for four days, until he is finally accepted as a disciple.36 Although there is no evidence for an initial rejection in the writings of Basil, it is also found in later Latin sources, perhaps influenced by Cassian. The Rule of the Master was deeply skeptical about the sincerity of applicants, at least those unknown to the community, and suggests that they at first be turned back, though “only in word, not in deed;”37 and the young Fulgentius is initially rejected from Faustus’s monastic community in North Africa.38 At some point the postulant is transferred into the gatehouse, where more extensive interviews occur. According to Precept 49, the goal is to determine whether postulants are criminals or runaway slaves and to assess their ability to renounce family and possessions; no concerns about physical fitness or capacity for undertaking ascetic renunciations are raised, in contrast to Antony.39 John of Ephesus describes interrogations regarding family, property, and even how long the postulant has desired to become a monk; afterwards he is made to stand outside the gatehouse for thirty days, reflecting on his motivation and level of commitment: “Beware lest your thought urge you to return for any reason, for the sake of kindred, or for the sake of wife, or for the sake of any property. Sit here, and try your thoughts for thirty days. . .”40 The judgement of monastic leaders seems to have played a major role in admission. Thus Pachomius is said to have personally identified promising candidates41 and recognized the sinful backgrounds of others, despite their efforts to hide them.42 Similarly, the head of the White Monastery must “scrutinize” all postulants at the gatehouse, presumably a reference to the initial interview: “As for all people at any time who are coming to be

36 37

38 39 40 41 42

instructions:  “. . . When the Lord tested us with respect to the free choice (prohairesis) of childhood. . .” (Theo., Instr. 3:13, CSCO 159: 46). HL 22. Cf. HM 24:2 (Festugière: 132), in which Paul stands outside Antony’s cave for seven days. RM 90:1 (SC 106: 378): “When some novice (novellus) flees from the world to a monastery, in order to serve God, and indicates that he wants to be converted, he should not be believed so easily.” V. Fulg. 3. Pach., P 49 (Boon: 25–26). See Rousseau 1985, 70. John of Ephesus, Lives of Eastern Saints 20, trans. Wright (PO 17: 280). V. Pach. SBo 23 (CSCO 89: 22–23). V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 140–149). Basil expresses a similar concern about accepting people who were known to have lived sinfully, despite acknowledging the chance to reform them: LR 10.

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

75

a monk (monachos), the father of those who dwell in these congregations shall first scrutinize (dokimaze) them in the gatehouse of the congregation in which he happens to be, and also while he is scrutinising them, take them under his charge and convey to them all things according to our canons.”43 On the other hand, another canon suggests that the members of the women’s community conduct their own interview process: “As for all who are brought in, the father of these abodes (topos) shall at all times be told what are their characters (gnōmē) and what sort are they who have been brought in, whether they are adult women or girls; and who they were left with or in which house.”44 After determining the character of the new monk, presumably through scrutiny and additional entrance procedures, they must report to the “father of these abodes,” namely the leader of the federation. This ability to judge the character of postulants was explicitly identified as a charism by Theodore, who reports that Petronius, the immediate successor of Pachomius, was given “discernment (diakrisis) in the Spirit” to evaluate in every aspect “all those coming to us to become monks (ermonachos),” so that the leaders of all the monasteries in the Koinonia consulted him before making someone a monk.45 Abraham of Farshut, the last non-Chalcedonian archimandrite of the Pachomian Koinonia, goes to the monastery (of Phbow) after his parents die, and asks the superior, Pshintbahse, to “make him a monk” (aaf emmonachos); the latter perceiving that “his heart was strong,” “received him into the flock of Christ, and he served under the immortal king.”46 A description of a successful interview process is found in the sixthcentury Life of Dositheus, a biography of an obedient disciple at the monastery of Tawatha in Gaza. When Dositheus, a young military officer, decides to convert to Christianity and adopt the monastic life, he is taken to Tawatha by friends who are familiar with the community there; he himself knows none of the monks, and is uninstructed in Christianity. The abbot asks Dorotheus, who at the time is the trusted head of the infirmary, to interview Dositheus; he does so, and determines that his intentions are sincere and that he will make an acceptable monk. Dositheus is then admitted immediately, with little period of scrutiny, and becomes a model of obedience.47 43 44 45 46 47

Rule 410 (Layton 2014: 264–265). Rule 338 (Layton 2014: 232–233, but translating gnōmē as “character” rather than “doctrine”). V. Pach. S6 (CSCO 99–100: 264–265). Goehring 2012: 76–77. V. Dos. 1–2 (SC 92).

76

Evaluating Postulants

For Basil, the initial interview is only the first step in a longer process of discerning motivation:48 So we should also ask about former life and habits, lest perhaps someone approach us with a deceptive mind and false spirit. Thus at length it is discerned whether he easily bears all bodily labor that is assigned and inclines head-on toward a stricter life. . .

This passage implies that heavy labor is another effective test of commitment, a sentiment that is shared  – and sometimes taken to extremes  – across other early monastic communities. Hazing Although there is no mention of hazing in Pachomian Precept 49, the practice is widely attested.49 Some postulants were subjected to a series of extraordinary tasks, usually consisting of hard menial labor, or work without an immediately evident purpose, in order to test their humility and obedience. According to Palladius, Antony makes Paul weave ninety feet of palm-leaf mats, unweave them, and then weave them together again. The disciple obeys without complaint, and then joins Antony in a series of prayers. Only at this point does he agree to train Paul for several months, before offering him his own cell.50 The History of the Monks of Egypt thus explains Antony’s initial conduct towards disciples: “He was accustomed to commanding things that seemed unreasonable and purposeless, by which his soul would be tested toward obedience.”51 While this is not a reliable account of the famous anchorites’s practice, his example would have been a powerful endorsement to readers. Basil elaborates on the logic of hazing in his monastic rule:52 But before he is brought into the body of the brotherhood he should have some significant labors, held in contempt by worldly people, assigned to him; and it is necessary to observe whether he completes these freely, liberally, and faithfully, and whether he does not consider their shame a heavy burden, and whether he is found to be enthusiastic and prompt in the work. 48

49

50 51 52

RBas. 6:4–5 (CSEL 86: 37); cf. LR 10:1 (PG 31: 946). On the relationship between these two texts, see Silvas 2005, 193, n. 209. See Theo., Instr. 3:13, quoted above in note 31. The Life of Eupraxia, discussed below, takes place in a female cenobium of Upper Egypt that may have followed the Pachomian model. Eupraxia’s heavy work load may be a sort of hazing. HL 22 (Butler). HM 31:12 (Schulz-Flügel: 380). RBas. 6:9–11 (CSEL 86: 38).

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

77

He thus suggests that the prompt and dedicated performance of the “arduous” and “disreputable” is a test of obedience and humility, a test to be passed before becoming fully integrated into the community.53 Similarly, the Rule of the Master recommends assigning the monks repugnant tasks for an entire year,54 as a test of commitment and obedience, while John of Ephesus suggests doing so for three months.55 Hazing is also presented as a valuable monastic practice in hagiography, the only genre which actually depicts the chores, perhaps in exaggerated fashion. In a striking scene from the Life of Eupraxia, soon after the aristocratic girl joins an unnamed women’s monastery in Upper Egypt, the deaconess orders her to move a number of heavy stones from the hall to the furnace, and then back; the other sisters, it is reported, were unable to do so, but Eupraxia was young and strong. She is assigned to this same task for thirty days, clearly for no other purpose than to test the humility of the youthful aristocrat.56 Once this humility has been established, Eupraxia does a number of menial chores for the benefit of the community, including baking bread and preparing other kinds of food, cleaning, drawing water, and cutting wood. Similarly, in the Life of Theodora of Alexandria, the heroine of repentance is given various strenuous duties to perform upon joining the Oktokaidekaton monastery: tending the garden, preparing food and bread, and procuring necessary items. Instruction in Monastic Lifestyle/Rule In addition to the hazing rituals, prospective monks were also instructed about the daily life of the community, including its ascetic regimen. Especially among anchorites, this was usually accompanied by a warning, implicit or explicit, about its severity, as in the case of Antony and Paul the Simple. Similarly, when the young Pachomius asks the famous ascetic Palamon to train him, the latter complains that many applicants have been unable to follow his ascetic practice, which he then describes 53

54 55 56

While hazing is not attested in the extant White Monastery documents, monks may be forbidden to perform the same job in the monastery that they had outside it: Rule 465 (Layton: 292–293). RM 90:3, 82 (SC 106: 378, 394). John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 280–281). Concerning young aristocrats, Basil notes in LR 10 (PG 31: 945–948): “But it is above all necessary for someone of illustrious higher social rank aspiring to humility according to the likeness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to assign him one of the tasks considered most worthy of reproach by worldly people, and to observe whether he presents himself to God with all assurance as a worker without shame (2 Tim. 2:15).”

78

Evaluating Postulants

in great detail, focusing on work, diet, and prayer routines.57 Although Palamon asks him to test himself first, to see whether he is able to follow this program, Pachomius assures him that he already has a similar routine, and convinces the elder ascetic of his zeal. Pachomius himself instituted a similar procedure in his Koinonia. According to Precept 49, all prospective monks are taught the discipline of the monastery and the importance of obedience. In the First Greek Life, Pachomius reminds the boy Silvanus about how he spoke to him at the gate, instructing him in the commandments and advising him to “look at yourself: are you perhaps unable to become a monk.”58 The same policy was in place at Shenoute’s White Monastery federation: “Each one who enters these congregations at any time shall be instructed about all these [Canons]. Whoever does not wish to agree to the way that all monastics live shall certainly not enter; and if already received, shall be sent away.”59 This instruction was personally delivered by the father of the congregations, at the same time as the entrance interview/scrutiny.60 Similarly, the Rule of the Master stipulates that after the importance of renunciation is explained, and the rule is read in full, the postulants must promise obedience to it, and the commands of the abbot.61 The Life of Theodora offers a portrait of such instruction in action, and suggests how it might overlap with the initial interview and hazing. The superior questions Theodora, who is disguised as a man, about her ability to withstand the various toils she will experience upon entry into the community: Then, brother Theodore, are you able to fast? Are you able to water the garden in the third hour, and to psalm the sixth and the ninth, and to pray unceasingly? Are you able to cast your illnesses to the most high? To not sleep at night on account of the morning prayers; are you able to prepare the lamps, are you able to leave for the city, and serve the brothers?62 57

58 59 60

61 62

V. Pach. SBo 10 (CSCO 89: 31). Similar evidence exists for cenobitic monasticism: Isaiah of Scetis’s Discourse 5 (SC 150: 69–76) is a compendium of regulations for those considering living with him. V. Pach. G1 104 (Halkin: 68). Rule 440 (Layton 2014: 278–279). Rule 410 (Layton 2014: 264–265): “As for all people at any time who are coming to be a monastic, the father of those who dwell in these congregations shall first scrutinize them in the gatehouse of the congregation in which he happens to be, and also while he is scrutinizing them, take them under his charge and convey to them all things according to our canons;” cf. Layton 2007, 60, note 83. Another passage in Canons 1 may refer to the instruction of novices, as argued by Emmel 2004, 158: “You saw him many times, standing, speaking with you in the house of God, giving the first word, which came out of his mouth into yours, making you think about it as you repeated it after him” (CSCO 42: 207). RM 90; RM 87 mentions only the promise to follow the rule. V. Theodorae 3 (Wessely: 28).

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

79

She agrees, and is immediately set to work at various tasks, such as tending the garden and cooking. Such instruction in community discipline was often accompanied by two other key entry procedures, the renunciation of property and the oath, which we now consider in turn. Property Renunciation Substantial economic resources were necessary for the physical care of all disciples in a cenobium; these were met by both labor and donations, whether from lay supporters or those who joined the community.63 Precept 49 hints at the renunciation of personal property in its stipulation that entrants remove their secular clothes and hand them over to the repository, where they will be under the authority of the monastery’s leader. According to John Cassian, the “monks of Tabenna” (i.e., Pachomians) do not allow people to join the monastery unless it is first established that they have completely renounced all their possessions, such that financial security cannot enable their voluntary departure from the community. However, they do not allow the monk to donate his possessions to the monastery, lest he feel superior to the poorer monks, or demand his money back upon leaving the monastery.64 Precisely these problems are attested for Shenoute’s White Monastery federation, which required the renunciation of all possessions to the community.65 This property had to be given to the Diakonia in writing within three months of the initial oral commitment.66 But the diverse backgrounds of the monks evidently led to significant differences in the 63

64

65

66

Wipszycka 1996, 194–195; cf. Bagnall 2001, who argues that there was greater acceptance of such wealth acquisition in cenobitic monasticism than in the semi-eremitic movement attested by the early layers of the Apophthegmata Patrum. Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:3–4 (SC 109: 124–126). However, Horsiesius suggests that some monks of the Koinonia retained their property: “Let no one, deceived by a foolish idea, or rather, netted in the snares of the devil, say in his heart, ‘When I die, I will give what I have to my siblings’ ” (Hors., Test. 27, Boon: 127–128). Leipoldt incorrectly argued that monks under Shenoute could dispose of their property in any way they desired (Leipoldt 1903, 107). See Rule 86: “Whoever comes to us in order to live with us. . .and shall not renounce all the articles that they possess, whether gold, silver, bronze, hoeite-garments, or any other article, shall be under a curse” (trans. Layton 2014: 123). Rule 243:  “And any who comes to us to become a monastic, whether male or female shall first renounce all the things that they possess unto the Diakonia as soon as they are at the gatehouse of the Lord’s congregations. And one, two, or three months after they enter they shall sign over every article they have brought, in accordance with the ordinances of our fathers. . .” (trans. Layton 2014: 191; Cf. Layton 2007, 60, n. 85). This confirms Leipoldt’s assertion that monks renounced their property in writing with a “juristisch gültige Urkunde” (Leipoldt 1903, 106). Although no such papyrus survives, presumably it took the form of a legal document.

80

Evaluating Postulants

amount of money donated, which in turn caused tension. Shenoute thus emphasizes that ownership is communal, and those who leave are not entitled to anything.67 Elsewhere, he warns against citing one’s donations while demanding (presumably special) care.68 Such passages are unique evidence for how differing social status could still play a role among disciples, despite property renunciation, or rather, because of it. Similar tensions with elite disciples who have offered significant donations are found in the writings of Besa. In a letter to the female monastic Antinoe, who had apparently threatened to leave the community, he declares: “Let not the things which we promised to God be accounted to us from that hour.”69 Debates around property ownership, especially in the event of a voluntary departure or expulsion from the monastery, motivated Besa’s short treatise, “Concerning those who have denied their endurance, having left us.” The opening includes the standard apology that no one has been forced to join, in this case on account of his or her wealth: “Our holy fathers, from the day when they gathered together these abodes, did not send for any person to make him a monk through violence, nor did they compel any person on account of his possessions; nor have we ourselves done this.”70 Besa then quotes a monastic rule concerning the status of renounced property: The one who is coming to become a monk among us first will renounce everything which is his, and he writes them over to the fellowship [koinonia] of God and the service of the poor. And he will not be able to turn around and ask for anything, neither he, nor anyone who is counted to him, according to the way which each one confesses his word.71

After quoting a similar rule which also refers to the Koinonia, he declares that “those who have denied their endurance, and who struggle with God, know themselves the law which has been established for us since the day when they went to become a monk . . . For the laws of the church and the laws of the monastery are counted as very firm, most of all regarding 67 68

69 70 71

Rule 472 (Layton 2014: 294–295). Rule 449 (Layton 2014: 284–285). Elsewhere, Shenoute reports the complaint: “I brought so and so many things when I came, and I gave such and such to this place. . .” (Rule 418, trans Layton 2014: 269). Besa, Frag. 14 (CSCO 157: 40). Besa, Frag. 31 (CSCO 157: 104). Besa, Frag. 31 (CSCO 157: 105). The use of the term koinonia is rare in Besa and might reflect the fact that these rules ultimately stem from the Pachomian tradition; on the connection of Pachomius’ Koinonia to the White Monastery, see Layton 2014, 40.

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

81

the coenobium.”72 In other words, renunciations are final, and cannot be claimed by estranged monks, as yet another measure to curb the influence of those who have brought substantial wealth with them to the monastery. In some cases, aristocrats founded monasteries on their own property, directing them as an extended household, and in the process retaining control of their finances.73 Petronius, who affiliated his household monastery at Thbew to the Koinonia and became its second leader, is the only known example from the Pachomian tradition, but there were surely members who made substantial property donations. And some of the wealthy maintained control over their property, which may have led to conflict. In Augustine’s monastic community at Hippo, the priest Januarius, who claimed to have fully renounced his possessions, revealed (as he neared his death) that he had in fact retained some money. Although Januarius left it to the church, the breach in confidence was serious enough that Augustine refused to accept the bequest, and initiated an audit of all his monks, reporting the results in Sermon 356. Among several other complicated property scenarios, the priest Leporius, from a prominent family, had financed a local basilica and hostel, donating the rest of his wealth to a monastery for his household; he was still personally managing their finances until Augustine ordered him to stop. The Rule of the Master also maintains strict rules on the renunciation of property: at the end of the initial two-month probationary period, monks must submit a written agreement to donate to the monastery all property they have not already disposed of, placing it on the altar.74 Similarly, Justinian’s near-contemporaneous Novella 5 notes that prospective monks can distribute their property as they see fit, provided a sufficient amount is left for their children and spouse.75 If they subsequently leave the monastery for any reason, they cannot take what they have donated, echoing Besa’s earlier legal claims.76 While such donations may have contributed 72

73

74

75 76

Besa, Frag. 31 (CSCO 157: 105). This passage closely reflects the language of Rule 243 on property renunciation, which is done in writing “lest whoever repudiate their endurance among us afflict the siblings who are going to endure to the end” (Layton 2014, 190–191). Thus Paulinus declares that Sulpicius is among those who “possess in such a way that they are not possessed by their possessions” (Ep. 24:2; CSEL 29: 203). Similarly, as Clark shows, Paula and the two Melanias could not be “tamed” by the cenobitic lifestyle: they exhibited substantial personal (including financial) independence, and exercised control over the communities they founded (Clark 1981, 255–257). RM 87. Alternatively, postulants can sell all possessions and distribute the proceeds as alms; or claim total indigence, agreeing to pay a penalty if they have hidden their belongings and leave the monastery. Justn., Novel. 5:5. Justn., Novel. 5:4, 5:7.

82

Evaluating Postulants

to a monastery’s economic security, their primary goal was rather to discourage monks from leaving the community by making them materially dependent on it.77

II.

The Monastic Oath

Given the financial consequences of becoming a monk, it is not surprising that the process involved a vow, which enhanced its legal validity.78 Additionally, vows had biblical precedent, and were used in two related late Roman institutions, the army and the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Within canon law, monastic vows were considered equivalent to marriage, so that breaking them involved, in theory, not only separation from the monastery but exclusion from church sacraments.79 Although there are relatively few explicit descriptions of the monastic vow,80 a number of sources allude to it, and there is substantial precedent in earlier asceticism.81 In one of his “canonical” letters, Basil emphasizes the gravity of the vow of virginity, which is only valid for those who can exercise reason (defined here as sixteen or seventeen), to ensure that young women are exercising free choice in their decision, as also determined by a period of examination;82 in the same letter, he refers to a monastic vow for men, which is also alluded to in the Long Rule: “Anyone who has been admitted to the brotherhood and then puts aside his vow (homologian), must surely be regarded as sinning against God, before whom and to whom he deposited the vow of his promises.”83 Basil of Caesarea’s letter to Theodora, the kanonikē, notes that her vow will be fulfilled by attending to the Scriptures and the “written rules,” a theme of major importance in cenobitic vows, along with free will.84 In 77

78

79 80

81

82 83 84

RM 87 explicitly suggests that those who keep property are more easily tempted to leave the monastery. For an overview of the oath in the ancient world, including the Bible and the Roman Empire, see Neumann and Thür 2006. This is argued by Basil in an influential “canonical letter,” Ep. 199. I use “oath” and “vow” interchangeably:  the relevant terminology is quite fluid in Greek (epangelma, omologia), Coptic (erēt, homologia, anaš), and Latin (pactum, professio, propositum); covenant (diathēkē) is also used frequently in Greek and Coptic Pachomian documents. Discussing early evidence for oaths by virgins from the canons of the Councils at Elvira (306) and Ancyra (314), Elm 1994, 26–27 notes: “Both sources employ a quasi-legal obligation-proclamation (epangelia in the Greek East) and contract (pactum in the Latin West). It remains open whether the proclamation or contract was a simple vow, what kind of public was present, and whether preconditions other than virginity were required.” Basil, Ep. 199. Basil, LR 14 (PG 31: 949). Basil, Ep. 173.

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

83

a roughly contemporary source, Theodore’s Third Instruction, he reminds the monks that they have taken the “free choice” to be children, while in the same breath urging them towards obedience.85 Precisely the same rhetoric of free subordination is found in Pliny’s report that Trajan’s subjects had “freely” renewed their vows (vota) of loyalty.86 Indeed, the oath itself demonstrates agency, and was also important for soldiers, who, like monks, were expected to provide willing obedience. The roughly contemporaneous military oath paraphrased by Vegetius offers a useful point of comparison to the monastic vow, especially given Pachomius’s military background:  “For the soldiers swear that they will assiduously accomplish everything which the emperor has commanded; that they will never desert the army; and that they will not refuse death for the sake of the Roman state.”87 While there are few direct parallels with the Pachomian vow, for both monks and soldiers, the vow constituted the voluntary acceptance of a total reorientation, resulting in a new, irrevocable identity, with life-and-death consequences. Although we do not have the full text of a vow, which almost surely varied somewhat anyway, several references hint at its content. In his First Instruction, Pachomius refers to a double promise: “we promised (erēt) God monasticism (mentmonachos) in love, not only a virginity (parthenia) of the body, but also a virginity (parthenia) from every sin.”88 In a fragmentary passage of the Third Sahidic Life, an unidentified speaker (probably Theodore) refers to: “[The covenant] which I made in your presence, saying ‘If I do not guard this covenant, not only may you cast me to eternal punishment, as befits my evil deeds, but also command an evil spirit to become master over me and chastise me all the days of my life, and torment me so that I become worthless in this aeon and the next’.”89 Taken together, these passages suggest that the Pachomian “covenant” included references to purity in the context of avoiding sinful behavior, as well as warnings about the dire consequences of breaking it. In his Third Instruction, Theodore identifies the vow with a promise to follow the “law,” presumably the rules of Pachomius: “And just as we all have sought to dress ourselves in the acts of the habit we wear, of the name spoken over us, and of the law that we vowed (homologei), in the presence 85 86 87 88 89

Theo., Instr. 3:13 (CSCO 159: 46). Pliny, Ep. 10:36 (Mynors: 308). Vegetius 2:5 (Reeve: 39). Pach., Instr. 1:51 (CSCO 159: 20). V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99–100: 120). For more on this passage, see the discussion of the conscience in Chapter 5.

84

Evaluating Postulants

of God and humans, truly to accomplish, we have greatly glorified the Lord, who has turned our heart towards himself.”90 He associates the vow with other components of initiation, including investiture, and the conferral of the name, that is, “monk,” presumably by the abbot.91 The phrase “in the presence of God and humans” further implies that it was taken at the altar, in the monastic church, in front of an image of the divine throne room and the assembled community. Yet other evidence suggests that at least some oaths were made in private, at the gatehouse. For example, in the First Greek Life, Pachomius reminds the sinful Silvanus that he had asked him, while they were at the gates, “Do you not know that it is a great thing to become a monk?” and “. . .You swore (ōmologēsas) before God, ‘I will become [a monk]’.”92 These allusions to the oath reflect the language in several accounts of Pachomius’s covenant with God in the biographical tradition. In the Third Sahidic Life, while wandering in the desert, praying with a “troubled heart,” he encounters a “man of light,” who instructs him to found a community and serve its members.93 Subsequently, Pachomius “remembered the covenant (diathēkē) which he made with God. . .confessing (homologei) in [His] presence, saying ‘If you help me, and I am released from this distress which I am in, I will serve the race of humans on account of your name’.” While Pachomius’s oath reflects his special status as a founder, all disciples in the Koinonia followed the same procedure of establishing a covenant by confessing in God’s presence. Shenoute similarly refers to a covenant (diathēkē) made by the “first father,” presumably Pcol, with God. This covenant calls for the expulsion of sinners from the monastery, and causes Shenoute to fear lest perhaps angels have already cast the monks from “his [God’s] holy places,” unbeknownst to the congregation, because they have transgressed the commandments:94 Just as our first father said, “If those who rule over these places at all times put up with men of this sort in ignorance, so as not to cast them out, the 90

91 92

93

94

Theo., Instr. 3:3 (CSCO 160: 41). Later in the same instruction, Theodore warns them that God will demand an accounting for the “promise” (erēt) they made before him, according to their rank; Theo., Inst. 3:24 (CSCO 160: 51). As suggested in Hors., Frag. A (CSCO 159: 81), discussed below. V. Pach. G1 104 (Halkin: 68). White Monastery Rule 440 similarly suggests that prospective monks had to make an oral agreement to follow the commandments before being admitted beyond the gate (Layton 2014: 278–279). V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99–100: 107). A related account of Pachomius’s covenant (diathēkē) in God’s presence is found in V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99–100: 4–5). FR-BN 1304 101 (Leipoldt 1903: 195): Acephalous Work A1, described in Emmel 2004a, 2.685–687.

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

85

angel of the covenant, whom God established on the mountain, will lift them up in his hands and cast them outside the walls of these congregations.” This is the first sentence of the covenant (diathēkē) that God established with our first father.

This suggests a written covenant, or at least an oral tradition, to which Shenoute makes appeal; its relationship to Pcol’s rules, as well as the disciples’ covenants mandated in them, is uncertain. An account of the origins of the smaller men’s community in the White Monastery federation refers to another covenant (diathēkē), which its founder Pshoi established not with God, but his first disciples:95 Now it happened that when they amounted to thirty or more brothers, he gathered them together and had them make an agreement (omologia) with one another in writing, to be one single bond, whether in food or clothing, with no differences among them nor any separation in anything that they do, whether matter of the soul or that of the spirit. And furthermore, they signed an oath (anaš) to walk in all the canons (kanōn) and commands (tōš) of the holy man about whom we spoke earlier, Apa Pcol, and those who followed him; and he caused this agreement to be witnessed. He took it, stipulating that they keep it as a firm covenant (diathēkē) with the generations yet to come in the gathering of his congregation (sunagōgē). And in fact this (covenant) still exists today in the archive (nekhartēs) as a reminder to the uninformed.

Thus a written agreement to follow Pcol’s rules was kept to commemorate the community’s foundation and its ideals of equality and obedience. It may have served as an example for all new monks, or at least those who entered the smaller community, to offer a written oath stating their commitment to the federation’s canons. Pshoi’s agreement represents a hybrid of legal and biblical terminology, adapting contemporary formula to monastic covenant theology.96 Omologia and its cognates are standard terminology for oaths in Late Antique papyri, in both Greek and Coptic.97 These are written records 95

96

97

The Coptic text in Amélineau  1888, 233–234 is unreliable, but it is the only edition available. The translation above is from Layton 2014, 18, which is based on his fresh collation of the Naples Fragment. See Layton 2014, 14 n.  21. For more on Pshoi’s role in the formation of the White Monastery federation, see Emmel and Layton 2016. Leipoldt 1903, 106 suggests a “juristisch gültige Urkunde;” while there is no documentary evidence for a written monastic oath as a legal instrument, it may have been intended for the jurisdiction of local episcopal courts. Cf. Besa’s assertion of the monastery’s claim on the property of departing monks, discussed above. The primary meanings of the verb omologeō in Christian documents are “to make a vow” and “to confess” (or “profess”) points of faith (Lampe, s.v. omologeō). The verb omnumi is sometimes also used for vows, especially in later documents.

86

Evaluating Postulants

of a public, illocutionary act functioning as a guarantee for various contracts. The verb omologei is used in Theban ostraca documenting daily transactions;98 and in ecclesiastic activity.99 Shenoute’s decision not to swear on the name of God, but “in his presence,” distinguishes him from normal ecclesiastic practice, including episcopal courts, in which bishops oversaw oaths.100 While no documentary evidence for specifically monastic oaths survives, there are related ostraca concerning obedience to ecclesiastical canons and the bishop. Thus, applicants for ordination recorded their promise to bishop Abraham of Hermonthis in the Thebaid, in the early seventh century: “Seeing we have requested thy paternity that thou wouldst ordain us deacons, we are ready to observe the commands (entolē) and canons (kanones) and to obey those above us and be obedient to (hypotassein) the superiors.”101 Shenoute’s Canons suggest that other “covenant” documents like Pshoi’s were drafted later in the federation’s history. Soon after becoming leader of the White Monastery, Shenoute visited the women’s community multiple times in an effort to establish his authority and normalize relations. In one letter, he reminds the women, “and this is how we have made a covenant (diathēkē), all together, through God.”102 He invokes curses and blessings as the consequences for breaking (or following) the agreement: “Cursed be whichever person turns back again after this covenant (diathēkē) that we have made; and blessed be whichever person stands firm.”103 This form reflects both the Deuteronomistic covenant and the rules of Pcol, who employed the same biblical model.104 Pshoi, author of the previous agreement, was himself present at these negotiations. As in the case of the smaller men’s community, it is uncertain whether new members of the women’s community were required to swear by this new covenant. Details about the process for joining the larger men’s monastery are found in the regulations cited by Shenoute in Canons 9, which probably applied to the entire White Monastery federation. At some point, 98 99

100

101 102 103 104

Crum 1902, passim. Crum 1902, passim. For more on the Christianization of the oath formula, see Seidl 1935, 3.19–25; Seidel’s list is supplemented by Worp 1982, 199–225. On oaths in the Episcopal courts, see Uhalde 2007, 77–104; Rapp 2005, 250–252. A similar formula is found in a group of Coptic papyrus from Bala’izah: “swearing by almighty God and the prayers of NN the bishop” (Kahle 1954, 1.46–7). Crum 1902, Ecclesiastical Document 29; Ecclesiastical Documents 30–45 are similar. Rule 25 (Layton 2014: 100–101). See also the discussion in Krawiec 2002, 53. Krawiec 2002. Emmel 2004b, 159, 164 argues that rules in the form of curses may go back to the rule of the founder, Pcol.

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

87

prospective monks are required to renounce their property (whether in writing is not specified), and then to swear an oath in front of the altar, reflecting the Pachomian custom:  “No person whether male or female shall enter these congregations at any time to become a monk . . . without renouncing (apotasse) that which they have, and swearing by their word before the altar, in accordance with the entire ordinance that the siblings have kept or spoken through a covenant (diathēkē), agreeing orally (homologei) in the presence of God.”105 It is not specified whether the property renunciation was recorded in a written document and incorporated into the oath ceremony, as in the Rule of the Master, discussed below. While Shenoute invokes Rule 464 in Canons 9, he is probably citing it from an earlier rule book going back to Pcol himself.106 But Canons 9 also records in detail the institution of a new oath/covenant by Shenoute at some point before the volume was collected, prior to his attendance at the Council of Ephesus with Cyril of Alexandria in 431.107 He does so at the conclusion of deliberations recorded in three letters to “the elder,” the superior of the large men’s community, a collection with the incipit “Now Since This Matter Weighs Upon Your Heart.”108 The elder proposed the vow as a tactical response to sin within the congregation.109 However, Shenoute has significant reservations. First, he is skeptical about its efficacy: if people sin even while remembering God, they will certainly do so despite having taken an earlier vow. Second, echoing other early Christian criticisms of the oath,110 Shenoute is concerned that the name of God will be despoiled by sinners: “I am sparing the name of God who is blessed.” Third, he asserts that, as leaders, they should not try to use the oath as an 105

106 107

108

109

110

Rule 464 (trans. Layton 2014: 293); cf. Layton 2007, 60, n. 86. Layton also associates the Rule 440 with this initial vow: “[All] who at [any] time [enter these] congregations shall be instructed about all these. [. . . the one who] does not desire to comply with the way that all the siblings live shall certainly not enter them. And if already received, shall be sent back away from them. For the land is broad” (Layton 2014, 278–279). Layton 2014, 36–38. On Canons 9, see Emmel 2004a, 2.868–870. Previous treatments of the White Monastery vow have not referred to the dynamics of its introduction in “Now Since This Matter Weighs Upon Your Heart,” and thus assume that this particular vow was always in effect within the Federation. Discussed in Emmel 2004a, 2.601; the text of the correspondence, consisting of three letters, is in CSCO 42: 16–20. Shenoute begins the letter by referring to the old man’s proposal: “If this is the way, allow me, and I will cause the siblings to vow to me, whether male, whether female, to do nothing evil: up to the one who comes into the monastery new” (CSCO 42: 16). While Shenoute does not offer the usual appeals to James 5:12 and Matthew 5:22–37 (see Kollmann 1996), he does cite the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer “let your name be sanctified” (Matthew 6:9). For the diversity of opinions regarding oaths among Late Antique Christians, including acceptance of their frequent use and Chrysostom’s critique of them, see Maxwell 2006, 150.

88

Evaluating Postulants

alternative to disciplining those who have sinned, especially if they are informed about it; their proper response is to provoke emotional anguish and repentance within the community. Despite these concerns, Shenoute eventually acknowledges divine approval for the vow proposed by the elder, calling it “the command which God gave to your heart.” The oath is described as a covenant (diathēkē) to be recited in the “holy place,” that is, the altar of the monastery’s church, by all those in the monastic federation at that time, and all who will join it later:111 Therefore, each person will speak thus: “I swear (omologei), in the presence of God, in his holy place, with the speech that I have spoken as a witness against me, I will not defile my body in any way; I will not steal; I will not bear false witness; I will not lie; I will not do anything deceitful secretly. If I transgress what I have sworn (omologei) to do, I will see the kingdom of heaven, but I will not enter it, since God, in whose presence I have established the covenant (diathēkē), will destroy my soul and my body in fiery Gehenna because I transgressed the covenant (diathēkē) I established.”

This text reflects Shenoute’s concern about swearing in God’s name: instead, the disciple affirms that their oath is made “in the presence of God,” implying a ceremony in the church ceremony, just as the earlier covenant in Rule 464, and Pachomian vows.112 Its establishment in response to disciplinary concerns reflects the covenant with the women’s monastery referred to in Canons 2. One explanation for the late institution of the vow is that Shenoute made a distinction between two such vows. In his letter to the elder, he alludes to a vow to follow the commandments, noting that virtuous monks say: “I have vowed and I have established to follow the commandments of your righteousness.”113 Shenoute later contrasts this new vow of purity with promises to follow the commandments:  “Because they established, not that they would do a deed which God commanded to do, but that they might become holy in our body, as we guard our heart, while we 111

112

113

CSCO 42:20; see the discussion in Krawiec 2002, 20–21; Schroeder 2007, 4; and Moussa 2010, 183–190. An almost identical text is found in Leipoldt 1914, 40, an exhortation to vigilance. Besa also makes reference to an abbreviated form of the oath, calling it a “covenant” (diathēkē), with minor variations in order and a shift from first-person singular to plural (Besa, Frag. 1, CSCO 157: 3). The first part of the oath reflects the Pachomian vow of bodily virginity and virginity from sin (Pach., Instr. 1:51), while the second part, threatening damnation in Gehenna for non-compliance, recalls a similar invocation of eternal punishment for violating the covenant in the Pachomian tradition (V. Pach. S3). Shenoute, Canons 9 (CSCO 42: 17).

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

89

speak truth, doing every good deed.”114 Yet the two vows were certainly compatible: the new one introduced by the elder includes allusions to the Decalogue; and Shenoute frequently associates pollution (“defiling the body”) with transgressions against monastic rules.115 So the only certainty is that the oaths and covenants evolved over the history of the federation, and could be modified or supplemented in response to crisis. Other monasteries had multiple vows, notably the Rule of the Master, which calls for an initial promise at the gate, and another vow accompanying the formal renunciation of property, to which we now turn. After a two-month probationary period, the postulant makes a formal request to live in the monastery and follow the rule. The Rule of the Master describes the ceremony in some detail. Before the altar in the oratory, with the rest of the community watching, the abbot states the terms of entry, which is the main section of the oath:116 Look, brother, you are not promising anything to me, but to God, and this oratory, and this holy altar. If you obey completely the divine precepts and my admonitions, on the day of judgement you will receive the crown of your good deeds, and I will earn some remission of my sins because I incited you to conquer the devil, with the world. But if you refuse to obey me in anything, behold, I bear witness to the Lord, and this congregation will also offer testimony in my favour on the day of judgement that, as I said before, if you do not obey me in anything, I will be absolved in the judgement of God, and you will provide an account for your soul and your contempt.

The postulant affirms these terms by leaving his written pledge of property at the altar, while praying: “Sustain me, Lord, according to your word.” Afterwards, he is assigned to a dean and begins life as a full member of the monastery. While the vow seems to have affected a quasi-legal change in status, especially after Justinian’s legislation, it was also invoked as an encouragement to follow the commandments, and as a warning of certain damnation for those who leave the monastery. Theodore invokes his vow in a prayer to enable his continual following of the commandments: “So now, Lord God of our father Pachomius, give me the path to vigilance so that I can stand firm in the words which came from my mouth in your presence, and your 114 115

116

Shenoute, Canons 9 (CSCO 42: 20). Schroeder 2007, 4. Besa, Frag. 7: “But for our part, let us guard ourselves from defiling the covenant of our fathers, and let us not put aside their teachings and their commandments, lest we become an abomination before them” (CSCO 157: 18). Cf. the emphasis on purity “unto Christ, her living bridegroom” in the vow for virgins of Pseudo-Athanasius, Canons 97 and 98 (Riedel and Crum: 62). RM 89 (SC 106: 2.372–374).

90

Evaluating Postulants

commandments which your servant commanded me. Reveal your desire and what you want me to do to me in my heart.”117 In this case, remembering the monastic vow is part of a strategy for overcoming temptation through prayer.118 The vow to which Theodore refers contains a warning of eternal punishment for failing to meet its terms, a point which is often emphasized in monastic rhetoric. Thus Horsiesius asks his monks to consider whether they are exhibiting the “fruits” of following the rules, warning them:  “I am not saying these things about all of you but about those who scorn the precepts of the elders. It would be much better for them to be ignorant of the way of justice than, knowing it, to have turned from what has been passed down to them by holy commandment.”119 Threats of damnation are framed in more violent and personal terms in Besa’s letter to the nun Hera, exhorting her to remain in the congregation.120 He warns her not to turn back like Lot’s wife, asking: “Do you want your name to be erased in the book of life after it has been written. . .?”121 Basil is more discreet, noting only that those who abandon the community have “sinned against God,” but he is also clear that they will never be allowed to re-enter.122 In short, if property renunciation was a potent material deterrent to leaving a monastery, the vow was a spiritual deterrent, promising damnation to those who break their initial commitment.

III.

Investiture

The entrance procedures usually culminated with investiture in the monastic habit, which sometimes appears to have occurred simultaneously with the oath and the renunciation of property. Like the other initiation 117 118

119

120

121

122

V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99–100: 120). In another biographical tradition, remembering the covenant brought consolation to Pachomius: “And his heart was content, because it was an action of the Lord’s spirit which came upon his heart” (V. Pach. S3, CSCO 99–100: 107). Hors., Test. 31–32 (Boon: 131); cf. 2 Peter 2:21. Cf. the remarks attributed to Pachomius: “Truly cowardly and thrice-miserable is that soul, having renounced the world and dedicated itself to God, while not living in a manner worthy of its promise” (Paralip. 19, Halkin: 145). Warnings against breaking the vow are frequent in protreptic literature directed at young men, e.g. Chrys., Thdr. 2:1: “You have trampled upon the covenants you established with Christ” (PG 47: 309); Hier., Ep. 14:9. Besa warns her: “Do not turn back from your promise, which you promised him” (Frag. 30, CSCO 157: 104). Besa, Frag. 30 (CSCO 157: 102). Similar warnings occur often in the De virginitate literature, e.g. Hier., Ep. 22:2, which also refers to Lot’s wife. Like the Egyptian sources, Basil speaks of vowing “before God:” “Anyone who has been admitted to the brotherhood and then puts aside his vow (homologian), must surely be regarded as sinning against God, before whom and to whom he deposited the vow of his promises” (Basil, LR 14, PG 31: 949).

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

91

procedures, there are few detailed sources about investiture, which seems to have varied widely among monastic communities.123 The habit, despite its diverse material and structure, was the universally recognized sign  – indeed, status symbol – of monasticism, found equally among cenobites, anchorites, and vagrants.124 Investiture in the habit marked the disciple’s enduring, visible incorporation within the monastic body: it “made” the monk.125 As Stephen Davis remarks, “fashion becomes a way of fashioning self.”126 According to the Pachomian Precept 49, the monk changed clothes at the gatehouse before being escorted into the congregation. Cassian provides perhaps the longest description, explaining how, after the initial trial and interview have established that all property has been discarded, the postulant is brought before the monastic assembly, stripped, and then made to dress by the abbot in the monastic habit; his secular clothes are given to the steward.127 Despite the importance of monastic clothing in Shenoute’s Canons, especially in his correspondence with the women’s community, there is no explicit mention of an investiture ceremony in his extant works.128 The only extant description of investiture in an Egyptian monastery is in the Life of Eupraxia, a biography of a child-monk. In this text, the act of dressing in the monastic habit is described as a wedding with Christ. When Eupraxia says to her mother, “I learned from the superior and the lordly ascetics that Christ gives this schema as a token to those who desire him,” her mother responds, before leaving the monastery, “Christ, to whom you have been betrothed, himself will make you worthy of his bridal chamber.”129 The reception of the monastic schema was sometimes accompanied by the tonsure of male monks, though the evidence for this is relatively

123

124

125

126 127 128

129

We are better informed about the liturgies of veiling virgins, for which the earliest evidence is from late fourth-century Italy: Metz 1954. The classic overviews of the topic remain Oppenheim 1931 and 1932; Late Antique and Medieval Latin sources are discussed in Constable 1987. Krawiec 2009 is an important study of the ideology of monastic dress drawing on Bourdieu’s theory of symbolic capital. See e.g. Apophth. Patr. John the Cenobite 1 (PG 65:  220), with other references in Krawiec 2009, 127. Davis 2008, 178. Cass. Inst. coen. 4:5–6 (SC 109: 126–128). Nevertheless, Shenoute traces his monastic identity back to assuming the habit: “after well-nigh sixty years after my insignificant self entered this way of life and donned the habit.” (Canons 9, trans. Kuhn 1953: 240). Similarly, according to his Life, Shenoute is “made a monk” through investiture with the “habit of Elijah” by his uncle Pcol (V. Sinuthii 8, CSCO 41: 11). See further Krawiec 2009, 136. V. Eupraxiae 10 (AAS Martii 13: 922).

92

Evaluating Postulants

sparse.130 According to the Arabic version of the Life of Pachomius, both Pachomius and Theodore were tonsured,131 as is Shenoute in the Bohairic Life, when his uncle Pcol makes him a monk.132 In the Rule of the Master, tonsure occurs at the moment of the initial oath, after a trial period of living in the monastery for one year: “For thus he is tonsured: the very brother stands in the middle of the oratory, on bent knees, with everyone singing Psalms around him as the abbot tonsures him.”133 In Mesopotamian monasteries, tonsure marked the beginning of the three-year novitiate, which was ended by full investiture, as well as the reception of “the ring of observance of the commandments.”134 According to Goffman, the procedures for admission to a total institution, including forced stripping, cleaning, and re-clothing, are intended to remove important markers of personal identity, and demonstrate radical subordination to the staff.135 Similarly, Cassian explains how a postulant was stripped and then dressed with the monastic habit as a reminder “that he, not only having been deprived of all his former possessions, but also having placed aside all worldly pride, has descended to the want and poverty of Christ.”136 In combination with other initiation procedures, investiture produced a new, subordinate identity, which was both materially and spiritually dependent on the monastic director. This stark social consequence of adopting the monastic habit also resembles van Gennep’s classic model of the rites of passage, in which participants’ change in status is marked by a tripartite ritual involving separation, liminality, and aggregation (return to the community). Traveling to a monastery on the edge of the desert or on an island constituted at least a symbolic, if not a drastic separation from society; while the period of liminality occurred during postulants’ initial rejection and time at the gatehouse, at the boundary of the monastery. The aggregation stage included investiture in the monastic habit and integration into the new community 130 131

132 133

134 135 136

The most complete study of early Christian tonsure remains Leclerq 1953. See Crum 1913, 173. Pach., P 97 (CSCO 159: 31) prohibits shaving of the head without the supervision of the housemaster, presumably to regulate close physical contact; this is evidence for the practice of shaving outside of ritual initiation. Amélineau 1888, 23. RM 90:81 (SC 106:  392). It is unclear when monks received the habit at the White Monastery federation. There is nothing to suggest a period of trials beyond one to three months, so it is likely that the investiture occurred during the oath ceremony. The relevant surviving source, Rule 472, is not explicit: “All persons whether male or female who at any time enter these congregations to be a monastic shall not dress in garments or coverings or cloaks of their own property” (trans. Layton 2014: 294). John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 281). Goffman 1961, 16. Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:5 (SC 109: 126).

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

93

inside the monastic walls; but unlike most other rites of passage, there was no return to society at large. Instead, the novice has entered what anthropologist Victor Turner, building on van Gennep’s model, has designated a state of “permanent liminality.”137 This constant state of liminality is reflected in the ambiguity of the monastic schema, and its various antecedents, within Roman society. In Marseilles, many seculars associated investiture in the monastic habit with an immediate loss of status, according to Salvian: “For when someone has changed clothes, immediately they change rank.”138 On the other hand, some early Christian teachers, themselves ascetically inclined, had appropriated the prestige of the philosopher’s cloak (tribōn/pallium), a practice continued by the monastic pioneer Eustathius. But this garment was sometimes criticized as elitist and non-Christian.139 A  similar ambivalence is detected in the choice of vestments for early female monastic leaders such as Paula.140 Early Egyptian monks, including Antony and Pachomius, also adopted a distinctive dress, which was simultaneously a mark of humility and prestige. The potential distinction of monastic vestments suggests another possible interpretation of the investiture ceremony, according to Bourdieu’s adoption of the “rites of passage.”141 Bourdieu prefers the term “rites of institution” to emphasize the legitimating functions of these rituals, both for the organization in which it is carried out and the individuals who undergo it. His study of elite educational practices explores “ordination” as a conferral of prestige, which functions as much to exclude others as it does to integrate a new cohort.142 Similarly, in Late Antique monasteries the conferral of the habit both excluded cultural competitors (e.g. philosophers) and proximate others (e.g. non-ascetic Christians), symbolizing the paradoxical superiority of the monastic life, despite and because of its humility. The prestige of the habit was thus a form of cultural capital,

137

138 139

140 141 142

Turner 1966, 133. See also Turner 1966, 185: “Abasement and humility are regarded not as the final goal. . .but simply as attributes of the liminal phase through which believers must pass on their way to the final and absolute states of heaven, nirvana, or utopia.” Salvian, De Gubernatione Dei 4:7 (CSEL 8: 75). See Urbano 2013, 223:  “Fourth- and fifth-century accounts of Christians who wore the philosopher’s mantle reflect the ambivalence that characterized Christian attitudes toward the Greek philosophical tradition. Some would see the garb as a marker of erudition and an expression of the ascetic lifestyle. For others, the robe aroused suspicion and animosity for its association with professional philosophers and rhetoricians.” Upson-Saia 2011, 57–58. Bourdieu 1991. Bourdieu 1998, 102–115.

94

Evaluating Postulants

albeit contested, that new monks acquired in exchange for their renunciation of property and status within their new community.143

IV.

Conclusion

On balance, then, the “costly rituals” associated with initiation were “repaid” by the prestige of the habit:  if the initial rejection and hazing encouraged the uncommitted to leave, while property renunciation and oaths discouraged abandonment of the community after joining, monastic vestments were a form of positive reinforcement, a status symbol which could encourage novices to cultivate their new identity. Indeed, expelled monks had to put on secular clothes before leaving, in an effort to ensure that the habit’s prestige would not be transferable.144 In short, initiation rituals were at once costly signals of commitment that allowed monastic leaders to assess disciples’ motivation and capacity for obedience; but also provided a welcome exchange for those who were attracted to the cultural capital of the habit. Nonetheless, there were behavioral expectations associated with this increased status. While the ascetic theorists Evagrius and Cassian invested the habit with prestige by outlining its biblical precedents, their references to scriptural virtue also provided examples for the new monk to follow.145 As Bourdieu notes, investiture “really transforms the person consecrated: first, because it transforms the representations others have of him and above all the behaviour they adopt towards him. . .and second, because it simultaneously transforms the representation that the invested person has of himself, and the behaviour he feels obliged to adopt to conform to that representation.”146 Theodore notes precisely this dynamic in his reminder: “Just as we have all sought to put on the acts of the habit we wear.”147

143

144 145

146 147

See Krawiec 2009, 130: “Scholars of both antiquity and modernity note that Bourdieu’s explanation of the uses of economic and cultural capital, and their transformation into symbolic capital, helps explicate the religious use of dress that emphasizes symbolic meaning over economic value.” Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:6; cf. RM 90. Evagr. Pont. Cap. Prac. Prologue 8 (SC 171: 490–492); Cassian, Inst. coen. 1:2 (SC 109: 36). See also LR 22–23 (PG 31: 977–981), Cassian, Inst. coen. 1:7 (SC 109: 46–48). As Krawiec notes: “Ancient writers invested in descriptions of the clothing of their monks because they could “profit” by it; the more the presentation of the appropriately dressed monk became standard, the more the authors successfully defined, and so regulated, monastic identity” (Krawiec 2009, 131). Bourdieu 1991, 119. Theo., Instr. 3:3 (CSCO 159: 41). A similar appeal is made in Hors., Instr. 1:2 (CSCO 159: 67). Dorotheus, in a lecture to novices at the monastery of Tawatha, likewise urges: “Let us live a life appropriate for our habit” (Dor., Doct. 1:19, SC 92: 174).

Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment

95

But investiture in the monastic habit was only an early stage in a longer disciplinary process. Indeed, Pachomius worried that the behavior of certain neophytes would scandalize visitors.148 Horsiesius warns against becoming complacent in the monastic schema, which can lead to sin and discouragement:149 Therefore we have all heard this name “monk,” we have all received the habit, thinking that it is the habit that will present us to God. But after we tore apart the laws of the habit, we despaired, we abandoned [the vow]. We are taught, “Wretched person, guard purity, so that you might enter the city of God.” The fool says, “I want to go to the city, but I will not be able to put aside the pleasure of pollution.” And you said, “I want to go to God full of possessions.” The wretched person said, “I want to go to God full of care.”

Horsiesius satirizes those who trust in the habit yet “tear apart” the rules with which it is connected. Despite their renunciation, they want to reach the city of God “full of possessions,” and are unable to extricate themselves from the “pleasure of pollution.” Basil of Caesarea offers a more optimistic account of how the prestige of the monastic schema produces a useful sense of shame in novice monks:150 A distinctive style of clothing is also useful for announcing each one, bearing early witness of their profession of a life according to God, so that his actions follow what is expected from those who encounter us. . .So the profession by means of the habit is a kind of pedagogue for the weaker, for restraining them, even if unwilling, from bad deeds.

Thus the habit, as “a kind of pedagogue for the weaker,” trains disciples to imagine that their behavior is under constant scrutiny and evaluation. The shaming function of the habit is evocatively extended to the last judgement by Abba Dioscorus, who fears being found “naked,” without the “heavenly garment,” at the divine judgement, warning: “Brothers, there is great shame for us, if, after wearing the habit for so long, we are discovered in the hour of necessity without the wedding garment.”151 In Part II of this book, we will examine how novices learned and incorporated scripture and this new sense of shame, a key aspect of the fear of God. Both of these complex practices took shape in the context of frequent 148 149

150 151

V. Pach. SBo 40 (CSCO 89: 43–44). Hors., Frag. A (CSCO 159: 81). In Discourses 8, Shenoute makes the same double reference to “name” and “habit,” this time referring not only to monks but more generally, warning that such markers of status are of no avail before God if they are not accompanied by virtuous behavior (CSCO 73: 3; trans. Brakke and Crislip 2015, 119–120). LR 22:3 (PG 31: 980). Apophth. Patr. Dioscorus 3 (PG 65: 161).

96

Evaluating Postulants

revelations of the novice’s thoughts to the teacher, who in turn recommended appropriate cognitive disciplines. This involved prolonged work on the self, and indeed the Rule of the Master compares the cutting of the hair for tonsure to removing enmity from the heart.152 Basil’s remark that the habit is “for restraining them, even if unwilling, from bad deeds” signals the drastic shift that occurs between entrance procedures and membership: whereas monastic authors emphasized the monks’ free will in joining, their description of instruction and discipline invokes humility and obedience, sometimes through force.

152

RM 90. Similarly, Gregory the Great asserted that shaving the hair is like removing thoughts from one’s head (Greg-M., Past. 2:7, PL 77: 41–42).

P a rt   I I

Cognitive Disciplines

Introduction to Part II The renunciation of worldly responsibilities, coupled with the provision of material needs in the cenobia, provided “freedom” for new monks to focus on care for their souls. This shift, however, was hardly relaxing: it necessitated a heightened attention to inner thoughts and temptations, which could be particularly difficult for the untrained. John of Ephesus described how – after completing three months of intensive labor – postulants were warned:  “Is it too hard for you? After you have received the mark and laid a foundation for repentance, let not Satan return again; for from this time struggles and temptations such as you have not seen will assail you.”1 Another sixth-century monastic text in Syriac attributes to Pachomius a similar teaching on the cognitive struggles faced by novices:2 Now monks, at the beginning [of their career] are afflicted for a long time, not only by the stirring up of the evil thoughts themselves, but also by their tarrying in the heart; but after a known time a man receives the strength from our Lord, through their tarrying, and also after a known time their motion is restrained, and then the monk also hath rest from strivings, and is held to be worthy of purity of heart.

In this dangerous war with demonic temptation and self-will, experienced monks offered novices the consolation that victory was possible through reliance on their teaching and God’s support. Pachomius’s advice to his disciples was simple: to practice constant vigilance, and to “judge your thoughts.”3 This is a call to metacognition, an increased awareness of the life of the mind. In reconstructing the contours of this thought-world, one must attend to “the relationship between 1 2 3

John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 281). Questions and Answers on the Ascetic Rule 625, trans. Budge 1907, 297. Cf. Pach., Instr. 1:11. Pach., Instr. 1:55–56 (CSCO 159: 22). Cf. 1:10, 12, 36, 41, 43.

97

98

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

large-scale structures of knowledge available to ancient knowers, the activity of knowing particular things, and the practical range of possibilities that late ancient knowers considered themselves to have about the world.”4 The development of disciples’ knowledge about mental processes was conditioned by the expectations of their monastic environment, as well as the special practices associated with it, above all the revealing of thoughts to superiors and subsequent counseling from them. This process encouraged the formation of a new theory of mind, with the help of cognitive disciplines, intended to fashion a more pious and pure mind. Cognitive Manifestations A crucial component in this divinely ordained cognitive struggle was the revelation of disciples’ thoughts to authority figures such as Pachomius and Theodore. This practice, frequently denoted by exomologēsis and its cognates in the ancient sources, is usually translated as “confession,” implying a close association with the ecclesiastic sacrament of private confession and penance, which developed in the medieval period.5 Pachomian exomologēsis, by contrast, was much more fluid: it occurred in both private and public; and while it might entail the admission of sinful deeds, the emphasis was on troubling thoughts and desires, which were often interpreted as demonic temptations. I thus prefer the term “manifestation of thoughts,” proposed by Columba Stewart in his study of the practice within semi-eremitic monasticism.6 A number of passages in the biographical tradition suggest the importance of the manifestation of thoughts for Pachomian monasticism. Despite the large size of the Koinonia, Pachomius is said to have toured the cells of individual monks, “examining the brothers, and correcting the thoughts of each one.”7 Similarly, Theodore’s vigilant care included inspections of cells to determine compliance to the rule: “For often he would call two faithful brothers and go around to all the brothers’ cells quietly, keeping watch over them lest any of the brothers was being negligent regarding their place of sleep – he vied with their housemasters or their seconds – and lest any one have afflictions or emotional pain because of the temptations of the demons.”8 4 5 6 7 8

Chin and Vidas 2015, 3. The term exagoreusis is also used regularly. Stewart 1991. Paralip. 27 (Halkin: 15). V. Pach. SBo 191 (CSCO 107:  179). For Theodore’s visitations as a form of surveillance, see Sala 2011, 66–67.

Cognitive Disciplines

99

Theodore encouraged the manifestation of thoughts by offering privacy to troubled disciples: “He would have the brothers walking with him stand at a small distance so that they would not hear him speaking with any of the brothers whom he was chastising to stand firm against evil thoughts.”9 This strategy seems to have been a concession to the potential shame in talking about secret thoughts or deeds. As Cassian notes, new disciples were taught “not to conceal with a harmful blushing any wanton thoughts in the heart. . .”10 Similarly, Horsiesius warns his audience against admitting sinful behavior because of shame: “But if we are following our thoughts and our soul grasps another thing, then why do we not simply admit our mistake and show that we are what we are ashamed to seem, lest perhaps it might also be spoken to us, ‘Why did you pollute my holy place?’ ”11 Once thoughts were revealed, the superiour might offer encouragement or rebuke, depending on the disciples’ character and the particular circumstances.12 In his First Instruction, Pachomius encouraged his disciples, noting that he was frequently attacked by “spirits,” but eventually triumphed through divine assistance.13 Theodore places this personal appeal within salvation history, asserting that God “formed” biblical heroes, martyrs, and finally Pachomius and Horsiesios, “through hidden temptations and illnesses.”14 The Great Coptic Life makes a similar claim for Theodore, suggesting that this experience authorizes his own “care for souls:” “through the trial he received, he helps those who are under trial” (cf. Heb. 2:18).15 Although Theodore was known for his ability to comfort monks undergoing tribulations, he sometimes ordered stricter asceticism, or rebuke, as a strategy for overcoming temptation. “And others still, knowing that consoling words would not profit them, he would rebuke skillfully and 9 10

11 12

13 14 15

Ibid. Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:9 (SC 109: 132). Others urged private confession as a means of shielding inexperienced onlookers from dangerous temptation. According to the Coptic version of the Lausiac History, Evagrius requested that monks reveal particularly vexing thoughts to him in private, rather than in his discussion group, so as to avoid scandalizing less experienced monks (Vivian 2000, 83– 84). Similarly, Basil argues in the Short Rules that “confession of sins should only occur before those able to cure them” (PG 31: 1236). Hors., Test. 28 (Boon: 129). This “mixed style” of exhortation, alternating consolation and rebuke, is found in the Pauline Epistles (Glad 1995), an important source for monastic literature; and given systematic expression for Christian paideia in Clement of Alexandria’s Pedagogue, which offers a complex typology of the different types of exhortation employed by Christ, the Logos, as he speaks through the Scriptures (Clem., Paed. 1:8). Pach., Instr. 1:11. Theo., Instr. 3:2 (CSCO 159: 40). V. Pach. SBo 191 (CSCO 107: 180). Theodore’s Third Instruction is built on the premise that “The Lord instructs the one he loves” (cf. Heb. 12:6) (Theo., Instr. 3:1, CSCO 159:  40; cf. Instr. 3:6, CSCO 159: 42) and alludes to various types of trial, from famine to monastic disputes and demonic temptation.

100

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

awaken them through the remembrance of good discernment towards God, so that they might keep his commandments and do his will always and in everything.”16 Rebuke was especially associated with the public manifestation of thoughts, an important element of discipline explored in detail in Chapter 5. Given the size of many early Egyptian cenobia, it is unlikely that all disciples regularly manifested their thoughts to the abbot. In the somewhat smaller Basilian monasticism, disciples were specifically ordered to “reveal the hidden things of the heart to those entrusted among the siblings to care for the weak compassionately and sympathetically.”17 But no such command is found in either the Pachomian rules or the Canons from the White Monastery. Shenoute himself demanded that the superiors of the women’s community reveal everything to him, which presumably included manifestations of their disciples’ thoughts.18 This recalls a passage from the Great Coptic Life, in which housemasters referred disciples under suspicion of demonic temptation to Theodore for counseling.19 The Rule of the Master calls for a similar communication between deans and abbot:20 So when an evil thought enters into the heart of some brother and he feels that he is wavering because of it, let him immediately confess it to his deans, and soon, after a prayer is made, they will inform the abbot about it. For the deans themselves should always on their own initiative interrogate those under their authority about this, lest perhaps, either because of the simplicity of some, or indeed by the very shame of the evil (thoughts), the brother is ashamed to confess depraved and obscene things.

While these accounts point to involuntary questioning, some monks doubtless sought the advice of housemasters or other senior monks at their own initiative.21 Whether voluntary or involuntary, the manifestation of the thought was an important step in cultivating a monastic theory of mind: the thought then had to be classified and, if necessary, combatted. 16

17 18 19

20 21

V. Pach. SBo 191 (CSCO 107: 180); cf. V. Pach. SBo 195. The mixed method of rebuke and consolation is also presented as an integral part of Pachomius’s pastoral care in V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/ 100: 118–119). Basil, LR 26 (PG 31: 985, 988). The confession of sinful actions is mandated in LR 46. See Krawiec 2002, 86–87. “He would speak with each one of those whom the housemasters brought him lest the enemy sow some evil thoughts in them secretly, wishing to destroy their souls, and to build them up through the Scriptures, so that they despise evil and empty thoughts” (V. Pach. SBo 191, CSCO 107: 180). RM 15 (SC 106: 64). V. Pach. G1 96, which urges the monk to “consult someone experienced,” noting that, “It’s a great evil not to announce (anaggeilai) this quickly to one who has knowledge, before the passion (pathos) matures” (Halkin: 64–65). Note the voluntary nature of most of the letters sent by disciples to Barsanuphius and John requesting advice.

Cognitive Disciplines

101

Cognitive Typologies The authority to advise a disciple about thoughts was predicated on the charism of discernment, as is stated explicitly in the account of Theodore’s care for souls: “In short, he spoke with each of them in private, discerning their thoughts and their deeds through the spirit of God that was in him.”22 Discernment (diakrisis/discretio) in the Pachomian sources refers primarily to the ability to identify the significance and origins of one’s own mental state, or the mental state of another.23 Pachomian discernment is best understood in the context of earlier ascetic formulas, such as Origen’s tripartite classification of cognition as divine/angelic, human, or demonic, which was largely replicated by Ammonas, Evagrius and Cassian.24 Antony identified three motivations for human action: the inclination of the will; movements of the body; and demonic thoughts.25 Although Pachomian sources offer no such concise typology of discernment, the collective evidence suggests that they followed a similar model:  humans may themselves choose to do evil through free will,26 while “thoughts” are usually understood to be demonic temptation.27 Some thoughts are described as “carnal,” implying a physical component to cognition and recalling Antony’s “movements of the body.”28 But the Evagrian division of the soul (following Origen) between two irrational parts (epithumia and thumos, both associated to pathos), and a rational one (nous/logistikon) that should guide disciples, is absent in the Pachomian material.29 In Egyptian cenobitic literature, especially in Coptic texts, the “heart” (kardia, hēt, cor) is the primary seat of cognition. In the monastic context, thoughts did not refer in the first instance to evaluating the truthvalue of propositions, such as theological statements, or to efforts at organizing a speech or an account book;30 but to the varied reflections of the 22 23

24 25

26

27 28

29 30

V. Pach. SBo 195 (CSCO 107: 190). The term has a somewhat broader meaning in semi-eremitic monasticism, where it also concerns the correct interpretation of Scripture and other literature, as well as insight into other people and events, on which see Rich 1997. For a survey of discernment in early Christianity, see Lienhard 1980. Or., Princ. 3.2.4. Ammonas, Ep. 11; Evagr. Pont., Thoughts 8; Cassian, Inst. coen. 1:19. Vitae patrum, Fornication 1; Antony’s Letter 1, which does not ascribe the thoughts to God, but nature. See the discussion in Rubenson 1994, 51–54. Autexousion/wōsh emmin emmof. For example, Theodore characterized the rebellion against Horsiesius as rooted in self-will (V. Pach. S6, CSCO 99/100: 273); cf. Ruppert 1971, 356–363. On the term logismoi in Pachomian sources, see Rousseau 1985, 139–141. “Thoughts and passions of the flesh” (Theo., Instr. 3:20, CSCO 159:  50); “fleshly thoughts” (V. Pach. S1, CSCO 99/100: 3). For Evagrian anthropology, and its relationship to Origen, see O’Laughlin 1988. Though for some post-Chacledonian monastic authors, theological disputation was a form of ascetic practice: cf. Michelson 2015, 178–203, on Philoxenus of Mabbug.

102

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

wandering mind. Although Pachomian sources refer to both “emotions” (pathos, epithumia) and “thoughts” (logismos, me’ewe), these do not appear to have distinctive meanings. Thoughts are often presented as internalized speech in Pachomian sources and Shenoute, a kind of narrativized presentation of emotion;31 both constitute a disturbance of the heart, and are often identified as demonic. Like Pachomius, Shenoute refers to logismoi, epithumia, and pathos in roughly the same fashion, as sources of sin. His views on cognitive struggle are tied to his worldview, which David Brakke has aptly described as “dualistic.”32 For Shenoute, evil was manifested in the devil and his demons, which were also responsible for cognitive struggles. In a striking image, he asserts that Christ has dismembered the devil, whose sole means of fighting is now to breath evil thoughts:33 He [the devil] is unable to move [any of his members] so as to get up or pursue a person, except for his breath alone, which comes and goes, that is, his thoughts, which Christ left in him because he wants his children, his soldiers, his servants, and all who are on his side to lay their hands upon him [the devil], that is, to fight against his godless thoughts [logismoi], so that they might be glorified with him and reign with him.

In another episode, however, Shenoute portrays the devil on his feet, wandering the monastery grounds at night disguised as an imperial official. He must rely on discernment to unmask this intruder, in the process realizing that it is necessary to expel a group of sinful monks from the congregation.34 Shenoute simply labels individuals and their thoughts as demonic, without providing specialized strategies for combatting particular logismoi; but as we will see, he relies on the same cognitive disciplines to combat evil thoughts as Pachomius and other monks. While discernment was generally understood as a charism, there are hints of systemized teaching upon which leaders could draw in offering advice about thoughts. The most famous is Evagrius’s classic system of eight thoughts: gluttony (gastrimargia), fornication (porneia), avarice (philarguria), sadness (lypē), anger (orgē), sloth (akēdia), vainglory (kenodoxia), and pride (hyperēphania).35 Several Pachomian lists of thoughts show important similarities to the Evagrian typology, as well as departures from it. The First 31

32 33 34 35

Speech is also equated with thought in multiple passages of Origen, for which see TavaresBettencourt 1945, 35ff. Brakke 2006, 6. Shenoute’s approach to the demonic,is explored in Brakke 2006, 100–124. Shenoute, Discourses 4, trans. Brakke 2006: 107. Brakke 2006, 1–2, discussing Shenoute, Canons 9 (CSCO 42: 37–41). This typology, which is found in the Praktikos, Antirrhetikos, and Eight Spirits, varies somewhat.

Cognitive Disciplines

103

Instruction notes fifteen ”spirits” which “walk with one another:” cowardice (mentkyabhēt) and lack of faith (mentatnahte); lying (kyol) and deceit (mentsankotes); avarice (mentmaihoment) and profiteering (menteshōōt); perjury (mentrefōrek ennouj), malice (ponēria), and envy (mentyerboone); vainglory (kenodoxia) and gluttony (mentlabmahet); fornication (porneia) and pollution (akatharsia); enmity (mentjaje) and sadness (lypē)’.36 This list is longer than the standard Evagrian one, with which it shares several Greek terms (kenodoxia, porneia, lypē), as well as the Coptic equivalents for avarice and gluttony.37 Malice and enmity are rough equivalents for Evagrian anger, although akēdia and vainglory are not represented in the Pachomian sources. The presentation of the vices as spirits (elsewhere in the First Instruction they are called demonic thoughts) closely recalls the “seven spirits of deceit,” which are revealed to the patriarch Reuben when he repents for committing porneia with Bilhah.38 Indeed, the rhetorical tone of much Pachomian catechetical material, especially the First Instruction, recalls the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, in which an elder commands a child to act with moral virtue, including obedience to the divine law, for the sake of inheriting the blessings promised to the parents.39 The list of spirits in the Testament of Reuben is accompanied by the same paraenetic material, including exhortations to vigilance and warnings of divine punishment, found in monastic instruction.40 The testament of Abraham of Farshut, the final leader of the Koinonia, contains another traditional list of evil thoughts: Pay attention, siblings, and guard your hearts, so that the enemy might not sow among you these evil weeds, which are hatred (moste) towards one another, enmity (mentjaje), wrath (noukys) and anger (kyōnet), envy (kōh) 36 37

38

39

40

Pach., Instr. 1:10 (CSCO 159: 2–3). In general, the Pachomian literature suggests that termini technici, such as vices, were found both as Greek loanwords and in Coptic translation: in one passage, the Coptic calque and its corresponding Greek follow each other in succession: “I urge you very much that you hate vainglory (eow etsweit); the weapon of the devil is vainglory (kenodoxia)” (Pach., Instr. 1:24, CSCO 159: 8). Testament of Reuben 2:1–3:7. The spirits actually number more than seven, because some are listed with additional related vices, as in the First Instruction: fornication, insatiableness, fighting, obsequiousness and chicanery, that through officious attention may be fair in seeming; pride, that one may be boastful and arrogant, lying, in perdition and jealousy to practice deceits, and concealments from kindred and friends; injustice, “with which are thefts of acts of rapacity.” For the relationship of the Testaments to the teachings of Origen and Evagrius on thoughts, see Stewart 2005, 6. The same ideology of inheritance undergirds the commemoration of Pachomius, as discussed in Chapter 6. Connections between rabbinic and early Christian demonology are explored in Rosen-Zvi 2011; for a general approach to comparing early Christian and rabbinic literature, see Bar-Asher Siegal 2013. For depictions of the heart in Syriac literature (including ascetic texts), see Brock 1998.

104

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity and strife (ti-tōn), plotting (mentrefskoptei), slander (katalalia), indulgence (spatala), derision (sōbe), covetousness (mentmaito), love of one’s own ease (mentmai-tenemton mawaan), and all the other evils which our holy fathers wrote down so as to remove them from us.41

This list is almost entirely distinct from Evagrius’ (except for anger, though the Coptic term is used), and, like the previous example, is notable for its cenobitic flavor: almost all of the evil deeds suggest disputes between disciples, such as “hatred towards one another.”42 After a disciple reveals a thought, and the advisor identifies it as evil, the struggle has begun. Pachomius was known for his teachings on the wiles of demons: “And, while seated, he would often give catecheses to the brothers, and he obliged them, first, to be blameless in knowledge, and not ignorant of the craftiness of the enemies, and to oppose them with the power of the Lord.”43 Similarly Theodore, having beaten the demons himself, “taught [the disciples] how to oppose each of the foreign thoughts.”44 Some strategies were directed at specific temptations, such as Pachomius’s advice to overcome anger by counting verbal insults as spiritual profit: “gaining a solidus” through imitating Christ.45 Despite such advice from more experienced monks, and emotional support in the form of prayer, disciples were ultimately responsible for their own interaction with the thought: would they resist it, reject it, or consent to it? Even if a temptation was demonic, monks exercized their own free choice in responding to it. As Basil argues in his Shorter Rule, Satan is never entirely responsible for sin, but takes advantage of “natural movements” (e.g. hunger) or “forbidden passions” (e.g. avarice).46 In the Pachomian tradition, the divine will makes itself known through the conscience, even if beginners do not always recognize or obey its inner voice; furthermore, humans are endowed with free will, and thus can always choose good over evil. These are the first of five mental processes listed in a fragmentary passage from the Tenth Sahidic Life: “The Lord placed [conscience] 41 42

43 44 45

46

Goehring 2012, 88–89. The same is true of a shorter list of four thoughts, given in an instruction by Pachomius on the need for continued vigilance: “Lust for power (philarchia), slothfulness (oknēria), hatred of a brother (misos pros ton adelphon), avarice (philarguria)” (V. Pach. G1 96, Halkin: 64–65). V. Pach. G1 56 (Halkin: 56). V. Pach. G1 132 (Halkin: 83–84). “Do not be grieved if you are cursed by men, but grieve, and cry out, when you sin” (Pach., Instr. 1:23, CSCO 159: 8). SR 75 (PG 31: 1136). Cassian concedes that it can be difficult to identify the source of a temptation as demonic or personal (Conf. 7:9), citing Mt. 15:19 as proof that humans are responsible for evil thoughts.

Cognitive Disciplines

105

([sunei]dēsis) in people, and free will (autexousion), and discernment (diakrisis), and perception (aisthēsis), and wisdom (mentsabe), just as the parts of the soul, which are evident when a person works with them, each one according to [the person’s] need.”47 These five components of the soul, which are imagined as analogous to the body, are never systematically described in extant Pachomian literature, but their basic functions are relatively clear: conscience and free will make ethical action possible, even for beginners, and are often manifested through an inner divine voice; perception refers not to the basic senses but to a spiritual capacity developed through the praise of God’s grandeur and generosity; while discernment and wisdom, which played a role in visionary experiences, were also cultivated through prayer and active only for advanced disciples. Monks were expected to work on their thoughts to shape their mental life in the image of such models. Cognitive Disciplines: Scripture, Fear of God, and Prayer Early monastic literature constantly invokes three resources to draw upon in the battle against bad thoughts, which will be the topics of the following three chapters: scripture, the fear of God, and prayer. Monks were taught to practice these cognitive disciplines and to call on them in situations of temptation, to avoid committing a sinful deed, or simply assenting to an evil temptation. The central role of Scripture and the fear of God in cognitive struggle is highlighted in John Cassian’s presentation of the “spiritual” centurion (of Mt. 8:9) as a model for accepting good thoughts and rejecting bad ones. This pious warrior employs the “shield of faith” to destroy “flaming darts of lust” through “the fear of future judgement,” and the “sword of the Spirit,” namely Scripture.48 These twin weapons – Scripture and the fear of God  – are frequently mentioned in Pachomian and other early cenobitic sources. In an exhortation for obedience to superiors offering the care of souls, Horsiesius recommends the “fear of God,” quoting Ephesians

47

48

V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 41); elsewhere these five components are said to represent the image of God:  V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100:  325). Although God is said to endow Adam with free will elsewhere in early Christian literature, e.g. (Ps.-)Athanasius, De incarnatione contra Apollinarem 1:15 (PG 26:1120B), the five Pachomian psychic faculties appear to be unique, and their context in Late Antique Egypt deserves further exploration. Cassian, Inst. coen. 7:5. In a letter written from his monastery at Bethlehem, Jerome sought to recruit Paulinus of Nola as a disciple, suggesting that their budding epistolary connection is wrought by “the fear of God and a study of the divine Scriptures” (Hier., Ep. 53:1, Labourt: 8).

106

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

6:16–17, like Cassian:  “Take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the devil. Take up the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”49 Similarly, for Theodore, the vigilant monitoring of thoughts is achieved through Scripture and the fear of God: “If we do not [keep vigil] at all times through our speaking the holy Scriptures, the enemy will take from us the fear of the Lord and instead make us fear him.”50 And the young Shenoute presented them as mechanisms for cleansing the heart in his open letter to the White Monastery federation:  “Woe to me, and woe to you, because, in our evils and our pollutions, we have not washed our heart through the fear of God and the writings of the Scriptures.”51 Prayer, like Scripture and the fear of God, is often recommended to monks as a strategy for overcoming evil thoughts and temptations. Evagrius offers the only explicit definition of prayer in monastic sources: a conversation of the mind with God.52 The recitation of Scripture, especially when the verse is directly addressed to God, is thus a form of prayer. Another important feature of prayer is the turning of the self towards God.53 Both aspects are found in the following instruction by Pachomius:54 When a thought oppresses you, do not be discouraged, but endure it with bravery, saying, “In a circle they encircled me, but I drove them back in the name of the Lord” (Psalm 118:11). Immediately God’s help will come to you, and you will drive them away, outside of you, and courage will encircle you, and the glory of God will walk with you; and you will be satiated as your soul desires.

This prayer quotes the Psalm verse, and its invocation of “the Lord,” leading to divine invigoration and support. Later in the same instruction, Pachomius describes prayer as a turning to God in the sense of a request for help: “When I flee to God with tears, humility, fasts, and vigils, then the enemy grows weak before me, as well as all his spirits; God’s courage came to me, and immediately I experience God’s help.”55 We will explore 49 50

51 52 53

54 55

Hors., Test. 19 (Boon: 121). V. Pach. SBo 186 (CSCO 107:  169); bracketed words are translations of my emendation to the Bohairic text. I will discuss numerous other Pachomian passages that invoke Scripture and the fear of God in the context of evil thoughts in Chapters Three and Four respectively. Shenoute, Canons 1 (CSCO 42: 199) Evagr. Pont., Or. 3. For a discussion of Origen and Evagrius’s theories of prayer, including their Graeco-Roman context, see Bitton-Ashkelony 2011, 296–300. Pach., Instr. 1:9 (CSCO 159: 2). Pach., Instr. 1:11 (CSCO 159: 3).

Cognitive Disciplines

107

other prayer “scripts,” including non-biblical ones, for seeking help against temptation in Chapter 5. The cognitive disciplines of Scripture, fear of God, and prayer reflect the classical philosophical tradition of spiritual exercises, which Pierre Hadot defines as practices leading to the “transformation of our vision of the world, and to a metamorphosis of our personality.”56 Philosophical exercises were usually based on the distinctive teaching of a particular school. For example, the Stoic Epictetus taught his students that they should only be concerned with moral questions in situations under their control. This entailed adopting a new attitude, or disposition, which they constantly meditated upon, and always had “at hand” (procheiron), commanding their focused attention (prosochē): “Continuous vigilance and presence of mind, self-consciousness which never sleeps, and constant tension of spirit.”57 For example, the Stoic Musonius advised his students to identify various personal attributes, such as power and beauty, which were outside of their control and thus should not cause them emotional stress.58 This regular meditation formed a disposition that ensured proper behavior in situations of intense unavoidable loss, such as avoiding excessive grief at the death of a family member. Michel Foucault, building on Hadot’s work, introduced the concept of “technologies of the self,” which “permit individuals to effect by their own means or with the help of others a certain number of operations on their own bodies and souls, thoughts, conduct, and way of being, so as to transform themselves in order to attain a certain state of happiness, purity, wisdom, perfection, or immortality.”59 Technologies of the self have proven extremely useful for interpreting monastic culture, as demonstrated by Talal Asad’s now classic study of medieval communities.60 More recently, Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony has explored how prayer in the monasteries of Late Antique Gaza functioned as a “spiritual exercise” and “technology of the self.”61 I concur with her identification, and further suggest that prayer, 56

57

58 59 60

61

Hadot 1995, 82. In the monastic context, note also the helpful definition as “inner exertions of thought and will” (Bitton-Ashkelony 2003, 200). See Hadot 1995, 84. Richard Sorabji calls these “cognitive exercises,” and offers a careful exposition of them (Sorabji 2000, 211–252). Musonius, Frag. 6. Foucault 1998, 18. Asad 1993; cf. the notion of “disciplinary acts” in Mahmood 2005. In his anthropology of contemporary Ukrainian monasticism, Vlad Naumescu understands “technologies” in the sense of both Maussian bodily techniques and Foucauldian technologies of self (Naumescu 2012). Bitton-Ashkelony 2003. As she notes, a number of other monastic practices might be considered in this category, such as attention to oneself, watching the heart, and self-mastery (Bitton-Ashkelony 2003, 200–201). Indeed, Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer are related to these practices.

108

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

Scripture, and the fear of God have strong affinities with what cognitive anthropologists have called “technologies of the imagination,” namely “the social and material means” by which individuals “bring to mind that which is not entirely present to the senses.”62 For example, monks used Scripture to imagine that God spoke to them directly; imagined that their secret thoughts and actions were under the immediate scrutiny of God and others; and contemplated the majesty of God’s creation during prayer in order to alleviate demonic temptation. More generally, Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer form a set of related practices that I call “cognitive disciplines,” which develop the mental, emotional, and imaginative capacities of monks, and help them learn the new theory of mind. Cognitive disciplines involved new teachings and attitudes that were not passively received, but actively learned through exercises of the mind and body. They were also reinforced through monastic institutional structures, such as literary instruction and discipline, including corporal punishment. Indeed, cognitive disciplines trained embodied minds, and the importance of the body is evident in such practices as stretching out the hands in prayer during vigils to stay awake and maintain focus. As “heart-work,” they constitute a key element of asceticism practiced alongside and in relation to physical renunciations. The goal of cognitive disciplines was to attain an enduring disposition: having Scripture written in the heart, acting in the fear of God, praying in a state of perception. As cognitive disciplines, Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer were practiced regularly, deployed strategically, and constituted permanent mind-body states of experienced disciples. In this latter capacity they are an example of what Tanya Luhrmann calls metakinesis:  “mind-body states that are both identified within the group as the way of recognizing God’s personal presence in your life and are subjectively and idiosyncratically experienced. These states, or phenomena, are lexically identified and indeed the process of learning to have these experiences cannot be neatly disentangled from the process of learning the words to describe them.”63 62

63

Sneath, Holbraad, and Pedersen 2009, 6. They propose a shift from the traditional view of developmental psychology that imagination is the special purview of childhood and fantasy:  “Rather than some special (let alone delusional) form of cognition we are dealing with a capacity involved in everything from the basic perception of objects to our engagement with entirely immaterial knowledge” (12). See also Naumescu’s understanding of how disciplinary practices “enable monks to ‘sense the divine’ and make it real in their lives” (Naumescu 2012, 229). Luhrmann 2004, 522. She identifies “falling in love with Jesus” and “the peace of God” as metakinetic states in the Horizon Christian Fellowship of Southern California.

Cognitive Disciplines

109

The constant use of biblical phrases thus leads to Scripture “inscribed on the heart;” contemplating the divine judgement leads to a general Godfearing attitude; and giving thanks to God in prayer gives rise to perception. In the following three chapters, we explore these cognitive disciplines at work, examining their constitutive practices, and the means by which they are permanently incorporated into the minds and bodies of monks.

Ch apter 3

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape Writing on the Heart

“When he began to read or to write by heart the words of God, he [Pachomius] did not do this in a loose way or as many do, but worked over each thing to assimilate it with a humble mind in gentleness and truth.” V. Pach. G1 91 “These are the words which lead us to eternal life, which our father gave to us, and ordered to meditate upon continuously, so that that which is written might be fulfilled in us: ‘These words, with which I command you today, will be in your heart and in your mind, you will teach them to your children, and you shall speak concerning them, sitting in your house, and walking on the road, and lying down and rising. You will write them for a sign on your hand, and they will stay fixed before your eyes (Deuteronomy 11:18–20)’.” Hors., Test. 512

While much has been written about Antony’s alleged illiteracy, as celebrated in his Life, scholars have largely ignored the biographical traditions heralding the practical literacy of Pachomius, despite the fact that his Letters are the earliest surviving literature composed originally in Coptic. The First Greek Life presents the founder of the Koinonia as a model of humble yet effective learning, which he pursued under the guidance of Palamon:  “And, having begun to read and to meditate upon the words of God by heart, he did not do this in simplicity, as many do, but struggled over each [passage] to possess it all in himself, with humility and gentleness and truth.”3 Pachomius is thus portrayed neither as an acclaimed littérateur, as Gregory boasted of his brother Basil,4 nor “unlearned in letters,” 1 2 3

4

Halkin: 7. Boon: 143–144. V. Pach. G1 9 (Halkin: 7). He is also said to have studied the Psalms at Tabennesi:  V. Pach. G1 24 (Halkin: 14–15). According to V. Pach. SBo 15 (CSCO 89: 16–17), he learned the biblical books in order. And in V. Pach. SBo 14, he recites scriptures by heart with Palamon as they work. Gr. Naz., Or. 43.23.4 (Boulenger: 108).

110

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

111

as was famously claimed of Antony.5 Instead, he is presented as a model for the assiduous study of scripture, which he meditated upon “by heart,” through both reading and writing. One of the first tasks for new disciples in a Pachomian monastery was to learn basic reading and writing, if necessary, in order to facilitate their study of scripture.6 Scattered references to libraries and scribal culture, as well as evidence for elementary instruction in reading and writing, suggest high levels of literacy in cenobitic monastic culture.7 Yet the goal of such paideia was far removed from the traditional literary instruction of the Roman Empire.8 The primary objective was not civic advancement, but rather the memorization of passages that could be repeated throughout the day, whether carrying out a labor assignment, participating in collective prayer, or negotiating a temptation through interior dialog. While memorization was achieved largely through reading and writing, it was also closely linked to the strong oral component present in monastic culture.9 On the one hand, disciples needed to have Psalms ready to recite during the formal and informal times for meditation within the cenobitic schedule. On the other, progress in virtue was marked by the acquisition of a more generalized scriptural speech: as Basil of Caesaria noted, “there is a tone of voice and a symmetry of speech and a fittingness of occasion and a particular vocabulary which are fitting for and distinctive of the pious, which is impossible to learn without having unlearned his former habits.”10 For the less advanced, silence functioned as a prophylactic against harmful speech of various kinds.11 Basic needs, for instance communication at the dinner table, could be expressed through gestures, further eliminating the need for non-biblical speech.12 5

6

7

8

9

10 11 12

V. Ant. 72:1 (SC 400: 320). On the question of Antony’s literacy and its significance, see, e.g., Rubenson 1995, 141–144; Cribiore 2013, 66–69. At least some monks, such as Theodore, had already received at least a grammatical education before entering the Koinonia: see V. Pach. SBo 31 (CSCO 89: 33). For a recent overview of literacy among Egyptian ascetics, see Wipszycka 2009, 361–365. Larsen 2013 persuasively traces connections between monastic education and the progymnasmata, with a focus on the Apophthegmata Patrum and the chreia. On monastic paideia more generally, see further the ongoing work of the Early Monasticism and Classical Paideia project, directed by Samuel Rubenson at Lund University: http://mopai.lu.se/. The orality of monastic culture, especially in the semi-eremitic communities of Nitria, Kellia, and Scetis, has been emphasized in Burton-Christie 1993, 129–140. For the combination of orality and textuality in the Pachomian community, see Graham 1987, 129–131. Stroumsa 2008 argues cogently that early Christianity was a book culture despite the concurrent importance of the spoken word (68–69). LR 13 (PG 31: 949). Cf. Theo., Instr. 3:14, which juxtaposes human and divine speech. Bruce 2007, 28–37. A “sound” (sonitu) perhaps a bell, is prescribed in Pach., P 33 (Boon: 21), with the same terminology found in Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:17 (SC 109: 144). RM 30 (SC 106: 164–166) allowed for gestures of

112

Cognitive Disciplines

In short, disciples learned, recited, and listened to Scripture within what Charles Hirschkind has called an “ethical soundscape,” an auditory environment in which the hearer adopts the “ethical dispositions corresponding to the recited or audited verses: humility, awe, regret, fear, and so on.”13 While the inexperienced were urged not to talk, diverse forms of speech, both salvific and harmful, frequently punctuated the silence of the cenobium. Horsiesius calls scriptural words “sweet,” and Theodore encourages his disciples to have “speech seasoned with salt.”14 The impassioned oratory of monastic leaders was expected to produce a strong emotional response in disciples, ranging from joy to fear. Shenoute vividly contrasts the divine communication of Jesus, who “speaks with them in a great voice in all the Scriptures,” with the demonic kind, which manifests itself softly “in whispers.”15 While monastic orators were important mediators of Scripture, disciples could replay verses to themselves through either silent meditation or spoken recitation, adding further texture to the monastic soundscape. But how did new monks focus on what was salient for their own development amid the complex cacophony of divine and demonic speech? Was it difficult for disciples, whether or not they had previous knowledge of the Bible, to achieve an intimate connection with a text? Some insight can be found in Brian Malley’s study of the spread of “Biblicism” among American Evangelicals in dialog with cognitive “relevance theory.” Relevance theory posits that the human mind has been hardwired to identify and focus upon information of immediate personal interest during communication.16 As an anthropologist, Malley is not concerned with questions of evolutionary psychology, but rather how the Bible is made relevant to people; he identifies several factors, including the brief presentation of biblical verses and their significance, as well as the encouragement of meditative practice.17 Early monastic groups, most notably the Koinonia, also presented Scripture in the concise form of a catechesis for easy consideration, and offered other institutional support, such as instruction in reading and writing. But monks themselves had to do a great deal of “heart-work” in order

13 14 15

16 17

head, hand, or eye to communicate during any period of silence. A developed sign language first appeared in the early medieval period: see Bruce 2007. Hirschkind 2009, 80. Hors., Test. 43, Theo., Instr. 3:8. Shenoute, Canons 4, (CSCO 42: 28). Elsewhere, Shenoute describes undisciplined monastics “whispering” challenges to his authority (e.g., Canons 2, discussed in Krawiec 2002, 33). In his study of Islamic cassette sermons, Hirschkind 2009, 71 describes how “tapes enable a strengthening of the will and what many people refer to as an ability to resist the devil’s whispers (wasawis).” For the cognitive theory of relevance, see Sperber and Wilson 1995, 118–171. Malley 2004, 153–154; Malley, however, does not describe the meditative process in detail.

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

113

to make the Bible personally relevant: learning how to transcribe and interpret passages; listening intently to their recitation, in disciplinary, liturgical, and meditative contexts; and discussing their meaning with other members of the monastic house after group catechesis. Gradually, scripture was “written on the heart,” playing a key role in the new monastic theory of mind: disciples could draw on them during internal deliberations, identifying a particular verse as spoken by God to themselves (“oracular”), and adopting others as their own voice (“prosopopoeic”). Especially in times of cognitive turmoil, the Bible – whether spoken aloud or silently recalled, whether audited externally or internally – could play a stabilizing role.

I.

Scriptural Instruction

Learning to Read and Write While some novices were already literate when they entered a monastery, others needed basic instruction: according to Pachomian Precept 49, when a prospective monk is waiting at the gatehouse to be interviewed for admission, he is taught “the Lord’s prayer and as many of the Psalms as he is able to learn.”18 Although this passage does not specify whether the instruction was oral or written, Precept 139 of Pachomius, which is preserved in Jerome’s Latin translation, is much clearer on this point:19 Whoever has entered the monastery unformed (rudis) will first learn what he ought to observe, and, when, being taught, he has consented to all things, will be given twenty psalms or two epistles of the apostle, or part of another scripture. And if he is ignorant of letters, at the first, third and sixth hours he will go to the one who can teach him and who has been assigned to him, and he [the novice] will stand in front of him [the instructor], and he will learn most studiously with every act of gratitude. Indeed later they will write for him the elements of the syllables (syllaba), verbs and nouns, and even if he is not willing he will be compelled to read.

Strikingly, this rule insists that all must learn to read, which is consistent with a study suggesting a relatively high rate of literacy in the monasteries, at least among the leaders.20 While we certainly cannot assume universal 18 19 20

Pach., P 49 (Boon: 25). Pach., P 139 (Boon: 49–50). Merkelbach 1980, 291–294, a study of various conciliar documents signed by “monastic superiors” (hēgoumenos). On one, submitted to the Council of Constantinople in 536, only nine of the 139 signatures were written by others. In four of these cases it is explicitly noted that this is because the superior does not know letters or is “barely literate” (oligogrammaton).

114

Cognitive Disciplines

literacy in these communities, a number of rules do present monastic life as an education. Similar regulations can be found in a wide variety of regions, including Arles in the West, and in East Syria the Rules of Dadīšō‘, which make literacy a requirement for admission.21 The injunction in the Pachomian precepts that the monk “will be compelled to read,” reveals the compulsory and hierarchical manner in which basic literary instruction was conducted.22 Indeed, the relationship between the child-student and pedagogue came to symbolize the use of harsh discipline to enforce obedience, which by Late Antiquity had become a well-developed literary trope.23 Precept 139 alludes to a possible opposition to learning letters among adult disciples that may have been rooted in their resistance to being treated like children; and indeed, there is specific evidence that the education of children was conducted separately in the Koinonia. Basil of Caesarea’s Rule concedes that it might be necessary to offer children awards for the successful recall of (biblical) names and events.24 But the youngest monastics were also supposed to be taught with strict discipline:  Caesarius of Arles’ Rules for Virgins states that they cannot be admitted to the community until the age of seven, when they are capable of both reading and obeying.25 The Rule of the Master, an important source on monastic literacy instruction in the Western context, demonstrates how the process of learning Scripture unfolded as an act of obedience toward the instructors. The disciple must recite the scriptural verse before the abbot as if to the divine judge, and then kiss his knees in a posture of subordination:26 Let other [disciples] study Psalms, which they have written up [for them]. For when they have mastered them and retain them with a perfect memory, having been led by their deans to the abbot let them recite from memory the Psalm in question or a canticle or any reading. And when he has gone through it thoroughly, let him ask for prayers for himself. Then when those present have prayed for him, the abbot concludes and the one who has 21

22 23 24

25

26

Rules of Dadīšō‘ 7: “Every brother who comes to the monastery (to stay there) shall not be received unless he can read in the books” (trans. Vööbus: 170). Pach., P 139 (Boon: 50). Chin 2007, 111–118. According to V. Pach. S10, frag. 2 (CSCO 99–100: 33–36), children are taught always to bless God as creator; they memorize scriptural passages (presumably as they learn how to read and write); and they learn God’s will through his law and the rules of Pachomius. In Crum and Evelyn-White 1973, “Letters” no. 140, a scribe assures his correspondent (perhaps his monastic superior, given the terminology of humility used) that he’s not copying anything harmful for the boy’s development; what that might be is not specified, though the reference may be to pagan or apocryphal texts. Caes.-Arel. Virg. 7:3 (SC 345: 186). The related Rule of Aurelian also has a requirement of basic literacy: Aur.-Arel. Mon. 32 (PL 68: 391). RM 50:64–69 (SC 106: 234–236).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

115

recited kisses the abbot’s knees. Either the abbot or the deans immediately order a new [passage] to be transcribed, and after something has been transcribed, before he studies it, let him again ask those nearby to pray for him; and thus let him begin to study [the passage].

The prayers on behalf of the student imply that learning Scripture is not an independent “gymnastics of the mind,” but an activity requiring both individual effort and the support of a teacher, through prayer. The program of monastic instruction described in Precept 139 and other related texts corresponds quite closely to Graeco-Roman educational practices, especially as revealed in the numerous papyri, wooden tablets, and ostraca preserved in Egypt, some from monastic contexts. Literacy instruction consisted of roughly three stages: preliminary, grammatical, and rhetorical. While the latter two provided access to elite culture, the first was more practical, and might be pursued, for example, by workers in low-status professions for record-keeping.27 Instruction in letters in Pachomian and other monasteries consisted of teaching the preliminary stage, which was often provided by the village grammatodidaskalos.28 As Cribiore has demonstrated, this stage focused on basic writing skills, followed by reading.29 There is documentary evidence for this process from various Late Antique monastic sites in Egypt.30 The most extensively preserved evidence is from the Theban mortuary district, where monks produced a number of documentary and literary texts, including scriptural exercises.31 These school texts, written on diverse media, attest to instruction in both Greek32 and Coptic.33 The walls of the monastery of Phoibammon 27

28 29

30

31

32

33

Basic literacy was not limited to the elite; see Papaconstantinou 2014, 17: “John of Lykopolis was a builder, his brother a dyer, trades which, like many others, have yielded scores of business-related papyri in Greek.” Cribiore 2001, 160–184. Cribiore, 1996, 9. Bucking 2007, 35 note 55, among others, has argued that non-scribal monastic education was centered on reading, rather than writing. The evidence that he cites, Pach., P 139–140 (Boon: 49–50), however, is ambiguous and cannot be generalized; see Cribiore 2001, 176–178. In RM 50:12–13 (SC 106: 224), discussed below, writing is clearly the first step. Bucking 2007, 35 is correct, however, to emphasize that there was no single normative model for education in Late Antique Egypt. Cribiore 2001, 24–25. Nevertheless, it is not always easy to distinguish between writings produced in an educational context and personal texts for scribal practice or pious study. For example, Cell B of the Monastery of Epiphanius at Thebes, where four ostraca with short Homeric phrases were discovered: Crum and Evelyn-White 1926, “School Pieces” no. 611–614; and cf. Winlock and Crum 1973, 44. Bucking 2007, 41–42 suggests that these are scribes’ “pen trials,” and that the ostraca containing glossaries and word lists were likely for private reference. See documentary and literary sources collected in Wipszycka 1984; and more recently, see Wipszycka 2009, 361–365. Some of the documents from Theban monastic communities are discussed below. Cribiore 1996, no.  66–67, 122–123, 168, 225–227, 319 (from Epiphanius); no.  19–22, 61, 163–164 (from Phoibammon). Cribiore 2007, 127–130. For a broad collection of exercises in Coptic, see Hasitzka 1990.

116

Cognitive Disciplines

displayed several Greek alphabets, perhaps an aid for disciples beginning their instruction in letters.34 Ostraca with partial alphabets35 were found in a pharaonic rock-cut tomb near this site, as well as full alphabets in regular and reverse order.36 After learning their letters, students moved on to syllables.37 P. Lit. London 255, a fragmentary papyrus volume of the Psalms scripted in a trained third- or fourth-century hand, has syllables marked in a second hand, which Bucking plausibly interprets as a reading exercise.38 The “verbs and nouns” mentioned in Precept 139 probably refer to word lists, which have been found at both the monasteries of Epiphanius and the Phoibammon; one ostracon from the latter includes a list of words beginning in “phi,” including “philanthropos,” a key word from a Psalm line which has also been copied.39 Precept 139 further describes exemplars written by teachers for the students to copy. These exercises are attested in the Egyptian monastic context: for example, a papyrus of Psalm 109:1 written in an experienced hand  – presumably that of a teacher  – and copied four times by other competent but less practiced hands.40 Additional texts show only the hand of the student, who most likely transcribed from a model under the supervision of the teacher. O. Sarga 5 includes two copies of John 2:1 by a student who visibly improves his or her hand.41 Indeed, repetitive writing also seems to have functioned as a memory aid: several Coptic texts feature a passage of the Psalms reproduced several times by a practiced hand, suggesting they were being learned for prayer.42 34 35

36

37

38

39

40

41 42

Bataille 1951, no. 101, 185, 187–188. Cribiore 2007, 129 note 15: Apis 3144/Col. Inv. 23.3.748; Apis 3147/Col. Inv. 23.3.710; Apis 3273/Col. Inv. 23.3.743. Cribiore 2007, 129 note 16:  Apis 3143/Col. Inv. 23.3.741 and Apis. 3720/Col. Inv. 23.3.738, respectively. Presumably this is the meaning of the expression “elements of syllables” (elementa syllabae) in Pach., P 139 (Boon: 50). Bucking 1997, 135–136. On the opposite side of the page is an excerpt from Isocrates, Ad Demonicum 26–28, which leads Bucking to identify the volume as a “sacro-profane schoolbook.” Crum 1902, no.  512. Bucking, 1997, 136–137 also notes as comparable Crum 1902, no.  431; and Evelyn-White 1926, “Biblical Texts” no. 581. Harrauer and Sijpesteijn 1985, 88, from Psalm 109. Lists of other teacher-student practice texts are found in Bucking 1997, 137. For Coptic examples, see Apis.691 and Hasitzka 1990, no. 41, 112, 119; Bucking 2007, 33–34 note 47. For Coptic examples of epistles used as elementary copy exercises, see Hasitzka 1990, no. 120, 124, 128, 134. Hasitzka 1990 no. 181,183 are teachers’ models: Cribiore 2001, 217, note 149. Crum and Bell 1922, no. 5. E.g. Harrauer and Sijpesteijn 1985, no. 89, no. 180. See also Derda 1995, 41–96 for Psalm exercises. Psalms could serve as a replacement for classical texts in a Christian educational context; Cribiore 1999, 282. Monks may have used incipits as a memory cue, as suggested by a converted pharaonicera tomb at Ḳaṣr eṣ-Ṣaijād near Nag Hammadi, where inscriptions of the beginnings of Psalms 51–93 were painted on the cell’s walls (Bucher 1931).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

117

The Late Antique grammarian Fortunatianus, following Quintilian, advocates a number of memorization techniques that closely resemble the preliminary writing exercises in cenobitic monasticism that are intended to commit to memory the particular verses transcribed.43 Thus, in addition to a general “attention” of the mind, Fortunatianus recommends writing passages on a wax tablet, and then reading them aloud, often in a murmur, recalling meditatio. As in the description of Pachomius’s efforts to learn the Psalms, he emphasizes the need for “practice and toil.” Though he does not necessarily have monastic vigils in mind, Fortunatianus believes that it is best to write and recite at night due to an increased mental concentration, and so that the passage will be the last thing on the mind before falling asleep. Finally, he asserts that difficult passages should be marked with notes. In short, Fortunatianus’s words confirm that in the Koinonia and other cenobitic communities, monks employed widespread instructional strategies for committing key passages to memory, as part of their education in basic literacy. Pachomian Precept 140, which declares that “there will be no one at all in the monastery who will not learn letters and will not retain anything from the Scriptures: at a minimum the New Testament and the Psalter.”44 This standard – or perhaps ideal – seems to have been in place through the seventh century, where it appears in a short description of how Pesenthius, later the bishop of Ermont in Thebes, joined his uncle’s monastery near the Castrum of Taud. There he commits the Psalms and New Testament to memory before receiving instruction in transcription and bookbinding, among other skills.45 In Basilian monasteries, the memorization of four Gospels was considered a major accomplishment, though the techniques for achieving this are not specified.46 At times it can be difficult to determine where the historical testimony ends and the hagiographic imagination begins in accounts of prodigious memorization: Ammonius, disciple of Pambo, is said to have committed all of the Old and New Testaments to memory, along with selections from Origen and other theologians.47 43 44

45

46 47

Fortunatianus, Ars Rhetorica 3:13–14 (Halm: 128–130). Pach., P 140 (Boon:  50). Perhaps a more realistic goal is found in Hors., Regulations 16 (CSCO 159: 86): “Let us be wealthy in our texts learned by heart (nenapostēthous). Let him who will not take in much memorize at least ten sections [presumably from the New Testament] and a section of the Psalter.” Of course, for the dedicated, memorization was an ongoing project: in the Tenth Sahidic Life, Theodore carries a book he is memorizing “by heart” (apostēthous) (CSCO 99–100: 35). This is commemorated in the Synaxarium of Upper Egypt; see the Arabic text and discussion in Winlock and Crum 1926, 136. SR 236 (PG 31: 1072). HL 11:4 (Butler: 34). Elsewhere Palladius similarly notes that Pachomians “learn all the Scriptures by heart” (apostēthizousi): HL 32.12 (Butler: 96).

118

Cognitive Disciplines Advanced Instruction

While all monks were expected to learn a set of biblical passages, especially the Psalms, Basil of Caesarea suggested that only those holding leadership positions should be allotted time to memorize and meditate upon “everything:”48 Because there are two general orders, with different charisms: those entrusted with leadership and those allotted docility and obedience, I consider that the one entrusted with the direction and care of many ought to know and learn everything by heart, so that he may teach God’s will with respect to all things and show each monk the things incumbent upon him.

It appears that the “care of many” required close familiarity with the Bible for the instruction of disciples. Similarly, in the Rule of the Master, novices received basic instruction, while the advanced monks were expected to study the Bible every day, including some who copied it professionally. Despite the importance of extensive biblical proficiency for monastic leadership, there is little evidence for advanced instruction in cenobia. Pachomius’s training seems to have been entirely biblical, and initially only in Coptic, as he is said to have learned Greek later, while head of the Koinonia.49 In the Egyptian context, there is no documentary evidence for formalized advanced instruction in Coptic writing or speaking, at least in the tradition of Graeco-Roman grammatical and rhetorical treatises.50 Theodore is said to have had four years of instruction, presumably with a grammarian; whether in Greek, Coptic, or a combination of the two, is not specified. He may have been instructed in both simultaneously.51 No evidence exists that he received formal training in rhetoric, and his speeches are all in Coptic. Even less is known about

48

49

50

51

SR 235 (PG 31: 1240). Augustine similarly suggests that only those who have rhetorical ability should be allowed to take time off from manual labor to practice it (Aug., Mon. 21). V. Pach. SBo 89 (CSCO 89: 106); cf. V. Pach G1 95. According to Paralip. 11, Pachomius learns Greek and Latin through prayer, in order to care for the souls of those who do not speak Egyptian in private, without an interpreter. See Papaconstantinou 2014. See Cribiore 2007, 130: “The very few Coptic grammatical exercises in [Hasitzka 1990] appear to be mostly exercises to reinforce penmanship, and in Coptic the systematic study of the language implied by the Greek grammatical treatises (technai) did not leave any trace;” a similar conclusion is reached in Cribiore 1999, 2.279–286. For an enlarged list of such texts, see Bucking 1997. An exercise in Bodleian Greek Inscription 3019 contains both a Coptic Psalm and a Homeric paraphrase, suggesting a bilingual education in which Greek was taught simultaneously, at a more advanced level than Coptic: Parsons 1970, 135–141. Note also that the large number of bilingual Greek-Coptic manuscripts, including some of the Psalms, presumes the liturgical use of Greek: see Nagel 1984.

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

119

Shenoute’s education, despite the many volumes of letters and speeches that he produced.52 Outside the Upper Egyptian cenobitic heartland, some monastic leaders, such as Basil and Jerome, drew upon the more traditional grammatical and rhetorical education for elites. Dorotheus of Gaza studied at a major center of rhetorical training, either Gaza or Antioch, before joining the monastery at Tawatha; as we have seen, Barsanuphius allowed him to bring his books into the community.53 Dorotheus recalled the pleasant intensity of his worldly education, and it is likely that he was first attracted to monasticism because he thought it would provide time spent leisurely in private study.54 In the midst of his unexpected responsibilities, including service as a porter and the head of the infirmary, he frequently wrote to his spiritual advisors, and was later made responsible for all correspondence with the elderly Abba John.55 His Discourses, which clearly demonstrate his rhetorical training, enjoyed significant popularity. As with Theodore, Dorotheus’s prior education clearly facilitated his ability to instruct disciples as a leader, although there is no explicit evidence that he received additional training in the monastic community. Monasteries did provide elites such as Dorotheus with the opportunity to pursue a more in-depth study of scripture, which, at least through the fifth century, was not included in standard grammatical or rhetorical instruction. The literary culture in monasteries such as Lérins, which had a substantial number of aristocratic members, valued the fusion of the biblical and classical traditions found in the writings of John Cassian. As Krawiec has convincingly shown, Cassian’s Institutes replicate many topics of the rhetorical handbook, while the Conferences correspond to literary theory: “In short, Cassian taught a new monastic reading culture that valued the Bible and his own works but this educational process was no

52

53

54

55

Cribiore 1999, 281–282 attributes the skilled oratory of Shenoute and Besa to a Greek rhetorical education. Cf. the helpful analysis in Timbie 2016, who suggests prior rhetorical training in Greek, followed by extensive reading of the Coptic Bible upon becoming a monk. For more on the textual culture of the White Monastery federation, including the possibilities for Shenoute’s training, see Dilley, 2017. Barsanuphius compared Dorotheus’s use of monastic books to other brothers’ use of “work manuals” (ergocheira): Bars., Resp. 327 (PG 450: 326). Dor., Doct. 10:105 (SC 92: 338–340). See Hevelone-Harper 2005, 62–73, for the events of Dorotheus’s early monastic career. Dor., Doct. 1:25 (SC 92: 184): “And if a [bad] thought happened to take hold of me, I took my tablet and I wrote to the old man [Barsanuphius]. . .and before I finished, as I was writing I sensed a lightening [of the thoughts’ burden] and a benefit, and my freedom from care and rest was so much the greater.”

120

Cognitive Disciplines

longer limited to producing a skilled speaker but also someone able to experience sublime prayer.”56 Monastic orators pursued scriptural modifications and expansions that corresponded to the rhetorical paraphrase (paraphrasis), which was in turn associated with the progymnasmata, that is, elementary exercises at the interface between grammar and rhetoric.57 According to Aelius Theon, “paraphrase consists of changing the form of expression while keeping the thoughts.”58 While this suggests a relatively simple rewriting of a given passage, according to Quintilian, in advanced paraphrase, “it is permitted to abbreviate certain things, and to embellish the others, if only the meaning of the poet is preserved.”59 Interestingly, Athanasius urges to let “no one embellish [the Psalms] with the persuasive words of the profane.”60 But this is most likely a reference to the use of non-biblical vocabulary, rather than to the general expansion of scriptural verse, which was very widespread in monastic rhetoric. Advanced literary education in monastic communities focused on scribal rather than rhetorical training. Some disciples produced a codex of the Gospels for their own personal use, often the only book in their possession;61 others learned calligraphy (the professional copying of manuscripts) to support themselves or their community. This latter path is evidenced by the career of Pesenthius, bishop of Coptos, who joined the monastery near the castrum of Ṭaud (where his uncle was abbot) at the age of three. He first memorized the Psalter and the New Testament, and at the age of eleven was taught calligraphy and bookbinding.62 Evagrius was well known as a calligrapher specializing in the “Oxyrhynchite script,” and refers to scribal activity in his works.63 His disciple John Cassian may have himself worked as a scribe, as suggested by several asides in the Institutes about issues of textual criticism.64 Calligraphy was also practiced in cenobitic monasticism; for

56 57

58 59 60 61 62

63

64

Krawiec 2012, 767. For a basic description of the progymnasmata, see Webb 2001, 289–316. For a recent translation of selected progymnasmata, see Kennedy 2003. The progymnasmata of Libanius are translated and discussed in Gibson 2008. Aelius Theon, Progym. 108, trans. Kennedy. Quint., Inst. or. 1.9.2-3 (Russell vol. 1: 210). Ath., Ep. Marcell. 27 (PG 27: 43); cf. Ath., Ep. Marcell. 33 (PG 27: 45). Rapp 2007, 205. Winlock and Crum 1926, 136. On the material culture of writing, see Winlock and Crum 1926, 186– 195. It is recorded that he learned the Psalter, the Minor Prophets, and John; see Life of Pesenthius (Amélineau 1887: 343). HL 38:10 (Butler:  120). A  papyrus manuscript of the Pauline Epistles may have been copied by Evagrius; Casiday 2013, 113–114. For a depiction of a “monk-scribe,” see Bénazeth 2000, 110–111. See Boud’hors 2000 on writing materials.

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

121

instance, Martin of Tours assigned it to his young disciples.65 Shenoute’s writings suggest that a great deal of organized scribal activity occurred in both the men’s and women’s communities of the White Monastery, which sold books under his leadership.66 His successor Besa even speaks of a scribal class, “those who write and those who produce books.”67 This scribal activity would have provided the constant exposure to biblical texts that Basil recommended for monastic leaders. In addition to calligraphy, work as a notary would have provided training useful for literary composition; Shenoute, for instance, describes how he dictated one of his letters in the Canons to a “little brother.”68 Indeed, the letter stands at the boundary of literary and documentary texts, and special training in epistolary composition may have been offered in monastic communities, especially large ones with substantial administrative needs.69 P.  Cotsen 1, an intriguing scribal practice book in Sahidic with some Greek, includes dual coverage of literary-calligraphic and documentary exercises; its contents include Apophthegmata Patrum, which may indicate a monastic environment.70 In sum, while some disciples may have had advanced grammatical or rhetorical training before entry, there is no evidence for such instruction within the monasteries themselves. Calligraphy and notarial practice lacked the elite associations of rhetorical education, and were taught to both freedmen and slaves.71 In the preface to his translation of Job, Jerome compares work as a scribe with basket-weaving, thus dissociating it from the aristocratic notion of otium.72 Thus, monks could achieve an exceptional degree of scriptural knowledge through scribal practice, which was considered work (Jerome), and reserved for leaders (Basil). 65

66

67 68 69

70

71 72

Sulp.-Sev., V. Mart. 10 (CSEL 1: 120): “No art was practised there, with the exception of scribes (scriptoribus), to which job only the younger monks were assigned.” See Dilley 2017. On female scribes, including monastics such as Melania the Younger, see HainesEitzen 1998; and Kotsifou 2007, 58–59, with additional papyrological evidence. On documentary evidence for monastic book production, especially binding and illumination, see Kotsifou 2012a. Book culture in Syriac monasticism is discussed in Debié 2010. Besa, Frag. 12 (CSCO 157: 35). Shenoute, Canons 2 (CSCO 157: 120); see discussion in Krawiec 2002, 70. Cribiore 2007, 130 emphasizes the practical goals of Coptic education, especially letter writing; most Coptic scribes would have learned some Greek as part of their training, while some, such as Theodore and Shenoute, likely had some training in Greek rhetoric. Bucking 2006 describes it as a “professionally produced educational manual” (71), and cautiously suggests Bawit as the place of composition, given the apparent reference to Apa Apollo (73). Additionally, Kotsifou notes, “there are documentary papyri, like P.Mon. Apollo 58 and 59, which are practice-letter formulas that may have been produced for the purpose of scribal training, possibly for secretaries working in the office of the head of the monastery” (Kotsifou 2007, 57, n. 30). See also Cribiore 1996, 28–29. On the social position of the notarius, see, e.g., Teitler 1985, 42, 91. Williams 2006, 167.

122

Cognitive Disciplines Attentive Listening

While the ubiquity of reading aloud in Antiquity is broadly recognized, scholars have frequently overlooked the importance of listening for selfformation. Literate disciples not only read and wrote Scripture silently, they also listened to others read it aloud and discussed it. According to his Life, Antony listened to biblical passages being recited so intently that he automatically retained them: his memory thus exercised, he had no need of books.73 But this is hardly evidence that ascetic culture was primarily oral. Augustine refers to this passage in his preface to De Doctrina Christiana, implying that Antony’s act of internalizing the Scriptures through listening to them was exceptional, and that even those who claim spiritual inspiration for interpreting the Bible learned it by reading.74 Like other monastic Christians, he recognized the importance of both reading and listening closely. In a sermon, for example, Augustine exhorts the audience to let his scriptural speech “dwell in your hearts, let it work in your thoughts.”75 In this monastic soundscape, “listening with attention” was a complex skill that was often integrated with literary instruction and audition of sermons, with sustained cognitive effects.76 Burton-Christie has contrasted early monastic orality with the emphasis on the written word in Graeco-Roman culture. In fact, basic education in classical literature involved not only writing, but also reading aloud (anagnōsis) and listening (akroasis), as outlined by Theon in his Progymnasmata.77 Further evidence for the symbiosis of textuality and orality/aurality is found in the Hermeneumata, a student’s guide in Greek and Latin most likely produced in third-century Gaul, but reflecting a long tradition of Graeco-Roman education. A section on classroom vignettes describes how students transcribe a text from a written model, present it to the teacher for correction, and then recite it, before beginning the process anew by taking dictation from another student, which is precisely the instructional pattern found in Precept 49 and the Rule of the Master. 73

74

75 76

77

Ath., V. Ant. 3:7 (SC 400: 138). This passage might be seen as an explanation for the far better known assertion that Antony was “unschooled in letters;” e.g. Ath., V. Ant. 72:1 (SC 400: 320). He had no need to learn letters, because he was “taught by God” (theodidaktos) by simply listening to the Scriptures; Ath., V. Ant. 66:2 (SC 400: 308). Aug., Doct. Preface 4 (Green: 4). Augustine notes that some solitaries live alone without copies of Bibles, based on their “faith, hope, and love;” but he suggests that even they require books to teach others; Aug., Doct. 1.43.93 (Green: 52). Aug., Serm. (Mor.) 14 (Morin: 646). On “listening with attention,” al-insat, in the ethical soundscape of Cairene Muslims, see Hirschkind 2009, 71. Aelius Theon, Progymnasmata 158 (Spengel: 65).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

123

Quintilian specifically recommends reading small sections aloud, in a voice no higher than a murmur, as a means of committing them to memory;78 he also believes that listening should be part of the process, although he is skeptical that hearing a passage only once enables the memorization of large sections of it.79 In a related technique, monastic orators would often pause for their disciples to repeat an important phrase. Pachomius exhorted his audience to assume the voice of Abraham: “Struggle, oh my beloved, and fight against passions, and say, I will do as Abraham, I will raise [my hand] to God who is exulted, who made heaven and earth so that I not to take anything that is yours, from a thread to a shoe lace (Gn 14:22).”80 Similarly, in Theodore’s Second Letter, written to convene the annual meeting for Remission at Mesore, he demands that the audience repeat three times the verse, “Power belongs to the Lord, and His is the mercy,” scrutinizing it carefully.81 Once again this monastic exercise corresponds to the Graeco-Roman classroom, in which students would at times simply repeat back (apostomatizein) the words of the teacher.82 In Instruction 3.6, Theodore tries to lift the morale of his disciples in the midst of a famine by saying, “let us all say in our hearts, before God, and with our mouth, ‘Let us not only be bound, but may we die in every place for the name of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (Acts 21:13).”83 This triple repetition itself constitutes a practice of memorization, and presumes internalization of the words spoken. The oral component of instruction in the Pachomian context is evocatively described in the Letter of Ammon, who entered the Koinonia under Theodore in ca. 351 CE, and was later ordained a bishop by Theophilus of Alexandria. Ammon had recently converted to Christianity, and on the advice of a priest from his native Alexandria, joined the Koinonia, where he spent three years in the Greek house.84 He was most likely already literate when he entered the monastery, and his account emphasizes learning through attentive listening. At the moment of his arrival, Ammon witnesses 78 79 80 81

82 83

84

Quint., Inst. or. 11.2.33 (Russell vol. 5: 74). Quint., Inst. or. 11.2.51 (Russell vol. 5: 84). Pach., Instr. 1:53 (CSCO 159: 20). Theo., Ep. 2:2 (Quecke 1975: 431), quoting Psalm 62(61):12. Presumably the letter was read aloud at the various monasteries to which it was sent. Bonner 1977, 177. Theo., Instr. 3:6 (CSCO 159: 42–43). Cf. the description of novices repeating scripture “either in their mouth or in their heart” in V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99–100: 35). Libanius recruited and attracted students to his beginning classes in rhetoric through a similar network; Cribiore 2007a, 83–110. In the case of Ammon, however, we see a student of the metropolis leaving for a more remote education.

124

Cognitive Disciplines

Theodore teaching the entire community, and reciting scriptural verses to some of the monks. After the meeting adjourns, the monks return to their houses, where they are asked to repeat scriptural verses by Theodore and their accompanying explanations. Ammon notes the effect of this practice on retention: “And thus, having listened to each of the twenty [house members], and after them both Ausonius and Theodore the Alexandrian [the house masters], reporting what they remembered, going through it in my heart (Lk 2:19), I  was able to remember these things that I  have written.”85 Thus, for Ammon, the soundscape of the Koinonia offered a unique opportunity for committing scripture to memory. Ammon’s account is confirmed by other Pachomian sources. The First Instruction begins with the exhortation, “My son, listen and become wise.”86 According to the biographical tradition, Theodore listened “with great focus and vigilance” to the teachings of his superiors already as a young anchorite.87 Horsiesius describes the practice of attentive listening in some detail:88 When the signal is given for us to sit down, and we also sign ourselves on the forehead in the shape of the cross, and we sit down, and we give our hearts and our ears to the holy words being recited, as we have been commanded in Holy Scriptures: “My son, fear my words, and having received them, repent” (Pr 30:1); and again, “My son, pay attention to my wisdom and incline your ear to my words” (Pr 5:1).

Besa suggests that such concentrated audition leads to “writing” on the heart: “Let us turn our heart to teaching and prepare our ears for the words of perception (cf. Proverbs 23:12); and let us write them on the flat surface of the heart. . .”89 Conversely, the ethical soundscape also included harmful listening practices, as vividly described by Pachomius: “But as soon as your enemy, namely the devil, whispers in your direction, you turn your ear towards him, and he pours his filth down into it, and you open your heart and you swallow the poison he has cast at you.”90

II.

Monastic Rhetoric

Scripture frequently took center stage in monastic rhetoric, from the “spiritual” interpretations in Pachomian catechesis to Jerome’s Homilies 85 86 87 88 89 90

Ep. Am. 7 (Goehring: 129). Pach., Instr. 1:1 (CSCO 159: 1); cf. Pr 23:19. V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 30). Horsiesius, Regulations 10 (CSCO 159: 84–85). Besa, Frag. 12 (CSCO 157: 82); cf. Pr 23:12 and 7:3. Pach., Instr.1:28 (CSCO 159: 11).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

125

on the Psalms delivered to his community at Bethlehem.91 In Clement of Alexandria’s Pedagogue and Augustine’s On Christian Doctrine, this biblical style of speech is approached from a theoretical perspective, drawing upon earlier Graeco-Roman discussions of rhetoric. Clement distinguishes between several roles of the Logos: as a teacher, on the one hand, explaining doctrine;92 and as a pedagogue, on the other, delivering advice (symbouleutikos) through both protreptic and encomiastic speech.93 This clearly draws on Aristotle’s tripartite division of forensic, advisory, and epideictic speech, with “dogmatic” speech replacing the “forensic.”94 Augustine offers a strikingly similar typology of Christian rhetoric, in this case based on Cicero (De oratore 101): pedagogic, which requires a “restrained” style; praise and blame, which warrant an “intermediate” style; and finally protreptic, associated with the “grand” style.95 Both authors, then, distinguish between pedagogy, advice (protreptic), and praise/blame (encomium). In the following section, I explore examples of instruction and advice in the monastic environment; praise and blame will be discussed in the context of monastic biographical discourse in Chapter 6. Despite the significant amount of time that was devoted to learning scripture by heart, the task was extremely difficult due to the large number of expressions – whether in Greek, Latin, Coptic, or Syriac  – that were not used regularly in everyday speech. It is likely that many disciples did not completely understand certain passages, including those that they had memorized. Yet according to Abba Poemen, biblical recitation was powerful even without the speaker’s full comprehension:96 The magician does not understand the meaning of the words that he speaks, but the animal hears, understands, submits, and bows to them. So also with us: even if we do not understand the meaning of the words that we speak, the demons hear them, and flee in fear.

Just as biblical speech was thought to frighten demons, it could have a dramatic emotional effect on the disciple, independently of its meaning, especially when delivered by a charismatic leader. 91

92 93 94

95 96

For Christian homiletics in Late Antiquity more generally, see Olivar 1991; Maxwell 2006; Allen, Neill, and Mayer 2009. The central role of instruction in scripture for female monastic authority is explored in Albarrán Martínez 2013, 56–57. Clem., Paed. 1:2 (Marcovich: 2). Clem., Paed. 1:89 (Marcovich: 55); see discussion in Glad 2004, 449–452. Glad 2004, 449, n.  44 refers the reader to ps.-Aristotle Rhetorica ad Alexandrum 1421 b9, but Aristotle, Rhetoric 1:3 1358b (Ross: 13) is a better fit, since Aristotle, like Clement, divides advisory speech into protreptic and apotreptic. Aug., Doct. chr. 4.17.4 (Green: 238–240). History of the Egyptian Solitaries 184 (Nau: 272). Athanasius mentions a similar tradition in which Israelites drive away demons by simply reading from the Scriptures, warning that demons mock those who change their words: Ath., Ep. Marcell. 33 (PG 27: 45).

126

Cognitive Disciplines

Ammon for his part vividly relates the impact of Theodore’s affective speech in his Epistle: And afterwards, whenever I heard the voice of the holy Theodore, even at a distance, I was filled with either joy, or grief, or fear. And amazed, I inquired about whichever of these I experienced, and I learned that others too experienced the same thing as I.97

Elsewhere, he notes: “And having heard Theodore’s voice, I was so frightened that I started to sweat, even though it was winter and I was dressed in only a flaxen cloth.”98 Such descriptions of the strong emotions provoked by monastic rhetoric recall Charles Hirschkind’s analysis of sermon audition in the “ethical soundscape” of contemporary Cairo. Hirschkind describes the multifaceted responses – bodily, emotional, and cognitive – that listening to a sermon in this context provokes:  “affective-volitional dispositions, ways of the heart, that both attune the heart to God’s word and incline the body toward moral conduct.”99 In other words, the listener learned to associate particular passages of the Qur’an with corresponding pious emotional states and bodily habits. A lengthy passage of the Great Coptic Life describes the nature and effects of Theodore’s monastic catechesis, which he offered while sitting, and the more emotionally charged speech he delivered while standing. Its importance merits a quotation in full:100 While he was sitting and instructing the brothers, they would ask him about the interpretation of many of the sayings which he spoke, because they did not understand them on account of the depth of their thought. On the other hand, while he was standing, no one questioned him except the interpreter alone, according to the rule that was established from the beginning. But they stand in all knowledge, taking in everything that he says. They were standing house by house, each according to its rank and order, while each housemaster stood in front of his men. And the seconds would also be standing behind them, watching the brothers lest someone be absent. This is how they stood, in order, listening to the words of God. For it was truly a marvel to see them, how they burned towards the words of God which he spoke. For the brothers of the Koinonia are like an assembly of angels. As they stand next to one another, each one listens to what cuts him as well as to that which is fulfilled in him. The eyes of some are full of tears because of 97 98 99 100

Ep. Am. 8 (Goehring: 129). Ep. Am. 17 (Goehring: 136). Hirschkind 2009, 9. V. Pach. SBo 188 (CSCO 89: 174–175).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

127

the rebuke that they receive, as they set it in their hearts to establish themselves as holy for God. For others, whose consciences are at rest because they have done as well as they could, the words of God are a further incitement to their regimen and to pleasing God. After he finished instructing them, most would prostrate themselves while the brothers prayed. They would weep profusely, saying in their heart, “We are not worthy to stand and to pray with the brothers.”

The first scenario, in which all are sitting and dialog is allowed, suggests the kind of explications of biblical imagery found in Horsiesius’s Catecheses. In the second scenario, Theodore stands and addresses the assembled monks, who stand at attention silently as their superior delivers the “word of God.” The focus of this impassioned speech is a stinging rebuke, which leaves most disciples weeping and lying prostrate in repentance by the end. While in classical rhetoric the rebuke is sometimes recognized as a beneficial mode of protreptic speech, alongside consolation, in cenobitic monasticism it has a central significance. I  will now explore how this rhetoric of ekpathy aligns the emotions of the orator and the audience in order to provoke a change in the behavior, decisions, or opinions of the listeners, even (and perhaps especially) for those who resist the speaker’s message. The Rhetoric of Ekpathy Monastic impassioned speech is closely related to what Clement calls “advisory speech” and Augustine the “grand style.”101 In On Christian Doctrine, Augustine offers an example from his own personal experience in Caesarea, Mauritania, where he sought to convince the citizens to avoid violent civil strife: I indeed proceeded, as much as I was able to, in the grand style, in order to eradicate and expel so cruel and chronic an evil from their hearts and their habits by my speech. Yet I  did not think I  had achieved anything when I heard them applauding, but rather when I saw them crying.102

The task of provoking repentance and thus changing behavior was accomplished especially through an appeal to emotions. Theodore, in particular, was revered for the striking, affective force of his oratory, as we have seen in Ammon’s evocative claim: “Whenever I heard the voice of the holy 101

102

Aug., Doct. chr. 4.19.38 (Green: 244): “But when something must be done and we are speaking to those who ought to do it but are unwilling, then the important deeds must be described in the grand style, in a way suitable for moving minds.” Aug., Doct. chr. 4.24.53 (Green: 270).

128

Cognitive Disciplines

Theodore even from afar, I  was filled with either joy, or grief, or fear.” Much like Augustine’s performance in Mauretania, Theodore’s oratory is portrayed as an overwhelming affective force rather than a persuasive appeal to reason.103 This rhetoric of ekpathy has some important precedents in classical theory, including Plato’s program for a philosophical rhetoric (psychagogia) in the Phaedrus, which proposes an appeal to emotions as well as reason.104 Similarly, Aristotle’s Rhetoric provides definitions for a number of emotions and their opposites (for example, anger/calmness and fear/confidence), suggesting strategies for arousing them in the audience, a skill he deemed especially important for forensic oratory.105 Later authors on rhetoric similarly emphasize the need to employ pathos. Quintilian, for example, recommends trying to elicit the “vehement” (concitatos) emotions, which he contrasts with appeals to character:  pathos commands (imperare), while ethos persuades (persuadere).106 In another passage, he expands upon the overwhelming strength of oratorical pathos, which “lords it over” (dominatur) the audience and “penetrates” (penetrat) it with emotion.107 Ps.Longinus’ treatise On the Sublime similarly contrasts persuasion with the powerful effect of the speaker’s emotion, which “enslaves” the listener.108 One of the “vehement” emotions was pity, which Menander Rhetor, writing in the fourth century CE, suggests that ambassadors should provoke in the audience with their orations.109 According to Philostratus in the Lives of the Sophists, Marcus Aurelius was so moved by Aelius Aristides’ letter on behalf of the city of Smyrna, which had been destroyed by an earthquake, that he wept.110 While these classical descriptions of rhetoric imply that the speaker feels the emotion conveyed to the audience, it does not concern itself with the origins of this emotion. By contrast, in monastic rhetoric, the speaker is generally afflicted with grief due to the sins of the community, and the goal is to communicate this grief so that the disciples will repent. Thus, 103

104

105 106 107 108 109

110

For emotional contagion in early monastic communities, see further Crislip 2017, 356–357, noting the concept of the “emotive” in Reddy 2001, 63–111. Plato, Phaedrus 261a7-9. See Kennedy 1983, 180–186 for a more general discussion of Christian rhetoric in the context of Graeco-Roman traditions. For the connection between psychagogy and rhetoric in Aristotle, see Kennedy 2001, 13–14. Quint., Inst. or. 6.2.9 (Russel vol. 3: 48). Quint., Inst. or. 8.3.62, 67 (Russell vol. 3: 374, 378). Ps.-Longinus, On the Sublime 15:9 (Russell: 23). Cf. Webb 1997, 117–119. Menander Rhetor, On Epideictic Speeches 13:297–298 (Spengel: 423–440); Russell and Wilson 1981, 180. See the discussion in Webb 1997, 114–115. Philostratus, Lives of the Sophists, “Aristides” 2:252–253 (Kayser: 87). For the importance of tears in Christian oratory, see below.

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

129

following the revolt against Horsiesius, Theodore is ill because of the “great grief (emkah enhēt) in his soul.”111 Nowhere is this more evident than in Shenoute’s speeches in the Canons, which continue the monastic tradition of impassioned speech exemplified by Theodore. In Canons 1, Shenoute relates the rhetorical display that the “First Father” (Pcol) used in order to shame his audience: “For you always saw him as he stood in your midst, speaking the word of God, striking his face because of your wickedness, crying out with his hands on his head, ‘Woe is me, my children! Woe is me, my brethren! Woe is me! The works of the hands of God have perished.’ Don’t all the words which he spoke to you in his mercy cry out in your ears until now?”112 As in the description of Theodore in the Great Coptic Life, Shenoute recalls how the “First Father” exhorted the congregation to repent using biblical speech. Shenoute’s own rhetoric of ekpathy is on display throughout his works, especially in the Canons, which were directed at his monastic community. In a long address from Canons 4, Shenoute repeatedly urges repentance through his own impassioned speech. He addresses his opponents ironically, speaking as if they were without sin, and opines: “Therefore, it is not necessary to compel you with grief (lypē) and tears.”113 Later in the same work, in an account of a series of confrontations with his opponents, he offers a programmatic description of his rhetoric of ekpathy:114 For many times we spent half the night, until the hour of dawn; and we have spent half the day, until noon; and we have spent the entire day, speaking and blaming; and talking and rebuking; entreating, consoling, and blessing; cursing and contending; speaking hostile words and uttering peaceful words; being savage and yet also gentle; being mild and long-suffering, while offering love in exchange for [the opponents’] anger; yet also being short-tempered, with disturbance and anger; while crying tears, yet  also laughing, in consolation, in the fear of God.

Shenoute’s passionate intensity is on full display here. The initial emphasis is on blame and rebuke, and establishing these as the overall rhetorical tenor. Yet he projects combativeness and conciliation simultaneously, 111 112

113 114

V. Pach. SBo 193 (CSCO 89: 183). Shenoute, Canons 1, unedited (FR-BN 1302 f 89r). Similarly, Theodore explains to the leaders who rebelled against Horsiesius that they have negated the “prayers and tears” that Pachomius offered on behalf of the Koinonia. The monastic association of crying with grief was not universal in Graeco-Roman antiquity, as tears might encompass a wide variety of culturally determined meanings: see the essays in Fögen 2009. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 148). He also uses the metaphor of weight to describe his rhetoric, distinguishing between “hard and heavy words” and “soft and light words” (p. 149).

130

Cognitive Disciplines

describing a full panoply of emotions from anger to love as he alternates between rebuke and consolation, curses and blessings, laughter and crying. In contrast to classical psychagogy – which recommends as a remedy for sin either rebuke or consolation, based on the particular needs of each disciple – Shenoute shifts repeatedly between both emotional registers in the same address.115 He speaks to the congregation as a whole, urging all disciples to repent in order to attain salvation. Specific examples of Shenoute’s rhetorical strategies are found throughout the Canons. Rebuke took a number of forms, ranging from prophetic warnings, to lengthy parables with expanded biblical imagery, to direct insults and curses.116 These different forms were at times combined, as in the following declaration that Shenoute makes against one of his challengers:117 On account of this I said to him in anger and rage through God, “If, hypocrite, you are making progress as a monk, your words and your ordinances are true, and mine are lies. And those who want to understand, if they seek they will find that tree uprooted, with its branches, from the places in which they thought it had taken root; and planted in the salty and inhospitable earth, from which it was first taken. And thus it has become in that place like a dog who has returned to its vomit, and is hated.”

Shenoute thus combines an insult (“hypocrite”) with a brief parable related to the biblical parable of the sower (Matthew 13), suggesting that his opponents have left the monastery (“been uprooted”), and returned to the “salty and inhospitable” ground of the secular world, like a dog returning to its vomit. He assumes this authoritative biblical voice in order to condemn his opponent; not surprisingly, a monk who left the congregation complained that the archimandrite “cursed” him with parables. Shenoute sometimes alludes to the violence of his speech, declaring that it is spoken “in anger and rage,” but “through God.” Although the harsher comments are often directed at specific opponents  – whether explicitly named or not  – they form part of a more general rebuke of the entire 115

116

117

Besa, perhaps alluding to this passage, notes a similar emotional range to his teacher’s oratory: “Many speeches, siblings, of many kinds has our father spoken in great sorrow, whether in grief (lypē) and anger, whether entreaty and consolation, whether with blessings, whether with curses, desiring that we escape the judgement of God and that we be saved from the wrath which will be revealed from heaven, because we are his sons, and we are the creation of the hand of God” (Frag. 12, CSCO 157: 29–30). He does curse them: “All the curses of the Scriptures will come down on them and they will come under eternal reproach, as it is written; and disturbance and amazement and pain and groaning; and the working of demons will become lord over them, and they will become servants to them [the demons]” (Canons 4, CSCO 42: 124–125). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

131

monastic body that calls for its repentance.118 Some monks resented this aggressive style, interpreting it as a personal attack rather than beneficial chastisement:  for example, some contemplate leaving, because they feel that “all the words of blame and curses are directed at them.”119 Elsewhere Shenoute notes a similar complaint against him from monks leaving the community: “You curse me with parables when you open your mouth to speak in the name of the Lord through the Scriptures.”120 Shenoute used bodily postures and gestures to communicate the overwhelming anxiety he faced as a result of his feeling of responsibility for the monastery’s salvation. Ancient rhetorical theorists viewed such gestures made by orators as a key means for affective communication.121 According to Quintilian, gestures not only reflected the interior emotions of the speaker, but could in turn influence those of the audience.122 Movements of the head, arms, and hands demonstrated a range of positive or negative emotions, from admiration to indignation, shame, and doubt.123 For example, Quintilian asserts that exhortation is expressed with the hand “in a hollow form, fingers apart and raised, with some motion, above the top of the shoulder.”124 In order to show repentance and anger, Quintilian recommends pressing a hand against the chest.125 Shenoute expressed his repentance not only through gestures and tears, but also dramatic self-abasement. He recounts these strategies in another lengthy description of his rhetoric of ekpathy, addressed to the entire monastic congregation:126 For look with your eyes at the wretchedness of this man who weeps [Shenoute], as he stands in your midst, crying out in the affliction of his soul, like a woman about to give birth. Why is this man crying? And why are you, for your part, weeping, from your old men to your children, from the sixth hour of the night until the light comes up? And why did this man spread himself out in your midst on the earth, being unable to stand, while 118 119

120 121

122 123 124 125 126

For the associated ritual of repentance, see Chapter 7. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 118). Shenoute does not deny the charge, but rather affirms it: “Let rebuke and curses and reproach pierce the intestines and innards of those who say “all these things were said against us,” because in truth they were said on account of them” (Canons 4, CSCO 42:120). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42:141). See further the discussion in Chapter 7. Drawing on the early 20th-century French ethnologist Marcel Jousse, Hirschkind notes that gesticulations “constitute a substrate of latent tendencies, dispositions towards certain kinds of action operating independently of conscious thought” (Hirschkind 2009, 78). Quint., Inst. or. 11.3. 65–97 (Russell vol. 5: 118–134); see Graf 1992. Quint., Inst. or. 11.3.71 (Russell vol. 5: 120–122). Quint., Inst. or. 11.3.103 (Russell vol. 5: 138). Quint., Inst. or. 11.3.104 (Russell vol. 5: 138). Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau: 2.298–300).

132

Cognitive Disciplines you gathered around him, as he was lying before you, weeping bitterly, unto death, while your merciful children poured water on him, as they wept; and he scarcely got up, with effort, because the situation became awkward (aschēmonei) in your midst, while they guarded him; until he was brought outside, and he rolled around, crying in a pathway, while those passing by and sitting nearby looked at him; until he got up and returned to you, as you gathered together all at once, after we had sat down, gazing and amazed at the things which God had done for us, the way that he brought down upon us this great fear, so that we might perceive our evil deeds, and so that each one of us might send down from his eyes numerous tears.

Shenoute emphasizes the emotional pain in his own soul, evident in both his tears and distressed movements, including rolling on the floor in the middle of the congregation. He readily acknowledges having gone to extremes, and even proclaims that “the situation has become awkward.” By contrast, Quintilian insists that decorum must be maintained when using gestures. Thus, he notes about exhortation:  “But the tremulous movement of the hand in this position, which has been almost generally adopted in foreign schools, is theatrical.” Furthermore, although the orator is supposed to show signs of exhaustion at the end of a speech, violent movements, including shaking of the head or arms, were thought to be unbefitting of a free, masculine individual.127 Shenoute is instead appealing to the biblical model of prophets of repentance who are commanded by God to undergo shocking forms of bodily contortion. Most notably, God instructs Ezekiel to lie on his right and then his left side as a “sign” to the people of Israel, whose sin he must bear (Ezekiel 4). Similarly, Shenoute’s rolling movements cause “this great fear, so that we might perceive our evil deeds,” leading to repentance and tears. Honoratus, founder of the monastery of Lérins, provides another example of an orator who used gestures during impassioned rhetoric. His disciple Hilary describes the final speech that Honoratus delivers before government officials as bishop of Arles, noting the strong emotional impact that the bishop’s gesticulations produce in combination with his words:128 Meanwhile, he was warning us more with his face, more with his eyes, more with his thoughts radiating to heaven; for indeed the speech of the reporter [i.e., Hilary] is unworthy of his inflamed speech, but no less were the words of the one issuing warning [i.e., Honoratus] worthy of his spirit.

127 128

Graf 1992, 44–46. Hilar.-Arel. Vit. Hon. 32:8 (SC 235: 158–160).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

133

According to his Life, Shenoute had “deeply sunken and darkened eyes” from constant weeping.129 While visiting the monastery, a pagan dux expressed, evidently with sarcasm, his surprise that Shenoute seemed happy.130 Later readers of the Canons had a clear sense of its impassioned speech; Shenoute’s successor Besa observed that his words were spoken “in sorrow” and “grief,”131 or alternatively, “in rebuke, while angry.”132 John the Archimandrite (roughly a contemporary of Besa) was also struck by the emotion inherent in Shenoute’s speech, noting in particular his anger: “For our holy father indeed spoke this in anger and rage, through God.”133 This pained demeanor was common to monastic leaders: Pachomius was said to be “always terrified and mournful, remembering the souls in torments.”134 And yet there were alternative approaches to the rhetoric of ekpathy: Moses of Abydos, an admirer of Shenoute who founded his own communities near the White Monastery, was known for the constant joy of his visage.135 Another biographical tradition notes, “He was loved by everyone because his speeches were convincing and we never saw him angry.”136 As with other forms of impassioned speech, Moses’s upbeat disposition affected his audience, even in informal situations: “And in his days, through his joy towards the siblings, and their joy towards him, and the way they followed him, he would speak to many siblings, as they gathered around him, when he went out from assembly; or when he was seated at evening, as they gathered around him as he read.”137 This emphasis on joy suggests that Moses was particularly adept at encouragement, rather than rebuke.138 On the other hand, even orators known for their grief – such as Shenoute’s successor Besa – might occasionally offer encouragement, usually as a reminder that God would bless and protect those who followed his commandments.139 129 130 131

132 133 134

135

136 137 138

139

Leipoldt 1951: 13. Shenoute Discourses 5 (Emmel 2004a vol. 2, 638–641). Besa, Frag. 12 (CSCO 157: 32): “Did he not speak once again in this same sorrow and this same grief.” See also Besa, Frag. 3 (CSCO 157: 7), and Besa, Frag. 8 (CSCO 157: 19). Besa, Frag. 3 (CSCO 157: 7). Shisha-Halevy 1980: 169. V. Pach. G1 91 (Halkin: 61). He also displayed anger, such as when he rebuked Theodore for allowing disobedience in the monastery’s bakery: V. Pach. SBo 77 (CSCO 89: 82–83). According to the author of the Life of Moses, the constant joy on his face was a result of a vision he had of Jesus in the flesh: see Uljas 2011, 378. For more on visions and their role in monastic progress, see Chapter 5. Amélineau: 2.691–693. CSCO 73: 210. “O man who is entirely sweet like honey, in whom there is no bitterness;” “O the consolation of Egypt in his generation, Apa Moses” (CSCO 73: 213). Besa, Frag. 14 (CSCO 157: 40).

134

Cognitive Disciplines Monastic Catechesis

The joy of encouragement and pain of rebuke were frequently communicated through short instructions (catecheses), usually based on biblical passages.140 While on diverse topics, Pachomius’s teaching was often described as “spiritual,” because of its general importance for the care of souls.141 Many catecheses were ad-hoc oral deliveries, for example during work assignments outside the monastery.142 Various anecdotes in passages from the biographical tradition describe informal sessions led by Pachomius or his successors, who sat and instructed whoever was present.143 Biblical homilies were also regularly delivered in monastic communities: the Pachomian rules call for one on Saturday and two on Sunday, by the superior; and one on Wednesdays and fast days, by the housemaster.144 The First Greek Life describes one such regularly scheduled catechesis by Pachomius, on following the commandments as “spiritual resurrection,” after which he prays that the disciples remember the relevant scriptural verses. They return to their houses, where they discuss the homily further.145 Through the practice of attentive listening, some disciples were able to memorize the short catecheses and communicate them to others, both in the houses and beyond the Koinonia.146 While serving as director of Tabennesi, Theodore frequently visited Pachomius at Phbow, and repeated the teachings he heard from him there to his own community.147 This double emphasis on aural retention and oral repetition was intimately connected to monastic textual culture: scribes wrote down Pachomius’s instructions, presumably as he spoke them, as well as letters that he dictated.148 Both 140

141

142 143

144

145 146 147 148

Theodore was known for both consolation and rebuke:  V. Pach. SBo 183 (CSCO 89: 161–162), V. Pach. SBo 199 (CSCO 89: 195–196). V. Pach. SBo 46 (CSCO 89:  48); V. Pach. G1 125 (Halkin:  79–80). Origen’s distinction between literal, moral, and allegorical interpretations is not found in the Pachomian tradition. E.g. V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 89: 96–97), V. Pach. SBo 98 (CSCO 89: 123–124). V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 30–32), V. Pach. SBo 46 (CSCO 89: 48–49), V. Pach. SBo 97 (CSCO 89: 121–122), V. Pach. SBo 183 (CSCO 89: 161–162); V. Pach. G1 56–58 (Halking: 38–40); according to V. Pach. G1 125 (Halkin: 79–80), this was Horsiesius’s practice after meals. See Veilleux 1968, 269–275. A similar schedule was in place at the White Monastery; see Layton 2008, 76: “Twice a week, we are told, on Wednesdays and Fridays, one of the smaller meetings [in the individual houses] included a catechesis  – an instruction. And three times a week, on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturday nights, one of the great assemblies [of the whole congregation] also included instruction.” V. Pach. G1 57–58. V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 30), V. Pach. SBo 41 (CSCO 89: 43–44). V. Pach. SBo 78 (CSCO 89: 83–84). V. Pach. G1 99 (Halkin:  66–67). Five very short Coptic instructions, all without a title, two of them fragmentary, are attributed to Pachomius (CSCO 159: 26–30). These include short edifying

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

135

listening and reading contributed to the internalization of Scripture and its interpretation, as well as the attendant images and emotions. Pachomian catecheses usually developed a particularly striking image found in one or more biblical verses, for example the tabernacle;149 the soul as a house150 or vineyard;151 the river of Paradise;152 and tears.153 Other instructions offered new but biblically-based parables, such as a comparison of vine and acacia trees.154 The biographical tradition explicitly notes several other topics that Pachomius used to supplement his scriptural teaching: the wiles of demons,155 biographical reminiscences,156 and descriptions of post-mortem punishments.157 These notices imply a self-consciously dual structure to the catechesis: a “canonical” reflection of scriptural passages, followed by para-biblical materials (including “apocryphal” heavenly journeys) related to the care of souls. After Pachomius died, Theodore continued his tradition of spiritual biblical instruction:158 Whenever he would speak with the brothers from the Holy Scriptures of the Lord, he interpreted the passage that he would recite for them spiritually, saying: “This is how our father would explain them to us when he was still with us in the flesh.”

This presumably referred to both spontaneous and regularly scheduled instructions. Horsiesius is the author of seven extant Catecheses that were delivered during the Saturday and Sunday evening meetings according to manuscript headings.159

149 150 151 152 153 154

155 156

157 158 159

points, sometimes scriptural, as in the quotation of Ps. 101:5 in a homily against slander (Frag. 2), sometimes biographical (Frag. 3). V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 31). V. Pach. SBo 67 (CSCO 89: 68–69); compare V. Pach. G1 75 (Halkin: 50). V. Pach. SBo 104 (CSCO 89: 134) V. Pach. S5 20 (CSCO 99–100: 197); Theodore attributes this interpretation to angelic revelation. V. Pach. G1 62 (Halkin: 42). V. Pach. SBo 187 (CSCO 89: 173–174). Other parables include the narrow, mountainous path to God: V. Pach. SBo 187 (CSCO 89: 170); the burning lamp: V. Pach. SBo 209 (CSCO 89: 213–214); and a series of tales comparing different types of monks to seafarers, merchants, and the king’s eunuchs and servants: V. Pach. SBo 105 (CSCO 89: 135–138). V. Pach. G1 56–58 (Halkin: 38–40). Cf. V. Pach. SBo 67 (CSCO 89: 67–69). V. Pach. G1 10 (Halkin: 7), in which we learn that Pachomius would tell stories about his life along with recounting the Scriptures. V. Pach. SBo 88 (CSCO 89: 97–101); similarly Theodore in V. Pach. S5 19 (CSCO 99–100: 195). V. Pach. SBo 190 (CSCO 89: 179); cf. V. Pach. SBo 186. With one exception: the introduction to Horsiesius’ Instruction Seven, “On Friendship,” which is longer than the homilies based on biblical readings, does not state that it was read on Saturday or Sunday, and is described as an “instructional speech” (shaje ensbō) (Hors., Instr. 7, CSCO 159: 75); see the discussion in Chapter 5. Other instructions are denoted kathēgēsis [sic] and logos (CSCO 159: 66, 70, 72, 73). A similar terminology is attested in the White Monastery: according to Rule 344 (Layton 2014, 236–237), house leaders “give catechesis (r-katēchēsis) each fast day.”

136

Cognitive Disciplines

While Horsiesius usually begins each instruction by citing a single biblical verse, which suggests that he is interpreting the liturgical reading, he continues by quoting other scriptural passages on the same theme, in contrast to verse-by-verse exegetical homilies.160 Their relatively short length and focus make them ideal for provoking discussion in the houses after the group meeting, as described in the Epistle of Ammon. A survey of these underappreciated texts will demonstrate how monastic orators developed the basic components of monastic culture from the biblical text, to be meditated upon by disciples.161 Some develop images of physical labor (i.e. agricultural or domestic) or material possessions (i.e. the garment) as symbols of the interior life; the rest cover other key topics related to the salvation of disciples, for example the fear of God and the covenant. The First Catechesis begins with a quotation of Psalm 34:12–15: “God calls us urgently through the holy psalmist David, ‘Come, my children, listen to me, and I will instruct you in the fear of the Lord’.”162 The rest of the sermon is a moral exhortation on the need for repentance, containing various allusions to the final judgement and other aspects of the fear of God, which will be examined at length in Chapter 4. The Second Catechesis also begins with a biblical quote, namely Genesis 17:2: “God said to the man of faith, Abraham: ‘Do what is pleasing in my presence, and become sinless, and I will make a covenant with you’.”163 Horsiesius then encourages the disciples to follow the monastic covenant completed between God and Pachomius: “But concerning us, siblings, if we do the will of God, and if we follow the example of our blessed fathers, if we become sinless, God will watch over us.”164 The Third Catechesis commences with a reflection on Proverbs 3:9– 10: “The Holy Spirit said in an exhortation, ‘My son, honour God through your labors of love, and give him the first fruits of your righteousness, so that your storehouses may be filled with wheat, and your vats with wine’,” and continues with a reflection on the monastic image of agricultural labor followed by cultivation, as a metaphor for the soul’s moral progress.165 The 160

161 162 163 164

165

Sheridan 2007, 25–48. The only extant monastic exegetical homilies are in a series on the Psalms and on Mark delivered by Jerome to his community at Bethlehem, in which the primary concern is historical and moral exposition; the monastic life is only mentioned occasionally and tangentially, and the Bethlehem community in its particulars is not referenced. See Ewald 1964, xxi-xxx. There are several studies of individual speeches, e.g. Timbie 2011. Hors., Instr. 1 (CSCO 159: 66). Hors., Instr. 2 (CSCO 159: 70). Hors., Instr. 2. For the importance of the covenant in monastic self-formation, see the discussion of Shenoute’s Canons in Chapter 7. Hors., Instr. 3 (CSCO 159: 70). Elsewhere, Horsiesius describes the monastic community as the “vineyard of the saints;” Hors., Test. 28 (Boon: 129).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

137

Fourth Catechesis begins with a quotation from Proverbs 3:27–28, which Horsiesius abruptly connects to Ecclesiastes 9:8 and Isaiah 61:10, both of which describe clothing, the latter referring to the soul as a “garment of salvation.” The rest of the homily presents another widespread monastic image, namely spiritual garments acquired through good deeds, which are contrasted with bodily clothing.166 The Fifth Catechesis explores another metaphor for the soul as a house. While it does not quote directly from Scripture, it clearly alludes to 2 Chronicles 3:3, which had likely been read earlier:  “The Spirit of God teaches us, through the wise Solomon, to build the house of our soul upon a large foundation which is secure.” As in the imagery of vineyards and clothing, Horsiesius develops this metaphor by positing the soul as a spiritual house, as opposed to the physical one, that must be provided with “an adornment that is heavenly.”167 Although the beginning of the Sixth Catechesis is lost, the homily addresses humanity’s utter dependence on God as a creator, and uses this to motivate disciples to respond to temptation with prayer.168 While no short, exegetical homilies survive from Shenoute’s corpus, some writings in the Canons begin with a short biblical quote like the Catecheses of Horsiesius, perhaps from liturgical readings.169 In a moral exhortation of approximately the same length as its Pachomian predecessors, Shenoute’s successor Besa builds upon a short exegesis from the prophet Jeremiah:170 “Remember the Lord and let Jerusalem come upon our heart,” as it is written (Jer. 28:50); and also, “Consider the Lord and you will do all my desires” (Is. 44:28). For if the person remembers the Lord and Jerusalem of heaven comes upon his heart, no polluted thought nor any evil will have power over him.

Although this passage has the usual emphasis on repentance, it ends on a joyful note, expanding upon the vision of God hinted at in the opening quote:171 “How much contentment and joy and gladness is in store for those who will be worthy of these things! It is sufficient that they only see the Lord sitting on the throne of his glory. . .”

166 167 168 169

170 171

Hors., Instr. 4 (CSCO 159: 72–73). Hors., Instr. 5 (CSCO 159: 73). Hors., Instr. 6 (CSCO 159: 73–75). E.g. in Canons 8, So Listen (Pr. 24:8b-10) and My Heart is Crushed (Jr. 23:4), both of which are discussed in Chapter 7. Besa, Frag. 5 (CSCO 157: 11). Besa, Frag. 5 (CSCO 157: 14).

138

Cognitive Disciplines

According to Theon, the student not only shapes their own mind by studying the text, but also impresses it upon others, almost forcibly, by reciting it.172 Monastic catecheses increased this effect with their emphasis on images, which, according to classical rhetoric, could influence listeners through energeia, or vividness. According to ps.-Longinus’s treatment of this quality in On the Sublime, particularly striking images (phantasia) are the most effective way to provoke emotions in the audience: “When, through enthusiasm and passion, you seem to see what you are speaking about and you set it before the eyes of those listening.”173 Similarly, Quintilian discusses “what the Greeks call phantasiai. . .by means of which the images of absent things are shown to our mind in such a way that we appear to see them with our eyes, as if they were present.”174 He equates this rhetorical figure with human imaginative capacity more generally, and also connects it to emotion: “our emotions are as actively engaged as if present at the events themselves.” The emotional impact would have been associated with the relevant scriptural images and interpretations as part of the memory practice.175 Disciples thus internalized a limited set of cognitive schemas, for example the idea of a soul as a field or house to be cultivated, which were “learned, internalised patterns of thought-feeling that mediate both the interpretation of on-going experience and the reconstruction of memories.”176 Shenoute’s frequent references in the Canons to the monastic community as Israel, for example, trigger a number of associations (such as covenant and repentance) from scriptural memory. Similarly, Horsiesius’s Second Catechesis compares the monastic covenant to Abraham’s and emphasizes the importance of being sinless.177 Such associations allow for the easy communication of a message of rebuke, the associated fear of God, and the need for repentance. As Lundhaug notes, “Collective practices of unified memory encoding in each individual monk would ideally make each and every one of them capable of recalling a significant bulk of internalised common textual and doctrinal memory when prompted by specific situations and rhetorical practices.”178 The institutionalization of regular periods 172 173 174 175

176 177

178

Theon, Progym., 170 (Spengel: 71–72). Ps.-Longinus 15:1 (Russell 1968: 21). See Webb 2009, 87–106, and esp. 96. Quint., Inst. or. 6.2.29 (Russell 2002: 3.58–60). See also the discussion in Carruthers 1998, 130–133. On the understanding of connections between emotion and memory in the ancient and medieval periods, see Carruthers 1998, 14–16. Strauss 1992, 3. This is not to imply that Horsiesius’s Second Catechesis was known to all members of the White Monastery federation, though its interpretive tradition shared much with the Koinonia. Lundhaug 2014, 114–115.

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

139

for scriptural instruction and discussion made cenobia relatively uniform “textual communities.”179

III.

Scriptural Exercises

Through the ongoing practices of reading, writing, listening, and meditation monks both memorized passages of scripture and learned how to incorporate them into their daily lives. The importance of these cognitive disciplines is emphasized in a programmatic statement on biblical spirituality in the Testament of Horsiesius:180 Let us take care to read and learn the Scriptures, and we will always carry ourselves in their meditation, knowing what is written:  from the fruit of his mouth a man will be filled, and he will be given the wage of his labours (Proverbs 13:2; Wisdom 10:17). These are the words which lead us to eternal life, which our father gave to us, and ordered us to meditate upon continuously, so that that which is written might be fulfilled in us: “These words, with which I command you today, will be in your heart and in your mind, you will teach them to your children, and you shall speak concerning them, sitting in your house, and walking on the road, and lying down and rising. You will write them for a sign on your hand, and they will stay fixed before your eyes (Deuteronomy 11:18–20). You will also write them on the doorposts and gates of your houses, so that you may learn to fear the Lord all the days of your life (Deuteronomy 4:10).” Solomon also, signifying the same thing, says, “write them across your heart” (Proverbs 3:3).

This fascinating passage presents Scripture, mediated by Pachomius (“which our father gave to us”), as salvific. Horsiesius urges his disciples to fulfill the Deuteronomistic injunction to internalize biblical words “in your heart and in your mind,” and to “write them across the heart.” Jerome, who translated this passage, also broadly advocated “writing on the heart:” in the commentary on Matthew 13:52, he calls the apostles the “scribes and notarii of the Savior,” who recorded his precepts “on the fleshly tablets of their heart.”181 179

180 181

A term coined by Brian Stock for a community with varying levels of literacy that places special importance on the teachings of a single interpreter; see e.g. Stock 1983, 90. Stroumsa also adopts this terminology to describe early monasticism (Stroumsa 2008, 69). Cf. Lundhaug 2014, 107, who notes that regulating access to texts promoted “as uniform an interpretive community as possible.” Hors., Test. 51 (Boon: 143–144). Hier., Matt. 2:13 (PL 26: 95). Elsewhere, Jerome adduces several biblical texts which relate to “tablets of the heart,” namely, 2 Cor 3:2–3 and Proverbs 3:3; Hier., Abac. 2:2; (PL 25: 1290).

140

Cognitive Disciplines

Writing on the heart could be facilitated by the simple exercise of transcribing scripture. As Quintilian notes:182 I would like that the verses which are set out to be copied should not contain meaningless sentences, but should teach something of value. The memory of these things remains into old age, and, impressed upon the unformed mind (inpressa animo rudi) also profits the character.

There is evidence for copying short biblical passages for edification, a practice difficult to distinguish from calligraphic exercises. For example, in Cell A of the Monastery of Epiphanius, Moses wrote selections from the Bible and the monostichoi of Menander onto ostraca.183 Whereas Winlock understood this as Moses’s scribal activity, Bucking reasonably suggests that they might also be interpreted as “the result of private study or devotion.”184 Monks might also cover their walls with biblical verses, as suggested by Horsiesius: both communal areas and private cells of the Late Antique monastery at Bawit are full of writing, ranging from spontaneous graffiti to planned and expertly painted inscriptions, usually of a scriptural nature.185 This internalization of Scripture through writing was believed to lead to the imitation of virtuous biblical characters.186 Athanasius, describing the effect of the Psalms on the speaker, asserted, “I mold (tupō) myself.”187 The connection between internalization and mimesis can also be traced to Graeco-Roman educational theorists. Theon, for example, notes regarding the progymnasmata, “molded (typōthentes) by their instruction, they will be able to imitate them.”188 The orator Aelius Theon similarly notes the positive effect of such repeated exercises on the student: “Having molded our soul from good models, we will produce the best imitations.”189 Horsiesius urged an approach to the Bible that involved not only the imitation of saints, but constant meditation:  “We will always carry ourselves in meditation of the [Scriptures].”190 The First Instruction of 182 183 184

185 186 187 188 189 190

Quint., Inst. or. 1.1.35-6, (Russell vol. 1: 80). Note the parallel with Pach., P 139 (Boon: 49): rudis. Cribiore 2001, 24–25; cf. Larsen 2013. Bucking 2007, 32. Two ostraca contain the same prayer; Crum and Evelyn-White 1926, “Liturgical Texts” no. 46–47. Bucking suggests that “perhaps Moses was simply writing the text in an attempt to commit it to memory.” For more on inscriptions in monastic living spaces, see Dilley 2008, 114–117. On mimesis in cenobitic monasticism, see Chapter 6. Ath., Ep. Marcell. 10 (PG 27: 20). Theon, Progym. 168 (Spengel: 71). Theon, Progym. 151–152 (Spengel: 61). See Webb, 2001, 309. Hors., Test. 51 (Boon: 143). See also Theodore’s statement, “We read from the Scriptures all the time and we recite them” (V. Pach. SBo 183, CSCO 89: 161).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

141

Pachomius similarly commands, “recite always the words of God.”191 Verses were “recalled from the heart” (Gk. apostēthizein), and usually pronounced in a low voice (Gk. meletē, “exercise”).192 The word meletē can mean many things, including “meditation,” “recitation,” or even “declamation.” In the present context, the term “exercise” best denotes its active, intentional, and repetitive character.193 Disciples performed these scriptural exercises while walking and at work.194 Pachomius ordered monks assigned to the bakery to recite Scripture together, forbidding them from normal communication.195 Presumably any memorized verses could be used, although certain passages were especially appropriate for specific situations; for instance, the monastic rule could be read at dinner.196 Augustine also recommends that “servants of God” should commit Scripture to memory for recitation while working as a means of avoiding lewd thoughts, which he associates with manual laborers in particular.197 In addition to protecting against unwanted cognition, the recitation or audition of the scriptural verses was considered to have other positive effects. Thus, Basil recommends, “When it is possible, or rather if it is useful for the edification of the faith, we praise God with the tongue, with psalms and hymns and odes, as it is written (Col. 3:16), while putting our hands to work; but if not, [we praise God] in the heart.”198 Hirschkind reflects upon the role of sermon audition in ethical formation, especially during monotonous labor, when it makes use of the body “as a kind of fluid medium, one animated and traversed by an ensemble of interlinking movements. . .that in their synthesis and complementarity form the sensitive heart of an ethical listener.”199 The recitation of biblical verses while baking bread was thus not only an integral way of inscribing them onto the heart, but of aligning their meaning with habitual corporal practices. 191 192

193

194 195

196 197

198 199

Pach., Instr.14 (CSCO 159: 5). For a good recent overview of meletē/meditatio in the Late Antique monastic context, see BurtonChristie 1993, 122–129; Stewart 1998, 101–103. For an assessment of this multifaceted practice, see Graham 1987, 134:  “Meditation here is not abstract contemplation but determined “exercise” in the word of God: what the mouth repeats, the heart should experience, the mind grasp, and the whole being translate into practice.” Pach., P 36–37, 60. V. Pach. SBo 74 (CSCO 89: 78–79); V. Pach. G1 89 (Halkin: 60). For further rules about speech in the bakery, see Horsiesius, Regulations 39–40 (CSCO 159:  92); and on kneading, Horsiesius, Regulations 44–47 (CSCO 159: 94–95). RM 24 (SC 106: 123–133). Aug., Mon. 20: “Do we not know in what vanities, and even mostly obscenities of theatrical stories all workmen give their hearts and tongues, while they do not remove their hands from work?” (CSEL 41: 564). LR 37 (PG 31: 1012). Hirschkind 2009, 103.

142

Cognitive Disciplines

Disciples also meditated intently upon specific passages, such that a sense of personal dialog with God emerged. In the oracular mode of Scripture, verses are understood as divine commands directed personally at the monk, which could serve as a prophylactic against sin or promote conversion and repentance. Conversely, in the prosopopoeic mode of scripture, the disciple assumes the persona of a biblical character by repeating his or her speech, especially lines addressed to God. The oracular mode of scripture. In the oracular use of scripture, divine injunctions are removed from their narrative context, such that they are spoken directly to the reader or audience, who is compelled to obey them, even if they are not meant to be universal.200 In some ways, the oracular mode is related to widespread oracular practices employed throughout Egypt by both Christians and non-Christians; in the Sortes, passages from an authoritative text are selected at random, and interpreted in light of the concerns of the individual consulting the oracle.201 Similarly, when Theodore is undertaking penance, he picks up a Bible and instantly reads a prophetic word of consolation.202 While monks might hear oracular passages from unexpected sources, they were also dictated to them by their leaders, and gradually learned specific verses to apply to themselves in situations of temptation, thus inserting divine advice into their cognitive stream. The most famous example of removing a biblical command from its original context and giving it new meaning can be found in the Life of Antony. Feeling lost after his parents have died, Antony enters a church just as the priest is reading Matthew 19:21 aloud: “He heard the Lord saying to the rich man, ‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell all your possessions and give them to the poor, and follow me, and you will have treasure in heaven’.”203 Although in the Gospel these words are spoken to an anonymous young man, Antony understands “as if the reading was on his account.”204 Despite the fact that the statement is in the conditional, he interprets it as a command, that is, a divine response to his uncertainty, and, unlike the young man in the Gospel, decides to put it into practice.205 200

201 202 203 204 205

See the discussion of Young 1997, about rewritten scripture within early Christian paraenesis, in which she notes: “[The community’s] identity as God’s people meant that the words of scripture, even the harsh words, applied directly to Christians” (222). For a description of the Sortes, including Sortes Biblicae, see Luijendijk 2014, 4–7. V. Pach. SBo 94. Ath., V. Ant. 2:3 (SC 400: 132). Ath., V. Ant. 2:4 (SC 400: 132–134). Dorotheus, in opposition to Antony, argues that it is not a direct command; Dor., Doct. 1:12 (SC 92: 166): “Look, he did not say “sell your possessions” as a commandment, but as advice. For he said, ‘if you wish . . .’ ”

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

143

Even before he hears Jesus’ injunction, Antony is said to have reflected on similarly themed biblical passages, such as Acts 4:35: Going forth to the Lord’s house as was his custom, and collecting his thoughts, he thought about it all, how the apostles, giving up everything, followed the Saviour, and how in Acts some sold their possessions and brought their proceeds and placed them at the feet of the apostles for distribution among those in need, and how great is the hope stored up for such people in heaven.206

Later, when he hears Matthew 6:34 read in church, he donates all property at his disposal – even his sister’s – to the poor.207 This act is yet another response to oracular discourse: in the Gospel, the command, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow,” is directed at the crowds of the Sermon on the Mount, but Antony understands it as a reference to his own family situation, specifically their property, although this was clearly not the narrative context. The Pachomian sources include a variety of evidence for the oracular mode of Scripture, including the Letter of Ammon, who describes a meeting in which Theodore quotes biblical verses to various monks as a means of revealing their inner condition. No less than ten monks stand at attention and listen to the scriptural texts, some delivering rebuke, others offering encouragement. Theodore recites Lamentations 3:27–30 to one disciple, commenting, “But you, why do you bear reproaches on Christ’s behalf so miserably?”208 To another monk named Pateolli he proclaims, “ ‘Bear (pl.) one another’s burdens and thus you (pl.) fulfill the law of Christ’ (Heb. 10:36). Correct yourself!”209 Finally, to another disciple he quotes Eph. 6:12 on the combat against armies of wickedness, concluding it with his own exhortation, “Struggle!” While Ammon does not specify the particular faults of the monks, the scriptural verses act as a kind of exteriorized conscience, mediated by Theodore. The Rule of the Master similarly directs the abbot to recommend biblical passages that are appropriate for monks who are experiencing temptation:210 Keeping with himself only the brother who is struggling with an evil thought, let [the abbot] bring forth books and let a divine medicine appropriate for his wound be read . . . For example, if [Satan] has suggested fornication, let [passages] be read from various books where God loves chastity. 206 207 208 209 210

Ath., V. Ant. 2:2 (SC 400: 132). Ath., V. Ant. 3:1 (SC 400: 134–136). Ep. Am. 3 (Goehring: 125). Ep. Am. 3 (Goehring: 126). RM 15:28–33 (SC 106: 66–68).

144

Cognitive Disciplines If [Satan] often suggests falsehood, let [passages] be read from various books where God commands truthfulness . . .

In the works of Evagrius of Ponticus, the oracular use of Scripture is applied in a highly systematic way, especially in the Antirrheticus (“talking back”), which is organized according to a list of eight vices. Indeed, this treatise is so remarkably detailed in its list of temptations and corresponding biblical responses that scholars have often associated this practice especially with him. However, it is also attested in the Pachomian biographical tradition:  Theodore recommended that monks perform a similar kind of “talking back” to “impure thoughts” on their own:211 So if a polluted thought rises in your heart, or hatred [towards your sibling]. . .recite in your heart without ceasing every fruit that is written in the Scriptures, resolving in yourself to walk in them, as it is written in Isaiah:  “Your heart will meditate on the fear of the Lord,” and all these things will cease in you. . .

Since Theodore does not mention specific passages, the implication is that only those with enough scriptural knowledge to choose the right verse can attempt this exercise.212 Moreover, the practice of “talking back” is part oracular, part prosopopoeic exercise: the monk is expected to recite relevant verses, but these are generally divine condemnations of impure thoughts. The prosopopoeic mode of Scripture. The other component of the disciples’ imagined dialogue with God comprised what I call the “prosopopoeic” exercise of Scripture, after the classical rhetorical exercise of prosopopoeia, in which students assume the voice and manners of literary characters.213 Monks constantly recited the words of biblical characters, above all the Psalms of David, and in the process literally assumed their dispositions and emotions.214 This is imitation, or mimesis, through the direct appropriation

211

212

213 214

V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99–100: 41). Similarly, Cassian recommends that the phrase “God, come to my aid; Lord, hasten to help me” (Ps. 69:2) be repeated in all situations, including temptation, in order to obtain the “perpetual memory of God” (perpetuam dei memoriam); Cassian, Coll. 10:10 (CSEL 13: 297). Some ascetic theorists expressed concern that “talking back” was primarily for advanced monks: see Guillaumont 2004, 251–253. Specific verses are also recommended in Pach., Instr. 1:12 (against pride and excessive judgment); and Theo., Instr. 3:6 (when facing taunts). Quint., Inst. or. 1.8.2–3 (Russell vol. 1: 200). For helpful overviews of the use of Psalms by Christians in Late Antique Egypt, cf. R. Layton 2004, 26–27 and Dysinger 2005, 48–61. See also the studies in Andreopoulos, Casiday, and Harrison 2011.

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

145

of their persona. As Derek Krueger explains, “The monk became Scripture’s mouthpiece, and the Psalms scripted the monk’s interior self-reflection and outward self-presentation.”215 In the writings of cenobitic orators such Pachomius, Theodore, Horsiesius, Shenoute, and Besa, it is difficult to distinguish between an explicit quotation and an allusion.216 In fact, the Psalms formed the centerpiece of Pachomian instruction and exercise:  Precept 139 calls for postulants to learn twenty Psalms as a requirement for joining the community.217 According to Theodore, a monk can obtain salvation through a single Psalm.218 Athanasius expresses a similar idea in his Epistle to Marcellinus: the Psalter is a “garden” containing all canonical works within it.219 He further asserts that during recitation of Psalms the monk identifies with the emotions  – whether positive or negative – carried in particular verses: together, they are “a mirror to the psalm singer, so that he might perceive himself in them and the movements of his own soul.”220 As Cassian notes:221 Receiving in himself all the affects of the Psalms, thus he will begin to sing (them), not as if composed by the prophet (David), but as if enunciated by him as his own prayers he will draw (them) out, from a deep compunction of the heart, and he will think that they have been directed to his own person, and know that their thoughts have not been completed only then, through the prophet or in the prophet, but that they are daily carried out and fulfilled in him.

In short, the cognitive discipline of scriptural recitation entailed a deliberate modification of emotion and thought, which were trained to follow a biblical model. 215

216

217

218

219

220

221

Krueger 2010, 218. Krueger 2010, 217 calls the Psalter “the soundtrack of Byzantine monasticism from its very origins.” Horsiesius “integrated the scriptural language so completely into his thinking that he simply expresses his ideas through it” (Goehring 1999, 226); cf. the description of Didymus of Alexandria’s biblical mimesis in R. Layton 2004, esp. 8–10, 34–37. Brakke aptly describes this phenomenon as “the scripturalization of the speaking self ” (Brakke 2006, 93). They are also well represented in documentary evidence for education in Late Antique Egypt. The following texts of the Psalms were probably used for instruction: Cribiore 1996, no. 295, 297, 388, 396. V. Pach. SBo 189 (CSCO 89: 177): “O my siblings, I bear witness to you in the presence of God and his Christ that a single Psalm may suffice to save us if we understand it well and put it into practice and guard it;” see Graham 1987, 132. Ath., Ep. Marcell. 2 (PG 27: 12). On this important text, see now Frank 2013. Athanasius was likely most familiar with the practice of psalmody in Lower Egypt, on which see Dysinger 2005. Ath., Ep. Marcell. 12 (PG 27: 24); cf. Cassian, Coll. 10:11 (CSEL 13: 305). Aristotle makes the same claim of the Odyssey in Rhetorica 1406b (Kolbet 2006, 95, note 57). Cassian, Coll. 10:11 (CSEL 13: 304).

146

Cognitive Disciplines

IV.

Conclusion

The cognitive and affective capacities of disciples were molded in the monastic soundscape, whether through hearing others recite biblical texts and adopting a scriptural voice, personally reciting them aloud or in the heart, or writing them on tablets or papyrus. The first contact with scripture was through basic instruction in literacy, an explicitly hierarchical activity under the teacher’s watchful guidance, which also demanded strenuous concentration from the disciples. Monastic rhetoric similarly emphasized the leader’s inspired authority, especially his ability to control the emotions of the audience, who were expected to listen actively. Disciples further internalized Scripture by meditating upon it in their daily lives, reciting it in liturgical settings, and discussing regularly scheduled catecheses with housemates. They were encouraged to imagine themselves in dialogue with God, framing their inner lives according to a biblical script, while eliminating all negative cognition, whether personal or demonic. Yet Scripture itself was not sufficient to eliminate evil thoughts: monks had to employ additional cognitive disciplines, namely the fear of God and prayer. Though it was not autonomous, Scripture, which was encountered in a new monk’s initial forays into reading and writing, served as a building block for the other two disciplines. As Cribiore notes, “alphabetical and numerical orders were tools used to organise materials, concepts, and subjects to be stored in the mind and retrieved when necessary.”222 Monastic writers, like other ancient authors, viewed the alphabet (and biblical literacy) as an important first step in the organization of knowledge. Shenoute thus compares learning the fear of God to moving from letters to syllables: “Who will learn to write accurately without first beginning the syllables, and all the other instruction (paideusis) which he learns through the teacher? Who will be able to escape Hades and the fire that is in it who has not first taught himself the fear of the chastisements and the commandments which he commanded us, namely the true teacher, Jesus?”223 In particular, monks need to have the guidance of a teacher to learn “the fear of the chastisements,” a key component of the fear of God. Similarly, in Cassian’s Tenth Conference, on prayer, Germanus asks Abba Isaac for advice in practicing the continual recollection of God:224 “For how will any boy be able to pronounce the simple combinations of syllables unless he 222 223 224

Cribiore 2001, 167. Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 11). Cassian, Coll. 10:8 (SC 54: 83).

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape

147

has first carefully learned the letters of the alphabet?” Isaac soon returns to the same metaphor, noting how children become accustomed to letters by copying them on wax tablets and gazing at their shape.225 In the following two chapters, we will explore how monks trained themselves in the fear of God and prayer, in the context of cenobitic discipline.

225

Cassian, Coll. 10:10 (SC 54: 85).

Ch apter 4

Learning the Fear of God

“For previously there were in me things which seemed lacking in justice, nor did I  think that a higher power saw anything which I carried inside, secreted away in my heart.” Constantine, Epistula ad episcopos catholicos1 “[Pachomius] was always meditating on the fear of God, the remembrance of the judgements, and the torments of the eternal flame.” V. Pach. G1 182

Pachomius is said to have frequently meditated upon God’s post-mortem punishment of sinners, delivering highly evocative descriptions to his disciples. When Theodore “saw someone unwilling to take care over his own life and showing disregard, he warned him with great patience about the fearful judgements of God. For it is terrifying to fall into the hands of the living God (Heb. 10:31).”3 The dreadful scene of divine punishment is invoked again and again by monastic authors, often in exquisite detail. It is easy to dismiss such traditional “fire and brimstone” rhetoric as monotonous threats with little value for historical research.4 To do so would be a significant oversight, because cultivating the fear of God was a highly complex and innovative cognitive discipline that was fundamental to monastic identity. Learning the fear of God involved attentive listening to teachings on divine scrutiny and punishment of sin, usually based on evocative images; submitting to discipline, including corporal punishment; and frequent personal exercises.

1 2 3

4

CSEL 26: 208. Halkin: 11. V. Pach. G1 132 (Halkin: 83). Theodore also quotes Heb. 10:31 in Instr. 3:20, referring to disciples who “give excuses for thoughts and passions of the flesh” (Theo., Instr. 3:20, CSCO 159: 50). For the “rhetoric of hell” in Matthew and other early Christian texts, see Henning 2014. For the larger context of the divine courtroom and judgment in Late Antique literature, see Kensky 2010 and Uhalde 2007.

148

Learning the Fear of God

149

The fear of God is a biblical phrase commonly invoked in early Christian literature as a practice of piety.5 Scholars are aware of its importance for the monastic life, yet there has been no systematic effort to describe it.6 While Augustine argued that the fear of God is inferior to love for him, it is often associated with holy people in Late Antiquity, including Pachomius. In the literature of cenobitic monasticism, the fear of God is related to the perception of the divine judge’s terrible majesty, and utter helplessness in his presence. Nevertheless, we cannot reduce this fear to a uniquely “religious” emotion, such as Rudolf Otto’s famous concept of mysterium tremendum, a sudden feeling of creaturely awe before the divine majesty.7 Otto imagined the mysterium tremendum as a special experience that arrived unprovoked, from an external stimulus. By contrast, monastic authors portray the fear of God as a personal attitude that must be acquired and maintained. Once acquired, it motivates disciples to obey the commandments, as noted by Horsiesius in the final passage of his Testament: “Fear God and guard his commandments, for this is [incumbent on] everyone, because God will bring every deed to judgement . . .”8 (Cf. Qo 12:13–14). Such warnings are often accompanied by an assertion that God observes sins that are committed in secret, and can perceive inner thoughts that are not confessed to superiors. Even if breaches in discipline went undetected by the monastic authorities, God will make known and punish all offenses at the last judgment. In an extended discussion on disciplining the lustful gaze in his monastic Rule, Augustine reminds the disciples that God is watching them: “But look, even if he goes undetected and is not seen by any person, what will he do about that inspector from above, from whom nothing can be concealed?”9 The monastic voyeur thus finds that his own gaze is under God’s surveillance, trumped by the divine panopticon. In a sermon, Augustine encouraged his audience to imagine God’s all-seeing gaze piercing through 5

6

7

8

9

Key biblical passages include “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Pr 9:10), and “give me an undivided heart to fear your name” (Ps. 86:11). Brakke notes the importance of the fear of God in Pachomian spirituality, describing it as a disposition “which steadied the mind by focusing it on God and higher realities and which resulted in an intensified life of service to others” (Brakke 2006, 92). Otto 1921, 12–24. Otto’s concept of sui generis emotions has been cogently critiqued by religious studies scholars drawing on both critical theory (e.g. McCutcheon 1997), and cognitive psychology (e.g. Taves 2009, 16–55). Hors., Test. 56 (Boon:  147). In the words of New Testament scholarship, the fear of God represents a “realized” eschatology rather than the expectation of an imminent apocalypse; yet Moschos 2010 portrays the Pachomians alongside other early Egyptian monastic groups as “eschatological communities.” Aug., Reg. 4:5 (Lawless: 88).

150

Cognitive Disciplines

the intimate confines of houses and bedrooms:  “He must be feared in public, he must be feared in private. You go out, you are seen; you come in, you are seen. The lamp burns, he sees you; the lamp is out, he sees you. You enter your bedroom, he sees you; you turn things over in your heart, he sees you. Fear him, him whose concern is that he see you; and at least through fearing, be chaste.”10 For Augustine, then, sin can be avoided by remembering the perfect gaze of the divine judge. How are we to understand this monastic pre-occupation with divine omniscience? Several relevant universal human mental features have been proposed in the Cognitive Science of Religion. Drawing on evolutionary psychology, Barrett has proposed that humans are innately equipped with a “hyperactive agent detection device” (HADD), a cognitive module leading them to “assume that an omniscient moral observer is watching them.”11 Another key component of the fear of God – concern about post-mortem judgement – has also been explained by an appeal to adapted human cognitive architecture:  Istvan Czachesz argues that people are predisposed to believing in the continuance of cognition and emotion after death.12 But these universalizing claims of evolutionary psychology, even if they were accurate, merely point to innate tendencies. They fail to address how belief in divine omniscience and post-mortem cognition are acquired and maintained in specific cultural environments.13 In the ancient Mediterranean world, the idea of divine omniscience was widespread, but varied significantly in its specificities, and was not always an area of cultural emphasis.14 The potential of divine omniscience for enforcing societal codes – so apparent in cenobitic sources – is suggested in a lone surviving fragment of Greek literature: in the satyr-play Sisyphos, Kritias asserted that humans first invented laws to eliminate violence and crime; when people violated these laws in secret, the idea of an all-seeing God who punishes hidden infractions was invented.15 And the only evidence among 10 11 12 13

14

15

Aug., Serm. 132:2 (PL 38: 736). Barrett 2004. Czachesz 2012, 42–45. See the more general critique of evolutionary psychology proposed by Tanya Luhrmann, as discussed in the Introduction. Raffaelle Pettazzoni argued in a classic if long forgotten history-of-religions study, The All-Knowing God, that the concept of divine omniscience is not a late monotheistic development, but a widely attested idea associated with the all-seeing eye of sky gods, which he attributes to anthropomorphism (Pettazzoni 1956, 22–23). On the attribution of “mind-reading” to ancestors in the ritual of the contemporary Pomio Kivung religious movement in Papua New Guinea, and its relationship to theory of mind, see Whitehouse 2007, 259–260. Kritias, Frag. 25 (Diels). In the ancient Mediterranean, all-seeing gods are often associated with punishment, and as such are frequently invoked in oaths (Pettazzoni, passim).

Learning the Fear of God

151

ancient Mediterranean traditions for the idea that God sees not just hidden crimes but also inner thoughts and dispositions comes from the Hebrew Bible.16 For some Christians, the fear of God was an entirely new, mysterious concept, but also potentially a life-changing one. Thus, Constantine expressed his amazement that God could see his hidden thoughts:  “For previously there were in me things which seemed lacking in justice, nor did I think that a higher power saw anything which I carried inside, secreted away in my heart.”17 Indeed, divine omniscience was a controversial idea, with biblical verses already suggesting that some were skeptical about it.18 As we shall see in this chapter, some monks disputed the terrifying image of post-mortem judgement for all sins, even those committed in secret, or in thought alone. In addition to the need for disciplining such resistant disciples, Pachomius asserts more generally that instruction in the fear of God is fundamental to monastic progress: “Do not neglect to learn the fear of God, and you will make progress (prokoptei) like neophytes (tōōkye enb e rre).”19 Like neophytes learning the alphabet and eventually memorizing scripture, disciples had to learn to fear God. In this chapter, I describe how monks learned and maintained the fear of God through monastic homilies, undergoing discipline (including corporal punishment), and personal exercises. Section One describes the fundamental images that were related to the fear of God, and proposes that various images, such as the divine court room, were inculcated through corresponding forms of discipline, such as public rebuke; and further reinforced through related practices, such as self-blame. Sections Two through Four treat particular aspects of the fear of God, namely shame, guilt, and bodily pain, by describing the interrelationship between image, discipline, and practice. Section Five explores further strategies for learning the fear of God, including use of the physical environment, as well as extended rhetorical meditations. Once the fear of God was inculcated into disciples’ minds and bodies, they could draw on it in the struggle against evil thoughts, as discussed in the final section of this chapter. 16

17 18

19

The evidence from the Hebrew Bible is collected in Pettazzoni 1956, 97–114, with a preponderance of texts from the Psalms and wisdom literature. God is also described as observing the heart in the Prophets, especially Jeremiah, and in some early Babylonian religious texts. Constantine, Epistula ad episcopos catholicos (CSEL 26: 208). See, in particular Psalm 73:11, 94:7, 10:11, Job 24:15, Sirach 23:18–20, Sirach 16:16–17 and 20–21 (as a temptation for the pious). Pach., Instr. 1:55 (CSCO 159: 22).

152

Cognitive Disciplines

I.

Learning the Fear of God: Image, Discipline, Practice

At its most basic level, the fear of God is a vivid image of divine judgement, expanding on biblical themes, which monastic teachers frequently invoke. In one particularly detailed passage, Pachomius describes this terrifying scene, exhorting his disciples to imagine the consequences if they sin:20 Guard your childhood so that you will be able to protect your old age, lest you experience shame and regret in the valley of Josaphat, while God’s entire creation watches you and reproaches you, saying: “We thought that you were a sheep, we have found you in this place a wolf. Walk, now, into the gulf of Hell; cast yourself now into the heart of the earth!” Oh, the enormity! You walked in the world, being praised as an elect; in the hour you arrived at the valley of Josaphat, the place of judgement, you were found naked, while everyone gazes upon your sins and your unseemliness, which is revealed to God and humans. Woe to you in that moment! Where will you turn your face? Will you open your mouth? What will you say? Your sins are etched in your soul, which is as dark as a hairshirt. What will you do in that moment? Are you weeping? Your tears will not be accepted. Are you praying? Your prayers will not be accepted, because those to whom you were given have no mercy. Oh, woe! At the moment when you hear the fearful, cutting voice: “Let the sinners go to Hell: Leave me, those who are damned to the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels;” and also, “I have hated those who transgress, so I will obliterate from the city of the Lord all who do lawlessness.”

Pachomius emphasizes that any sins hidden from their monastic colleagues are nevertheless known to God, and will be revealed to all in the divine court. He uses strongly visual language to reinforce this idea, asserting that they will be found “naked” before other surprised monks, their sins visible, “etched in your soul, which is as dark as a hairshirt.” At the same time, Pachomius describes how they will be found guilty of their sin, quoting Isaiah as the voice of divine judgement: “Let the sinners go to Hell.” He also emphasizes the anguish and pain that will come with this condemnation: it is an “awful” experience to “hear the terrible, cutting voice” that comes before they are handed over to the “pitiless” angels and “eternal fire.” Finally, he implicitly contrasts the impossibility of repentance at the divine court with the opportunity to do so before the monastic community. This complex image suggests that the fear of God incorporated several interrelated strategies to encourage conformity to monastic norms, by evoking shame, guilt, and the threat of pain. Shame is primarily visual, 20

Pach., Instr. 1:33 (CSCO 159:13).

Learning the Fear of God

153

based on an external, scrutinizing audience, whether real or imagined. Guilt, on the other hand, is primarily oral, based on an external voice of condemnation, whether real or imagined.21 Most descriptions of the fear of God combine both elements: the gaze of the divine judge, and sometimes also angels, the monk’s elders, or pious family members; and God’s notice of conviction for sin. Finally, there are frequent references to pain, ranging from the general idea of chastisement, to detailed depictions of gruesome torture scenes recalling Roman judicial punishments. This experience of pain, though not a thought or emotion, is a key aspect of human sensation, which I accordingly treat as a separate aspect of the fear of God.22 According to anthropologist Ruth Benedict’s influential model, individuals in “shame cultures” are more concerned with appearing to meet societal expectations for their given roles. If others believe them to have violated the rules, they feel shame, even if they have not done so; conversely, if they have done so, and are not detected, they feel no shame. On the other hand, individuals in “guilt cultures” are concerned with individual culpability, rather than the opinions of others. If they do not meet societal expectations, they feel guilty for doing so, even if others are unaware; conversely, if they are wrongly accused, they do not experience guilt, but defend their innocence. The distinction between guilt and shame cultures was originally drawn between modern “Western” and “Eastern” societies, specifically the United States and Japan.23 Later studies argued that some contemporary Mediterranean societies were also shame cultures. This typology was soon also applied to distinguish between ancient and contemporary societies, with guilt societies seen as a later, more advanced phenomenon. E. R. Dodds, for example, contrasted the shame society of the Homeric age with the development of a guilt culture as represented in classical Athenian tragedy.24 Other scholars associate guilt culture especially with Christianity, which in turn influenced contemporary Western culture. However, as Virginia Burrus has argued, Christians did not replace shame with guilt, but rather combined the two, especially by Late Antiquity.25 21 22 23

24 25

As argued by the philosopher Herbert Morris (Morris 1976, 62). For an analysis of the experience, politics, and literary representation of pain, see Scarry 1985. Benedict’s study was prepared during World War II to help Americans better understand the differences between Japanese culture and their own. Dodds 1951; cf. Cairns 1993 and Williams 1993. Burrus points to “recent discussions of cultural anthropologists who have explicitly rejected the idea of reifying the distinction between guilt and shame and attaching it specifically to one culture or another’ ” (5). See further her discussion of shame through the lens of critical theory (Burrus 2007a, 1–9).

154

Cognitive Disciplines

Like Burrus, I  reject the classical anthropological distinction between shame and guilt cultures, as well as the role of Christianity in their development, without abandoning the concepts themselves. In the following analysis of the fear of God, I make a heuristic distinction between “shame,” in particular the sense of being watched by God (which is visual); and “guilt,” the sense of being condemned at the divine tribunal (which is aural). But monastic teachers did not privilege one concept over the other:  rather, the two functioned together to encourage conformity to monastic norms. I will also contribute to the critique of Benedict’s paradigm, for instance by showing that monks felt shame for actions and thoughts that were hidden from others, because they were urged to imagine that these were visible to God. I also reject the association of “shame” cultures with prioritization of the group over the individual, and guilt cultures with prioritization of the individual over the group,26 since this distinction is based on the problematic dichotomy between structure and agency found across a range of sociological and anthropological theories.27 Instead, I  will describe both how disciples internalized the fear of God from their teachers and monastic institutions, and how they then strategically drew upon this acquired disposition to navigate complex situations, especially related to temptation. In other words, the fear of God is inextricably linked to both the functioning of monastic society, and the cognition, emotion, and practices of individual monks. As a mediating structure between societal/institutional forces and individual actors, the fear of God closely approximates the sociological concept of the habitus, developed by Pierre Bourdieu. The habitus is a disposition that structures the practice of those who have internalized it, without their conscious awareness of it, while leaving open the possibility for strategic action, whether calculated or not.28 Unfortunately, Bourdieu’s practice theory29 provides little guidance for understanding how disciples

26

27 28

29

For the perpetuation of this anthropological idea in New Testament studies, see, e.g., Malina 1981, 58–80. For a critique of the structure/agent dichotomy, see Bourdieu 1977, 1–29. The concept of the habitus is developed by social theorist Pierre Bourdieu, who defines it as “durable, transposable dispositions, structured structures predisposed to function as structuring structures, that is, as principles which generate and organise practices and representations that can be objectively adapted to their outcomes without presupposing a conscious aiming at ends or an express mastery of the operations necessary in order to attain them” (Bourdieu 1977). As Saba Mahmood notes, in Bourdieu’s writings there is a “lack of attention to the pedagogical process by which a habitus is learned” (Mahmood 2005, 139).

Learning the Fear of God

155

internalized the fear of God.30 It is crucial to note that the fear of God, like the habitus, was at once cognitive and corporal, that is, it was imprinted in the mind as well as incorporated into the body. It was thus taught through both instruction (primarily oral) that presented detailed images of the divine judgement scene, and corporal discipline that provided a “feel” for the gaze of others, and hearing a harsh voice of condemnation.31 All forms of monastic discipline – including rebuke, public shaming, corporal punishment, isolation, demotion, and expulsion – involved leaders performing the various actions attributed to the divine judge in their teachings on the fear of God. This discipline was administered when monks committed some kind of transgression that could have been avoided by mobilizing the fear of God, in order to make that fear seem more “real” to the disciple by enacting it on his or her body. In many ways, the fear of God’s images of divine punishment, and the related forms of monastic discipline, corresponded to political ideologies of punishment in the Later Roman Empire.32 On the one hand, the fear of God portrayed divine retribution, as God responds to offenses against “His image,” whether understood as other monks or Christ himself, on the day of judgement. Pachomius thus imagines the divine voice of condemnation: If you have struck your brother, you will be given to merciless angels and they will beat you with a flaming rod forever. You did not spare my image, you struck me, you despised me and you put me to shame. Therefore I will not spare you in the depth of your affliction. You have not made peace with your brother in this world; neither will there be peace between me and you on the day of great judgement.33

Similarly, the imperial laws often spoke of the emperor’s “avenging sword,” which was mobilized against those who defied his will, and

30

31

32

33

Elizabeth Clark points this out in her exploratory study of ancient Christian constructions of shame (Clark 1991, 229). Clark’s own attempt to fill this gap concentrates on rhetorical constructions of God’s all-seeing eye, but does not consider God’s surveillance of thoughts. According to Bourdieu, the habitus is manifested as a particular way of carrying the body, which he defines as the hexis: “Bodily hexis is political mythology realized, em-bodied, turned into a permanent disposition, a durable manner of standing, speaking, and thereby of feeling and thinking” (Bourdieu 1977, 93–94). Monastic punishments were closely related to secular ones, whether civilian or military. These include public shaming through the loosening of the belt (a punishment for soldiers), whipping, loss of status, and expulsion or exile (punishments for both civilians and soldiers). There is less overlap with early imperial Greek religion, though Chaniotis 2012 argues effectively for the importance of fear of the gods, especially divine retribution for human lawlessness, as well as the role of emotion in ritual more generally. Pach., Instr. 1:41 (CSCO 159: 17).

156

Cognitive Disciplines

described punishments fitting the crime in question, such as filling the throats of those who had persuaded others to a crime with molten lead.34 Another ideology of punishment shared by the imperial and monastic disciplinary systems was deterrence. According to this concept, punishments were a spectacle of the Roman emperor to enforce his laws by forcefully marking his power on the body of those who violated them; the brutality of such enforcement discouraged others from breaking the law.35 Similarly, many forms of monastic discipline, such as simple rebuke, or requiring sinners to stand apart from the congregation at prayers or meals, were publicly enforced. This was partly to instill a sense of shame in the monk being disciplined, but also to turn the punishment into a spectacle for others, who could imagine themselves in the same position if they sinned. The most drastic forms of monastic discipline  – such as public beating, stripping of the habit, and expulsion – recalled the Roman practice of using public torture as a means of deterrence. Thus, Besa brought vagrant monks back to the monastery for a public punishment, justifying this discipline by quoting Mt 22:29: “Thus, it has been said, ‘Rebuke those who sin in the presence of everyone, so that the rest also fear’.”36 Monastic leaders also terrorized their subjects with threatening rhetoric, another aspect shared with imperial law.37 While monastic discipline did not adopt the extreme spectacles of the Roman penal system, such as immolation and crucifixion, disciples were threatened with similarly brutal forms of punishment on the day of judgement.38 In a shockingly violent passage, Shenoute proclaims his own readiness to torture and kill the sinners of his community:39 “If the place did not exist, and the day [was not coming], when the Lord will destroy your souls and bodies, and if there were an opportunity, not only would I cause the legal authorities to flay your sides, and light a fire under you, and carry off your heads; but I would stand some crosses on the streets of the congregations, and have you hung on them until you are dried up and the birds of the sky eat your flesh.” Despite his willingness to punish them, Shenoute simply delivers a warning that divine chastisement awaits. 34 35

36 37 38 39

For a description of late Roman ideas of punishment as retribution, see Harries 1999, 135–137. Spectacular punishment as a means for the state to assert control over criminals’ bodies in the medieval and Early Modern periods is famously described by Foucault 1995; however, an application of the contrast he makes between spectacular and disciplinary punishment does not hold in the monastic context, where both forms coexisted. Besa, Frag. 3 (CSCO 157: 6). Harries 1999, 119–120. For a description of spectacular punishment in the later Roman Empire, see Harries 1999, 138–139. Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 354).

Learning the Fear of God

157

With “capital punishment” now paradoxically a post-mortem affair, Christians developed a new ideology of punishment for the living: remedial discipline.40 As Clement of Alexandria explains in the Pedagogue: “Correction and chastisement, as their very name implies, are blows inflicted upon the soul, restraining sin, warding off death, leading those enslaved by vice back to self-control.”41 In another passage, Clement draws an analogy with military discipline to make his point:42 When a general inflicts upon evil-doers pecuniary fines and confinement in chains affecting the body as well, and complete disgrace, and even when he exacts the death penalty, it is for a good purpose: he is using his authority as general to serve warning to his subjects. Similarly, when that mighty General of ours, the Word, Guide of the whole world, serves notice on those who disobey the law to restrain the passions of their heart, it is to release them from error and from slavery and captivity to the enemy, and to guide them in peace to a holy concord of life.

While Clement builds an analogy between military punishment and Christian discipline, he also distinguishes between the former’s effect of deterrence, and the latter’s therapeutic goal of restraining the passions; between imprisonment and release. In summary, the fear of God was imprinted upon the minds and incorporated into the bodies of disciples in several ways. First, teachers presented “pictures” of divine judgement to them, encouraging them to constantly meditate on these images and to imagine themselves before God’s tribunal. They also employed various forms of corporal punishment to persuade the body of the reality of these pictures. For instance, the teacher’s beatings anticipated the bodily pain associated with the threat of divine punishment. This and other aspects of monastic discipline constitute a form of “ritualization,” a process by which events are made exceptional by distinguishing them from the normal routine of the monastery.43 “Ritualization” underlines the inevitability of divine power, and thus the necessity of obeying the divine will, which monastic leaders such as Pachomius and 40

41

42 43

For remedial punishment (emendatio) in Christian and late Roman law, see the extensive analysis in Hillner 2015, 64–112. Clem., Paed. 1:9. For punishment as a deterrent for others, see Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae 7:14, discussed in Hillner 2015, 38–39. Clem., Paed. 1:8. Here I am using Catherine Bell’s definition of “ritualization,” which itself draws on the concept of habitus, as the process by which a set of practices is differentiated from another because of some special quality – in this case, departure from the routine – and thus becomes privileged. See Bell 1990, 90. For ritualization in relation to the laws of Shenoute’s monastic community, see Schroeder 2007, 54–89.

158

Cognitive Disciplines

Shenoute claimed to represent. The fear of God, then, was incorporated by disciples through ritual discipline of the body, which then acquired a feel for the pictures learned by the mind. The final goal of ritual was to predispose the participants to repeat these actions, or variations of them, in other contexts, especially situations of temptation.44 Indeed, for each image and its related disciplinary procedure, there is a third link in the chain: a corresponding exercise that a monk practices without the guidance of the teacher, both to internalize it further and actively employ it. The triple correspondence I am positing within the fear of God between mental images, bodily discipline, and personal exercise is not explicitly stated in ancient monastic literature.45 Yet this very silence is another important element of ritualization, a strategy by which its effects – the ritual embodiment of the fear of God – appear inevitable.46 To describe the dynamics of internalization, I divide my analysis into three parts. I first consider shame before the divine eye or a pious audience in depictions of the judgement scene, the corresponding discipline of being singled out in front of the community, and the related exercise of self-scrutiny. Second, I explore guilt through the voice of divine condemnation in depictions of the fear of God, the corresponding discipline of rebuke, and the related exercise of self-blame. Third, I consider threats and images of pain, the corresponding discipline of corporal punishment, and the related exercise of ascetic austerities. This triple threefold division is for the sake of convenience in exposition: the images, disciplines, and exercises associated with shame, guilt, and pain, are all important and interrelated aspects of the fear of God.

II.

Shame, Surveillance/Clairvoyance, Self-Scrutiny

In descriptions of the divine judgement scene, monks are exhorted to imagine themselves under the scrutinizing gaze of the heavenly court, as well as that of monastic colleagues or family members. As in the classical model, shame derives from being seen by others. The fear of God, however, extends the notion of what is shameful from sins committed in public to 44

45

46

As Bell puts it, “The goal of ritualization as such is completely circular: the creation of a ritualized agent, an actor with a form of ritual mastery, who embodies flexible sets of cultural schemes and can deploy them effectively in multiple situations so as to reconstruct those situations in practical ways” (Bell 1997, 81). Although one rule does explicitly describe discipline as an alternative to post-mortem punishment: those who break the rule must do “penance publicly, so that he may be able to attain the kingdom of heaven” (P 144, Boon: 52). Bell 1997, 81.

Learning the Fear of God

159

acts and even thoughts, which are not visible to others. This is achieved through a simple analogy: monks are told to imagine an all-seeing divine eye watching their every move and monitoring their inner thoughts and feelings, especially in response to temptation. This privileged view will be universalized at the day of judgement, when all sins will be revealed. The concept of a divine panopticon was re-enforced through monastic discipline in several ways, including the surveillance network, which placed monks under the constant watch of their superiors and colleagues. Additionally, some leaders claimed the gift of clairvoyance, the ability to see hidden or distant sins, including cardiognosticism, the ability to know the hearts of others, to see/read their thoughts. Finally, through the exercise of self-scrutiny, disciples avoided future shame by imagining their deeds and thoughts under constant observation by God and their colleagues, and evaluated whether their behavior conformed to the monastic rule. Depictions of Shame. As we have seen in Pachomius’s description at the valley of Josaphat (Instr. 1:33), the fear of God is intensely visual:  disciples must imagine God’s all-seeing gaze, which will be extended to other onlookers at the day of judgement. Theodore offers a similar ekphrasis of shame before the divine tribunal:47 [Let us] be on guard and fearful, lest we become lovers of honor. For if we become lovers of honors in this age, we force God to bring the document with the shame of our actions and the thoughts of our hearts against us, at the tribunal of Christ, in the presence of the angels, and all the saints, as we are naked, with no means of seeking refuge anywhere, except the fire which will consume [God’s] enemies, and with no means at all of covering our shame. But if we place before ourselves at each moment our weaknesses and our evil thoughts, so that we regret them in this age, we will escape eternal shame, the fire, and unceasing rebuke.

Sinful monks will feel shame before the angels and the saints when their hidden deeds and thoughts are revealed. Theodore communicates the intense visuality of this experience by using the language of nudity: “With no means at all of covering our shame.” On the other hand, the actions and thoughts are not directly observed, but recorded in a document produced as evidence against the monk.48 Other instructions in the fear of God offered various thought experiments for conceptualizing how unseen sins, and especially mental activity, 47 48

Theo., Instr. 3:8 (CSCO 159: 44). Note how Theodore seamlessly joins the sense of “eternal shame” with guilt (the document, and “unceasing rebuke”) and pain (“fire”) in his presentation of the fear of God.

160

Cognitive Disciplines

might be visible to God, and others at the last judgement. In an extended description of the last judgement, Origen describes how everyone will have to give an account for their actions, words, and thoughts, even those which are hidden:  “Bad thoughts will be convicted by the conscience refuting them.” Now, the books of the heart are “rolled up and covered, containing writing which we carry, worked over with certain remarks of the conscience, yet not known to anyone but God alone;” at the last judgement, “inscribed tablets containing the letters of our deeds and thoughts will be read, as we have said, by every rational creature.”49 Augustine asserts that the resurrection body will be transparent, with the pure thoughts of the pious laid bare for all to see: “Someone will answer me, saying: ‘If they are covered, how will it not be possible to lay hidden? Will not our hearts and our inner organs lay hidden?’ Everyone will see the thoughts, my siblings, the thoughts that no one sees now except God, in that society of saints. There no one wants what he thinks to be hidden, because no one thinks evil.”50 All of these teachings attempt to expand the sense of shame by imagining how the deceased’s life history will be open to all. Shame and Monastic Discipline. Monastic leaders employed several disciplinary techniques to instill in disciples a feel for the divine panopticon, and the corresponding sense of shame: surveillance, clairvoyance, and public penance. Larger cenobitic monasteries included extensive surveillance networks, through which informants reported sins to the abbots, or other members of the monastic hierarchy.51 Ideally, surveillance was based on the direct and continuous observation of disciples. For instance, the Rule of the Master stipulates that the dean was to sleep surrounded by his ten disciples, such that he could monitor the behavior of them all.52 Occasional inspection of cells is attested in the Pachomian Koinonia, presumably to ensure that monks were not hoarding food or other illicit belongings.53 In the White Monastery, the Male Eldest inspected the cells once a month, probably to ensure that monks were not storing private property.54 The system of 49

50 51 52 53

54

Or., Comm. ad Rom. 9:6 (PG 14: 1242B–C); note that Origen imagines the book of the heart alternately as a roll and a tablet, but not a codex. See the discussion of this passage in Stroumsa 2008, 74–75, who suggests that the coded language in the Letters of Pachomius “may be understood as the secret language in which the book of the heart is written, and which will be opened only on judgement day.” For additional references to sins written on the heart in Origen, see Raasch 1968, 52. Aug., Serm. 243:5 (PL 38: 1145). For an extensive study of surveillance in early Christian monasteries, see Sala 2011. RM 29. Horsiesius provides a satirical description of monks frantically trying to hide their property when a friend tells them that a superior is coming to inspect the cell (Hors., Instr. 7). For sleeping arrangements at the White Monastery, see Layton 2007, 47.

Learning the Fear of God

161

surveillance also depended on the obligation of all monks to report the infractions of other disciples to their superiors.55 If this was not done voluntarily, leaders might resort to interrogation, especially if violations of the rules were suspected.56 The biographical tradition avoids direct mention of the surveillance apparatus, instead focusing on the miraculous charisms of monastic leaders, especially Pachomius and Theodore. Several stories depict these leaders moving around the monasteries unrecognized, observing unacceptable behavior or attitudes themselves.57 However, the privileged vantage point of the Koinonia’s leaders is most clearly expressed by the controversial gift of clairvoyance, which features frequently in the Lives. Simply stated, the faculty of clairvoyance (to dioratikon) is an enhanced perception of sin, whether remote or hidden actions, or evil thoughts.58 I consider the latter, “cardiognosticism,” or knowledge of the heart, a special case of the former, although it can be difficult to distinguish between the two.59 Thus, when a monk confesses his sins after Theodore observes, “I see someone among you whose hope is in a cooking pot,” it is uncertain whether he is referring to the young monk Patlole’s temptation or act, both of which are mentioned.60 Pachomius frequently detects and exposes hidden sin. In a typical anecdote, he visits a monastery in which a brother, hungered by fasting, has stolen five figs and hidden them in a jar. He then states before the community: “I was sent here today because of the health of a soul, and I found what I came here for in an earthenware vessel,” prompting the brother to reveal his sin, and the other monks to “marvel at the Spirit of God which was in our father Pachomius and at his perfect gaze (yōrh).”61 Cardiognosticism was directed at disciples undergoing temptation, especially when they refused to confess their thoughts. Thus, a brother consistently hides his 55

56 57 58

59

60 61

e.g., Rules 143 (Layton 2014, 146–147). Criminal justice in the Roman Empire also relied on informers, because there were no police. See Harries 1999, 119–122. Theodore often did so for Pachomius; see V. Pach. SBo 64, 74, 77. V. Pach. SBo 72, 138. On clairvoyance in Late Antique spiritual direction in general, see Hausherr 1990, 91–96; for Pachomian monasticism, see Vecoli 2006, 109–141, and Sala 2011, 111–134. The revelation of hidden deeds is featured in V. Pach. SBo 59, 64, 77, V. Pach. G1 74, 89 (Pachomius) and V. Pach. SBo 148, 185 (Theodore); hidden thoughts/demons in V. Pach. SBo 106, 107, 111, 122 (Pachomius) and V. Pach. SBo 195 (Theodore). Clairvoyance (dioratikon) is itself defined as the ability “to see the thoughts (enthumēmata) of souls” in V. Pach. G1 48 (Halkin: 31), but for the purposes of this chapter I  use it to refer to the perception of hidden deeds, and cardiognosticism to the perception of hidden thoughts. On cardiognosticism, see Grünbeck 2004. V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 107: 97); cf. V. Pach. SBo 108. V. Pach. SBo 72 (CSCO 107: 74–75).

162

Cognitive Disciplines

troubled heart from Pachomius, who sees through this deception and declares that the demon against which he was fighting has now possessed him from head to foot. When asked how to make it leave, Pachomius asserts that the disciple must simply believe in his teachings.62 In both instances, Pachomius is performing divine omniscience, training the sinful monk and other onlookers in the fear of God. Pachomius was eventually forced to defend his practice of clairvoyance before bishops at the Council of Latopolis.63 He argues that clairvoyance did not derive from his own power, but the gift of the spirit: “Leave God’s charism alone! If the wise and intelligent according to worldly standards spend a few days among people, do they not recognize the disposition of each one through discernment”?64 Theodore uses a similar argument in his defense of clairvoyance recorded in the biographical tradition.65 And during his brief stay in the Koinonia, the young Ammon is particularly drawn to Theodore’s power of cardiognosticism, despite his doubts about it: “I asked Ausonius to convince me, from the scriptures, whether it is at all possible for someone to see what is hidden in the hearts of others.”66 Ausonius duly provides a series of biblical passages in which cardiognosticism is displayed, including Samuel’s first encounter with Saul (1 Kg 9.19–20), and Peter’s assessment of Simon in Acts 8:23.67 And many of the subsequent episodes recorded in Ammon’s Letter emphasize Theodore’s knowledge of hidden sin and evil thoughts in order to justify his disciplinary practices, including expulsion.68 Although most of the detailed examples of clairvoyance are found in Pachomian hagiography, this gift was also attributed to other monastic 62

63

64

65

66 67 68

V. Pach. SBo 102. The subject of disbelief is never revealed, but it may have been divine omniscience, human clairvoyance, or post-mortem punishment, for all of which there is evidence of skepticism. See the accounts in V. Pach. G1 112 and V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 591–595). Jenott 2013b is correct to note Pachomius’s appeal to visions to justify his expansion of the Koinonia as the primary cause for clerical opposition, but as I argue in this chapter, skepticism regarding clairvoyance was not simply rooted in ecclesiastical politics. V. Pach. G1 112 (Halkin: 73). Curiously, this passage also suggests that the divine gift is not unique, but shared by the worldly wise. In the Coptic Kephalaia, Mani argues that only he, and not his elect, possesses clairvoyance, listing five reasons it would endanger his church if the elect possessed it as well: if the elect were cardiognostic, he claims, it would endanger their humility, and lead to mutual hate (Böhlig 1966: 255–257)! In the Pachomian system, by contrast, cardiognosticism seems to have been monopolized by Pachomius (and later Theodore). However, conflict might arise when other monks also claimed this charism: see, e.g., the discussion of Shenoute’s Canons 1 in Chapter 7. In V. Pach. G1 135, Theodore emphasizes the Spirit as the source of revelation and the importance of humility. Ep. Am. 16 (Goehring 1985: 135). The other cited passages are 1Kg 16:6–12; 4 Kg 4:27; 4 Kg 5:25–27; Pr 27:23; Pr 21:22; Acts 14:8–10. Ep. Am. 17, 19–20, 22–24, 26.

Learning the Fear of God

163

leaders, such as Hypatius, abbot of an important monastery outside of Constantinople.69 Similarly, despite his general avoidance of the miraculous, Hilary praised the clairvoyance of Honoratus, founder of the monastery at Lérins: “He perceived what was troubling everyone as easily as if he bore the minds of each in his own mind. . .He knew (by an instinct of God, I believe) everyone’s virtues, everyone’s feelings, everyone’s preferences.”70 While clairvoyance was a means for monastic superiors to demonstrate the power of divine omniscience, other disciplinary strategies gave monks a feel for being scrutinized by their colleagues, as they would be at the last judgment. These are evident in the Precepts, which, if broken, result in several punishments, namely “repentance” (Latin paenitantia/GraecoCoptic metanoia), “rebuke” (Latin increpatio/Greek and Graeco-Coptic epitimia), or both.71 These were public punishments, occurring in front of the altar at the synaxis (17, 131, 145), or in the refectory during mealtimes (135).72 They involved separation from the rest of the community, and the assumption of a humble body posture, as in the following description of public rebuke: “Let him loosen his belt, and, with his neck bent, and hands hanging down, let him stand in front of the altar and be rebuked by the superior.”73 Although no details are given about body posture during repentance, it probably included ritual prostration and a request for forgiveness;74 this is also the posture of the sinner at the last judgement, as described in Instruction 1:38. All of these techniques were meant to familiarize the body with the sensation of being separated from companions and feeling their gaze.75 Self-Scrutiny. As Theodore noted in the passage quoted above: “But if we place before ourselves at each moment our weaknesses and our evil 69 70 71 72

73

74 75

V. Hyp. 14. Hil.-Arel, V. Hon. 4:18 (SC 235: 120). Rebuke: P 18, 22, 48, 131, 135. Repentance: P 121, 125, 137, 144, PInst 6, 8, 11, 12. Both: P 17. P 17, 131, 145, and P 135, respectively. Several rules simply note that the repentance is to be carried out “publicly:” Pach., Instr. 6, 8, 11, 12 (Boon: 55–57). P 8 (Boon: 15). Cf. P 135 (Boon: 48): “Let every rebuke happen thus: let them be rebuked with belt unbuckled, and let them stand in the great synaxis and the refectory.” The loosening of the belt was also used as a punishment in the Roman army, which may have had a significant influence on Pachomian discipline (Lehmann 1951). Vivian 1999, with reference to the visual evidence. One rule establishes the punishment of separation from the community for seven days, receiving only bread and water (PIud 1). Similarly, in the Epitimia attributed to Basil (PG 31: 1305–1314), some infractions were punished with exclusion from the community for one or several weeks. Demotion (PIud 2, 9), whether temporary or permanent, also involved a visible change in one’s sitting position within the assembly. Theodore’s punishment for consenting to lead the Koinonia after Pachomius’s death involved both separation from the community and temporary demotion (V. Pach. SBo 94). For enforced separation in monasticism, and late Roman society more generally, see Hillner 2015, 189–190.

164

Cognitive Disciplines

thoughts, so that we regret them in this age, we will escape eternal shame, the fire, and unceasing rebuke.” Monks were expected to exercise selfscrutiny, that is, to observe whether their behavior conformed to monastic laws. This process was institutionalized in the White Monastery federation, where all the rules were read at four yearly meetings, as the assembled community listened to them, “scrutinizing their words and deeds according to our Canons.”76 While this suggests that self-scrutiny was a retrospective exercise, the Testament of Horsiesius calls for a constant vigilance so as to avoid violating Pachomius’s rules: “Let us examine ourselves and not treat lightly the faults we have committed. Let us study with an anxious heart each command of our Father and those who have taught us.”77 Isaiah of Scetis, in his Discourse 15, presents a multi-step cognitive exercise for self-scrutiny of hidden thoughts, which imagines them first as visible to God, and then acted out in front of colleagues. This mobilization of the fear of God fulfills the exhortation, “Beloved, let us take thought of ourselves.”78 Although Isaiah admits that one’s thoughts are hidden from human colleagues, he recommends that the monk call to mind God’s allseeing eye: “Consider that God pays attention to your every action, that he sees your thought.” He then asks the members of his audience to consider whether they would be ashamed if the secret thought were to be acted out in public: “Whatever you are ashamed to do in front of people, it is also shameful to think in secret, for ‘from its fruit the tree is known’ ” (Mt 12:33). This is the same feeling of shame a monk should have before God regarding the thought. Finally, the monk should admonish his or her own soul: “So say to your soul, ‘If you are ashamed that sinners like yourself see you sin, how much more should you be ashamed of God who pays attention to the secrets of your heart’?” According to Isaiah, this exercise ensures that “the fear of God is revealed in your soul.”79

III.

Guilt, Rebuke, Self-Blame

The fear of God combined the visual exposure of sinners with verbal condemnations, most notably accusations from angels or monastic leaders, and the divine voice of judgment. The corresponding forms of monastic discipline are rebuke, and, in the extreme case, expulsion. Finally, disciples were taught to blame themselves, in order to avoid future guilt. 76 77 78 79

Rule 24 (Layton 2014: 100–101). Hors., Test. 5. Esaias, Or. 15:1 (Augoustinos: 82). Esaias, Or. 15:2 (Augoustinos: 83).

Learning the Fear of God

165

Depictions of Guilt. In another account of the last judgement, Pachomius describes the long list of charges that will be brought against the sinner:80 If you are bound with your brother [in a dispute], prepare yourself for punishments on account of your sins, your transgressions, your fornications that you do in secret, your lies, your obscene words, your evil thoughts, your avarice, your evil actions, for which you will give an account at the bema of Christ, as all of God’s creation gazes at you, and all the angels and the entire host is there, with swords drawn, forcing you to defend yourself and confess your sins; while all your clothing is soiled, with your mouth shut, as you are prostrate with not a word to say! For how many things will you give an account, wretch? The many fornications that are gangrene to the soul, desires of the eyes, evil thoughts that distress the Spirit and pain the soul. . .

As usual, this description invokes shame and employs visual metaphors: soiled clothing, and a soul afflicted with gangrene. But the emphasis is on the need to defend against the accusation of hidden “fornications,” lies, and thoughts. Pachomius describes the terror of the scene, when the angels draw their swords as they deliver the charges against the sinner, who lays prostrate, unable to answer them. Another key aspect of guilt found in instructions on the fear of God is the divine voice of condemnation, sending the sinners to hell at the last judgement. Thus, Pachomius threatens monks who are involved in disputes by saying that God will rebuke them as follows:81 If you have struck your brother, you will be given to the merciless angels and they will be beaten with a flaming rod forever. You did not spare my image, you struck me, you despised me and you put me to shame. Therefore I will not spare you in the depth of your affliction. You have not made peace with your brother in this world; neither will there be peace between me and you on the day of great judgement.

Similarly, Horsiesius warns about negligent monks in his Testament: “the following lament can be justly applied to them: ‘Woe to those who have strayed from me’ (Ho 7:13). . . And, because they have not listened to his judges, let them listen to God saying, ‘I have established observers over you. Listen to the sound of the trumpet’. And they said, ‘We will not listen’.”82 By meditating on such dialogues with God, monks acquired a sense of guilt that motivated them to avoid temptation. 80 81 82

Pach., Instr. 1:38 (CSCO 159: 15–16). Pach., Instr. 1:41 (CSCO 159: 17). Hors., Test. 36 (Boon: 133).

166

Cognitive Disciplines

Guilt and Monastic Discipline. The sense of guilt could also be taught through disciplinary techniques, in particular the strategy of “talking back” discussed in Chapter 3. By referring to appropriate scriptural texts in their rebuke of sinful disciples, monastic teachers imitated the divine voice of blame so frequently invoked in descriptions of the last judgement. According to the Rule of the Master, deacons are supposed to correct inappropriate behavior immediately by issuing admonitions, since the guilty parties might simply be ignorant of wrongdoing, especially if they were beginners and had not learned about the more intricate etiquette of daily monastic life. Thus, Dorotheus warns against judging character based on a single action.83 Teachers corrected with specific biblical verses, appropriate to the offense in question; thus laughter, lying, swearing, anger, cursing, frivolity, and speaking too loudly all had appropriate scriptural passages that would discourage the sinner from repeating them.84 The Pachomian Precepts and Judgements specify that monks will be given a varying number of warnings, based on the offense, before receiving a more serious punishment.85 This use of light admonition, rather than castigation, for first-time or casual offenders was based on the logic that moral progress was made primarily through habitual behavior. On the other hand, if disciples were corrected multiple times, but continued to repeat the same offense, they were considered to be committing it knowingly, and instilling a habit of sin in themselves; in this instance, harsher punishment was necessary. According to the Rule of the Master, monks have three opportunities to correct their behavior, before being charged with disobedience: “If, in all that has been said above, any brother frequently proves contumacious or proud or given to murmuring or disobedient to his deans, after having been warned and reprimanded once and a second and a third time, in accordance with the divine precept, does not amend, the deans are to report this to the abbot.”86 At this point, the recalcitrant monk is condemned as a “servant of the devil,” and submitted to corporal punishment, which will be discussed in the following section. Expulsion from the monastery, which corresponds to divine condemnation at the last judgement, will be covered in Part Three. 83 84 85 86

Dor., Doct. 6. RM 12. 6 times (PIud 2); 3 times (PIud 3); 5 times (PIud 5); 10 times (PIud 6). RM 12. On the other hand, the offenses listed in the Pachomian Precepts and Laws call for different numbers of admonishments (from two times for slander to ten times for lying) before a monk is actually punished.

Learning the Fear of God

167

The concise descriptions of discipline in monastic rules are portrayed with more detail in several biographical episodes that feature Pachomius or Theodore rebuking a disciple for evil thoughts or deeds, often through clairvoyance. Ammon relates how Theodore revealed to the assembled community that four brothers, on assignment outside the community, had sinned through laughter: “And while he was speaking the four, as by a single counsel, although they were separated from one another, wailing and weeping with a loud voice, looking to the east, cast themselves down before God, stating that they were the accused.”87 Other examples similarly involve such accusations, followed by confession of guilt, in front of the community.88 Other episodes of monastic discipline related to guilt occurred in private. In another report, Ammon relates how, wandering the monastery alone one night, he observed Theodore rebuking the monk Amaeis: Why do you not have the fear of God before your eyes (Ps. 7:10)? Do you not know that God tries the hearts and innards (Rev. 2:23)? Why do you sometimes see in your heart and embrace prostitutes, and sometimes [you think that] you sleep with a lawful wife and pollute your whole body. . .Know therefore that if you do not repent and if you do not propitiate the Lord, purifying yourself with tears in the fear of God, but instead remain in this goal, the Lord will not guide you aright, but will condemn you to eternal fire.89

Amaeis then falls on his knees and confesses. This posture corresponds precisely to the scene of post-mortem accusation in Pachomius’s Instruction 1.38, discussed above, except that here, the monk is not speechless, but has the opportunity to confess and repent. The process of admonition  – in which monastic leaders perform the voice of divine judgement for ignorant or negligent disciples – might be interpreted as a means of re-activating the voice of conscience, which God placed in humans to guide their behavior, but which was repressed as a result of Adam and Eve’s sin. As the monastic teacher Dorotheus explains, after the fall, the conscience is dimmed and sometimes not heard or ignored.90 This idea is evident in an anecdote from the Pachomian biographical tradition in which Theodore, through his cardiognosticism, understands that 87

88 89

90

Ep. Am. 23 (Goehring:  145–146). Cf. Ep. Am. 21, in which Theodore reveals that a demon has tempted a hungry disciple to break his fast by stealing bread, followed by the offending monk’s admission of guilt. V. Pach. SBo 65 (cf. V. Pach. G1 70), 72, 94 (cf. V. Pach. G1 106), 107; Ep. Am. 20, 21, 23, 26. Ep. Am. 20 (Goehring: 137). For other episodes of private accusation and confession, see V. Pach. SBo 75, V. Pach. G1 67, Ep. Am. 17, 20, 24. Dor., Doct. 3.

168

Cognitive Disciplines

the young monk Patlole has eaten porridge, despite being admonished by the “Spirit of God” not to do so. Theodore rebukes the monk: “That substance has been cooked for those who need it, but you have no need of it, for thoughts of the flesh are assailing you.” Afterward, the offending monk publicly confesses his thought: “He quickly bowed down to the ground in the midst of the brothers, saying, ‘Pray for me, because I scorned my conscience (suneidēsis) regarding the thing which I was considering; because I  disobeyed the good suggestion of my heart, the Lord has rebuked me openly’.”91 Theodore’s chastisement, as well as the public shame it involved, was meant to strengthen the monk’s conscience such that the next time he would obey this internal suggestion from God.92 Self-Blame. The image of condemnation at the last judgement, which was reinforced through disciplinary rebuke, led to the internalization of a sense of guilt, as expressed through the exercises of self-blame and confession. In his Sixth Instruction, Horsiesius urges his disciples: “And also, while you pray, accuse yourself many times, saying:  ‘Lord, blessed God, why have I spent all this time ignorant of you?’ ”93 In the Canons, Shenoute frequently invokes the divine courtroom as the ultimate place of arbitration for his ongoing disputes with disciples. While he firmly asserts that his opponents are sinners, and he was justified in removing them from the monastery, he also practices a humble self-blame:94 If he interrogates me about my sins, my false words, my lies, my thoughts which deceive me, my negligence, my sloth, my insatiability, my stubbornness, my slander, deceit, pollutions, and all the other evil things which I have done before the Lord, knowingly and unknowingly, these and many other things; if the Lord questions me about them, my mouth will be shut on that day when every mouth will be shut, as it is written. And I will not be able to give an account at all before the Lord for a single word or a single deed among all the things that I have done in error.

Like the guilty sinner who remains speechless at the last judgement evoked by Pachomius, Shenoute blames himself for a host of vices. As we shall see in Part Three, this humble admission of guilt was presented as an example for the audience to follow, in an effort to provoke collective repentance.

91 92 93 94

V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 107: 97); cf. V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99/100: 158). For more on the conscience, see Chapter 5 below. Hors., Instr. 6:4 (CSCO 157: 75). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 138).

Learning the Fear of God

169

On the other hand, frequent self-blame was a source of mental distress to some monks. A disciple of Barsanuphius describes his practice of constant verbal self-accusation as an enormous burden: My thought says to me: “You are sinning in all things, and you must say with each word, deed, or thought, ‘I have sinned’. For if you do not confess your sin, you think that you have not sinned.” And I am very oppressed, from both sides: for I am not able to say this in every instance, but if I do not say it, I feel that I have not sinned.95

Barsanuphius assures his disciple that the constant practice of self-blame is impossible; instead, he must work to acquire a general attitude of selfblame. To do so, he recommends that the monk adopt a less strenuous practice, only confessing his sin [to God] during morning and evening prayer.

IV.

Pain and Corporal Punishment

Shenoute compares instruction in the fear of God to corporal punishment:  “Like a father teaches his son with a rod because he desires that his soul be saved from death, because he loves him very much, thus also let us teach ourselves in the fear of standing at the bema of the Lord.”96 But corporal punishment had a more specific role in the fear of God: to inculcate in disciples a sense of the bodily pain – ranging from light blows to extreme, spectacular torments – which was often invoked by monastic leaders in their threats of post-mortem punishment.97 It is possible that the self-infliction of bodily pain through particularly stringent asceticism had a similar effect. Pain and post-mortem punishment. Pachomius referred to an “hour of chastisement” when the sinner “will be handed over to pitiless angels and you will be chastised in torments of fire for all eternity.” Theodore, for his part, mentions “shame, the flame, and unfailing reproach.” The biographical tradition contains a number of striking accounts by Pachomius outlining the excruciating post-mortem punishments of sinners, which were 95 96

97

Bars., Resp. 442 (SC 451: 520). Shenoute, Canons 3, unpublished (FR BN 1302 f. 53v). For violence and social control more generally in the small-scale communities of the late Roman world, see Cooper and Wood Forthcoming. According to Czachesz 2012, 43–44 (with references), most humans assume that biophysical functions (in contrast to cognitive and affective ones) cease after death; if this is so, the threat of postmortem pain may have met with skepticism, just as corporal punishment in monasticism was controversial.

170

Cognitive Disciplines

explicitly intended to provoke the fear of God in disciples and lead to discernment: “The Lord gave to him the unspeakable gift, that he might terrorise us through revelations, with which the Lord teaches him, so that they might consider the good and the evil.”98 These visions closely resemble an extensive tradition of apocryphal literature, such as the Apocalypse of Paul, which was used in a monastic context.99 Thus, in one biographical anecdote, Pachomius relates how “torturing angels” guided him through Hell, where he sees a number of people, including former monks, being punished in a creative way that reflects the nature of their offense.100 For example, “a fire was consuming, one by one, the members with which it [the soul] had sullied itself in the world.” Shocked by these visions, he begins to teach his monks about postmortem punishment immediately after discussing the scriptures, “so that they might have the fear of God and might avoid sinning and falling into such punishments and into the tortures which he had seen.” Another vision of Pachomius involves the entire community wandering lost in a shadowy underworld.101 This time, he sees a number of individuals under his care who are in trouble, and after the vision he notified them “and advised them to struggle in the fear of God and to live.” This strategy of naming people in a horrific vision of punishments incorporates these events into disciplinary practice; in this case, the punishments are not invoked as a deterrent  – an example of the divine judge’s terrifying power displayed upon the body of anonymous sinners – but as a personal warning addressed to individual disciples. Discipline through Corporal Punishment. The threat of post-mortem pain was made real to disciples through corporal punishment, a disciplinary strategy that was employed when others failed, as suggested by one of the few Pachomian sources to mention it:102 He who has the terrible habit of soliciting his brothers through speech and perverting the souls of the simple, he will be admonished three times. If he is contemptuous and remains with an obstinate spirit in hardness [of heart], they will separate him outside the monastery, and he will be beaten before

98 99

100 101 102

V. Pach. S6 (CSCO 99/100: 264). See e.g. Copeland 2004. The Syriac version of the Apocalypse of Paul includes a preface that explicitly calls on the current wicked generation to repent when they hear of the future chastisements, thus replicating the goal of Pachomius’s revelations. V. Pach. SBo 88. The guide, usually angelic, is a usual theme in these texts. See Himmelfarb 1983. V. Pach. SBo 103. PIud 4 (Boon: 65).

Learning the Fear of God

171

the gates and they will give him only bread and water to eat outside until he is cleansed of his filth.

This passage combines the two most severe forms of bodily discipline: enforced separation from the community, a disciplinary strategy outlined above in the discussion of shame; and physical beating. Corporal punishment might be employed as an alternative, or supplement, to enforced separation. For Shenoute, light beatings of the feet with a rod, usually at the gate of the monastery, seems to have been a routine form of discipline, with the number of beatings varying according to the gravity of the sin.103 In The Rule of the Master, boys were punished by whipping, probably on analogy to the custom of beating children at grammar school. For more mature disciples, excommunication is deemed more effective for removing sins: “So concerning the reason for correction: the root of the heart aught to be purged of the thorns of sins through excommunication, [because] it is unjust that someone is forced to experience a penalty for another’s fault, as the limbs of the body, to which sin has been imposed through an unwanted command of the heart.”104 On the other hand, the Rule of the Master also assigns corporal punishment to adults for particularly serious offenses, such as fleeing the monastery or stealing. The most severe forms of corporal punishment seem to have been employed when enforced separation did not produce the required demonstration of humility:105 But if excommunicated brothers show themselves to be so proud that, persisting in the pride of the heart they decline to appease the abbot by the ninth hour of the third day, let them be struck with rods, while being restrained, until they are near death; and if it pleases the abbot, let them be expelled from the monastery, because such a life has nothing to do with bodily necessities, nor is the society of brothers concerned with those whom death possesses in their proud soul.

Such brutal beatings may have been particularly directed at prominent monks who challenged the leader’s authority. Shenoute, for instance, gives a particularly graphic depiction of how he beat some recalcitrant monks, among them a prominent elder, who subsequently left the community, 103

104 105

On corporal punishment in Shenoute’s Canons, see Krawiec 2002, passim. In Discourses 4, God is Blessed, Shenoute exhorts parents to discipline non-monastic children for the sake of maintaining their purity (Chassinat 1911: 167–171; trans. Brakke and Crislip 2015, 283–284). RM 14 (SC 106: 62). RM 13 (SC 106: 46).

172

Cognitive Disciplines

apparently in danger of death. In a defense of his actions delivered to the leaders of the White Monastery federation, he notes that they would have been milder for “little children” than for “big men.”106 In response to the charge that he “has killed a man,” Shenoute evocatively describes his harsh disciplinary assault, noting that it will not result in a charge against him in the divine court:107 What is [the charge] against me, breaking some large rods over this kind of person, as I  wrench them from the elders gathered around? While we were assembled in the house of God, I beat those undisciplined men, many of whom have become estranged from the congregation . . . What is [the charge] against me, casting pieces of wood to the ground and binding them with cords? . . . What is [the charge] against me, arising in wrath, and throwing a man to the ground as I beat him with my hands, and break pieces of pottery over him, as the elders and the presbyter restrain me?

Indeed, he had been too patient, and was required to punish them in order to fulfill his oath to God: “But thanks be to God, because that man [Shenoute] turned from his endurance, especially because the Lord blessed him when he completed his oath, because he [the Lord] is also the one who will judge him [Shenoute] if he abandons his oath.” He then continues to defend his actions to the congregation as an agent of violent divine justice: “What is [the charge] against me, binding men like this to wood or stakes, as I beat them until their body is bruised, and gashed, and pours out blood?” This brutality is appropriate because it is directed at authority figures rather than naïve children: “We are not doing this to children who have not yet learned the truth, so that we can say, ‘Perhaps they will repent and we will be encouraged for our work’.”108 Finally, Shenoute argues that his beatings are intended to force the sinful monks to repent: “What is [the charge] against me, compelling with tortures some misanthropic, evil men to do good, although they do not want to, because they are lovers of evil?” How will torture make malicious monks change their behavior? The pain of the rod or whip is meant to instill a sense of the suffering that awaits those facing post-mortem condemnation, to aid in the incorporation of the fear of God, which motivates repentance. Indeed, the monastic discipline of corporal punishment

106

107 108

Note that Shenoute seems to suggest that corporal punishment is inappropriate for young children, in contrast to what he says in the passage in Canons 3 quoted above; perhaps he is only referring to the particularly harsh kind that he is about to describe. Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau: 2.303–304). Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau: 2.304).

Learning the Fear of God

173

corresponds quite clearly to the threat of receiving painful blows from angels after death. Thus, Pachomius related his vision of the soul’s harsh treatment at the hands of angels who collect it from the body.109 Yet this teaching, like divine omniscience and clairvoyance, was depicted in hagiography as controversial. Thus, when Theodore warns a group of recalcitrant monks, “You will receive great blows,” he is met with laughter and the response, “Things like this don’t happen!” He then appeals to the authority of Pachomius:110 For the elders among you also heard our father say, when he was still in the body, after the brother who was unrighteous in his actions died, “He will receive great blows from the Lord.” And he also ordered the brothers not to write his name among the deceased brothers. And when a great brother, an elder, answered him, “With respect to blows, it is a matter of no consequence,” did our father not immediately answer him, “O those who lack discernment! Perhaps you (pl.) even think that the blows of God are like the blows of humans.” Often (it is a matter of ) these severe blows of which we are told in the Gospel: “He will be thrown into the fire until the end of the age” (Mt 13:42), or even worse than this. And when the brothers heard this additional testimony from our father Theodore, namely, that of our father Pachomius, they were afraid and they took steps to labor more in order to escape those painful blows.

Despite Pachomius’ claim that divine and human blows are incomparable, monastic leaders used the whip to impart on the body a practical knowledge of the post-mortem suffering which they so frequently proclaimed. Still, the extreme brutality of some forms of corporal punishment stretched the disciplinary system, and in particular the rhetoric of remedial discipline, to its limit, in ways that lighter forms of rebuke did not. In a confession before God and the congregation, Shenoute reveals how delivering beatings causes him psychic trauma: “You see, Lord, that the heart and soul of this man [Shenoute] becomes like a wound which is difficult to treat.” However, his oath to become a leader obligates him to deliver punishment for the sake of his flock, and thus he feels indecisive and full of anxiety: “If he [Shenoute] whips those who deserve to be disciplined, he is troubled because he fears that they will die; but if he puts up with them he fears because he will be judged by God [because of his oath as a leader].”111 An anecdote about Pachomius in his biographical tradition suggests a similar ambivalence to corporal punishment in the Koinonia. The 109 110 111

V. Pach. SBo 82. V. Pach. SBo 149 (CSCO 99/100: 197–198). Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau: 2.306–307).

174

Cognitive Disciplines

ex-mime Silvanos demonstrates a habitual lack of discipline, and is about to be stripped of his monastic garb and expelled. When he begs for forgiveness, Pachomius responds:112 You know how many times I have tolerated you, and how many times I have admonished you, so that I even beat you often, although I am a person who does not ever want to stretch out my hand for this purpose. When it was necessary to do this for you, I was more in pain in my soul than you, while you were beaten, on account of sympathy. I thought to beat you on account of your salvation in God, so that by this we would be able to correct you from error. Now if you did not change when I admonished you, nor did you improve when I exhorted you, nor were you afraid when I beat you, how can I forgive you any more?

Like Shenoute, Pachomius is aware of the disjunction between concern for his disciples’ salvation and the physical suffering he inflicts upon them; he further explains that his dislike of corporal punishment results from the empathy he feels as a director of souls. This story suggests that Pachomius used corporal punishment as a last resort before expulsion. Since Silvanus did not reform himself after the beatings, there is no other choice than to force his departure. Similarly, Theodore expels the group of monks who did not believe in suffering at death. In both cases, the disciples did not successfully learn the fear of God, whether through oral teaching or bodily discipline; as a result, they were deprived of their monastic identity. Unlike other forms of punishment, expulsion was not remedial, since it was understood to hand the departing monks over to Satan, signifying their social death and subsequent damnation. This action instead served as a deterrent for the remaining monks, offering an example of the fate that they, too, might suffer on earth and at the divine tribunal if they did not successfully regulate their own thoughts and behavior through the fear of God. The self-infliction of pain? Although the monastic teaching and discipline that was related to shame and guilt encouraged disciples to exercise self-scrutiny and self-blame, it is not clear whether instruction in postmortem punishment and corporal discipline was meant to instill a masochistic habit of self-inflicted pain. On the one hand, there is some evidence for monks voluntarily subjecting themselves to extraordinary duress, even inflicting physical harm. However, these practices were largely confined to Syria, and even there they seem to have been reserved for ascetic virtuosos, 112

Paralip. 2 (Halkin: 124–125).

Learning the Fear of God

175

rather than beginning disciples. On the other hand, Shenoute characterized routine ascetic practices such as fasting and vigils as “acts of repentance,” much as he considers his corporal discipline an involuntary form of repentance for the punished monk. Voluntary fasting and vigils might thus be viewed as a means of experiencing bodily discomfort analogous to the suffering caused by post-mortem punishment; according to this interpretation, asceticism in its most general sense helped disciples acquire the fear of God.

V.

Individual Exercises in the Fear of God

Monks cultivated the fear of God through methods other than the oral instruction, discipline, and related practices discussed above. In the following section, I  consider some of these additional techniques, namely contemplation of the last judgement with the aid of immediate physical environment, such as the cell, or paintings; and meditation on extended literary descriptions of divine punishment. Physical Environment and the Fear of God. The monastery’s physical environment could be used as an aid to meditating on the fear of God, through the exercise of the visual and olfactory senses. The most important such environment was the monk’s own cell. A  Greek homily attributed to Ephrem encourages monks to imagine Hades by going into their cells, closing all the windows, and reflecting upon their solitary confinement in complete darkness.113 The cell could also be used as a tool for imagining that God was observing the monk’s thoughts. Jerome reported his disturbance at having such a sensation while sitting in his monastic cell in the desert of Chalcis: “I remember that I often joined night with day as I cried out, nor did I cease beating my chest before tranquility returned, as the Lord commanded. I used to dread my very cell as though conscious of my thoughts. Stern and angered at myself, I entered the desert alone.”114 In the Life and Repentance of Thais the Former Prostitute, Thais is placed in solitary confinement in a cell in the women’s monastery where she has been sent to repent. The emphasis on the foul smells she experiences while there is evidence for the use of olfaction in meditation on post-mortem punishment. Thus, when Thais asks, “Father, how do you command me 113

114

See Vööbus 1960, 279. It is likely that “enclosed” monks (egklēstoi) in cenobia inhabited a cell with only a small opening for food, which could then be closed to shut out light, providing a suitable environment for meditation in the dark. For egklēstoi at the White Monastery, see Layton 2014, 59. Hier. Ep. 22:7 (Labourt: 117–119).

176

Cognitive Disciplines

to urinate?” he answers, “In the cell, however you want; you have enjoyed myrrh and perfumes, so put up with the foul smell, so that you can get healthy.”115 When her repentance is accepted and she leaves the cell, she declares: “Believe me, father, from the hour in which I came into this cell, the sins which I have done were a great filth before me, like the breath of my nose, and thus they have not left me, not for a single moment, until this hour.”116 Such foul smells, one presumes, await the unrepentant in hell. This episode also suggests that meditating in darkness facilitated the heightened use of senses other than sight. Contemplation of art, particularly the figural paintings ubiquitous in early Christian monasteries, was also an important aspect of acquiring the fear of God. In an interesting passage from the biographical tradition, Pachomius meditates on what is clearly a decorated apse, depicting Christ in the heavenly court, surrounded by angels, and crowned with stones representing the virtues. Pachomius focuses on the eastern wall of the sanctuary, which has become all golden, featuring two angels gazing at an image of Christ wearing a crown of “measureless glory,” with stones representing the “fruits of the spirit:” “faith, virtue, fear, mercy, purity, humility, righteousness, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-mastery, joy, hope, and perfect charity.”117 Pachomius then prays: “Lord, may your fear come down upon all of us forever, so that we may not sin against you for our whole life.” The angels warn him that it will be impossible to withstand the full force of the fear of God, but he does not withdraw his request. All of a sudden, a terrifying green ray of light pierces Pachomius, wounding his body, including the heart: “When fear touched him, it penetrated all his members, his heart, his marrow, and his whole body; and immediately he fell upon the ground and began to jump around like a living fish.”118 This virtuoso performance of exquisite agony, moving about in contortions on the ground under the power of God’s discipline, was also associated with the rhetoric of ekpathy employed by monastic leaders such as Shenoute, as we have seen in Chapter 3. This anecdote was also intended to demonstrate to all monks how to use traditional subjects of ecclesiastical painting, especially those that depict the

115 116

117 118

V. Thaisis (Nau 1903: 100). V. Thaisis (Nau 1903: 108–109). For more on olfaction and disgust in early Christian sources, see Harvey 2006, 208. V. Pach. SBo 73 (CSCO 107: 76). V. Pach. SBo 73 (CSCO 107: 76–77).

Learning the Fear of God

177

divine throne room, to cultivate the fear of God. Such scenes were found not only in churches, but also in monastic cells.119 Here, disciples could heighten their sense of shame by imagining that the divine gaze was directed specifically at them, as well as the eyes of monastic leaders and founders, who might also be portrayed in or near the heavenly court.120 Thus, when Shenoute notes in Canons 4 that some critical monks claim to have remained at the White Monastery only because they felt shame “before the two eyes of our first father who has fallen asleep,” he is perhaps referring to an actual portrait, whose judgemental gaze shamed Shenoute’s opponents.121 Even the gruesome punishments of sinners in Hell were depicted in paintings.122 Rhetorical Meditations and Fear of Death. Although the monastic rhetoric of ekpathy frequently sought to cultivate the fear of God in the audience, several more focused works adapted a standard philosophical genre that disciples could repeat and meditate upon: a string of sententiae, wisdom sayings of a short paratactic nature, often featuring sharp contrasts.123 These brief phrases, with their powerful images, are to be recited ictu quodam, as Seneca put it, “with a certain blow,” in order to change a false opinion through continual repetition.124 For example, Epicurean philosophers advised their students to always be prepared to meditate on the famous tetrapharmakos:125 “God presents no fears, death no worries. And while good is readily attainable, bad is readily endurable.”126 Repeating this would help eliminate the widespread fears of death and divine retribution, and lead to pleasure and happiness. By contrast, Christian sententiae sought to combat the indifference of a life of sin, leading to death without repentance, by the practice of meletē thanatou, “meditation on death.”127 Although monastic authors often 119 120

121 122

123

124 125 126 127

See Dilley 2008, 115. For instance, in the north apse of the Red Monastery church, which in Antiquity probably belonged to Shenoute’s monastic federation, Shenoute, Besa, Pcol, and Pshoi appear in the register immediately beneath the Virgin and Child. See Dilley 2016. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 118). A painted building in Tebtunis – perhaps a monastic church – excavated by Grenfell and Hunt contains an extensive depiction of the punishment of various sinners, with details recalling the Coptic Apocalypse of Paul and related literature (Walters 1989, 200–204). For a description of spiritual exercises that focus on their literary form, see Newman 1989, 1473–1517. See the discussion of sententiae in Seneca, Ep. 94:43. Hadot 1995, 87. Philodemus, Adv. soph. col. 4, 9–14; translation in Long 2006, 178. Fischer 1971 discusses the Platonic roots of meletē thanatou and its reception by some early Christian theologians, including Clement of Alexandria, who identified it especially with the elimination of bodily passions through asceticism.

178

Cognitive Disciplines

asserted that there was nothing to fear from death itself,128 some meditative exercises shifted the context of divine retribution for sin from the scene of judgement to death. Thus, in a meditation of Pachomius on the fear of God, he urges: Go out to the tombs and see the condition of humans, that it is nothing. . .therefore let us weep for ourselves while we have the opportunity, lest, when the hour of our departure arrives, we be found requesting God for more time to repent. . .therefore let us strive with our whole heart, keeping death before our eyes at every hour, and at every hour imagining the fearful punishment.129

More developed meditations on death focused on the pain suffered by individuals in their last moments of life, as in Shenoute’s De iudicio dei; or the terrors of physical decomposition after death, in the case of the Syriac necrosima texts attributed to Ephrem.130 Shenoute is the author of a length speech, apparently delivered to both monks and non-monks, that includes a description in excruciating detail of the blows suffered on the deathbed, a topic frequently discussed by Pachomius and Theodore.131 Much like Hellenistic philosophical exercises, it is composed of various sententiae containing graphic images about neardeath pain. Shenoute addresses a series of rhetorical questions to the anonymous sufferer, unable to speak or keep down food:132 What is it that burns inside you like blown coals? Where are your power and your voice? Why has your voice withered and died little by little? Why do you show astonishment in your eyes? Why does your mouth not answer your fathers and those who speak to you?

128

129 130 131

132

e.g., one of the rules for monastic leaders in PInst 18: “Let him not fear death but God” (Boon: 59). Augustine presents a special case, as argued in Rebillard 2013: his later sermons emphasize God’s compassion for the emotional turmoil associated with mortality; the audience should not despair of salvation if they or their loved ones had such feelings, because Christ himself did. Paralip. 19–20 (Halkin: 144–145). For a description of the necrosima texts, see Vööbus 1960, 279. The text is labeled Acephalous Work A26 in Emmel’s reconstruction of Shenoute’s corpus; De iudicio dei is the title assigned by its modern editor, Heike Behlmer (Behlmer 1996). See now the introduction and translation in Brakke and Crislip 2015, 212–265. Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 4–5). Although in the following passage, Shenoute’s addressee might be identified as a monk (cf. the reference to his “fathers”), the work is a critique of corruption among the rich, secular authorities, church leaders, and pagans; for context, see López 2013. Some of the work’s sententiae are relevant for monks, while others are primarily directed at seculars.

Learning the Fear of God

179

Why has your tongue gone black through the feverish, consuming secretion from your throat? How is it that no nourishment is allowed to go down? Why the gloomy face and tearful eyes?

Shenoute then answers himself: “Your soul is disturbed with fear.” In the next segment, he compares the fate of good and evil souls, in terms very similar to the lengthy vision of Pachomius on the same subject.133 Shenoute continues:134 The man opens his mouth; he releases his spirit, little by little, in this way, to the hands of those who are standing there [at the bed; these are the angels who collect the soul from the body]. But if he is a just man he will see them and rejoice, and they will rejoice with him, because they will bring him to the place of Abraham, as it is written. And if he is a sinner he will see them and be devoured, and they also are full of anger because they will cast him to the fire that does not burn out, as it is written.

Here, he uses two successive sententiae to juxtapose the fate of the righteous man with that of the sinner, producing the forceful contrast so characteristic of philosophical exercises. Shenoute then returns to ironic rhetorical questions, making frequent use of contrasts, and interrupting them occasionally with narrative:135 Why did you not fight against the fever of the heat that burns you inside and out? Why did you not fight with those who came to receive you, Although you were unwilling to leave your father and your mother and your wife and your children, and your brothers, and your friends? And although you were unwilling to leave behind your gold and your silver and your storage which is full? Why did you not strike those who are with you and flee to a far-away land? Perhaps you will escape death by fleeing, leaving your stored goods behind for others, although you have not yet had your fill of them? Why didn’t you hide yourself in your storeroom? Why didn’t someone else hide you and lie about you, that you are not there? Why did you not give away all of your possessions until you were safe? Didn’t you frequently do this to overcome your enemies? 133 134 135

V. Pach. SBo 82. Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 5). Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 5–6).

180

Cognitive Disciplines

Shenoute here makes a series of rapid, satirical contrasts. First, he opposes the implied (presumably non-monastic) audience’s decision not to renounce wealth and family during their lifetime with the enforced separation from them at death. Shenoute then asks why they do not undergo a mock renunciation, running to a faraway land, or giving away possessions to buy time, a reference to the corrupt juridical processes that he contrasts with the just divine judge throughout the work. The argument, of course, is that while it is possible to renounce the world and repent during one’s lifetime, there is no opportunity to do so at death, since at this point there is no escape from divine condemnation. Later, Shenoute states this idea more explicitly:136 He is astonished in his heart, he is ashamed in his soul, he is troubled in his thoughts. His spirit becomes heavy in him, little by little. He sees that from that hour there is no way of turning himself to repent. Those who mourn cry out in vain. Those who honor him request that he answer them, because he is about to depart from them. His mouth has been shut so that he cannot speak; he does not look after his brothers. His full storeroom is of no concern. He cries out for his sins, he mourns because he did not do good. The tears circulate in his eyes.

This shocking image of a belatedly penitent man who can no longer open his mouth and ask for forgiveness is meant to be worked over by the audience: by meditating on the end of a sinner’s life, they can learn to fear God and repent before death. Shenoute himself describes his evocative description of death as a kind of ABCs in the fear of God, like basic education in literacy:137 Who will learn to write accurately without first beginning the syllables, and all the other instruction (paideusis) which he learns through the teacher? Who will be able to escape Hades and the fire that is in it who has not first taught himself the fear of the chastisements and [taught himself ] the commandments which he commanded us, namely the true teacher, Jesus? A person who, continuing his evil deeds, has not quickly abandoned them and learned to do good has not learned to turn himself from evil and do 136 137

Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 9). Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 11).

Learning the Fear of God

181

good through meditation on the fear of death and the fear of God, which teaches him in the scriptures.

In short, Shenoute claims that disciples must educate themselves in the fear of death and the fear of God – which can be learned from the scriptures  – but also through his own teaching, in order to repent and behave properly. Indeed, having the fear of God is as important as knowing the commandments.

VI.

The Fear of God in Action: Repentance and Prophylaxis

Monastic disciples, through teaching, discipline, and exercise, were expected to internalize a “picture” of the fear of God, which they could then mobilize when necessary. The practice of keeping certain images constantly before the eyes, in order to influence behavior, was an important Stoic exercise.138 For instance, Epictetus writes: “Let death and exile and all the other things that appear dreadful be before your eyes daily, but most of all death. And you will never consider anything wretched, nor will you desire anything excessively.”139 The monastic teacher Dorotheus, in his homily on the fear of God, offers similar advice, while also noting postmortem punishment: “The Fathers say that a person acquires the fear of God by remembering death and remembering punishments.”140 In the Christian, and especially monastic context, “the thought of death” and “remembering eternal punishment” were employed retrospectively, to encourage repentance after sinning, and also prophylactically, to avoid sinning during a battle with temptation. Pachomius gives an interesting description of the cognitive and emotional dynamics of retrospectively invoking the fear of God to produce repentance in a monk for having insulted one of his brothers:141 Now then, if you hold your brother liable for the little he owes, the Spirit will immediately place judgement and the fear of punishments in your presence. Remember also that the saints were made worthy of being mocked; remember that Christ was mocked, insulted, and crucified because of you. Immediately he fills your heart with mercy and fear, and you cast yourself on your face, weeping, saying, “Have mercy on me, my Lord, because I made your image suffer.” Immediately you get up, while in the consolation of repentance, and run to your brother with an open heart, a happy face, a 138 139 140 141

Hadot 1995, 85, n. 36. Epictetus, Encheiridion (Boter: 297). Dor., Doct. 4:52 (SC 92: 230). Pach., Instr. 1:59 (CSCO 159: 23–24).

182

Cognitive Disciplines joyous mouth, as peace returns to you. And as you smile at your brother you entreat him, “Forgive me, my brother, because I made you suffer.”

In this case, Pachomius associates the fear of God with remembering the scriptures, specifically the passion of Christ. This allows him to instill guilt in the offending monk for having repeated this traumatic event by making his brother, an image of Christ, suffer. This guilt is associated with fear of divine judgement and condemnation, which then provokes repentance, reconciliation, and joyous peace. Although Pachomius attributes the action to the “spirit,” he also offers his disciples a roadmap for the process, suggesting that it can be taught. Ammonas, in his Letter 10, is even more explicit about how the fear of God can be actively induced in a faltering disciple through prayer, inner dialogue, and focused meditation:142 If you desire that the fervour which is removed far from you should return again and come to you, this is the work that a man is required to do: he should make a covenant between himself and God, and cry out in passion of heart and say to Him, “Forgive me for what I did in my neglectfulness; I will not continue in disobedience.” And then he should not walk any more as under his own authority in order to satisfy his own will, either in body or soul, but rather his thoughts should be spread out before God, while he afflicts and rebukes his own soul, saying, “How you have despised the good, and made light of your barrenness all these days!” You should remember all the torments, and the eternal kingdom, rebuking your soul at all times, saying to it, “See what honour God gave you, and you have neglected and despised it.” When a man says this to his soul, rebuking it night and day, suddenly the fervour of God comes upon him, and this second fervour is greater than the first.

For Ammonas, imagining “all the torments” and practicing self-rebuke led to repentance and a renewal of “fervour.” This practice should be continual, a general attitude, a manner of speaking to the soul by “rebuking it day and night.” The fear of God could be used as a prophylactic, that is, as a means of preventing the monk from sinning when faced with temptation. In particular, Pachomius demonstrates how it can be used to guard against fornication: “Guard yourself, O my son, from fornication . . . remember the constraint of the punishments; place the judgement of God before you. Flee every desire . . . remember the anguish of the hour you depart the body.”143 Elsewhere in the same instruction, he warns monks that they will 142 143

Ammonas, Ep. 11, trans. Chitty, 15. Pach., Instr. 1:30 (CSCO 159: 12).

Learning the Fear of God

183

hear the divine voice of condemnation if they do not follow the commandments: “So now, my son, these things, and heavier than these, we will hear if we are negligent and do not obey [the commandment] to forgive one another.”144 In the following chapter, we will explore many instances in which the fear of God is employed to overcome temptation. In short, the fear of God is a form of cognitive, emotional, and bodily knowledge that fundamentally structures one’s way of life. It is also a very special kind of belief, as sketched out in a suggestive discussion by Wittgenstein:145 Suppose somebody made this guidance for his life:  believing in the Last Judgment. Whenever he does anything, this is before his mind. In a way, how are we to know whether to say he believes this will happen or not? Asking him is not enough. He will probably say he has proof. But he has what you might call an unshakeable belief. It will show, not by reasoning or by an appeal to ordinary grounds for belief, but rather by regulating for all his life. This is a very much stronger fact – foregoing pleasures, always appealing to his picture.

In contrast to situational belief (for example, that it will rain because it is cloudy), the fear of God is a “stronger fact,” one that consistently and significantly motivates behavior, such as “foregoing pleasures.” In Late Antique monasticism, “believing” in divine judgement was so essential to monastic identity that open skeptics were not tolerated: when a group of monks repeatedly challenged Theodore’s assertions about the existence of “blows” after death, he simply expelled them from the monastery.146

VII.

Conclusion

While it was particularly important for novices to acquire the fear of God, disciples had to cultivate it throughout their monastic career, inculcating the images of shame, guilt, and pain by undergoing discipline and personal exercises. They drew upon the fear of God in the struggle against individual temptations, and, more generally, whenever repentance was required (including the rituals of collective repentance discussed in Chapter 7). A revealing dialogue in the Paralipomena demonstrates the importance of the fear of God for monks at all levels of spiritual advancement. Pachomius 144

145 146

Pach., Instr. 1:43 (CSCO 159: 17). Similarly, he begins the passage discussed above in the section on guilt with the following admonition: “Let us not reckon with one another, lest we be reckoned with in the hour of chastisement” (Pach., Instr. 1:41, CSCO 159: 16). See Wittgenstein 1966, 53–54. V. Pach. SBo 149.

184

Cognitive Disciplines

responds to a disciple’s question about the usefulness of “philosophizing,” probably a reference to specific strategies for combatting various thoughts found in Evagrius:147 “Why is it that, before the arrival of the pressing demon, our mind’s thought is secure, and we philosophise about self-control and humility and the other virtues. But when it is time to demonstrate with action what we philosophize about – long-suffering during anger, forgiveness during rage, lack of vainglory while receiving praise, and all the rest – we fail greatly?” To which the great one answered: “Because we have not yet perfectly passed through the active life, we do not know the entire disposition and versatility of the demons so that we are able, when the oppressing [demon] signals its presence, to remove rapidly the surrounding confusion of such thoughts by the contemplative power of the soul. Therefore, he says, every day and every hour, let us pour forth the fear of God like oil through the contemplative part of the soul, which (fear) is the accomplisher of the practical life and the lamp for contemplation of the events which happen to us, making our mind unshakeable, and not seized into wrath, anger, remembrance of evil, or any of the other passions moving us into evil, making the theoretical portion (of the soul) exalted to the land of incorporeals, causing it to despise everything set in motion by the demons, and preparing it to step on snakes and scorpions and every power of the enemy.”

This exchange suggests that Evagrian-style discourse about specific logismoi, such as anger and vainglory, were not unknown in Pachomian communities, at least among the Greek-speaking ones of the late fourth and fifth centuries responsible for the Paralipomena. But Pachomius asserts that only the perfect can draw on the finer points of such learning in the face of sudden and pressing temptation, given the mental confusion it brings. The fear of God brings universal focus to the mind, steadying it in the face of demonic tactics of every kind. Furthermore, it perfects the practical (praktikē) and contemplative (theoretikē) life, the two pillars of Evagrian ethics, both repelling temptation and drawing the monk’s attention to the “land of incorporeals.”148 While the Pachomian sources, and related cenobitic traditions, do not share Evagrius’s detailed roadmap of cognitive and emotional development, they do place great importance on moral progress, from a neophyte learning to follow all the rules to advanced monks such as Pachomius

147 148

Paralip. 12, Halkin: 136. Evagrius often distinguishes between two stages of moral progress:  the practical (praktikē); and the gnostic (gnostikē), sometimes called the contemplative (theoretikē). See the introduction to his system in Harmless 2004, 347–350.

Learning the Fear of God

185

and Theodore visualizing heaven and experiencing many visions. While the best measure of progress in the Koinonia were the different forms of prayer, the fear of God was crucial in all stages. It was used by beginners in requesting divine aid during periods of acute temptation; and was closely related to advanced technologies of the imagination, such as contemplation of the divine glory, whether through the majesty of creation or the heavenly court.

Ch apter 5

Prayer and Monastic Progress From Demonic Temptation to Divine Revelation

“After a person makes a covenant with God to do his will and keep his commandments, he progresses (prokopte) in the covenant which he has made, and later he is entrusted with the fruits of the Spirit, through which he began.” V. Pach. S101 “Do not stop blessing him without cease, saying “You are blessed, Lord, the one who created me from earth when I did not exist,” until the godless thought which the devil has cast into your heart completely [disappears] from your heart.” Hors., Instr. 62

This chapter explores the progressive implementation of prayer, the third cognitive discipline, from confrontations with strong temptations at the beginning stages of the care of souls, to the more advanced forms of spiritual perception, as the disciple gradually obtains fruits of the Spirit.3 Although there is not enough evidence to trace this process from beginning to end for any one individual, the Pachomian sources offer a number of brief “case-studies” of monks at the various stages, which together give a coherent picture of progress through the care of souls. The nature of prayer, understood broadly as communication (including one-sided) between a human and God, varied according to the monk’s level of advancement. The dialogue of prayer, which often included meditation on scripture and the fear of God, was a key practice through which disciples adopted the monastic theory of mental life, from its deepest struggles to its highest spiritual capacities. In fact, prayer is the engine through which monks guided and measured their progressive return to a virtuous and pure mental life. As we have seen, Pachomian tradition identified conscience, free will/choice, discernment, 1 2 3

CSCO 99/100: 83. CSCO 159: 74. “Some among the faithful have born for themselves a portion of the fruits of the spirit, but have not yet been able to bear other portions.” (V. Pach. S10, CSCO 99/100: 82).

186

Prayer and Monastic Progress

187

perception, and wisdom as the basic structures of the human soul. In the initial stages, the dialogue is one-sided, as God speaks through the conscience or the monastic director to encourage obedience. The battle with temptations such as porneia demanded that the monk appeal to God for help, while exercising the mental processes of discernment and free will.4 While initial prayers were often simple recitations of scripture, disciples might also follow more extensive prayer scripts, with expected cognitive and affective outcomes: for example, blessing God as creator was intended to cultivate the perception of divine beneficence and produce a lasting sense of joy.5 These prayers of thanksgiving were often combined with intense visual meditation on the glories of heaven and the divine court, a practice of mental image cultivation related to the numerous revelations described in the Pachomian literary tradition.

I.

Rules, Thoughts, and the Conscience

According to the Pachomian sources, the key to progress lay in following the terms of the covenant made with God at the beginning of one’s monastic life: “After a person makes a covenant with God to do his will and keep his commandments, he progresses (prokopte) in the covenant which he has made, and later he is entrusted with the fruits of the Spirit, through which he began.”6 Horsiesius’s Testament and Theodore’s Instruction Three, which Veilleux described as “the two most articulate and beautiful expressions of Pachomian spirituality,” both emphasize obedience to the will of God through following the commandments of Pachomius.7 In general, divine law is identified with the rules of Pachomius, which are described as a “ladder leading to the kingdom of heaven.”8 All disciples were expected to make an effort at gaining familiarity with the rules. In Theodore’s Instruction Three, he proclaims “let us teach the 4

5

6

7

8

Such appeals combine the functions of supplication (deēsis) and prayer (proseuchē) as described in Origen’s fourfold typology of prayer (Or., Or. 14:2, GCS 2: 331). An excellent analysis of Origen’s theology of prayer is found in Louth 1981, 52–74. This practice corresponds to thanksgiving (eucharistia) in Origen’s typology (Or., Or. 14:2, GCS 2:  331). For the fourth type, intercession (enteuxis), which was reserved for monastic leaders, see Chapter Six. V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100:  83). On the importance of progress for monastic identity, see Bitton-Ashkelony 2003. Veilleux 1982, 6. See, especially, Hors., Test. 1–5; Theo., Instr. 3:11–14. Theodore’s zeal for upholding the rule is mentioned frequently, e.g.: “He guarded them with every firmness according to all the precepts and canons which our righteous father laid down for us as a law in the Koinonia of the siblings” (V. Pach. SBo 195, CSCO 89: 189). Hors., Test. 22 (Boon: 121); cf. Hors., Test. 28.

188

Cognitive Disciplines

[siblings] the law of the Koinonia;”9 some rules, it seems, were even memorized.10 According to Pachomius, it was critical to follow his regulations in their entirety, even if their attention to detail seemed inconsequential. When the kneaders in a bakery ask for more water by speaking aloud rather than making a non-verbal signal, he rebukes Theodore, who was supervising them: “Theodore, do those people think that these are human things? I bear witness to you that, even if a commandment concerning the least matter, still it is of great importance.”11 Since all the rules were points of divine rather than merely human concern, obeying them also contributed to the disciples’ spiritual development: “If this commandment were not profitable for their souls, I would not have regulated concerning it in this way.”12 Dorotheus of Gaza explains that a lack of regard for small things creates a bad habit, leading to the neglect of important matters.13 There were two complementary aspects of the Pachomian care of souls: counseling regarding thoughts, and upholding the rule. After discussing bad thoughts with disciples, Theodore determined that for some, consolation would be profitable; for others, he would “rebuke skillfully and make them vigilant to bring them to their senses by remembering the good discernment toward God so that they might guard his commandments and do his will always and in everything.”14 Disobedience to the rule was considered a fault of the heart, associated with “murmuring and wavering thoughts.”15 Theodore emphasizes that his disciples must follow the commandments to have a seat at the heavenly banquet, and warns against temptation: “let none of us be excluded from the joy of the promises of our fathers on account of turning back because of the thoughts of the one who casts evil arrows at our heart.”16 Some temptations were related to breaking the rule: eating more than the allotted quantity (gluttony), seeking illicit physical contact (fornication), 9 10 11

12 13

14

15 16

Theo., Instr. 2 (CSCO 159: 39). V. Pach. SBo 104. V. Pach. SBo 74 (CSCO 89: 78–79). Theodore elsewhere notes the oath to act “according to the law which Apa gave us, from a small commandment to a great one” (Instr. 3:21, CSCO 159: 50). Similarly, in the prolog to the Long Rules, Basil emphasizes that it is necessary to fulfill all the commandments, even the small ones (PG 31: 892). V. Pach. SBo 74 (CSCO 89: 79). For the importance of silence, see below, Chapter Two. “I always tell you that, from these small things, from saying, ‘Why this?’, ‘Why that?’, a bad habit develops in our soul, and it is the beginning of despising important things” (Dor., Doct. 6, SC 92: 268). V. Pach. SBo 191 (CSCO 89: 180). The place of rules in Pachomian spiritual direction is discussed most recently in Giorda who argues that they have greater authority than the spiritual father (Giorda 2009, 105). Hors., Test. 19 (Boon: 121). Theo., Instr. 3:29–30 (CSCO 159: 53).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

189

or arguing with other disciples instead of silence or meditation (anger). Conversely, pursuing a more stringent ascetic regime than required by the rule might lead to vainglory. Indeed, any type of thought might lead to disobedience, as suggested by Theodore’s rebuke of a cook who breaks the rule for the weekly consumption of vegetables in order to save money: “you have, on account of a satanic thought, cast aside the rule (canon) given to you for the care of the siblings.”17 Vigilance was expected not only with respect to thoughts, but also the rule, as urged by Horsiesius: “Let us remember, and not disregard, the transgressions we have committed. Let us investigate with an anxious heart the individual commands of our Father and those who have taught us.”18 Condescension Despite the importance of adhering to the monastic rule, some regulations, particularly those relating to asceticism, were modified to accommodate the needs of individual disciples.19 Thus, the preface to the Letters of Barsanuphius and John specifically warns against adopting the advice offered in this correspondence as a general rule:  “Often, they answered with a view to the weakness of thought of the one making the inquiry, condescending according to [divine] economy, lest the inquirer fall into despair, as we see in the lives of the elders.”20 In the Pachomian biographical tradition there are multiple accounts of such “condescension,” that is, temporarily alleviating the rules in order to encourage less dedicated monks – especially the class of junior monks known as “neophytes” – to remain in the community. A “neophyte” refers to a disciple who had recently joined the community.21 Their lack of socialization was a cause of embarrassment to Pachomius, who attempted to shield them from the eyes of visiting monks:  “Because I  have frequently seen that the cenobium has diverse people: neophytes who do not yet know what a monk is, and children who cannot distinguish their right and their left.”22 When Theodore refuses to speak to his brother Paphnouti, who has recently become a monk (genesthai 17 18 19

20 21 22

Paralip. 8:16 (Halkin: 139). Hors., Test., 5 (Boon: 111). These reflected gender, age, social role, personal history, and even exceptional character traits. For more on the importance of individual persona in Hellenistic philosophical ethics, in particular Stoicism, see Sorabji 2006, 157–171. Bars., Resp., prolog (SC 426: 160). V. Pach. G1 109: “a neophyte having become a monk (genomenos monachos) yesterday” (Halkin: 71). V. Pach. G1 40 (Halkin: 25).

190

Cognitive Disciplines

monachou), Pachomius urges him to relax his discipline, citing the importance of condescension: “Condescension (sunkatabasis) is good with such [monks] at the beginning, as loving care and watering is good with a newly planted tree [a play on neophyte], until it is rooted in faith.”23 In this case, Paphnouti is not quite ready to sever family ties with his older brother, especially since they reside in the same monastic community. Elsewhere in the biographical tradition, Pachomius and Theodore practice a joint condescension by agreeing to allow a promising monk to visit his family outside the monastery. Theodore accompanies the monk during his visit, and even violates his own ascetic principles by eating with the family. When they return, Theodore threatens to leave the Koinonia, because the Gospel commandment to “hate father and mother” (Lk 14:26) has not been followed by the disciples. When the monk reports this to Pachomius, he replies that Theodore is a “neophyte” and must be encouraged to stay.24 This almost comedic reversal of monastic status ends with Theodore exhorting the monk to swear an oath that he will cease familial visits and live by the Gospel.25 In a similarly temporary reversal, when Pachomius begins to weave a mat while visiting Tabennesi, a young monk who fails to recognize him explains Theodore’s technique; Pachomius joyfully obeys, and does not reveal his identity nor chastise the disciple for improperly breaking the silence.26 Thus new monks sometimes received accommodations with regard to monastic rules, with the understanding that they would eventually conform to them. The Conscience According to Pachomian anthropogony, conscience is one of the five psychic faculties that God created in humans, alongside free choice, perception, discernment, and wisdom.27 In the context of the history of salvation, it acts as a moral compass for all, including those without divine law:28 23 24

25

26 27

28

V. Pach. G1 65 (Halkin: 43); cf. V. Pach. SBo 38. V. Pach. SBo 63. Cf. V. Pach. G1 121/V. Pach. SBo 138, in which Theodore is again mistaken as a neophyte by another monk, who warns him not to be scandalized by the behavior in the bakery. In the Bohairic version, the monk further explains that there are “all kinds of people” in the community, echoing V. Pach. G1 40. V. Pach. SBo 63. In V. Pach. G1 68, it is an elder who insists upon visiting his family, arguing that it is impossible to follow the commandments fully. V. Pach. SBo 72. V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 41). It is also named in Pachomius’s prayer glorifying God as creator (V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/100: 114). See further Ruppert 1971, 110–121. V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100:  326); cf. the allusion to Hebrews 10:22 at V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/ 100: 43).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

191

There is no sin nor pollution next to God other than disobedience to His law and His commandments, to transgress them; or (disobedience) to the good conscience, which the Lord placed in each person, whether those with the law, whether those without law, which goads them not to do any evil deed or injustice against the will of God.

Another passage similarly describes the conscience as a voice warning against improper behavior: “If a person is ignorant of the law, conscience pricks him, (saying) ‘this deed is not good’. To others it bears witness according to the knowledge of the heart, (saying) ‘you will sin against the Lord if you do this’. To still others it bears witness, (saying) ‘If they [demons/temptations?] attain to you, you will be in danger. . .’ ”29 Thus the conscience is presented as a universal aspect of cognition that God uses to communicate directly with his followers.30 Disciples were expected to listen to the dictates of their conscience and to follow them, in addition to obeying monastic law, which the conscience both upheld and supplemented. For example, when Theodore cooks porridge for the weak monks, Patlole, who is young and strong and therefore has no need for this concession, is tempted to partake of it with the others. This prompts the “Spirit of God” to warn him: “thoughts of the flesh are assailing you.” He disobeys “this thought which was put in him by the Lord,” thus prompting a public rebuke from the clairvoyant Theodore.31 Patlole then exclaims: “Pray for me, because I scorned my conscience (suneidēsis) regarding the thing which I was considering; because I  disobeyed the good suggestion of my heart, the Lord has rebuked me openly.”32 In his Third Instruction, Theodore describes how a scorned conscience acts on its own to rebuke the offender:  “[God] allows our conscience (suneidēsis) to burn us every time that we do not work according to what is worthy of the holy vocation of the habit which we wear.”33 Indeed, sinful monks were directed to “take shelter in the conscience of God,” which would provoke weeping and repentance.34

29

30

31 32 33

34

V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 42). Cf. V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100: 332), concerning married people refusing to follow the good conscience that God put in them, e.g., to practice abstention or become monks. Like thoughts, the conscience is also monitored by God, as proclaimed by Theodore in this prayer: “Lord, you who know my heart and my thoughts and my conscience and my goal” (V. Pach. SBo 198, CSCO 89: 193). V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 89: 96). V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 89: 97); cf. V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99/100: 158). Theo., Instr. 3:1 (CSCO 159: 40). Similarly, in a later dialog with Horsiesius, God is said to punish sinners until their conscience is purified V. Pach. S15 (CSCO 99/100: 351). Pach., Instr. 1:31 (CSCO 159: 16).

192

Cognitive Disciplines

Given this potential for ignoring one’s conscience, Theodore was presented as a model for recognizing and following its instructions. As an adolescent, he is “pricked with a strong feeling” to take up fasting during a feast, and immediately begins an ascetic regime.35 As leader of the Koinonia, he quickly awakens and obeys an angelic command to enter the church sanctuary, “for he walked in great vigilance of conscience and unshakeable faith.”36 These stories assume that it is easy to identify the divine voice of conscience; in moments of uncertainty, it could be actively sought through prayer, as described in a fragmentary episode in the Third Sahidic Life, probably also about Theodore:37 “So now the Lord God of our father Pachomius gave me the method of vigilance (nēphe) so that I might be able to confirm the words that have come from my mouth in your presence [i.e., the vow], and the commandments which your servant assigned to me. Reveal to me, in my heart, your will, and what I should do to please you.” And when he finished praying these words, this thought alighted on his heart, coming from the Lord: “When it happens that you eat a little bread and you are thirsty and you practice self control with yourself not to drink water on many occasions, and indeed, when you are sitting, so that you might labor, you are always vigilant in the fear of God.” After this thought alighted on his heart, he believed that it was from God, and thus he conducted his life according to his ability, not only in his visible life, but according to this hidden deeds.

The speaker apparently is uncertain about the appropriate level of fasting for him, which is understandable given that the rules only specify a minimum level of austerity. After a prayer taught by Pachomius, he accepts as a divine order the first thought to come into his mind. Less advanced monks who were unable to identify the divine voice in their conscience could also consult their spiritual adviser. Following Theodore’s prayer for guidance on the proper level of fasting, a disciple approaches him in his cell, asking whether he should eat the good or bad portions at the table. Theodore advises that he eat the good part, and the disciple questions whether God would not “cast [him] into the fire.” When Theodore suggests taking some good and some bad portions, his disciple then asks a similar question about the selection of good or bad reeds. The hagiographer explains that the disciple “said these things being ignorant of the goal (skopos) of his heart, because he had ceased regulating

35 36 37

V. Pach. SBo 31 (CSCO 89: 34). V. Pach. SBo 184 (CSCO 89: 163). V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/100: 120–121).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

193

himself through his conscience (suneidēsis).”38 Although this story does not specify how the disciple had lost touch with his conscience, another passage describes how a sinner “destroys his own conscience and he burns it so that it does not prick him from that time.”39 Despite the lure of demonic temptation, disciples not only had the conscience as a guide, but also possessed the ability to follow it, given their psychic faculty of free will (autexousion), defined as the power “to listen or not to listen” to the evil one.40 Another interesting passage suggests that God’s command to Adam to avoid eating from the tree of knowledge was a means of testing his free will.41 Indeed, free will concerns not only the ability to accept or reject demonic temptation, but also a willing obedience to divine commandments. Thus, when Theodore rebukes the leaders who rebelled against Pachomius, he provides them with the opportunity to repent, and to make a new covenant with him based on their free choice (prohairesis).42 Theodore’s Third Instruction also urges that the commandments of Pachomius be obeyed with free choice (prohairesis), as opposed to an empty obedience with grumbling and murmuring.43

II.

Combatting Porneia: Prayer, Discernment, and Free Choice

We will now explore how the struggles against a particular temptation, porneia, unfolded in the related arenas of monastic rule and personal cognition. Often translated as fornication, porneia might encompass a variety of sexual acts, as well as planning, remembering, or dreaming about them. Along with gluttony, anger, and pride, it is among the most frequently mentioned vices in early cenobitic monasticism.44 There are several sources for the construction of porneia:  stories in the Pachomian Lives; rules in the Pachomian collections and the Canons of Shenoute, which mostly forbid various forms of contact; and the correspondence between Dorotheus 38 39

40

41 42 43

44

V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/100: 121). V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 42). In the First Instruction, Pachomius notes that the conscience is made “immodest” through alcohol (Pachomius, Instr. 1:45, CSCO 159: 30). V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100: 314); cf. “The Lord gave power to people to do as they want, whether good, whether evil” (V. Pach. S3C, CSCO 99/100: 327). V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100: 322). V. Pach. S6 (CSCO 99/100: 276). Instr. 3:11 (CSCO 159: 45). Cf. Instr. 3:13 (CSCO 159: 46) and Instr. 3:41 (CSCO 159: 58). When Pachomius assigns a sinful brother a stringent ascetic routine, he follows it, but not with his own free choice, in the fear of God, and eventually leaves the monastery (V. Pach. SBo 107, CSCO 89: 148). For the use of porneia in Shenoute’s rhetoric, see Schroeder 2006.

194

Cognitive Disciplines

and Barsanuphius about the former’s struggle with the demon of porneia through his attraction to another monk. Stories about sexual temptation are most widespread in the Arabic Life, though they are found in all versions of Pachomian biography. The first scholar to study them as a group, Ladeuze, argued that they did not imply “the debauchery of most cenobites of Tabennisi;”45 Chitty suggested that such accounts belonged to a later era, when Egyptian monasticism was in decline.46 In my view, they do not provide strong evidence for widespread sexual activity, whenever the period in which they were produced. Instead, these anecdotes are an important source for how monks conceived of the struggle against a particular temptation, porneia. Examined together, they give a sense of the dangerous situations in which temptation was likely to arise, as well as several options for responding to it. These stories also promote the idea that monastic leaders instinctively know when porneia is threatening the community, even if it was performed in secret, or if disciples simply consented to it in their thoughts.47 One story in particular illustrates the dangers of porneia for all disciples in the community, and lists regulations intended to reduce the risk of this temptation.48 While the brothers are working, Pachomius sees a demon and warns them that it can enter a pure heart that lacks vigilance. The heart, he explains, is a like large house with one hundred rooms. If a demon takes residence in even one of these rooms, the monk must quickly expel it before it takes over all of the other rooms, thus forcing the spirit to leave. But Pachomius does not see defeating porneia as simply a question of monitoring the thoughts and temptations of the heart. After delivering this warning, he offers a series of commandments regulating close personal contact:49 (1) “Let no one among you remain alone with his companions, unless work requires it;” (2) “Let no one among you take the hand of your companion, or touch any part of his body without necessity, if someone is sick or if someone falls and needs help to get up; in these cases, there is necessity, because of the sickness and fall, but one must act with caution;”

45 46 47 48 49

Ladeuze 1898, 348 (translated from the French). Chitty 1966, 66–67. For porneia in Pachomian monasticism, see Ladeuze 1898, 327–365 and Ruppert 1971, 177–182. For the following, V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 424–427). V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 426–427). Curiously, these rules have not been considered in studies of Pachomian regulations in Latin, Greek, and Coptic.

Prayer and Monastic Progress

195

(3) “Let no one among you sit on the same seat as your companion to talk to them, but stay far from one another to talk to them;” (4) “Let no one among you sleep on the couch which does not belong to him;” (5) “Let no one enter into the cell of his companion, without legitimate cause, to ask something of which one has need, so that the enemy finds no place among you.”

While there are no precise equivalents to these rules in the Latin, Greek, or Coptic versions, several of the Pachomian Precepts have similar regulations against contact, including of the medical or hygienic kind: monks are instructed not to oil or bathe a sick person (93), remove a thorn (95), or shave another (97), unless ordered to do so. More generally, it is forbidden for two monks to sit together on a bench or mat (95), or on a donkey or wagon (109).50 After Pachomius issues his regulations, certain anchorites are angered, wondering: “Is there a woman here? Are we not all of the same form and nature? And if someone among us falls into such terrible deeds, may God please that it not be us who falls into this terrible impurity without having known it!”51 This comment suggests that these monks considered porneia to be primarily a heterosexual concern, and perhaps that they were surprised by the general prohibitions of contact, and worried that they had contracted impurity unknowingly. The author of the Life, however, takes pains to demonstrate that this is the improper attitude. The next day, a priest arrives at the Koinonia, accompanied by two monks carrying a letter from the archbishop. One of the anchorites, Mauo/Maios, reveals his lack of discernment by mistakenly calling the priest “angelic.” Two monks accompany him with a letter from the archbishop, describing how the priest had attempted to commit a deed of impurity with a boy; Pachomius sentences him to a year of solitary repentance.52 A number of the rules in Shenoute’s Canons prohibit various forms sexual activity. While sex between men and women, autoeroticism,53 and

50

51 52

53

For a discussion of these and other similar regulations of homosocial behavior in Late Antique monasticism, especially the Western sources, see Diem 2001. V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 427). V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 428). The story of Mauo is also found in a fragmentary part of V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 66ff), and in V. Pach. G1 (Halkin: 76), in which the charge is theft. Cf. the story of Tithoes, for which the sin is pederasty in three surviving versions (V. Pach. S10, Ar 435, and V. Pach. G3), but gluttony in V. Pach. G1. Rule 6 (Layton 2014: 92–93), 48 (Layton 2014: 108–109), 57 (Layton 2014: 112–113), 571–572 (Layton 2014: 332–333).

196

Cognitive Disciplines

zoophilia54 are all condemned, there is a particular focus on same-sex erotic activity.55 Many of these rules forbid physical contact or proximity between monks, much like those found in the Pachomian tradition, though sometimes in greater detail. Thus, four regulations concern palpating sick monks, including children;56 and three washing or anointing the sick.57 In fact, Shenoute’s Canons sometimes echo the Koinonia regulations, except that Shenoute adds a reference to passion (epithumia): “Whoever, whether it be male or female, shall sleep in pairs on a tam-mat or whoever sleep at all close together, so as to touch and bump against one another with desirous passion, shall be under a curse.”58 One particularly evocative canon regulates routine monastic grooming and basic healthcare, warning of polluting thoughts that can emerge during this activity: “Whoever permits polluted thoughts in his heart and who puts up with a defiled desire in his spirit while being shaved or while shaving his neighbor or while having a thorn removed from his foot/leg or while removing a thorn from the foot/legs of his neighbor, shall be under a curse, whether it be male or female.”59 Some of the regulations in the Canons unambiguously imply genital activity, for example “spreading” on top of or beneath another monk, or “groping” them.60 But most describe contact that might otherwise be construed as affectionate but not sexual, e.g., “cursed be male and male who embrace one another in defiled desire” (hen-ou-epithumia en-sōōf).61 Indeed, the concern for “desire” (epithumia) as a motive for contact is extended to all forms of interpersonal interaction with either gender, including family members: “Cursed be all who kiss or embrace one another with a desirous passion (pathos en-epithumia), whether young or old, whether parent or child, whether male or female.”62 The various references to “desire,” “desirous passion,” and “defiled desire in their heart,” and “fleshly desires” all underline that contact of any kind is dangerous and should be avoided. The rules do not specify whether such passion is caused by the contact, or 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

Rule 54 (Layton 2014: 110–111). Layton 2014, 60, with references and discussion. Rules 513–516 (Layton 2014: 310–313). Rules 60–62 (Layton 2014: 113). Rule 95 (Layton 2014: 127). Rule 127 (Layton 2014: 127). Rules 1–2 (Layton 2014: 92–93), 96 (Layton 2014: 127). Cf. Rule 573 (Layton 2014: 333). Rule 3 (Layton 2014: 93). Rule 5 (Layton 2014: 93). More generally, “Woe to whoever among us shall run after their neighbors with carnal longings” (Rule 132, Layton 2014: 141)

Prayer and Monastic Progress

197

leads to it; in either case, however, physical contact or even proximity is prohibited because of the possibility of deriving pleasure from it.63 In effect, this sub-corpus of monastic rules increased the scope of human sexuality, that is, “the cultural interpretation of the human body’s erogenous zones and sexual capacities.”64 They represent a sexualization of physical contact and the gaze at a level of detail unprecedented in the ancient world. Thus I do not entirely agree with Foucault’s argument, based on his reading of Cassian, that Christianity did not lead to an “intensification of prohibitions” within sexuality, but rather to “a process of self-knowledge which makes the obligation to seek and state the truth about oneself an indispensable and permanent condition of this asceticism.”65 In the case of cenobitic monasticism, intensification of prohibitions and new strategies of self-knowledge – such as confession of thoughts and the fear of God more generally – were closely related. Thus many Pachomian anecdotes also emphasize that porneia, in all its many physical manifestations, is also a question of inner temptation, to be managed by the monk; assenting to temptation, even if not acted upon, is known to God and will be exposed by the monastic leader. A senior official, Apollonius, leader of the monastery at Sheneset, attempts to abuse a younger monk under his care.66 When Pachomius visits the community, he smells an overpowering stench like a corpse, suggesting that Satan has killed someone. He prays all night for God to reveal the identity of the “dead monk,” and then confronts Apollonios, who immediately confesses, explaining that he had only plotted the impiety, but not actually committed it. Pachomius nevertheless condemns him: “You were persuaded by the will of the devil (Mt 5:28), that you enter into a flesh of your form, so that you do a deed contrary to nature.” Although he, too, is assigned solitary penance for months, Pachomius eventually expels him, under orders from an angel. As in the story of Mauo, the implication is that, at least for 63

64 65

66

Occasionally desirous passion is mentioned in other behaviors, such as eavesdropping (Rule 223) clothing (Rule 299), or greed (Rule 368). Halperin 1990, 3. Foucault 1999c [1982], 196. For an exploratory discussion of Foucault’s work on the history of sexuality as it relates to Late Antiquity, see Boyarin and Castelli 2001. V. Pach. S5 92 (CSCO 99/100: 164) cf. V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 477). Although the age of his disciple is unspecified, as Layton notes “same-sex erotic activities between adult and child monks, or also child-to-child contact, are repeatedly condemned” (Layton 2014, 60, with references). In one story, when two young men are found alone, committing a sin, Pachomius expels one and beats the other with a palm branch, explaining that he can find redemption because he did not act voluntarily; cf. the story of a young boy found in a state of impurity, whom Pachomius expels (V. Pach. Ar., Amélineau 1889: 510).

198

Cognitive Disciplines

monastic leaders, inner consent to the temptation of porneia is tantamount to spiritual death, even if the act itself is not carried out. The proper way of responding to the temptation of porneia is illustrated by the story of Douidouna, a very pious monk who holds a position of responsibility in the infirmary: when a handsome young man falls sick, he notices how excited his heart becomes while serving him.67 Douidouna follows up on this careful internal vigilance with a prayer for discernment:68 Oh my God, what activity do I have in my heart? Is this young man preferable to the other brothers, or sicker than they are? I pray that you reveal to me the reason for this thing, God: because I am blind, and I do not see whether this activity which I have in my heart is right, conforming to the instructions which our father has given us on your behalf.

He fasts all day, and keeps vigil all night, until the Spirit of Fornication appears to him as a beautiful woman, declaring that she had birthed in him the thought of serving the young man; she explains that, if devout monks accept such a thought, she gradually leads them on in the delicacies of desire, and finally makes them fall. In contrast to Apollonius, who succumbs to temptation, Douidouna at first does not perceive the demonic nature of his thoughts, but is able to recognize it as such after praying to God. The story of Douidouna might have been related to a superior, perhaps even Pachomius or Theodore, during the process of confession. While there is no extended evidence in the Pachomian corpus for confessions regarding porneia or other temptations, there does exist detailed correspondence on this subject between Barsanuphius and Dorotheus, who were master and disciple at the sixth-century monastery of Tawatha near Gaza. In particular, Letters 255–8 chronicle Dorotheus’ attraction towards an unnamed colleague in the monastery. Dorotheus himself perceives his attraction for his colleague to be the result of demonic temptation, reporting to Barsanuphius that “I am being violently attacked by porneia, and I risk falling into despair, nor can I practice self-restraint on account of the weakness of my body. Pray for me through the Lord, and tell me what I should do.”69 Barsanuphius assures him that he will aid him in the struggle, urging him not to despair, because God will eventually grant him mercy. He then warns Dorotheus, “So guard your eyes,” an allusion to the 67

68 69

See the regulations concerning physical contact in the infirmary in the Arabic Life of Pachomius and the Canons, discussed above. V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 435). Bars., Resp. 255 (SC 450: 214).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

199

frequent monastic injunction to avoid eye contact, in this case with the brother for whom he feels attraction. In the following letter, Dorotheus asks Barsanuphius for advice regarding discernment, in particular to identify the source of temptation: is it his own desire (epithumia), or does it come from “the enemy”?70 Barsanuphius responds with a criterion: if he is trying to find pretexts to meet the brother, then he is at fault, and is motivated by his own passion. Yet Barsanuphius also asserts that Dorotheus is under attack from demons, warning him to guard the “treasures” of his home from the Chaldeans, who will take him captive and lead him into “Babylon.” He suggests to Dorotheus that, while his feelings of attraction are ultimately demonic and external to him, he still has free will and responsibility for his actions. Barsanuphius reminds him to be vigilant regarding his thoughts, and finally advises him to avoid all forms of association with his colleague. This anxiety surrounding homosocial friendship, and its attendant affections, represents a significant break from Graeco-Roman paideia, and parallels the hyper-sexualization of physical contact in the Pachomian rules and Shenoute’s Canons. In contrast to Gregory Nazianzen, who freely commemorated his amicable desire for Basil of Caesarea,71 the ascetic theorist Nilus of Ancyra sternly warned Pierius, a young man studying in Alexandria, about his passionate friendship with another youth, Dionysiodorus.72 Nilus diagnoses in Pierius’s feelings the demon of porneia, “which the children of the Greeks are accustomed to call erōs,” and calls on him to break off all contact with his friend, just as Barsanuphius recommends to Dorotheus.73 A similar concern is evident in Horsiesius’s Instruction 7, a highly rhetorical condemnation of “evil friendship” within the Koinonia, namely alliances between disciples in opposition to the monastic hierarchy, which might include sexual relationships.74 Horsiesius proclaims, “O monasticism, arise and weep over your children whose virginity has been destroyed, and over your youths who have been destroyed with them together.”75 70 71 72 73

74

75

Bars., Resp. 256 (SC 450: 214). On the erotic vocabulary in Gregory’s Or. 43 in praise of Basil, see Børtnes 2000. Nil., Ep. 2:167 (PG 79: 280). Although Pierius was not a monk, another young man from Alexandria, this one anonymous, joined the Koinonia while struggling with porneia (V. Pach. Ar., Amélineau 1889: 511ff); cf. V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 518ff), on Silvanus. The Great Coptic Life similarly reports that he tries to assist monks in “carnal sin” (V. Pach. SBo 106), but also throws them out (V. Pach. SBo 107). For a similar notion of friendship in the White Monastery Federation of Shenoute, see Wilfong 2002. Hors., Instr. 7:2 (CSCO 159: 76).

200

Cognitive Disciplines

Friendships were also viewed with suspicion in other cenobia.76 At the monastery of Mount Sinai, for example, an elder intentionally creates strife between two young monks who are threatened by the danger of porneia.77 In the next exchange (257), Barsanuphius also urges him to abstain gradually from food and drink, despite his inability to practice a strict ascetic regime due to bodily weakness.78 Perhaps as a result of this widespread anxiety about friendship between young monks, Dorotheus writes to Barsanuphius again (258), concerned that the other brother will become suspicious if he suddenly ceases all contact with him. This is precisely the sort of pretext for maintaining proximity that Barsanuphius had warned against in the previous letter. By continuing to entertain such thoughts, Dorotheus demonstrates self-will, rather than obedience to his advisor. He ends the letter with an emotional appeal for help: “And I feel that the demons are strangling me, and I am greatly afraid because of this.”79 In his final response, Barsanuphius tells Dorotheus to fear God rather than the demons, and advises him to meditate on the last judgment: “Say to your thought: ‘remember the fearful judgment of God and the shame of those who do wicked deeds’.”80 At several points in their exchange, he also recommends the recitation of biblical verses, in particular the Psalms of David, who cried out to the Lord while under attack: “Scrutinize me, Lord, and test me; burn my innards and my heart.”81 This establishes solidarity with the biblical character, and encourages Dorotheus to pray to God while in the midst of his struggles. Barsanuphius also offered emotional solidarity with Dorotheus by recounting his own extended struggle with porneia, from which he ultimately emerged victorious: “Brother, I too, in my youth, was often tested violently by the demon of porneia, and I struggled very hard, fighting and talking back to (antilogōn) the thoughts, and not consenting to them, but placing the eternal punishments before my eyes.”82 Just like Cassian’s spiritual centurion, Barsanuphius urges Dorotheus to mobilize the cognitive disciplines of Scripture and the fear of God to resist his demonic temptation. 76

77

78

79 80 81 82

For a discerning study of the rich evidence for celibate same-sex friendship among ascetics in Late Antiquity and early Byzantium, see Krueger 2011, with the cenobitic evidence at pp. 44–46. Jo. Clim., Scal. 26 (PG 88: 1065); cf. Krueger 2011, 55. The same source implies that some of these relationships were chaste, but their example could cause less pious imitators to stumble. Bars., Resp. 257. Note that Pachomius assigns the young Alexandrian burdened by temptation from porneia a stricter form of asceticism V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 511ff). Bars., Resp. 258 (SC 450: 226). Bars., Resp. 258 (SC 450: 228). Bars., Resp. 258 (SC 450: 228). Bars., Resp. 258 (SC 450: 226–228).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

201

In conclusion, the Pachomian and the Palestinian sources share several basic assumptions about porneia. First, that it can be discouraged through behavioral modification, in particular avoidance of contact, as expressed in the rules. Second, that it is largely a metacognitive process, in which the management of thoughts (albeit “carnal” ones associated with the body and its pollution) is essential. And third, that monks must struggle against, rather than assent to, the temptations of porneia, regardless of whether they are acted upon. While Foucault compared early confession to Freudian psychoanalysis, based especially on his reading of Cassian,83 Barsanuphius’s advice resembles more closely the goals of modern cognitive behavioral therapy, which seeks to control unwanted emotion through identifying unwanted thoughts and reassessing their assumptions and significance.84 Dorotheus himself identifies his desire to spend time with his fellow monk as demonic temptation; he has no secret motions of the unconscious to unmask. His primary task is to avoid assenting to porneia through the application of cognitive disciplines, namely scripture and the fear of God; Barsanuphius advises him to consider post-mortem punishment rather than act on his desire.

III.

Pachomian Techniques of Prayer

Prayer was as important to the care of souls in Pachomian monasticism as the rule. Understood broadly as a dialogue with God, it included the incessant scriptural recitation at work and while on the move throughout the day. Additionally, there was a daily communal prayer at the early morning synaxis, and the so-called “six prayers” in the evening, at individual houses.85 These gatherings included a prayer technique in which scriptural recitation was closely coordinated with bodily movements, including regular genuflections; this activity was required of monks periodically 83

84

85

Foucault 1999b, 178–179. As Virginia Burrus explains, “On Foucault’s reading, ascetic Christianity – whether Augustine’s or John Cassian’s version  – initiates a trajectory of discursive ejaculation (a transformation of ‘sex into discourse’) that eventually intersects, via the seventeenth century confessional, with the modern practice of psychoanalysis” (Burrus 2007b, 10). Another account of the relationship between confession and psychotherapy is found in Jackson 1999, 143–162. For an argument that Stoics were the first practitioners of cognitive therapy, see Sorabji 2002, 159; cf. Gill 2013. On modern cognitive behavioral therapy, see, e.g., Craske 2010, and Morelli 2004 on connections to Christian asceticism. Barsanuphius’s advice also includes behavioral modification, namely the avoidance of eye contact with, or even proximity to, the desired monk. For the former, see PI 3, 5–7, and 11–12; for the latter, PLeg 10, PInst 14. The evidence is collected and discussed in Veilleux 1968, 276–323. For the divine office at the White Monastery, which included five daily rounds of prayer, with the first and the last during the monastic assembly, see Layton 2014, 7–72.

202

Cognitive Disciplines

throughout the day, even while outside of the synaxis.86 Horsiesius urges that the “regulations (kanōn) of prayer” be carefully attended to, whether at the synaxis, in the houses, or on work trips outside the monastery: “Let us pray to God with our whole heart, while paying heed to the prayer, with our hands outstretched in the sign of the cross, speaking the prayer which is written in the Gospel, while the eyes of our heart and those of our body are lifted up to the Lord, as it is written, ‘I have lifted up my eyes to you, Lord, he who dwells in heaven, as the eyes of servants gaze at the hands of their master (Ps 123:1–2)’.”87 Most previous studies of Pachomian prayer have concentrated on reconstructing the liturgy, rather than examining its role in the monastic care of souls. Theodore contrasts prayer with the false pleasure and pollution of evil thoughts:88 . . .while he is deranged by the thoughts of evil and takes pleasure in them and gives way to the sleep of death (and) while he wants (to do) them. He was not vigilant to cry out to God in his heart, “Save me, because water is coming up to my soul; I have sunk to the mud below and am powerless” (Psalm 68, 2–3).

As a cognitive discipline, prayer constituted an important strategy for refocusing one’s attention and energies from demonic attack to the divine kingdom: “So be vigilant, and consider your promises, and flee haughtiness, and tear yourself from him, so that he does not tear away the eyes of your mind, and render you blind, so that you do not consider the road to the city, your dwelling place: so again, consider the city of Christ, and glorify him, because he died for you.”89 Like the fear of God, prayer is a technology of the imagination directed at God’s majesty, especially as reflected in his creation and the heavenly court, although the emphasis is on joyful praise, rather than the terror and pain of the judgement scene. Theodore explains that the more intense the scriptural recitation, the more fervent the love for God produced by it.90 According to Pachomian anthropology, the basis of prayer lies in perception (aisthēsis), a general sense of the goodness of God and the spiritual gifts attained through him: “Perception is such that the man of faith 86

87 88 89 90

Although Veilleux notes that monks are said to “bless God,” he does not explore the significance of this phrase in his discussion of the theology of prayer (Veilleux 1968, 315–323). Hors., Reg. 6 (CSCO 159: 84). Theo., Instr. 3:9 (CSCO 159: 44–45). Pach., Instr. 1:27 (CSCO 159: 11). Theo., Instr. 3:26 (CSCO 159: 44). Note that this is a form of prosopopoeic recitation of Scripture, as discussed in Chapter Three.

Prayer and Monastic Progress

203

perceives through it the grace of the Lord, but also that he perceives that everything good which is done is done through the grace of God . . .”91 A  lengthy but fragmentary passage in the Sahidic Life describes how a disciple making progress “has perceived (aisthane) the grace which the Lord works through him, as David says, ‘What will I give in return to the Lord for everything which he has done for me?’ ” (Psalm 115, 3). This state of perception is achieved through soul-work, as when David “exhorts” his soul: “And also how he discerns with his own soul, with perception, saying ‘my soul, bless the Lord, and everything inside me, bless his holy name . . .’ ” (Psalm 102, 1).92 Similarly, perception entails reflecting on God’s beneficial actions as recorded in the Scriptures.93 Several passages from the biographical tradition describe how monastic leaders can help sinners acquire perception: as Pachomius explains, “when you do something good for an evil man, they will arrive at a perception (aisthēsis) of the good.”94 But perception is a skill that must be honed through constant prayer, and in particular thanksgivings for divine beneficence. Although Basil of Caesarea does not use the Pachomian term, in his monastic rules he offers a similar account of how to cultivate a stable disposition of thankfulness: “Such a disposition is attained through conscientious and unremitting contemplation of the majesties of the glories of God, by (devout and pure) thankful thoughts and unceasing remembrance of the benefits that have been bestowed on us by God.”95 Basil’s advice to remember God’s benefits closely echoes the appreciation of God’s blessing in Pachomian prayers; and his reference to “thankful thoughts” suggest the various “prayer scripts,” both biblical and non-biblical, found throughout the Pachomian corpus. The “contemplation of the majesties of the glory of God” to which Basil exhorted his disciples is explicitly outlined in Horsiesius’s Instruction 6. This script offers praise for God, meditating upon Him as a creator, and in particular creator of the praying monk. Horsiesius details the sense of

91 92

93 94

95

V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 45). The phrase “everything inside me” refers to the five components of the human soul, which are exhorted to bless God’s “holy name: V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 44).” V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99/100: 169). In particular, Pachomius prays that heretics and sinners come to “perceive the good that God does, both in the Scriptures and their everyday lives:” V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 40). Cf. V. Pach. S4 (CSCO 99/100: 223) and V. Pach. SBo 46. Basil, SR 157 (Silvas: 357). For the remembrance of God in the writings of Barsanuphius and John, see Bitton-Ashkelony 2003, 217–221.

204

Cognitive Disciplines

absolute dependence that this activity cultivates in the speaker: “If the sun, moon, and the stars which light the whole earth were made by the word of your mouth, then who at all will be able to think about you, the creator, How you are, In what way you exist? Or which mouth will be able to bless you according to the way you are blessed?” The prayer continues with a celebration of God’s majesty, moving from the grandeur of the cosmos to the insignificance of the speaker, whose very contemplation is due to the divine creator:96 After you consider all of his marvels and the great things that he created through his word, and for your part, your littleness, because he, the powerful and eternal, created you when you did not exist, so that you might come to be, and that if he had not created you, your contemplation would not exist, do not stop blessing him without cease, saying “You are blessed, Lord, the one who created me from earth when I did not exist,” until the godless thought which the devil has cast into your heart completely [disappears] from your heart. And thus you will bless the Lord quickly and with joy.

Horsiesius explains that this joyful blessing of God frustrates the devil, who complains: “I hinder him with this evil thought so that he might take a loss, and behold he has benefited all the more, blessing God instead of cursing him.”97 While Horsiesius attributes this style of prayer to “all the saints,” Pachomius emphasizes the blessing of God as a means of overcoming temptation. In Theodore’s inaugural commemorative address in praise of the Koinonia’s founder, he notes that Pachomius taught his disciples the correct method of prayer.98 Indeed, a section from the Sahidic Life contains a lengthy prayer-script offered by Pachomius, blessing God for his numerous benefits.99 Once again, the emphasis is on the divine creator’s majesty. There are several blessings for creating the cosmos, including angels and other denizens of heaven, and several for fashioning humans and endowing them with free choice: “Lord, blessed God, you who have made man his own master so that he could choose according to his own will, conscience, and discernment between good and evil.” This reminder of the disciple’s responsibility, as God’s creation, for rejecting bad thoughts and actions would have been particularly appropriate in situations of temptation. Pachomius offers a similar prayer after a demonic struggle: “Blessed 96

97 98 99

Hors., Instr. 6 (CSCO 159: 74). In a paraenetic section on vigilance, Horsiesius quotes several biblical passages which relate to God as creator of the cosmos: Ho 13:4, and Dt 4:19 (Hors., Test. 36). Hors., Instr. 6 (CSCO 159: 75). V. Pach. SBo 195. V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99/100: 6–7, 114–115).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

205

are you, Lord God of all the saints and my God, who have delivered me from every snare of the enemy.”100 Nighttime vigils were a particularly important time for individual prayer. An instruction of Pachomius recommends an interior dialogue in which the soul “speaks” to the “very heavy body,” urging it to fight sleep:101 “O feet, because you have the power to stand and move, before you are placed [in a grave] and are motionless, stand eagerly before your Lord.” While saying to the hands, “There will be a time when you will be loosened and motionless, having been bound to one another, not having a single movement; therefore, before you fall into that hour, do not cease stretching out to the Lord.” To the whole body let the soul speak thus: “O body, before we are rent apart and placed at a distance from one another, and I am brought down to Hades, receiving eternal bonds in darkness, and you revert to your previous existence, and are dissolved into earth, consumed in odor and filth, stand courageously, entreat the Lord. Make me know perception through tears; make your good service known to your master: carry me, as I eagerly confess to God, before you are carried by others. Do not condemn me to eternal punishment, desiring to sleep and to rest now; for there will be an occasion when that heaviest sleep will receive you. If you listen to me, we will together enjoy a blessed inheritance. If you do not listen to me, then woe to me that you were bound to me; because of you I, wretched, will be condemned.”

In this “dual” reference to the fear of God, the body is urged to remember its rigor and putrefaction at death, while the soul speaks of its own eternal punishment. The goal is to stay vigilant and avoid sleep by maintaining the correct prayer stance. Pachomius also seems to have given directions for the physical mechanics of prayer. A limestone stela from the monastery of Saqqara features a standing figure labeled “Pachom” in a position of prayer, with arms raised.102 This so-called orans posture was ubiquitous in Late Antiquity, but it had a particular rigor in the Pachomian context: “And this was his custom: holding out his arms in prayer, not quickly to draw them back a little, for rest, but through the extension, as on the cross, he was exhausting his body for the vigil of prayers.”103 Although this stance tired the body, the goal was to help the disciple stay awake, presumably 100 101 102 103

V. Pach. SBo 113. Paralip. 20 (Halkin: 146–147). British Museum 1533, Beckwith 1963, fig. 123. V. Pach. G1 16 (Halkin: 10); cf. V. Pach. SBo 17. All monks were required to make nightly vigils in their cells, sleeping only intermittently on a reclining chair (P 87–88); for the three divisions of the vigil, see V. Pach. G1 60; cf. V. Pach. SBo 59.

206

Cognitive Disciplines

due to the physical discomfort. In his Instruction 6, Horsiesius exhorts his disciples to remain focused during their night vigils by keeping their arms outstretched: “For through fatigue and exhaustion your thoughts will disappear and you will be as if you saw the Lord to whom you are praying, as it is written in Moses, He held himself firm, as though he could see the Invisible One (Heb 11:27).”104 This strenuous activity is intended to clear the mind of its cognitive stream, including bad thoughts, in combination with offering the prayers of blessing. The various strategies of prayer discussed above are intended to cultivate discernment in instances of demonic temptation. Discernment (diakrisis; Coptic pōrj) refers to an ability to distinguish between good and evil: “those who are [very pure] in their heart from every evil thought discern in the midst of good and evil.”105 This passage suggests that it is a faculty reserved for the spiritually advanced, especially Pachomius himself. But in one biographical anecdote, apparently in the context of an ongoing dispute, Pachomius offers a simple script as a “therapy for the discernment of a spirit:”106 “When I grieved my neighbor with a word, rebuked by the word of God, my heart was crushed, and if I do not reconcile with him quickly, I will not rest. How, O unclean demons, might I consider blasphemy with you apostates against God who has made me? Even if you were to rip me up while tempting me, I  will not be weakened. These [thoughts] are not mine, but yours, who will be punished in unquenchable fire forever. But I will not stop blessing and hymning and giving thanks to the one who made me, when I did not exist, and cursing you, because you are cursed from the Lord.” And speaking thus with faith, this [demon] disappears like smoke.

This passage presents a non-scriptural mode of “talking back” to the demons, delivered in the midst of the usual prayer routine “blessing and hymning” God as creator. In this case, the disciple disavows the evil thought of blasphemy (presumably, insulting another monk, whom God created), attributing it to the demon instead. Rather than encouraging the disciple to imagine his or her own eternal punishment, as in the fear of God, this script asserts that it is the demon who will dwell in “unquenchable fire,” simply vanishing “like smoke” as a result of the disciple’s courage.

104

105 106

Hors., Instr. 6 (CSCO 159: 75). Cf. John of Lycopolis’s assertion that the ascetic prays with the angels before God (HM 1, John of Lycopolis 6). V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 73). V. Pach. G1 96 (Halkin: 64–65).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

207

This script treats the temptation of blasphemy as an externalized demon, and in the Pachomian sources discernment is often associated with the evaluation of visions.107 For example, a proud monk who leaves the monastery is approached by the demon of fornication in the guise of a woman, and “because his heart was shut, he did not discern to not let her in,” and immediately sins.108 Pachomius teaches a formula for discerning visions after he unmasks a demon impersonating Christ: “When the apparition is of spirits that are holy, the thoughts of the man who sees it vanish completely, and they consider nothing but the sanctity of the apparition. Now here I am, seeing this and conscious and reasoning. It is clear that he deceives me; he is not among the spirits that are holy.”109 The Second Sahidic Life notes that impure spirits bring terror, whereas angels of light cause pain. It adds that Pachomius “knew them and he distinguished them from one another. He rebuked the evil ones, and he accepted the words of the angels of God; and he scrutinized the words they spoke, whether they were in harmony with the Scriptures or not.”110 Another important monastic source for instruction in prayer as a spiritual exercise is the Letters of Ammonas, a collection of fourteen short texts addressed to a group of disciples by their master, who may have been a disciple of Antony.111 They offer a useful point of comparison for the Pachomian instructions in prayer as a spiritual exercise. Ammonas frequently emphasizes his love for the disciples, and his prayers on their behalf, demanding that they in turn obey him in order to receive the “blessings” of the Spirit.112 In particular, he exhorts the community to pray as he does, invoking Elijah and Elisha as examples of such diligent “heart-work:” “Now if you desire to receive it, you will give yourselves to bodily toil and toil of heart, and stretch your thoughts to heaven night and day, asking with your whole heart for the Holy Spirit, and this will be given you, for such was in Elijah the Tishbite and Elisha and all the other prophets.”113 Ammonas 107

108 109

110 111

112 113

Discernment is applied less frequently in Pachomian sources to demonic temptations/thoughts without visual or auditory components: e.g. V. Pach. G96. Elsewhere, it is associated with proper understanding of the Scriptures (V. Pach. S5, CSCO 99/100: 180). V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99/100: 132). V. Pach. G1 87; cf. V. Pach. SBo 113. Cf. Hors., Instr. 6, which notes that thoughts will disappear. Cf. Abba Or’s temptation by a demon posing as a royal figure in a winged chariot to ascend to heaven in exchange for worshipping him (HM 2:9). V. Pach. S2 (CSCO 99/100: 14–15). The oldest and most complete collection of extant letters is the Syriac version, translated in Brock and Chitty 1979, which I quote in this section. For a discussion of Ammonas in the context of other early ascetic theorists, see Brakke 2001. For a translation of the Greek fragments, which were edited in sections with suspicious doctrinal content, see McNary-Zak 2010. Ammonas, Ep. 11. Ammonas, Ep. 8, trans. Chitty, 10.

208

Cognitive Disciplines

assures the disciples that, with perseverance in prayer, they too will experience the Spirit.114 Although Ammonas says little about specific techniques for using prayer to acquire the Spirit, he frequently provides emotional and cognitive “scripts” to help the disciples recognize its presence. These are examples of what Luhrmann calls metakinesis, psychological states that are “identified within the group as the way of recognising God’s personal presence in your life, and are subjectively and idiosyncratically experienced.”115 For example, in one key passage, Ammonas offers a kind of emotional roadmap for receiving the Spirit: “If any man love the Lord with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his mind, he will acquire awe, and awe will beget in him weeping, and weeping joy, and joy will beget strength, and in all this the soul will beget fruit. And when God sees its fruit so fair, He will accept it as a sweet savor, and in all things He will rejoice with that soul, with His angels, and will give it a guardian to keep it in all its ways as He prepares it for the place of life, and to prevent Satan from prevailing over it.”116 As in the Pachomian tradition, prayer entails weeping and the fear of God, but will gradually lead to a feeling of joy and other “fruits of the spirit.” Despite his teachings on progressive experience, Ammonas describes a cyclical perception of the Spirit, at least in the early stages of advancement: “You must know how, in the beginning of the spiritual life, the Holy Spirit gives people joy when He sees their hearts becoming pure. But after the Spirit has given him joy and sweetness, He then departs and leaves them.”117 This is in order to test the disciples, who must redouble their effort, practicing the fear of God and repentance in accordance with the example of David: “And if after receiving this joy you see that your fervour withdraws and leaves you, seek it again and it will return. . .And if you see your heart weighed down temporarily, bring your soul before you and question it until it becomes fervent again and is set on fire by God.”118 According to Ammonas, gifts of the Spirit, including visionary capacity, tend to improve gradually: “For the first fervour is troubled and irrational. But the second fervour is better; and it gives birth to the capacity in a man to see spiritual things as he struggles in the great contest. . .”119 While he 114 115 116 117 118 119

Ammonas, Ep. 12. Luhrmann 2004, 522. Ammonas, Ep. 2. Ammonas, Ep. 9, trans. Chitty, 12–13. Ammonas, Ep. 3, trans. Chitty, 5. Ammonas, Ep. 10, trans. Chitty, 14–15.

Prayer and Monastic Progress

209

never explicitly states that demonic temptation will disappear entirely, in some passages he alludes to a stable, joyful state, presumably for the most advanced disciples.120 Similarly, although there is no explicit reference to apatheia in Pachomian sources, Pachomius is said to have attained a permanent freedom from “fleshly thoughts” in the First Sahidic Life. When his brother speaks out in anger towards him, Pachomius’s heart is disturbed and he spends the night in tearful prayer. Specifically, he asks God to remove the angry thought from his heart, noting how Jesus was able to withstand insults without becoming bitter. After he is insulted and disturbed again, he spends a second night in prayer:  “From that day, he did not get angry with fleshly thoughts, because God granted the request he had asked for.”121 While various biographical anecdotes present Pachomius’s struggles with demons, sometimes on behalf of the disciples under his care, he is always victorious. Some monastic narratives condense the gradual process of obtaining spiritual gifts into a single event. These highly literary and dramatic accounts suggest the establishment of a new, permanent metakinetic state, “purity of heart.” Cassian records an early example, concerning Abba Serenus, the elder with whom he and Germanus discuss demonic thoughts:122 As he was untiringly devoting himself with constant supplication and tears to the request that he had made, there came to him an angel in a vision of the night. He seemed to open his belly, pull out a kind of fiery tumour from his bowels, cast it away, and restore all his entrails to their original place. “Behold,” he said, “the impulses of your flesh have been cut out, and you should know that today you have obtained that perpetual purity of body which you have faithfully sought.”

This account focuses on the abject, the removal of “impulses of the flesh,” rather than the new experiential state.123 Other narratives emphasize joy as the permanent marker of the Spirit’s presence. For example, Dorotheus describes how he underwent a great trial, orchestrated by the devil, in which he was “shut in on all sides,” and 120

121 122 123

Sometimes Ammonas claims that the power is permanent: “And I will pray God for you, that this joy may be given you always, for nothing is more free from care.” He also notes: “For if a man attains to this measure, the joy of God will be with him continually: henceforth he will not toil in any matter.” (Ep. 7, trans. Chitty, 9). V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99/100: 3). Cassian, Inst. coen. 7:2. A similar account, surely influenced by Cassian, is offered regarding the fifth-century ascetic Eutropius of Marseilles, later bishop of Orange: he sees a stream of black birds stretching from his genitals to the clouds, and is informed by his abbot that this signifies the forgiveness of his “innermost thoughts” (Verus, V. Eutropii 4, trans. Uhalde 116–117).

210

Cognitive Disciplines

“in a state of temptation and distress.”124 One night, while lingering outside the monastery, he followed a winged figure into the church, observing in fear as it stretched its arms toward heaven in prayer. The angel turns towards Dorotheus, taps his chest, and repeats three times an allusion to the same Psalm mentioned in Theodore’s instructions on prayer (Ps. 68): “I waited, I  waited for the Lord and he stooped down to me; he heard my cry. He drew me from the deadly pit, from the mirery clay. He set my feet upon a rock and made my footsteps firm. He put a new song into my mouth, [a song of ] praise of our God.”125 Dorotheus reports a sudden change in his cognitive and affective state: “Immediately light flooded my mind and there was joy in my heart with comfort and sweetness . . .From that moment on, by God’s providence I have not known myself to be troubled by sorrow or fear, but the Lord has sheltered me till now through the prayers of the seniors.”

IV.

Revelations

The Pachomian biographical tradition contains more accounts of revelations than perhaps any other corpus of Christian literature,126 and associates these revelations almost exclusively with the leaders of the Koinonia.127 Pachomius had multiple visions, “as if seeing the invisible God through the purity of his heart as in a mirror.”128 Both Theodore and Antony call Horsiesius, “an Israelite,” namely, “the one who sees God with interior as well as exterior eyes.”129 Similarly, Theodore’s “thoughts were always in heaven beholding the glory of God.”130 The focus on the revelations of Pachomius and his successors in the biographical tradition is clearly related to the demonstration of authority. Leaders are presented as having a special capacity to experience visions frequently, and to integrate them into a life of piety. In terms of Pachomian anthropogony, they drew upon the faculties of wisdom and understanding:131 124

125 126

127

128 129 130 131

Dor., Inst. 5. This passage echoes the language of the Letters discussed above, but nothing specifically identifies it with his struggle against porneia. Theo., Instr. 3.9 (CSCO 159: 44). Though visions were frequently reported within early Egyptian monasticism, and are especially well represented in the Historia Monachorum in Aegypto. Among the rare visions in the biographical tradition assigned to non-leaders is the dream of an old man in which he is rebuked for doubting Pachomius (V. Pach. SBo 65). V. Pach. G1 22; cf. V. Pach. SBo 121. V. Pach. SBo 132. V. Pach. SBo 183. V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 45).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

211

And, after perception, his wisdom (mentsabe) and understanding (mentremnhēt) are revealed; and wisdom, according to God, that the person recognises everything that is pleasing to the Lord and his will, and he knows everything which will be revealed to him through him [the Lord], as it is written, “everything that you consider differently, God will reveal to you” (Philippians 3:15).

Through revelations, the wise constantly followed the will of God in their decision-making. While wisdom and understanding were more advanced than perception, these faculties were also cultivated with a sense of thankfulness, expressed by blessing God:  “For thus Daniel, after the Lord revealed to him the dream and its interpretation in the night, he (Daniel) blessed him (the Lord), saying, ‘he who gives wisdom to the wise man and wisdom to . . .’ ” (Daniel 2:21).132 Pachomius is often said to have received divine instructions through revelations, including a confirmation of his vocation as a monastic leader,133 as well as directions to build new monasteries.134 At times this process resembles searching one’s conscience, as when God answers Pachomius’s request for assistance in determining whether to expel a monk.135 Many other visions also concern the guidance of disciples, for example, the command that Pachomius send Theodore (who is undergoing penance) to another monastery.136 When Pachomius sees a vision of certain monks suffering in Hell, or observes a demon in one of his disciples, he acts in accordance with this clairvoyance.137 Finally, several instructional visions provide interpretations of biblical passages, parables, or the vision itself.138 Revelations in Pachomian literature are described variously as a horama, optasia, ekstasis, with no clear distinctions between these terms.139 Demonic appearances, in contrast, are termed phantasia.140 While the terminology 132 133

134 135 136 137 138 139

140

V. Pach. S10. While under Palamon, Pachomius has a vision of heavenly dew falling on him and covering the earth (V. Pach. SBo 12); V. Pach. SBo 22. V. Pach. SBo 17; V. Pach. SBo 49; V. Pach. SBo 52. V. Pach. SBo 108; cf. V. Pach. SBo 139. V. Pach. SBo 95; cf. V. Pach. SBo 112. V. Pach. SBo 103; V. Pach. SBo 107. V. Pach. G1 102; V. Pach. SBo 103; V. Pach. SBo 155. While ekstasis is often related to “out of body” experiences, it is used broadly, and is not the only term for ascent visions. “Dream” is used more rarely, but the line between waking vision and dreams was particularly thin in monasticism: many visions occur at night, during vigils combined with intensive prayer. For the relationship between the demonology in the Life of Antony and the Stoic concept of phantasia, see Brakke 2008, 37–47.

212

Cognitive Disciplines

suggests that the primary sensory experience was visual, many revelations also included an auditory component, for example in a dialogue with angels, or, in the case of Theodore and Horsiesius, with Pachomius.141 Several revelations were exclusively auditory: only a voice is heard.142 A few contain olfaction, such as the wonderful fragrance of the fruits of paradise.143 On the other hand, olfaction is deliberately subordinated to vision and audition in an account of Pachomius’s discussion with certain learned anchorites: he perceived a stench while speaking with them, but did not know the cause; while praying that night, God reveals to him through an angel that they are anchorites.144 The heavenly court, including Christ in his divine majesty, is a frequent object of revelation, as are otherworldly realms. They usually portray post-mortem reward and punishment, consistent with the importance of teaching the fear of God: Pachomius and Theodore have multiple visions of individual souls being carried by angels up to heaven;145 and a general vision about how the soul leaves the body, which he experienced multiple times.146 Pachomius is also said to have an extensive vision of the punishment of sinners,147 as well as many tours of Paradise.148 Finally, several revelations are prophecies of future events, such as the fate of the Koinonia after Pachomius’s death, or the visit of the dux Artemios.149 The descriptions of Pachomius’s (and Theodore’s) visions in the biographical tradition form a retrospective, literary account, which cannot be interpreted as a record of actual events. Indeed, they are part of an extensive, older Judaeo-Christian tradition that DeConick – and others before her – have described as “mysticism.” Her self-consciously etic definition captures key themes in both ancient sources and modern scholarship: “a tradition within early Judaism and Christianity centered on the belief that a person directly, immediately, and before death can experience the divine, either as a rapture experience or one solicited by a particular practice.”150 On the other hand, the distinction between “rapture experience” 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150

V. Pach. SBo 139; V. Pach. SBo 144. V. Pach. SBo 95; V. Pach. SBo 112; V. Pach. SBo 144. V. Pach. SBo 114. Paralip. 4. Cf. the story of Apollonius above. V. Pach. SBo 81; V. Pach. SBo 83; V. Pach. SBo 123; V. Pach. SBo 181. V. Pach. SBo 82/V. Pach. G1 93b. V. Pach. SBo 88. V. Pach. SBo 114; V. Pach. SBo 117. Cf. the quotations of the Visio Pauli in the Rule of the Master. V. Pach. SBo 66; V. Pach. SBo 185. DeConick 2006, 2–3.

Prayer and Monastic Progress

213

(i.e. passive) and “solicited by a particular practice” (i.e. active) needs qualification, as the two categories are actually related. In the Pachomian sources, prayer itself is a practice that encourages “rapture experience,” and the vast majority of Pachomian revelations occurred during prayer.151 Yet these were not expected at every instance of prayer, which was after all practiced multiple times each day. Occasionally, Pachomius requests a revelation during prayer and is granted one, but the majority of these revelations are unsolicited. Perhaps the most interesting pattern is that a significant number occur at night;152 indeed, as we have seen, a special body posture was developed specifically for fighting the urge to sleep during prayer vigils. Various recent studies suggest that “hypnagogic hallucinations” – at the boundary between wakefulness and sleep – are widely reported cross-culturally, and feature accounts of “a sensed presence, fear, and auditory and visual hallucinations.”153 Taves notes, “At this point, we need less grand theory building and more careful empirical studies that will allow us to identify unusual experiences across cultures.”154 One relevant study linking prayer practice and unusual sensory experience was conducted by anthropologists Luhrmann and Morgain, drawing on both ethnographic observation and controlled psychological experimentation (the “Spiritual Disciplines Project”): they found that “mental imagery cultivation” through prayer “makes mental imagery more vivid; that it leads to unusual sensory experiences; and more generally, that it makes what people imagined more real to them.”155 On the one hand, what DeConick calls a “particular practice” is involved, namely “inner sense practice;”156 on the other, the unusual sensory experiences reported by participants were usually unprovoked, and perceived as coming from an external source, though nothing so intense as a heavenly “rapture experience” was described in this study.

151

152 153

154 155

156

V. Pach. SBo 17; V. Pach. SBo 22; V. Pach. SBo 73/V. Pach. G1 93a, V. Pach. SBo 76; V. Pach. SBo 81; V. Pach. SBo 84; V. Pach. SBo 85; V. Pach. SBo 112; V. Pach. SBo 139; V. Pach. SBo 144. The visions in V. Pach. SBo 73 and V. Pach. SBo 76 occur during communal prayer in the assembly room, and V. Pach. SBo 183 similarly notes that the synaxis is a time when God “visits” monk. Visions also occurred while reciting Scripture at work (V. Pach. SBo 22; V. Pach. SBo 84). E.g. V. Pach. SBo 22, 73 84; Paralip. 17, 24–26. Taves 2009, 133, reporting on recent studies of “hypnagogic hallucination” or sleep paralysis, as part of a larger analysis (131–140). Taves 2009, 139–140. Luhrmann and Morgain 2012, 363. They build on earlier anthropological studies, especially Noll 1985, a study of mental imagery cultivation in shamanism. Luhrmann and Morgain 2012, 362.

214

Cognitive Disciplines

Pachomian image cultivation involved either the visualization of images depicting God’s judgement, to provoke fear (as discussed in Chapter 4), or praise of his majesty and generosity, to provoke joy. Both cognitive disciplines focused on standard scenes such as the divine throne room, the heavenly liturgy, and Christ. Carruthers has aptly described similar meditative practices as “the emotionally engaged work of making memory images.”157 Some monks, such as Pachomius and Theodore, might have had a special capacity for such unusual sensory experiences.158 Nevertheless, their frequent prayer meditation suggested that practice played a role in producing revelations; they also discussed their revelations with a group of “great” monks who had visions, which likely functioned as an informal context for instruction in the techniques of mental image cultivation.159 Pachomius’s visions of heaven and hell – though extensive – included stock themes of punishment, dialogue with angels, and a tour through a number of different post-mortem locales. Such topics were likely covered during the “group discussions” on revelatory experience, and drew on Judaeo-Christian apocalyptic literature such as the Ascension of Isaiah, which was clearly popular among early ascetics, despite its eventual ban by Athanasius.160 Ammonas cites the Ascension of Isaiah in Letter 10, in which he equates ascent through the heavenly spheres with moral progress: “Therefore the soul of the perfectly righteous [person] progresses and goes forward until it mounts to the heaven of heavens. If you attain this you have passed all trials. There are even now men on earth who have reached this stage.”161 Some meditative practices from the medieval period followed similarly extensive “scripts,” such as one focusing on the life of Christ, which could include daily meditations over a full week.162 A first person monastic narrative, the so-called Apocalypse of Shenoute, offers an example of a discrete series of revelations, as chronicled in 157 158

159

160

161 162

For a study of this metaphor in Late Antique Latin authors, see Carruthers 1998, 133–135. It is possible (but, of course, cannot be confirmed) that both leaders had a special capacity for visions, just as the “spiritual disciplines” study revealed substantial differences in absorptive capacity among participants. V. Pach. G1 99 (Halkin: 66). Cf. V. Pach. G1 102, in which Pachomius explains his vision to a group of monks in private, and V. Pach. SBo 123, in which a group of visionary elders confirm the ascent of Pachomius’s soul. Copeland 2004 argues that the Apocalypse of Paul was probably composed in an Egyptian monastery. Ammonas, Ep. 10, trans. Chitty, 14. I follow here the concept of the “scripted vision,” a term introduced by Newman to describe lengthy guided meditations from the medieval period (Newman 2005, 25). For the later Byzantine monastic tradition of “interiorized apocalyptic,” see Golitzin 2001.

Prayer and Monastic Progress

215

a number  of progressive visions over multiple months.163 Several of “Shenoute’s” accounts transfer distinctly monastic scenes to the heavenly court: thus he sees Paul blessing (in Hebrew!) “those who arrive first at the assembly to meditate on the holy Scriptures.” Their souls are lit up “through the lightning coming from the words of God.”164 A subsequent vision echoes the descriptions of post-mortem punishments and angelic tours found in Pachomian literature and the Apocalypse of Paul: “I tell you, they taught me one day concerning a presbyter: while they brought his soul from his body, some merciless angels struck him, while their faces were different from one another, being fearful, with fire-smoke blowing from their mouths.” When Shenoute asks his guide the reason for this chastisement, he is told that the priest “ate the things of the church” with prostitutes.165 In short, the Apocalypse of Shenoute suggests that some visions in early Egyptian monasticism followed a regular, scripted sequence in which common themes, such as punishment, were elaborated in countless specific ways; the habits of rhetorical exercise and meditation are intertwined with emotionally striking imaginative practices.

V

Theodore’s Progress: Desiring the Vision of God

The biographical tradition describes in detail Theodore’s spiritual development, from his initial adoption of fasting as a boy living with his family, through his training as a monastic leader by Pachomius, to his eventual (if temporary) demotion, and his actions as head of the Koinonia after the revolt against Horsiesius. This outsized role in the Life of Pachomius has led some scholars to postulate a Life of Theodore that was later added to the founder’s biography.166 In my view, Theodore’s central position is best explained by his efforts to formalize the commemoration of Pachomius; thus he is the probable source of the numerous anecdotes about his own interactions with the beloved founder. On the other hand, Horsiesius must have endorsed this understanding of Theodore’s importance to the Koinonia, as the Great Coptic Life includes an approving coda about his death and subsequent commemoration. Theodore’s progress as described in the biographical tradition is exceptional, rather than typical, and follows hagiographical conventions. Yet 163

164 165 166

CSCO 73: 198–204. According to his Arabic Life, Shenoute visits the heavenly Jerusalem with Mar Victor, the archimandrite of Tabennesi (Amélineau 1888, 334). CSCO 73: 198. CSCO 73:199–200. E.g. Veilleux 1968, 58–68.

216

Cognitive Disciplines

taken together, it presents a short Bildungsroman, offering the most extended surviving account in cenobitic sources of a disciple’s training. And while Theodore’s virtues and talents are frequently emphasized, Pachomius also criticizes his star pupil. In short, his life is an example not only of ascetic excellence, but the need for humility and the power of repentance. The Greek Life concisely explains the reasons for his early success:167 And after entering the monastery, listening and observing the brothers conducting themselves in an orderly fashion, he was zealous in a good way. And, making progress, he was comforted in and empowered by the commandments, while being instructed by Pachomius, who was an imitator of the saints. For he was a wise boy (pais), preserving for himself these three things: purity of heart, speech with a measured grace, and an unquestioning obedience unto death. There was no one better in ascesis and prayer vigils, and by striving he acquired the greater gifts, so that he was a comforter of many who were grieving and a corrector to his seniors.

Thus, obedience to the commandments and personal counseling represent the two primary means of achieving progress, in accordance with standard Pachomian teaching. Theodore’s exceptional asceticism and moving speech set him apart and are associated with his acquisition of spiritual gifts, especially his special ability to console others. Theodore’s spiritual gifts quickly become evident to other monks, and he becomes a “comforter of multitudes in his youth, raising up everyone who had fallen with his smooth speech, for, as it is written, ‘the Spirit blows wherever it pleases’ (John 3:8).”168 During his first year in the Koinonia, Theodore asks Pachomius: “I want you, O my father, to vow to me, ‘you will see God’; if not, what is the profit for me to have been born into the world? Our father Pachomius said to him, ‘Do you want to see him in this age, or in the age to come?’ He answered, ‘I want to see him in the age that endures forever’.”169 Pachomius then warns him that he must keep his heart pure by not consenting to the impure thoughts that enter his mind. Soon after, he receives his first revelation: while working in his cell and reciting scriptures, angels appear before him and hand him keys. Apparently his earthly revelations occur only when he has humbly clarified that his priority is the post-mortem vision of God. Sensing his exceptional spiritual capacities, Pachomius offers to instruct Theodore personally about the need for moderation in ascetic practice. 167 168 169

V. Pach. G1 36 (Halkin: 22). V. Pach. SBo 32 (CSCO 89: 35). V. Pach. SBo 33 (CSCO 89: 36).

Prayer and Monastic Progress

217

While he advises him not to meet with his mother, he does suggest that Theodore should condescend to interact with his own brother, who had recently joined the Koinonia.170 In addition, Pachomius and Theodore collaborate in providing spiritual direction to other monks.171 Theodore’s authority is officially recognized when Pachomius publicly entrusts him with giving the Sunday catechesis, leading some of the “ancients” to complain about his youth;172 despite their opposition, he is subsequently appointed steward of Tabennesi.173 Following this appointment, the Great Coptic Life presents a series of anecdotes about Pachomius and Theodore’s coordinated spiritual direction, and even their joint visions.174 Despite Theodore’s visionary abilities, and his gifts as a speaker and counselor, the Life also highlights the “growing pains” in his spiritual progress. Several mistakes in his care for the souls of disciples are described with frankness, as well as Pachomius’s ensuing rebukes: for example, when he fails to ensure the correct observance of the rules at the bakery, or questions a brother excessively.175 Most significantly, however, when Pachomius falls ill, Theodore reluctantly agrees to the elders’ request that he assume leadership of the Koinonia after his death. After Pachomius has recovered, he rebukes Theodore for undermining his leadership, and forces him to undergo a period of public repentance.176 Although Pachomius eventually declares that Theodore has been forgiven, he ultimately choses Petronius as a successor; Petronius, in his turn, selects Horsiesius. Theodore’s fall from grace further suggests that the pursuit of visions was of ambiguous moral value: it did not save him from vainglory, and indeed may be a symptom of it. Nor is it clear whether Theodore ever “sees God” before his death. In the first joint vision, he watches as Pachomius attempts unsuccessfully to gaze upon the full majesty of the Godhead. In the second, the two observe in prayer “a great throne on which the Lord was seated under the form in which he chose to be seen by them,” while Pachomius presents his disciple. Despite the ubiquitous presence of revelations in the Life  – closely related to the meditative techniques of prayer – their function as a means of legitimating authority remains ambiguous. 170 171 172 173 174 175

176

V. Pach. SBo 35–8. V. Pach. SBo 63. V. Pach. SBo 69. V. Pach. SBo 70. Respectively, V. Pach. SBo 74–75 and V. Pach. SBo 73 and 76. V. Pach. SBo 77 and 80, respectively. Sometimes there is simple lack of communication, which is attributed to demons (V. Pach. SBo 67). V. Pach. G1 107: note that Theodore is punished for thinking about replacing Pachomius.

218

Cognitive Disciplines

VI

Conclusion

As monks progressed, their prayer life, understood as a dialogue with God, changed significantly as well. In the beginning, when disciples simply concentrated on following the rule, God might speak to them through the conscience. And during periods of temptation, such as those faced by Dorotheus, disciples were encouraged to adopt scriptural forms of prayer, especially the numerous appeals to God in the Psalms. In addition to biblical prayer, monks also learned certain techniques, including physical stances to encourage wakefulness and attention; prayer scripts, in which they praised God for the wonder of creation and care for humanity; and meditation on stock images, especially the divine throne room (itself related to fear of God). Especially for the advanced, God talked back: as a result of their prayer practice, Pachomius, Theodore, and other elders experienced revelations concerning the present state of the community, and the future rewards and punishments in heaven and hell. These revelations provoked controversy in the broader church. Pachomius’s charisms were questioned at the synod of Latopolis, and the apocryphal texts that inspired the visionary scripts, such as the Ascension of Isaiah, were forbidden by Athanasius.177 Moreover, the Origenist controversy challenged the widespread practice of meditating on images of Christ and the divine throne room.178 The First Greek Life may reflect this controversy through its cautious appeals to visions. One passage is particularly critical of those who seek visions, but not revelation itself, which is a gift from God:179 One of the siblings asked me, “Tell us about one of your visions,” and I said to him, “A sinner like me does not ask God to see visions. It is against God’s will, and a mistake. But in everything he does by God’s will, even if he should raise a dead man, the servant of God remains unhurt by pride or boasting. For, without God’s permission, he would not even see that Providence governs all things. But all the same, hear about a great vision. For what is greater than such a vision, to see the invisible (Heb 11:27) God in a visible man, his temple?”

The recognition that “Providence governs all” is equivalent to the perception (aisthēsis) of God as creator of the world, which is nurtured through praising God in prayer. The “great vision” is ambiguous, however, as suggested 177 178 179

Ath., Festal Letter 39:21 (trans. Brakke 2010: 61). For debates on the divine image in the Origenist controversy, see, e.g. Clark 1992, 43–84. V. Pach. G1 48.

Prayer and Monastic Progress

219

by the passage itself. It might refer to the heavenly Christ enthroned in majesty, a frequent object of visualization in prayer, and often depicted in sanctuary art. But it might also refer to “a visible man, [God’s] temple,” in other words, whoever enjoys the indwelling of the Spirit, and most prominently, Pachomius himself. This passage provocatively implies an idea that is explicitly stated elsewhere: Pachomius possesses spiritual gifts, including visions, due to his exceptional humility and suffering on behalf of the Koinonia. Even if many disciples are not able to enjoy a vision of Christ, they have access to God through their mediator Pachomius. The idea of the holy man as an image of God was invoked in 399 by Theophilus of Alexandria, who attempted to conciliate anthropomorphite monks by declaring that he saw in them the “face of God.”180 After Pachomius’s death, his spiritual charisms were available to monks who listened to stories about his life or read about it in texts. The process of commemoration was begun by Theodore, whose first oration in the founder’s honor focused on the care of souls and divine revelations as the two most significant aspects of his life. In Chapter 6, I will explore the role of biographical discourse, including the praise of Pachomius as founder, patron, and “temple of God,” in the monastic care of souls.

180

Socr., H.E. 8:11. Cf. Burrows 1987: “Because of the visibility of the invisible God to Pachomius, God becomes “visible” through the apa.”

P a rt   I I I

Collective Heart-Work

Introduction to Part III The directors of cenobia were expected to care for souls not only by counseling individual monks but also by offering guidance to the entire community, through regular group catechesis, which we examined in Chapter  2, as well as collective rituals, to be considered in Part  3. In order to explore this important group aspect of the care of souls, the following two chapters focus on two early Egyptian cenobitic leaders and authors:  Theodore, third successor of Pachomius, who instituted the annual commemoration of his life, celebrating him as a patron and sponsor for obedient disciples (Chapter 6); and Shenoute, who presided over rituals of collective repentance, to which he frequently alludes in his Canons (Chapter 7). A prayer attributed to Theodore reflects the significant emotional anguish experienced by the leader of a large cenobium:1 Because of this he did not rest, but with great zeal he cast his concern upon the Lord, praying and saying, “It is a great struggle for someone to give an account for himself; how much more for many? Therefore I know we are like shadows; we are not guardians of souls. For we do not attain to such a measure. But you who know and have moulded the individual hearts of men, guard us and the whole world from the envious demons, for no one can save us except you, Lord, Lord God of glory.”

Given the burden of responsibility for an entire community’s salvation, Theodore and Shenoute maintained a humble attitude in their writings. Theodore’s prayer also illustrates how understanding the mental lives of cenobitic leaders, especially their relationship with God, formed a key component of the monastic theory of mind. The hagiographical tradition initiated by Theodore portrays Pachomius’s inner life as overwhelmingly 1

V. Pach. G1 132 (Halkin: 83–84).

221

222

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

positive: the founder of the Koinonia triumphs over demonic temptation and social turmoil through his asceticism and cognitive discipline. The Lives focus on his care for the souls of all disciples, including the hidden aspects of this process: the response to demonic assaults on the community, and guidance from God through frequent prayer and revelation. For example, when Pachomius initially hesitates to administer serious disciplinary actions, such as expulsion, his ultimate decision to carry them out is attributed to divine revelation. Finally, the Lives reveal Pachomius’s tearful prayers to God on behalf of the Koinonia. Shenoute, like Pachomius and Theodore, bore the terrible burden of his community’s salvation. Yet the most extensive statement of his efforts on behalf of the White Monastery are not found in hagiography, but rather his own writings, the Canons: nine volumes containing a mixture of rules, exhortations, and personal reflections about his cognitive and affective life. In many respects, they constitute an inverse confession of thoughts, from a leader to his disciples. Shenoute humbly acknowledges his own sinfulness, and openly shares the grief and anxiety provoked by the presence of sin in the monastic federation. Despite these personal insecurities, Shenoute claimed to deliver the voice of God to his congregation, both by quoting scriptures and recounting his own communications with God through prayer and revelations. As in some biographical anecdotes about Pachomius, Shenoute asserts that certain harsh disciplinary acts, such as corporal punishment and expulsion, were divinely commanded. Pachomian hagiography and Shenoute’s Canons are also our primary source for the two major ritual activities of cenobitic monasticism: a commemorative ceremony in honor of the monastic founder, celebrated annually on or near the day of death; and rituals of collective repentance, held at least once per year (four times per year in the White Monastery federation), or under extraordinary circumstances. Both rituals involved the arousal of emotions, the elimination of certain opinions and temptations from disciples’ hearts, and the goal of sharing a “single heart” within the group. In short, commemoration and collective repentance were a key means of forming the monastery as a cognitive and emotional community.2 Theodore’s commemoration of Pachomius was presented as an opportunity for renewed commitment to following his commandments, which 2

As Chaniotis notes, “For this reason alone, cult communities were emotional communities in more than one sense:  They were emotional communities because of the emotions that fundamentally dominated their relation to the Gods; because of the emotions excited by rituals; because of the emotional background of each single communication with divine powers” (Chaniotis 2011, 267).

Collective Heart-Work

223

led to salvation. But it was a fundamentally joyful ceremony, in which disciples praised the accomplishments of Pachomius and celebrated his ongoing role as their advocate. By contrast, Shenoute’s Canons are the most extensive – and perhaps intense – examples of the rhetoric of ekpathy, explored in Chapter 3. They include letters, and declarations that are probably transcribed speeches, in response to situations of conflict within the congregation. Their message reflects the practice of self-scrutiny and repentance associated with the four annual meetings, in which the White Monastery Federations’s rules were read aloud, providing a standard for the monks’ thoughts and behavior. In contrast to the joy of commemorating Pachomius, Shenoute calls for collective repentance, communicating his grief over sin to all of the community’s members. Comparing Theodore and Shenoute Theodore and Shenoute developed the rituals of commemoration and collective rebuke in response to common problems of group discipline, which is not surprising given the intertwined histories of their communities. In addition to having similar challenges as leaders of Late Antique Egyptian cenobia, a direct influence is likely:  Shenoute would have been familiar with Theodore’s life from the Pachomian biographical tradition, and probably also read some of his instructions.3 When Pachomius died in 346 CE, Petronius briefly succeeded him, followed by Horsiesius, who presided over the Koinonia until the general revolt that broke out around 348 CE.4 This led to the appointment of Theodore as leader, a position he maintained until his death in 368 CE. Among the key events of Theodore’s tenure were the speeches of harsh rebuke that he delivered in response to the revolt against Horsiesius: first to the monks at Sheneset, where he was appointed as successor; and then to the assembled leaders of the Koinonia. Both speeches called for repentance and a new commitment to follow the laws; Theodore even makes a “covenant” (diathēkē) with the leaders and assigns them to new positions.5 3

4 5

For Shenoute’s likely reference to the Pachomian biographical tradition, see the Introduction to Part One. Shenoute further describes the reading habits of his community: “sermons of the saints, speeches, and numerous instructions” (Canons 1, CSCO 42: 160). The Pachomian literature examined in Chapter 2, including Theodore’s speeches, are the only known monastic instructions that predate Canons 1. For a full discussion of chronological issues, see Joest 2011. V. Pach. SBo 142 (CSCO 99/100: 275). See the discussion of monastic covenants in Chapter 2, and White Monastery Rule 25 (Layton 2014: 100–101). Theodore’s unilateral actions seem to have been in opposition to a competing view of authority whereby “one monk would serve as the leader of the

224

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

According to the Life, he continued to reassign monks at the annual meetings for the Pascha and the Remission, and a record exists of another speech delivered on such an occasion, which also advocated humility and obedience.6 At another meeting for the Pascha, Theodore delivered an encomium in honor of Pachomius, with a sense of joy rather than mourning, but once again with the objective of promoting obedience to the rules. At some point during this period, on the northern edge of the Koinonia, the monk Pcol founded his own monastic community. Shenoute was born in ca. 347, around the time of the revolt against Horsiesius,7 and joined the community of his uncle Pcol at the age of nine, when Theodore was head of the Koinonia.8 Pcol’s monastery had its own particular tradition of legislation, which he developed based on his familiarity with Pachomian rules as a former monk in the Koinonia.9 About three decades later, there was a revolt against the second leader, Ebonh, and the resulting controversy led to Shenoute’s assumption of leadership over the White Monastery Federation.10 Both Theodore and Shenoute faced the task of disciplining a large monastic community following a rebellion against the founder’s successor.11 In order to do so, they emphasized obedience to the commandments of monastic elders. In his Canons, Shenoute creatively developed Theodore’s monastic rhetoric of corporate rebuke, repentance, and covenant renewal.12 Following Theodore, Shenoute’s speeches were intended to produce tears of repentance and attitudes of obedience in his audience; they were also most likely delivered in an institutional setting, namely the four annual meetings of the White Monastery federation. Although there is no extant biography of Pcol, Shenoute did speak on the day of

6 7 8

9 10

11

12

whole community but he would do so only with the consent of the heads of each monastery,” as proposed in Watts 2010, 98. These events are chronicled in V. Pach. SBo 141–145 and parallels. Emmel 2008, 37. Emmel contests this tradition, arguing that Shenoute’s literary skill suggests that he obtained a grammatical education in nearby Panopolis, and joined the monastery when he was older, serving as Ebonh’s, and possibly Pcol’s secretary (Emmel 2008, 42). Layton 2014, 20. Emmel concurs with Leipoldt on 385 CE as an approximate date for Shenoute’s assumption of leadership at the White Monastery federation (Emmel 2008, 37). The revolt is chronicled in Canons 1 and discussed in Emmel 2004b and Schroeder 2007, 24–53. The same problem is attested for the women’s monastery founded by Augustine’s sister, whose death was followed by a revolt against her successor, apparently in response to her harsh discipline. Augustine sent a rebuke to the community (Ep. 211). Shenoute thus describes the reading habits of his community: “Sermons of the saints, speeches, and numerous instructions” (Canons 1, CSCO 42: 160).

Collective Heart-Work

225

his commemoration;13 and like Theodore, he appealed to the authority of monastic founders more generally, for instance by recalling the tears that the “first father” shed on behalf of the congregation. His opponents, for their part, stated that they felt shame before the eyes of the founder.14 Annual Meetings The most convenient time for collective rituals were the annual meetings, which were held in both the Pachomian Koinonia and the White Monastery federation.15 The individual monasteries of the Koinonia convened twice yearly:  once for the Pascha, when catechumens were baptized and their sins remitted;16 and once on the 20th of Mesore for the “Remission.” The Remission involved not only the settling of economic accounts, but also mutual forgiveness and a general remission of sins:  “forgiveness, purification, and a healthy conscience.”17 The head of the Koinonia typically circulated a letter in advance of these gatherings, probably in imitation of the Festal Letters from the archbishops of Alexandria. Of the seventeen surviving letters ascribed to Pachomian leaders, at least four belong to this genre:  Pachomius’s Letter 5 and Theodore’s Letter 1 for the Pascha; and Pachomius’s Letter 7 and Theodore’s Letter 2 for the Remission. In Theodore’s Letter 1, he warns the catechumens who are expecting the “remission of sins” that there must first be tears and repentance.18 Pachomius’s Letter 7, which was circulated before the annual meeting on 20 Mesore, calls for a period of mutual forgiveness, “according to the command of God;” this period is described as a kind of joint heart-work: “Let 13 14

15

16

17

18

Shenoute, Acephalous Work A6, on which see Layton 2014, 32. Canons 4 (CSCO 42:  118). Similarly, in his rebuke for the revolt against Horsiesius, Theodore appeals to Pachomius: “Doesn’t our righteous father see us like this from the dwelling place of the saints and wonder?” (V. Pach. SBo 142, CSCO 99–100: 188). Stephen Emmel has pointed to the analogy between the four yearly meetings at the White Monastery federation and the twice-per-year meetings of the Pachomian Koinonia: “Under normal circumstances, Shenoute and the other hermits living in the desert near the White Monastery federation entered the main monastery only four times each year, at fixed times appointed for a kind of general assembly such as we know of also in the Pachomian monasteries” (Emmel 2008, 41). V. Pach. SBo 193 (CSCO 89: 183). The annual meeting for the Pascha is discussed in Veilleux 1968, 249–261. Theo., Ep. 2 (Quecke 1975b: 431). See also Pach., Ep. 7, sent to convene the Remission meeting, which calls for mutual forgiveness: “Let each (monk) pardon his brother according to the commandment of God and the laws which were written for us by God. Let each one fulfill his heart with his brother” (Quecke 1975a, 107). The annual meeting for the Remission is discussed in Veilleux 1968, 366–370. Theo., Ep. 2 (Boon: 105–106). The importance of weeping is also mentioned in Pachomius’s Ep. 5:3.

226

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

each one fulfill his heart with his brother.”19 Similarly, in the First Instruction, Pachomius urges his audience “In all vigilance watch your body and your heart,” equating this practice with maintaining peace with fellow monks.20 Besa’s prayer to God in a time of famine invokes a similar sentiment of group concord, as he requests a communal reception of the Spirit, leading to a pure heart and the acquisition of discernment: “Do not remember our former acts of lawlessness, but let a pure heart arise in us and let a correct spirit be renewed within us, and make us worthy that a spirit of discernment dwell in us, so that we may discern between good and evil.”21 All of these passages suggest that the annual meetings provided an opportunity for reconciliation and renewal, which are sometimes described as a coordinated or collective practice of the heart. In addition to the letters circulated in advance, the leader of the Koinonia addressed the entire monastic body at the annual meetings. The content of these speeches would have been quite varied, including Theodore’s initial encomium to Pachomius, examined at length in Chapter 6.22 Theodore’s Third Instruction, for which the beginning is lost, was also probably delivered at the annual meeting, at some point after the revolt against Horsiesius, to which it refers.23 Horsiesius’s Letter 4 was also likely written on the occasion of the Pascha, suggesting that this Pachomian practice continued into the period of Shenoute’s childhood: it contains exhortations much like the Canons, namely to remember the commandments of Pachomius, and not to protest the reassignments, a practice Theodore had initiated following the revolt.24 The four annual meetings of the White Monastery federation took place over an entire week, during which the three congregations would assemble together.25 Only two of the meeting times are specified in the extant

19 20 21 22

23

24

25

Pach., Ep. 7:1. Pach., Instr. 1:36. (CSCO 159: 14). Cf. Instr. 1:41, 43, 58–61, on the theme of forgiveness. Besa, Frag. 16 (CSCO 157: 43); cf. Hebrews 5:14. Pachomius’s Homily on the Six Days of the Pascha (Instr. 2), a theological meditation on its parallels to the creation week, was presumably read during this gathering, although there is no explicit reference to it. Theodore praises a certain John of Thmoushons for not participating in the revolt against Horsiesius (Theo., Instr. 3:46). His Second Instruction, although highly fragmentary, appears to have shared the same emphasis on following the commandments as the Third Instruction. Hor., Ep. 4:5 and 4:7. Goehring notes that the annual Pascha meeting “was a time at which complaints about such matters could be expected to be at a height. Horsiesius’s confrontation of them in a pre-Easter letter would be aimed at silencing the debate before it arose” (Goehring 1999, 235). Cf. Rules 22–24 (Layton 2014: 98–101). Those who have requested to be made monks are to participate in the four yearly meetings (Rule 370, Layton 2014: 246–247).

Collective Heart-Work

227

rules: the first week of Lent and the week of Pascha.26 Early in his career as leader of the federation, Shenoute directed that the monastic rulebook and some of his own writings be read at these gatherings of the entire community. Thus, he writes at the end of Canons 1:27 If they happen to read them in the Houses, nothing stands in the way. And also if they happen to read from them, whenever they want to, on days when all are gathered in the assembly, scrutinizing their words and their deeds, according to our canons, nothing stands in the way. However, on these four yearly occasions they should be read without fail, even if there is someone who hates to hear them because he hates his very soul.

This passage suggests two different contexts for the recitation of the Canons. First, they may be read at the Wednesday and Friday instructions delivered by housemasters, or to the entire congregation during the three weekly instructions given by a senior officer.28 Second, they must be read at the four yearly meetings. Indeed, as I will argue in Chapter 7, many speeches and letters in the Canons were probably delivered immediately before, during, or after these periods of assembly, when Shenoute visited the monastery to administer discipline, including expulsion for sinful behavior.29 Pastoral Responsibilities Basil of Caesarea clearly describes the three primary responsibilities for “one who is entrusted with the care of all” in his Long Rules.30 First, the monastic director must declare “the ordinance of God” before his monks so that they do not violate it. Second, when they sin, he must teach them 26

27 28

29

30

“The weeks of fasting in which we gather – the first week in Lent, and the holy Great Pascha, as well as the other pair of weeks. . .” (Rule 314, trans. Layton 2014: 223). One of the remaining two may have been held in Mesore, like the Pachomian gathering for the Remission. Canons 1 (trans. Layton 2007: 68). As Layton further suggests: “Might it be that Shenoute’s Canons give us some examples of the kind of urgent rhetoric that was delivered in the great assembly meetings, before an entire congregation, where instructors occasionally made use of the ancient rule books, just as Shenoute does in his Canons?” (Layton 2008, 79). In Canons 2, Shenoute describes mediating a dispute with the women’s monastery around the Pascha: “The Lord Jesus knows that, because of care for your children and your siblings, and care for you, and for all of us at once, I have not gone to the place from which I came since the first day of the great Pascha” (CSCO 157: 123). Stephen Emmel has also noted that the four periods of assembly would be a logical time for Shenoute, who lived most of the year in the desert as an anchorite, to deliver his sermons: “It was during these periods of assembly that volume 1 of Shenoute’s Canons was to be read or heard by every member of the three congregations, and it seems likely that these periods of assembly also provided most of the occasions on which Shenoute delivered sermons, whether to the assembled male monks, or to a congregation of people from outside the monastery who came specifically to hear him on these special occasions” (Emmel 2008, 41). LR 25 (PG 31: 984).

228

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

“the method of reformation.” Third, the director must give an account for each individual before God, and if he fails in his duties, his “blood will be required of the Superior’s hands, as scripture says (Ezek. 3:20).” Pachomian leaders, including Theodore and Shenoute, frequently refer to these same three pastoral duties when addressing their monastic community, beginning with the third, which in a sense is the most basic. The responsibility for each monk corresponds more closely to the individual counseling and cognitive disciplines considered in Part Two than the obligations to the whole group explored in Part Three. Horsiesius gives the responsibility a collective interpretation in his exhortation to leaders that they must give an account “for every flock over which the Holy Spirit has assigned you,” melding the blood metaphor from Ezekiel with the injunction in Acts 2:28 “to shepherd the church of God, which [Christ] acquired with his own blood.”31 Elsewhere he exhorts all those in a position of authority, including seconds, housemasters, and house seconds, not to neglect the correction of sinners: “For, if anyone dies because of us, our soul will be held under accusation for the soul of that person.”32 The need to give an account for each monk is also invoked when the leader disputes with disciples:  Shenoute defends expulsion by appealing to his responsibilities to all members in the community, who are endangered by the presence of sinners. He declares that his opponents are responsible for their own “blood,” and he will refute their accusations at the divine tribunal.33 The responsibility of teaching the “ordinance of God” is central to the writings of both Theodore and Shenoute. Throughout his Third Instruction, Theodore emphasizes loyalty to the monastic legislation and covenant.34 He assures his disciples that, by obeying Pachomius’s commandments, they will inherit the promises that God has made to him.35 Theodore offers exhortations on general themes such as cheerful obedience to superiors, as well as specific rules, for instance the instruction of monks at the gatehouse.36 Finally, Theodore declares his own adherence to the law in judging monastic disputes: “We will act in accordance with the law which Apa gave, from a small commandment to a great one.”37 31

32 33 34 35 36 37

Hors., Test. 40 (Boon:  135). See also Theodore’s exhortation to those responsible for the care of souls: “Let us fear very much lest, through negligence, a soul be seized for destruction, when it was possible to save it” (Theo., Instr. 3:30, CSCO 159: 53); cf. Instr. 3:24. Hors., Test. 13 (Boon: 117), part of a larger exhortation to monastic leaders in Testament 13–18. See the discussion of Canons 4 in Chapter 7. Relevant passages include Theo., Instr. 3:3, 3:24, 3:27, 3:36. Theo., Instr. 3:5; 3:23; 3:30; 3:47. Theo., Instr. 3:17, for which see the discussion in Chapter 2. Theo., Instr. 3:21 (CSCO 159: 50).

Collective Heart-Work

229

According to the biographical tradition, he made the rules of Pachomius a cornerstone of his care for souls, showing “great care in his heart day and night on account of the souls which the Lord gathered to him to guard with great strength, according to all the rules and canons which our holy father laid down for us as a law in the Koinonia of the siblings.”38 Similarly, Shenoute frequently quotes the traditional laws of the White Monastery federation in his Canons: Layton has identified and collected 581 examples, which provide a measure according to which the disciples can regulate their behavior.39 The final responsibility for monastic directors was to teach “the method of reformation,” including specific discipline for individual infractions, and repentance for the entire congregation through collective weeping. Theodore repeatedly emphasizes the need for repentance, which he describes in detail in the Third Instruction:40 Let us thank God, the father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that he has made us worthy of giving us a little joy in the multitude of our troubles, as a stillness comes upon our bent heart, through the greatness of our humility and the strength of our faith. We pray strongly, with tears, that mercy and forgiveness come about for us through God, so that he may not bring it to a reckoning with us, but not pay attention to the sins of any one of us, but that a renewal may occur for us through his help, that he may purify us of the evil desires of the soul and body. . .

He further associates this heart-work of repentance with a covenant renewal, calling upon each disciple to:  return to the beginning of his vocation, that is, looking forward to the promises which God promised our father Apa, he whose commandments we have sworn [to observe], walking truly in the fulfillment of the law, which is this: all of us a single heart, toiling for each other, practicing love of one’s brother, compassion, and humbling ourselves, according to the saying of the apostle Peter (Acts 4:32).41

In Theodore’s rebuke of the leaders who rebelled against Horsiesius, he makes an explicit reference to a covenant: 38 39

40

41

V. Pach. SBo 195 (CSCO 107: 189). Cf. V. Pach. SBo 195 (CSCO 107: 147). Layton 2014; an additional fourteen are taken from Besa’s writings. Many more rules were likely contained in the lost sections of the Canons. Theo., Instr. 3:23 (CSCO 159: 50–51); cf. Instr. 3:18 and 3:37–38. Penitence in the Pachomian tradition is discussed in Veilleux 1968, 340–365; on similar teachings in the Exegesis on the Soul, see Lundhaug 2017. Theo., Instr. 3:23 (CSCO 159: 51); earlier he similarly warns against going back on the initial commitment (3:20).

230

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity So now, brothers, if we have sinned, let us repent. Behold, I will establish with you a covenant in the presence of the Lord today, for the granting of forgiveness for the contempt in which some of you are, because you have attempted to disperse the holy place that the Lord granted to our holy father Pachomius because of the prayers and tears which he made to Him on our behalf.42

Once he had assumed leadership of the federation, Theodore’s speeches of rebuke included even more urgent calls for repentance, which were intended to induce the audience to shed tears of compunction. At the beginning of his rebuke following the revolt, he is said to speak in “heart-pain.”43 The disciples in the audience immediately wept, and he encouraged them to do so: “And when the sound of their weeping diminished, then he [Theodore] himself wept loudly.”44 The authors conclude by emphasising the power of Theodore’s words to produce tears:  “When they heard this speech, they cried out and wept all the more, through the contrition of the Spirit of the Lord which moved their heart through his words.”45 For Theodore, this weeping “is a sign that your repentance has not yet been destroyed, as long as you perceive and you weep.”46 Finally, Theodore adopted a standard ritual procedure for speeches of collective repentance: he delivered them standing as the members of the congregation mourned, shedding tears and prostrating themselves.47 Shenoute adopted Theodore’s rhetoric of ekpathy in his Canons, which combined the recitation of monastic laws with calls to repentance. His objective in provoking repentance is explicitly stated in the scribal note at the end of the first volume:48 Those who do not want to repent of their evil deeds after they listen to all the words which are in the book will be ashamed in front of those who are able to go down from heaven to earth, and also to go back up to heaven. The fire of Gehenna will inherit them. Your sins have not been quenched, because you have not quenched them through tears and those worthy of the mercy of God. It is you who have not extracted yourselves from these deeds of pestilence. 42 43 44 45 46

47 48

V. Pach. SBo 142 (CSCO 99/100: 275). V. Pach. SBo 141 (CSCO 99/100: 272). V. Pach. SBo 141 (CSCO 99/100: 273). V. Pach. SBo 141 (CSCO 99/100: 274). V. Pach. SBo 141 (CSCO 99/100: 273). For the substantial variation in meaning attributed to weeping across cultures, see Lutz 1999. V. Pach. SBo 188; see the discussion in Chapter 3. Shenoute, Canons 1 (Munier 1916: 115–116).

Collective Heart-Work

231

Shenoute associated repentance with both inner heart-work and external, visible practices: “I push you with great power so that you put aside enmity and dispute and hatred and strife and pollution and theft and deceit and slander and all guile, and everything evil, and that you turn to love and peace and truth and purity and all humbleness and everything good.”49 It also involved reconciliation with God and monastic siblings:  “We were unable to persuade [those who have left the monastery] to turn themselves from everything evil and reconcile with God and remove from their heart all enmity and make peace with their neighbor.”50 Given the importance of mutual forgiveness, it is no surprise repentance was also collective: “Even if, by a mistake, we ignorantly act wickedly, then we share blame with our companions so that we repent, so the Lord can pour his blessing on us mercifully and patiently.”51 Like Theodore, Shenoute frequently promotes crying as a means of practising repentance, especially in the context of monastic oratory. Many letters and speeches in the Canons end with references to weeping in bitterness: “Do not forget what the prophet has said, while crying: ‘Bitterness and gall! They will remember me, and my soul is bowed down with me. This I will place in my heart’.”52 Shenoute himself describes how he weeps as he dictates the Canons to a scribe: “I say these things as I weep, just as I  have wept many times, as the Lord is my witness. And also our little brother who writes these words is a witness, as he is disturbed and cries, looking at me as I cry, while my tears run down my cheeks and onto the ground.”53 Shenoute’s reference to the tears of the secretary who transcribes the letter explicitly shows that this crying is meant to serve as an example for the entire congregation. In conclusion, the collective rituals instituted at the yearly meetings were a means for monastic leaders, such as Theodore and Shenoute, to fulfill their pastoral obligations to the full community of disciples. Both also sought to manage conflict, by promoting repentance, or promoting the solidarity of a single heart. In the next two chapters, we will explore in more detail the commemoration of founders and collective repentance, including the connection of this ritual heart-work to the monastic 49 50 51

52 53

Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 144). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 149). Discussed in Krawiec 2002, 140. Collective repentance is also found in RM 14, which stipulates that the entire community should kneel in tearful prayer on behalf of an excommunicated sinner who is doing penance before the altar. E.g. Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 77). Shenoute, Canons 2 (CSCO 157: 120).

232

Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity

theory of mind. The story of Pachomius, like monastic hagiography more generally, afforded disciples a new perspective on their leader, detailing his mental life as it related to the care of souls, and his secret prayers to God on behalf of the congregation. In the Canons, Shenoute similarly revealed his internal thoughts, emotions, and prayers to the disciples, in a kind of reverse confession; he sought to provide an example of repentance, and urged the congregation to expel polluting opinions and thoughts from their hearts, just as he had expelled sinners.

Ch apter 6

The Lives (and Minds) of Others Hagiography, Cognition, and Commemoration

“[Melania the Younger] decided for herself how much she ought to write every day, and how much she should read in the canonical books, how much in the collections of homilies. And after she was satisfied with this activity, she would go through the Lives of the fathers as if she were eating dessert.” Gerontius, V. Mel. 231 “ ‘Blessed be the God of our righteous father Pachomius, who has become a guide to eternal life for us through the labor of his prayers.’ Then all the siblings answered with a single mouth and a single voice, ‘Blessed be our pious and righteous father, our father Pachomius, in everything and in all his works’.” V. Pach. SBo 1942

This discussion of Melania’s voracious reading habits by her biographer Gerontius reveals much about the role of hagiography in the monastic care of souls. On the one hand, the lives of saints – both living and dead – enjoyed an integral, even privileged place alongside scripture and sermons. On the other, as Gerontius implies, reading them was considered a supplementary, pleasurable, and potentially controversial endeavor, a kind of ascetic dessert. The importance of hagiography for cultural history has become increasingly clear over the past several decades, as scholars have mined these texts for information about the holy man, for historical evidence, societal expectations, and ideologies.3 In this chapter, I explore disciples’ various cognitive and affective responses to the lives of other

1

2 3

SC 90: 174. Paulinus of Nola described to Sulpicius Severus how he read the Life of Martin to Melania’s grandmother, Melania the Elder, whom he describes as “most zealous for such historical works [on saints]” (Ep. 29:14) (CSEL 29: 261); for the popularity of the Acts of Paul and Thecla among elite Roman female ascetics, see Cooper 1994, 70–72. V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186). The literature on hagiography is vast, as are approaches to the genre; see, e.g., Brown 1971 (social history/anthropology); Cox-Miller 1983 (cultural history); Rapp 1998 (rhetorical); Burrus 2007a and 2007b (critical theory); Barnes 2010 (history). On hagiography and the cult of saints, see Krueger 2004, 63–93.

233

234

Collective Heart-Work

monks.4 Within the cenobitic context especially, the life of the founder was recounted in annual commemorative ceremonies of great significance to community discipline.5 The pleasure of hagiography was highly significant for its ancient audience, a key fact that has been largely overlooked by scholars.6 The critical theorist Roland Barthes famously suggested a typology of pleasure derived from literary texts, based on various individual neuroses.7 Recent work in cognitive cultural studies is more directly applicable to the ancient world. Lisa Zunshine has posited that literature, and especially the novel, entertains readers by training them in theory of mind: “We may see the pleasure afforded by fictional narratives as grounded in our awareness of the successful testing of our mind-reading adaptations, in the respite that such a testing offers us from our everyday mind-reading uncertainties, or in some combination of the two.”8 In this view, the enjoyment of fiction rests in readers’ playful testing of their assumptions about characters’ inner motivations, which sometimes must be inferred. The perspective on the inner life of saints offered in many hagiographic texts would have alleviated the “everyday mind reading uncertainties” of disciples learning the monastic theory of mind. The Pachomian Lives in particular revealed a great deal about the motivations and internal deliberations of both disciples and monastic leaders. The reader shares in Pachomius’s experience of cardiognosticism, gaining a privileged access to the saint’s mind as he or she practices the care of souls. Following Zunshine’s theory, the disciple’s enjoyment of hagiography results from the new perspectives gained on the motivations for monastic discipline, which leaders often carried out in publicly, without necessarily revealing their reasons for doing so. This new perspective on the lives and thoughts of saints is implied by a recurring figure in hagiographic literature, the monastic voyeur: a gazing 4

5

6

7

8

Note Peter Brown’s earlier and more general appeal to cognitive psychology in the study of hagiography: “The raw dramas of the lives of saints entered the thought flow of an entire group of men and women. . .” (Brown 2000, 20). Thus, for the purposes of this study, “hagiography” does not always imply a written document; it may also refer to an oration in honor of a saint (some of which were themselves transcribed). Burrus 2007b explores the erotic pleasure, including from painful renunciation, expressed in hagiography. Barthes’s views are elegantly summarized by Jonathan Culler: “Barthes imagines a typology of pleasures based on reading neuroses: the fetishist treasures the fragment or turn of phrase; the obsessional is a manipulator of metalanguages and glosses; the paranoid a deep interpreter, seeker of hidden meanings; and the hysteric is an enthusiast who abandons all distance to throw himself or herself into the text” (Culler 2010, citing Barthes 1975, 63). Zunshine 2006, 20.

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

235

disciple, secretly following the leader, uncovering hidden aspects of their ascetic conduct.9 The monastic voyeur represents an inversion of disciplinary norms, a reversal of the hierarchy of surveillance in a kind of literary carnivalesque.10 Another example of the carnivalesque in hagiography is the reverse confession, in which leaders provide anecdotes about their own lives, sometimes under questioning by disciples. In this chapter, I explore various portraits of the monastic voyeur as an exemplary (if paradoxical) figure for indications of disciples’ expected responses to hagiography. These portraits also suggest further areas of training the monastic theory of mind, such as learning how to appreciate the possibility of unobserved virtue in humble, anonymous disciples. The Pachomian biographical tradition featured the founder’s hidden prayer life, including his initial revelations about building the monastic community,11 and his covenant with God to care for souls.12 It also emphasizes the secret intercessory supplications offered by Pachomius and his successor Theodore on behalf of the Koinonia. Theodore’s efforts to remember the life and thoughts of Pachomius – initiated at one of the annual meetings – constitute the best evidence for the reception of hagiography in an early cenobium. The second part of this chapter explores Theodore’s ritual of commemoration for Pachomius as founding father of the Koinonia, including praise for his patronage of obedient disciples, drawing on related evidence from other early monastic communities.

I.

Imitation

An important goal of hagiography was instruction through mimesis, or imitating the example of others, a widely recognized educational practice in Greco-Roman culture.13 Pachomius himself urged the imitation of biblical saints, exhorting his monks to “emulate the life of the saints and conduct your life in their virtues.”14 But the desire to emulate others was not without its contradictions, as is evident in the striking portrait of a monastic voyeur offered by Ambrose in his lecture on virginity: “My words 9

10 11 12 13 14

For more on the gaze see Frank 2000, passim; Krueger 2010, 210. I use the term “voyeur” not because this gaze always has sexual connotations (though in some cases it does), but rather because it usually involves the violation of monastic rules. For Bakhtin’s notion of the carnival and carnivalesque, see Denith 1995, 65–87. E.g. V. Pach. SBo 12, 17, 22. On Pachomius’s covenant, see the discussion in Chapter 2. Brown 1983. Pach., Instr. 1:6 (CSCO 159: 1); in 1:18 he suggests that cenobites imitate Abraham, Lot, Moses, and Samuel, and that anchorites imitate the prophets.

236

Collective Heart-Work

have sketched the likeness of your virtue, you may see the reflection of the gravity, as it were, in the mirror of this discourse. If you have received any pleasure from my ability, all the fragrance in this book is yours.”15 While Ambrose’s words are in earnest, his image is provocative, leaving open the possibility of understanding ascetic strivers as narcissists who gaze intently at biblical figures as if viewing their own image; moreover, he emphasizes the pleasure of his discourse, rather than its moral utility.16 Emulation, it seems, evokes pride and seems to conflict with the monastic ideal of humility. This ambivalence is reflected in the alternative figure of the humble, obedient saint, which is clearly juxtaposed with the zealous emulator in the Pachomian biographical tradition, through the contrasting portraits of Silvanus and Theodore. Silvanus is described alternately as a boy or former stage actor who gains fame in the Koinonia for his humility,17 while Theodore’s life demonstrates his exceptional ascetic achievement and skill at teaching others, in imitation of Pachomius. According to the First Greek Life, as a boy Silvanus is almost sent away from the monastery as punishment for his laughter, but is given a second chance by Pachomius. He becomes a model of obedience, following every order of his spiritual director in silence, with his eyes down: “He would not eat a vegetable leaf unless he was commanded it. . .and he practiced asceticism sufficiently.”18 During one of his lessons, Pachomius speaks of “a man whose like I have not seen since I became a monk.” Theodore asks if he is greater than Petronius or Cornelius, to which Pachomius replies:19 Why do you name others? For he is greater than even you. According to time [as a monk] and asceticism and knowledge you are his fathers, but he is greater according to the depth of his humility and the purity of his conscience. For, having bound the beast warring against you, you have placed him under your feet. But if you are careless, loosed again, it will rise against you. But Silvanus has killed it.

Theodore and other senior monks practice asceticism in emulation of Pachomius, and thus enjoy an elevated position in the monastic hierarchy. 15 16

17

18 19

Ambrose, De virginitate 2.6.39. Figures of the monastic voyeur often contain “luminous details,” that is, literary “tears where energies, desires, and repressions flow out into the world” (Greenblatt and Callagher 2001, 15 and 209); cf. the insightful application of this concept to hagiography in Cox-Miller 2003, 423. In one tradition, Pachomius reprimands Silvanus for laughing too much; he then reforms himself, humbly toiling in obscurity and obedience. V. Pach. G1 105 (Halkin: 68). V. Pach. G1 105 (Halkin: 69).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

237

On the other hand, the episode that immediately follows this anecdote recounts how Pachomius demoted Theodore for agreeing to lead the Koinonia after his death.20 Yet Silvanus is to be commended for his greater humility, and serves as a model of repentance for all monks. We will now explore both hagiographic ideals in greater detail. Emulation The drive to practice mimesis is highlighted already in the prologue to the Life of Anthony, which was published at some point between 356 and 362 CE and became the most important literary model for monastic hagiography. The author offers a programmatic statement in the preface, presenting the Life as a kind of open letter to the “siblings in foreign parts:”21 But because you asked me about the way of life of the blessed Antony, desiring to learn how he took up asceticism, who he was prior to this, and what the end of his life was like, and whether the things told about him are true, so that you also may bring yourselves to the emulation (zēlon) of that man, I have received your request with great eagerness, for to me also the mere recollection of Antony is of very profitable utility. And I know that you, having heard, after marveling at that man, will also desire to emulate (zēlōsai) his determination.

Antony is explicitly offered as a paragon for mimesis, in a kind of “noble rivalry” (Greek) rather than pride-drive competition. This sentiment is consistent with the Greco-Roman tradition, in which emulation (zēlos) is an acceptable motivation for imitation, or simply a synonym for it. Thus, Aristotle, in a discussion of literary mimesis, clearly distinguishes emulation from envy (phthonos);22 the same idea is advanced for ethical mimesis by Pseudo-Libanius, whose model of a paraenetic letter begins by exhorting the recipient to emulate virtuous men.23 The authors of the First Greek Life of Pachomius present their hagiographic enterprise as the latest stage in a continuous chain of literary and ethical mimesis, which proves the recent monastic founders to be inheritors of the biblical legacy:24 20 21 22

23 24

V. Pach. G1 106–107. V. Ant. prol. (SC 400: 126). Arist., Rhet. 1388ab. Ps.-Longinus also approves of the former emotion in his work on literary aesthetics (On the Sublime, 13:2–14:3). Ps.-Lib., Epist. 52. V. Pach. G1 17 (Halkin: 11); on the other hand, the authors acknowledge that their scriptural imitation was also an expansion: “[Pachomius] endured many temptations of the demons, learning from the holy Scriptures, and most of all from the Gospel. Part of the struggle of the saints was not

238

Collective Heart-Work Therefore, “the things that we have heard and known and our fathers have told us must not be hidden from another generation” (Ps. 78:3). For, as we have been taught, we know that these (things) in the Psalm are the signs and powers brought about by God on behalf of Moses and those after him. And likewise, from the same benefit as those (predecessors) enjoyed, we have also recognised these, the current fathers, as the children and imitators of those (predecessors), so that to us and “to the coming generation” (Ps. 71:18), until the end of the world, it might be made known “that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever” (Heb 13:8).

Thus, the hagiographer inscribes the life of Pachomius and other “fathers” alongside the biblical accounts of Moses and Jesus, the prototypical lawgivers of the Old and New Covenants. Moreover, language suggesting kinship is used to describe the transmission of virtue through mimesis: the monastic founders are portrayed as the children of biblical heroes, while the disciples  – as “infants”  – are in turn their children, with the corresponding obligation to imitate them. Ambrose, in his address to virgins, similarly emphasizes the importance of examples (his own are mostly biblical), appealing to “a kind of hereditary practice of ancestral virtue.”25 Antony himself is said to have developed as a monk primarily through the imitation of several desert hermits, learning a different skill from each one: “And if he heard of a zealous man anywhere, going forth like a wise bee, he sought him, and he did not return to his own place, if he had not seen him and taken from him, as it were, provisions on the road to virtue.”26 This model of diffuse mimesis – whereby particular virtues or practices are selected from a variety of teachers – has its parallel in cenobitic monasticism: the Rule of the Master justifies much of its discipline by making references to hagiographic texts. For instance, Paul’s daily meal, as described in Jerome’s popular Life, provided the model for the Italian monks’ ration of a half-loaf of bread; and proper decorum for greeting traveling monks was based on the description of Paul’s meeting with Antony in the same work.27 Despite this use of diverse hagiographic exempla, the dynamics of imitation within a cenobium were quite different than the anchoritic model

25

26

27

clarified in writing; the divine Scriptures, while showing the way to eternal life, use abbreviated speech.” According to V. Pach. G1 99, they are composing a memorial on the model of the Life of Antony. Ambr., De virginitate 2.1.2. Thus, Ambrose explicitly claims for Christianity the importance of ancestral virtue, so central to the Roman paideia in which he was steeped. V. Ant. 3 (SC 400: 136). The life of Antony himself is presented as a “sufficient model of asceticism for monks” (prol., SC 400: 126). RM 26, 71; cf. 11 (Life of Eugenia) and 26 (Lives of the Fathers).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

239

proposed in the Life of Antony. John Cassian quotes Abba Pinufius, priest of a monastic community near Panephysis, on proper mimesis:28 In order to obtain more easily to this (virtue), you should seek out, while you live in the community, examples of a perfect life which are worthy of imitation; for, beyond the fact that a life that has been scrutinized and refined is found in few, there is a question of utility to be considered – that a person is more carefully schooled and formed for the perfection of this chosen orientation (namely, the cenobitic life) by the example of one.

This hierarchical strategy of imitating a single individual, rather than a number of different monks, was the primary model of mimesis in cenobitism. Thus, Theodore is presented as following the example of Pachomius alone: “Our father Theodore was making every good progress (prokopē), conducting himself with great fortitude, and he was also growing up in the teachings he heard from our father Pachomius, as he walked according to his example in all things.”29 Similarly, Horsiesius is described as emulating (zēlōn) Pachomius.30 These examples suggest that a certain degree of open emulation was tolerated, and even rewarded: “The more they emulated (ezēloun) one another’s achievements, the more they progressed (proekopton), especially seeing before them someone powerful in the Spirit, in whom was Christ.”31 In short, even a kind of competitive mutual emulation was deemed acceptable for advanced disciples, who nevertheless held Pachomius as the ultimate standard.32 Imitation in the monastic context was tied to class and status only in classical paideia, where it was largely an elite pursuit. Although Horsiesius’ background is unknown, Theodore was from a prosperous urban family, and Petronius – Pachomius’ first, though extremely short-lived, successor – donated a large area of land to the Koinonia before joining it. Pachomius publicly praised their efforts at emulation, and when certain elders criticized Theodore’s appointment as a leader, he lauded him, citing his progress: “Do not think that the kingdom of heaven is only for elders. . .I tell you, Horsiesius, making progress (prokoptōn) is a golden lamp in the house

28

29 30

31 32

Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:40. Antony himself, after collecting virtues from numerous different elders, is himself presented as a “sufficient model of discipline” (V. Ant., prol.). V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 35) “Abba Horsiesius, in the midst of the siblings, was emulating the life of Abba Pachomius” (V. Pach. G1 199; Halkin: 77). V. Pach. G1 105 (Halkin: 69) Thus, Pachomius criticizes the anchorite who “does not bear the burden of people [other ascetics], but neither does he see those who practice [a virtuous] politeia, so that he imitate their behaviour and virtuous politeia” (V. Pach. SBo 106, CSCO 89: 137).

240

Collective Heart-Work

of the Lord.”33 Indeed, it seems that Pachomian leaders were often praised even in routine situations, such as a correspondence: Horsiesius, for example, writes to “his beloved son, Theodore, who is honored and truly worthy of Love. . .First of all, I greet your piety and disposition, which is perfect in everything good.”34 Despite the focus on humility, then, public praise was offered in response to monastic leaders. Abba Pinufius regretted that he was not able to practice humility at his own monastery in Panephysis because of his fame; he thus fled to the Thebaid and entered the monastery of Tabennisi, which appealed to him due to its reputation for strict rule, and his desire for anonymity: “Believing in it he would go unrecognized because of the remoteness of the region and that he could hide himself easily because of the vastness of the monastery and the multitude of the siblings.”35 He is initially treated with suspicion because of his age, but is eventually admitted and assigned demeaning tasks in the garden under the tutelage of a younger brother.36 Pinufius embraced these assignments humbly, even continuing his work at night in secret; after three years, a traveling monk recognizes him and reveals his identity to the Tabennisiots. Pinufius flees again, this time absconding at Cassian’s monastery in Palestine, where Egyptian monks on pilgrimage discover him. In the Lausiac History, Macarius of Alexandria, dressed as a workman, anonymously joins the Tabennisiots, this time under Pachomius.37 A story in the sixth-century Life of Fulgentius continues the topos of monastic leaders’ desire to live humbly and anonymously under a rule. Fulgentius, while serving as abbot of a community in North Africa, reads Cassian (no doubt the Pinufius story just discussed), and decides to flee his post and travel to Egypt to live incognito in a monastery; he halts this plan only when he is advised of the Egyptians’ theological “heresy.”38 Later, he attempts to abandon the monastery he has founded, after “he considered for a long time how he might cast off the burden of his present responsibility, and, under the direction of others, he might himself live under a rule instead of transmitting the rule of living to others.”39 Fulgentius’ ongoing efforts to escape his responsibilities suggest that the position of a monastic leader is spiritually inferior to that of a humble, obedient monk. Yet he is 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

V. Pach. G1 119 (Halkin: 77), quoting Wisdom of Solomon 7:48–49. Hors., Ep. 2 (CSCO 159: 65). Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:30. As we have seen, such hazing is typical among monks who have recently joined the monastery. Pall., HL 18. V. Fulg. 8; an excellent analysis of this text is found in Leyser 2007. V. Fulg. 11 (PL 65: 131–132).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

241

ultimately unsuccessful in his attempt at anonymity, according to his hagiographer, because “he was conspicuous among the others in his wondrous knowledge and distinctive eloquence,” so that his disciples discover him there and bring him back.40 These episodes reveal a fundamental paradox of the care of souls: Fulgentius’ innate excellence shines through even as a disciple, suggesting that he is destined for leadership; and yet he considers the life of humility and obedience to be the greater calling, to the extent that he perilously neglects his own duties in order to attain it. The stories of Pinufius, Macarius, and Fulgentius thus illustrate the ambiguities of emulation and praise in a cenobitic environment: the leaders who are to be imitated often seek anonymity and a life of humble obedience. The same ambiguity is expressed for the less virtuous:  while some may be motivated to zealously imitate the lives of the saints, others may see in them their own faults. Nilus of Ancyra, a fifth-century ascetic teacher, describes these possible responses to hagiography in his panegyric of Albianus, a local hero who became an anchorite in the Holy Land:41 For some will be zealous in every way for the virtue of those [saints], straight away receiving a desire for it, because their soul is spurred on by a certain natural impulse towards the good; and others will marvel at this [virtue], even if some wicked attachment hinders its imitation, while weighing themselves, and determining by how much they lack the good.

While some members of Nilus’s audience will be struck with a desire to emulate the life of Albinus, others will humbly realize the extent to which they fall short of his virtue, as well as their inability to imitate him. In the following section, we will consider an alternative model for such monks: the humble saint. Models of Humility and Concealed Sanctity The figure of the humble saint, represented by Silvanus in the Pachomian biographical tradition, quickly became widespread in hagiography. The appeal of this model of obedience is also reflected in pilgrims’ reports about cenobitic groups, which focus primarily on their institutional structure, rather than the virtues of the founders or leaders. For example, the authors of the Lausiac History and the Historia Monachorum in Aegypto describe with great admiration the complex structure of the Tabennesiots’ community, neglecting to mention Pachomius or his successors, in contrast to 40 41

V. Fulg. 14:30 (PL 65: 132). Nil., Alb. (PG 79: 697).

242

Collective Heart-Work

the usual focus on the exploits of individual anchorites.42 The same trend is evident in Jerome, who reports to Eustochium on the exemplary obedience of the “cenobites,” by which he likely means the Pachomians. In particular, he discusses their organization into groups of ten, aspects of their liturgy, the function of the deans and steward, daily life (including prayer and fasting), and special topics, such as care of the sick.43 Finally, Cassian offers a long description in the Institutes of the way of life in Egyptian cenobia, including the Tabennisiots.44 Like Jerome, he focuses on their obedience, especially as reflected in the instruction of novices. This sub-genre called attention to the underappreciated, rank-and-file disciples, whose hidden virtue – or to use Krueger’s apt description, “concealed sanctity” – is unmasked for the benefit of others.45 One potentially subversive implication of concealed sanctity is the abbot’s inability to identify piety in his or her disciples; for instance, a pious nun in the women’s monastery at Tabennesi who successfully pretends to be a fool until the visiting monk Piteroum discovers her great virtue.46 From the perspective of disciples, curiosity regarding one’s colleagues was considered a violation of the monastic command to keep the eyes lowered, thus avoiding any unnecessary interaction, including a simple glance.47 Indeed, Dorotheus of Gaza’s self-portrait as monastic voyeur in Discourses 7 suggests that the naive pursuit of concealed virtue can lead to moral confusion. Dorotheus recounts how, as a young monk, he respectfully asked an older disciple to tell him “what thoughts were habitually in his heart, either when he was insulted or when he was treated badly by someone, that he should manifest such patience.” This reverse confession, in which a senior disciple shares his thoughts to a more junior one, reveals the former’s unexpected contempt for others:48 “Oh, I just have to regard them as trivialities or put up with it as a man puts up with the barking of a dog.” Having heard this I cast my eyes down

42

43 44

45 46 47

48

Pall., HL 32; and HM 3.  Detailed institutional information is rare in hagiography:  cf. John of Ephesus’s description of the entrance procedures of a monastery near Amida (Lives of the Eastern Saints 20). Hier., Ep. 22:35. Cassian, Inst. coen. 4. I suspect that the reference to the “Egyptians” probably refers to the Pachomian monastery of the Metanoia and other establishments outside Alexandria. Krueger analyzes the topos of “concealed sanctity” in his study of Symeon the Holy Fool. Pall., HL 34:6; on the holy fools genre, see Krueger 1996, 36–56. E.g. Pach., P 7. Cf. Rousseau’s evocative assessment of paradoxical isolation in the cenobium: “The loneliness that comes from being indistinguishable from one’s fellows could hardly be more vividly described or imposed” (Rousseau 1985, 87). Dor., Doctr. 7 (SC 92: 290).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

243

and said to myself, “Has this brother found the way?” And signing myself, I went away praying to God.

Dorotheus, not yet capable of discernment, is confused by the dubious nature of this technique, and seeks God’s help through prayer. Once Dorotheus had gained experience and attained a position of authority, he was charged with supervising Dositheus, a young and dissolute military escort, who suddenly joins the monastery of Tawatha after seeing a depiction of the terrors of hell in a Palestinian church.49 After Dositheus dies young, the monks begin to invoke him in prayers for aid, although some reject this, noting that he did not practice an exacting asceticism. In response, Dorotheus wrote the Life of Dositheus, which emphasizes his humble obedience as an assistant in the monastic hospital, despite his notable incompetence at this job. It describes how Dositheus slowly learns self-denial; for instance, when he becomes attached to a particular tool in the infirmary, Dorotheus forbids him to use it. Eventually he attains an exemplary level of obedience. Thus, Dorotheus was able to cultivate and eventually publicize a virtue that was concealed to other members of the community. Numerous stories emphasize not the cultivation of concealed virtue, but its discovery by the monastic hierarchy. John of Ephesus collected materials for his Lives of the Eastern Saints by interviewing “normal” monks, both anchoritic and cenobitic, in the Miaphysite communities of northern Mesopotamia. John’s subjects each had their own peculiar ascetic practices, hidden behind the veneer of a humble silence and uniformity of monastic behavioral norms. For instance, when a “nameless” elderly monk visiting the monastery of Mar John in Amida refuses to identify himself, he is observed in his room by curious monks.50 This reflects the standard procedure of surveillance, but the results are inverted: the spying uncovers virtue, rather than sin. At first, the mysterious visitor frustrates these efforts by hiding under his sleeping mat. In the morning, John questions him, finally adjuring him to reveal his identity and ascetic practices; the anonymous monk in turn makes John swear not to share his answer for three years. The ascetic practice is simple: to thank God after each sip of a drink. When the revelation is made, John now appreciates the depths of ascetic piety in the guest’s unique table manners, and later reveals the “profit” behind this apparently mundane behavior. There are many other

49 50

Dor., V. Dos. 3 (SC 92: 126). John of Ephesus, Lives of Eastern Saints 15 (PO 17: 248–259).

244

Collective Heart-Work

examples of concealed sanctity in John’s Lives:51 it is as if the program of diffuse mimesis in the Life of Antony has found its way into cenobitic monasticism. The model of hidden sanctity appears to be a compromise, allowing for measured achievement among otherwise anonymous, humble disciples, without threatening the authority of the leader. Other narratives assume that concealed sanctity is known by the abbot, who plays the role of “tour guide” to curious visitors. For instance, in Sulpicius Severus’ Dialogues, Postumianus describes his trip to Egypt, where he stayed at a cenobium in the Thebaid, probably a Pachomian community, although not explicitly identified as such.52 The abbot and other monks take him around the monastery and its environment, showing examples of holiness among both the cenobites and the anchorites who live in the surrounding desert.53 The first incident is an anti-example, in which the abbot rebukes two children for revealing to the entire community the asp they had miraculously tamed in the desert. He later holds up two elders who had lived in the monastery for forty years as examples of humble perseverance: one who never indulged in food, the other who was without anger. Postumianus is also taken to see several isolated desertdwellers, who benefit from various miracles: from the divine provision of bread in periods of extreme fasting, to the taming of lions. Indeed, many concealed saints lived outside the cenobitic environment, either in the city or the desert, as is clear in the Life of Daniel of Scetis, a biography of the leader of the famous semi-eremitic community in Lower Egypt during the sixth century.54 This text does not focus on Daniel’s way of life nor his own ascetic achievements as abbot, but rather on his ability to recognize holiness in unexpected places, and to reveal their example for all: a discernment not of demons, but of saints. Some of these are present in his semi-eremitic community, for instance women dressing as men, whose gender is uncovered only after their death. There are more, however, who have left the confines of the monastery: in Alexandria, for instance, 51

52

53 54

In the case of another monk, Zacharius, John is unsuccessful in getting him to speak, but learns from others about his practice of keeping silence by putting a stone in his mouth, and his use of a thread to help concentrate during prayer: John of Ephesus, Lives of Eastern Saints 19 (PO 17: 266–272). Sulp. Sev., Dial. 1:9. Postumianus traveled from Jerome’s monastery in Bethlehem to Alexandria, where he then traveled to the cenobium in the Thebaid: in my view, this itinerary suggests that he journeyed from the Pachomian monastery at Canopus to the heartland of the Koinonia in Upper Egypt. Sulp. Sev., Dial. 1:10–16. Greek text in Dahlman 2007. The terminology used for the monks who hide their virtues is “secret saint” (kruptoi douloi).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

245

Daniel uncovers a holy fool, who had earlier resided at the Pempton monastery, where he had gone to repent for an unspecified “wasteful life.” Another urban saint, in this case a figure of repentance and unexpected (rather than concealed) sanctity is the reformed prostitute, as in the Life of Pelagia, a text recounting the story of a famous actress living in Antioch who later repents and becomes an ascetic.55 Here the bishop Nonnus plays the role of voyeur at an episcopal conference, gazing at the beautiful Pelagia as she walks by; all the bishops turn their faces away, following the traditional ascetic strategy for avoiding temptation. Once Pelagia has left, he asks the other bishops if watching her gave them pleasure, admitting that it did for him. This is not due to her beauty, but paradoxically because of her outstanding dedication to her profession: “Lord Christ, have mercy on a sinner, for a single day’s adorning of a prostitute is far beyond the adorning of my soul. . .She has promised to please men, and has kept her word. I have promised to please God, and have lied.”56 John Climacus, in his Ladder of Divine Ascent, seems to refer to this story in a dialogue about the marvels of chastity: “A certain man, he says, having gazed at beauty, greatly praised the Creator on account of it; and from the sight alone he was brought to the love of God and a font of tears.”57 Climacus points to Pelagia’s ability to provoke repentance, while condoning male ascetics who meditate on her eroticized body.58 The Life of Mary features another reformed prostitute, who has left the city to live as a solitary anchorite deep within the desert east of the Jordan.59 The monk Zosimus, having retreated to the desert for Lenten fasting, encounters the deformed and unrecognisable body of Mary, whom he at first fears is a demon. Despite her assurances to the contrary, Zosimus asks about her identity and origins, using questions typically addressed to visitors of monasteries, also relevant for the discernment of spirits. Mary then relates the story of her life, including her days as a lustful harlot in Alexandria; her trip to Palestine, in which she uses her charms to obtain passage on a boat; and her eventual conversion after being rebuked by 55 56

57 58

59

On “holy harlots,” see Burrus 2007, 128–159. As Salisbury writes, “the vision of a prostitute inspired the saintly Bishop to a higher recognition of holiness. This is a reversal of the standard expectations of patristic warnings against looking at women” (Salisbury 1991, 100). Jo. Clim., Scal. 15 (PG 88: 892). Without denying the validity of reading Pelagia and Mary as figures of repentance, Miller also describes them as “grotesques:” “The figure of the harlot-saint is a grotesquerie  – a not-quitecoherent construct – and as such brings to its most acute expression the problematic category of early Christian attempts to construct a representation of female holiness” (Miller 2005, 423). V. Mariae (PG 87: 3697–3726).

246

Collective Heart-Work

the Virgin Mary. Thus, the Life of Mary is presented as the revelation of a formerly sinful life that has been reformed through asceticism, but not forgotten. Nevertheless, there is a twist:  although the manifestation of thoughts is intended to benefit the disciple, here Mary is presented as the spiritual superior, and she speaks for the benefit of Zosimus. At his request, she recounts the extreme temptations she faced in her first years as a hermit, emphasizing how repentance always rescued her. The author of the Life of Mary presents useful details related to the interests and motivations of Zosimus as a monastic voyeur. At the beginning of the work, his internal deliberations are fully described: an elder of fifty-three years, he has remained in a monastery since childhood, where he has achieved fame for his piety, but eventually becomes complacent, wondering: “Is there a monk on earth who can impart something new to me. . .Is a man found among the philosophers in the desert who bests me in asceticism or contemplation?”60 Zosimus is thus attracted to Mary not only because of her miraculous body and life story, but his desire to overcome boredom with everyday monastic life: both of these questionable motivations are subsumed under her exemplary humility and repentance. Mary also represents more generally a key figure of concealed sanctity: the anchorite dwelling in the remote desert, separated from all human companionship. The earliest example of this kind of figure is Paphnutius, a presbyter of Scetis and interlocutor in Cassian’s Third Conference, “On Withdrawal.” According to Cassian, Paphnutius perfected the virtue of obedience in the cenobium as a young monk, and seeking constant communion with God, withdrew into the inner recesses of the desert, beyond even the anchorites.61 He may be identical to the Paphnutius to whom is attributed the Life of Onnophrius, another monk who withdraws into the Edenic wilderness.62 In many ways, these isolated desert dwellers are as remote from cenobitic monks as angels. Yet disciples could still meditate upon these distant and elusive solitary ascetics. In his Mystical Treatise 80, “On Vigils,” Isaac of Nineveh marvels at their enthusiasm and commitment in the face of physical austerities and demonic temptations. Isaac offers a unique account of the cognitive effects of contemplating desert saints:63 60 61 62 63

V. Mariae 3 (PG 87: 3700). Cassian, Inst. coen. 3:1. On the Life of Onnophrius, see Vivian 2000. Trans. Wensinck 1923, 372.

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

247

When a man is occupied in his mind with these and similar things, he becomes drunk as it were with living wine, and forgets himself. Then he sees himself again and wonders that during the whole of this travel through the desert and during the meeting with saints, no injury at all has met his mind. And now it seems to him as if he were with those saints and saw them manifestly. And on account of this recollection of the behaviour of the saints which the mind imagines to itself through the remembrance of their tales, and through meditation upon them, dejection vanishes; sleep is driven away from the eyelids; the spirit is strengthened and throws fear away; distraction is crushed heroically; the mind is concentrated; a fervent heat burns in the heart and unspeakable joy arises in the soul. Further sweet tears moisten the cheeks; spiritual exultation makes the mind drunk; unexplainable consolations are received by the soul; hope supports the heart and strengthens it. Then it is to him as if he dwelled in heaven, during his vigils that are so full of good things.

Isaac’s description concentrates on the vivid imagination of travel to the desert and gazing at the saints. This practice of meditating upon an image is based on hagiography (“the remembrance of their tales”), and is said to lead to alertness, focus, tears mixed with joy, and finally, hopeful consolation. As Isaac suggests, contemplation of a desert saint is similar to the visualization of heavenly journeys: both recall Paradise in monastic literature. Zosimas, who relates the story of Mary, “was often deemed worthy to receive a divine vision through illumination coming to him from God.”64 The extreme sanctity of Mary, Onnophrius, and others like them is concealed because they have abandoned the monastery entirely; but disciples can still harness their piety through attentive meditation.

II.

Commemoration: Praise

While emulation of virtue and the pursuit of humility were key aspects of hagiography’s role in the care of souls, commemoration was equally central in the cenobitic context, especially with regard to praise of the founder. This praise was not only for his or her great virtue, but also for the efforts undertaken on behalf of the congregation. These efforts were often invisible, such as the vigils of prayerful intercession with God to forgive the sins of the disciples. This secret activity is the target of a monastic voyeur; a “senior brother” follows Theodore to the hidden tomb of Pachomius, watching him pray there until dawn for God’s mercy upon the Koinonia, “on account of the tears of our just father, with whom you established 64

V. Mariae 2 (PG 87: 3700).

248

Collective Heart-Work

a covenant.”65 The brother hears supplication, and then “secretly told all the siblings all the words which our father Theodore had spoken in tears before the Lord.”66 This act represents an inversion of monastic propriety, a reverse surveillance in which the leader is spied upon, apparently unaware, by one of the disciples. But once again a virtuous act is uncovered, one that can only be practiced by a monastic founder (or leader). Theodore himself frequently made efforts to commemorate the teaching and actions of Pachomius. Although scholars have focused on reports of his encouragement of others to write the founder’s Life, he also delivered a eulogy for Pachomius during the annual meeting of the Koinonia at Phbow to celebrate the Pascha.67 In this initial commemoration of Pachomius – which is summarized in the Great Coptic Life – Theodore emphasizes his extraordinary achievements as founder: “He began to tell them about the life (bios) of our father Pachomius since his childhood; and all the struggles he bore from the beginning when he established the holy Koinonia; and the temptations of the demons, and how he took from them the souls which the Lord gave him; and of the revelations which the Lord disclosed to him.”68 Commemorating Pachomius is a particularly pressing matter because, as Theodore reminds them, “God established a covenant with him to save a multitude of souls.”69 Theodore argues that the virtues of the Koinonia’s founder, who himself followed the example of the prophets and Jesus, distinguish its members from other monks.70 Moreover, the disciples continue to be dependent on his patronage, even in death: “And we too the Lord has saved through his holy prayers.”71 Thus, Theodore encourages the disciples to praise Pachomius as founder, spiritual director, and patron, arguing that by doing so and following his rules, they will secure 65 66

67

68

69

70 71

V. Pach. SBo 198 (CSCO 89: 194). V. Pach. SBo 198 (CSCO 89: 194–195). For intercessory prayer by holy men or “saints,” cf. Rapp 1999 and Torrance 2010. Most studies of Pachomian hagiography ignore this context of its original presentation; see, however, Rousseau 1985, 46–47, who suggests that it was first conceived “at a moment of crisis,” and thus “could take on a public, almost political significance.” V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184). Theodore is further claimed as an authoritative witness, using as sources what Pachomius told him, or what he saw with his own eyes. V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184); cf. V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/100: 107). Pachomius’s covenant with God to serve humanity occurs frequently in the biographical tradition, which Ruppert presents in a larger section on Pachomius as an intermediary between his monks and God (Ruppert 1971, 188–201). V. Pach. SBo (CSCO 89: 185). V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184). In First Instruction 32, Pachomius himself notes [of biblical saints]: “if you love the labor of the saints, they will be your friend and intercede on your behalf before God” (CSCO 159: 12).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

249

their salvation.72 After briefly contextualizing this encomium within early Christian hagiography, I will consider its key element in detail. The content of Theodore’s oration reflects, in broad strokes, the basic expectations of a funerary encomium, including a narrative about the deceased’s life and a description of his or her virtues, offered in commemoration on the day of burial or anniversary of his or her death.73 Indeed, some of the oldest extant ascetic biographies are also encomia, including Gregory Nazianzen’s orations in honor of Basil and Gorgonia.74 Jerome, Gregory’s onetime assistant, also composed various funerary encomia. These memorials were written, in the first instance, for relatives of the deceased, including one addressed to Paula upon the death of her daughter Blesilla, and a eulogy of Paula presented to her daughter Eustochium, which was no doubt read at the monastery in Bethlehem that Jerome directed with her.75 But these examples are imperfect comparisons to Theodore’s ritualized eulogy of Pachomius: Gregory was not commemorating Basil in front of the monastic communities he founded, and Jerome’s memorials were letters, not speeches. There are several extant orations in honor of deceased monastic fathers that were delivered to the cenobia that they founded or directed. Although these have received relatively little attention in comparison to longer or more polished literary hagiographies, they offer significant insight into the logic of commemorating monastic founders, who were thought to serve as patrons of the community not only in life, but also in death. There are a multitude of witnesses to the Life of Shenoute, including Sahidic fragments, and versions in Bohairic, Arabic, Ethiopic, and Syriac. Some of these, including the Bohairic (the only one translated into English), are presented as eyewitness accounts of his successor Besa. But as Nino Lubomierski has demonstrated, the surviving written versions are the culmination of a lengthy development of traditions, driven especially by commemorative speeches delivered first at the White Monastery and later elsewhere, 72

73 74

75

Compare the treatment of Pachomian biography in Bacht 1972, 213–224, based especially on Horsiesius’s Testament, which emphasizes Pachomius’s commandments and example, as well as his labors on behalf of the congregation and his patronage more generally. Kierdorf 1980; Flower 1996. Gr. Naz., Or. 43. Lubomierski shows that much of Shenoute’s biographical tradition corresponds to the basic structure of encomia, including topoi such as family, birthplace, and education, as well as way of life, all covered at the beginning of the longer versions of the Life (Lubomierski 2007, 122–140). On Jerome’s commemoration of Paula and its broader context within hagiography and the cult of saints, see Cain 2013.

250

Collective Heart-Work

on Shenoute’s feast day.76 Other examples exist outside the Egyptian context: an encomium on Honoratus, founder of the community at Lérins, by Faustus, its third abbot; and a series of Syriac hymns (madrashe) honoring Julian Saba, a fourth-century ascetic outside of Edessa, which constitute a particularly rich source for the dynamics of liturgical praise.77 Praising the Monastic Founder and Patron The praise of a monastic leader with the expectation of spiritual benefit was controversial enough for Theodore to feel that he needed to justify it. Augustine, for example, warns catechumens against “placing their hope in a human,” rather than following their example in leading a just life.78 Theodore addresses precisely this complaint in his initial encomium, noting: “Perhaps some of you think that they are giving glory to flesh. No! Or that our hope is placed in a human. No again! But we glorify and we bless the Spirit of God which is in him.”79 He argues that blessing Pachomius is itself a biblical commandment and a means of securing God’s blessings, pointing to God’s covenant with Abraham: “For didn’t God say to Abraham, who had done his will, ‘I will bless him who blesses you and I will curse him who curses you?’ ” (Gn. 13).80 Theodore also asserts that Jacob and Joseph passed on divine blessings to their children and siblings by invoking the name of their fathers, thus creating a kind of genealogy of piety.81 Following these models, Pachomius is worthy of praise from his 76

77

78

79

80

81

Lubomierski 2007. At the White Monastery, the founder Pcol was commemorated, as suggested by a fragmentary speech of Shenoute. A fragmentary liturgical calendar lists other early cenobitic leaders who were commemorated: Pshoi the Anchorite, founder of the smaller men’s community (no date); Zenobius, a local archimandrite, perhaps of the White Monastery (Mshir 6); Theodore, “Son of Saint (Pachomius)” (Pashons 2); Pachomius “The Archimandrite” (Pashons 14); and Antony (Pashons 21) (Zanetti 1994). Scholars have largely ignored these fascinating texts, perhaps because they offer almost no historical details about Saba’s life. The major exceptions are Griffith 1994 and Harvey 2005. Although all the hymns are attributed to Ephrem, only the first four were composed in Edessa; the rest are by Saba’s disciples, who frequently use the phrase “our community.” Aug. De catech. rud., 1:7–11. See also Augustine’s exhortation to imitate the martyrs, rather than to take pleasure in their festivals, in his sermons (Brown 2000). V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186). Although Veilleux doesn’t provide a scriptural reference for this passage, the likely intertexts are Psalm 117:8 and Jeremiah 17:5. V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186). A fragmentary passage from the Sahidic biographical tradition similarly advocates praising one’s ancestors, while noting the transmission of their law across generations. It describes how God identified himself to Moses as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; Joshua ordered the congregation to remember what Moses had commanded them to do; and the prophets similarly invoke the law of Moses: V. Pach. S3b (CSCO 99/100: 363–364). To demonstrate that children inherit divine blessings based on their parents’ virtue, Theodore had earlier noted God’s reminder of Isaac that Abraham followed “my commands and my ordinances and my laws,” and further, “On account of Abraham your father, I will bless you, because you

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

251

children: “Isn’t it just for us as well to exalt and honour a righteous man and a prophet whom the Lord gave us as an honour, so that through his [Pachomius’s] holiness, we might know Him [God]?”82 In short, praising the monastic founder is both the disciples’ filial obligation and a means of obtaining the inheritance of his blessings. Theodore makes another set of scriptural justifications for commemorating Pachomius in the Third Sahidic Life, namely passages in which Paul and others “commend” (synhista) the saints, including prophets and apostles, alongside God: Heb. 11:32 and Galatians 2:1–2.83 We say these things lest someone say that it is proper to commend saints, because the spirit of God is in them, but it is not necessary to commend the others, who are their disciples, like (we commend) the holy, with whom God made a covenant. Therefore I have also told you their testimonies in the Scriptures, so that you will know that the one who commends a just person teaches himself in the fear of the Lord. . .So isn’t it worthy and just to commend a man of this sort, because he is a servant of God and a son of the saints, namely our just father?

While commendation is not technically praise, the mere act of recalling Pachomius is also said to secure divine favor, as Pecosh told the young Theodore before he joined the Koinonia: “I believe that God will forgive many of my sins because of the commemoration of that righteous man whose name I have just spoken in this place, in your presence.”84 Another group of scriptural justifications for praising a deceased monastic leader is found in an encomium for Shenoute attributed to Besa.85 This text, described as a kathēkēsis, is addressed to a crowd that has assembled at the monastery, probably in its church. Like Theodore, Besa connects his praise to the accrual of blessings, addressing Shenoute in the opening lines: “May the Lord bless you and your children.” He then quotes

82 83

84

85

have done my will” (Genesis 26:2) (V. Pach. SBo 194, CSCO 89: 188). A similar point is made by Pachomius himself: “remember also the ministry and labour of the saints, you and your friends who have known God’s will with you, so that they may also become co-heirs of the same promise. . .” (Ep. 4:3, Boon: 86). V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 189). V. Pach S3b (CSCO 99/100: 291–292). These proof texts come at the end of his speech following the revolt of Horsiesius, rather than the initial encomium, as in the Great Coptic Life. V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 31). Cf. Barsanuphius’s response to Dorotheus’s query about the reasons for commemorating saints: “One who performs the commemorations of the saints without vainglory, considering that one acts from God and not one’s own consideration, becomes a joint partaker (symmetochos) with these saints and receives the wage from their master” (Bars., Resp. 261, SC 450: 236). For further discussion of the cult of saints in Barsanuphius and John, see Torrance 2009. Besa, Frag. 38 (CSCO 157: 126–127). The header states that it was delivered “on the day of commemoration of our holy father the prophet Apa Shenoute, on the seventh of the month Epēph.”

252

Collective Heart-Work

Hebrews 13:7 as a scriptural justification for his commemoration: “Truly you are worthy of commemoration at all times, O my holy father, for the holy apostle Paul says: ‘Remember the great ones, those who taught you the word of God, those whose exalted way of life you observe.’ ”86 Besa singles out Shenoute’s zealous prayers, as in the Pachomian biographical tradition: “God does not forget your tears and your prayers and your nights of vigil. A man who glorifies God, how will someone say that God has not glorified him?” Here the implication is that by offering glory, the congregation is simply fulfilling the will of God. Twenty-four Syriac hymns in honor of Julian Saba, a famous anchorite active near Edessa during the middle of the fourth century, also provide excellent evidence for the liturgical praise of a commemorative founder. The hymns comprise a series of verses sung by a leader, followed by the assembly’s response in the form of an identical refrain. They explicitly address God as the true object of honor, which is consistent with Theodore’s stipulation that Pachomius be praised “next to God.”87 Several hymn refrains express the anxiety that Saba’s disciples will not join him among the just at the last judgment.88 Yet there is hope that he will continue as an intercessor after death, as in life: “Let us lament, my beloved, because the untiring man of prayer, the continual intercessor and helper, has left us. May it be the will of our Lord that he, just as he was our helper in his life, may also be a wall for us through his bones, like Joseph.”89 However, the disciples must fulfill their obligation to praise Saba in order to secure his intercessory prayer: “May the humility of the one who prays to you [Saba] lift me! Because my tongue has praised his [Saba’s] humility, may the prayer from his [Saba’s] mouth raise my weakness.”90 Furthermore, the community of ascetics will increase through the continued patronage of Saba: “May your prayer increase the great community, and may our community sing psalms at your commemoration.”91 Here patronage is presented as a kind

86

87

88

89 90 91

Theodore also invokes Heb 13:7 in V. Pach. S3B (CSCO 99/100: 291). In addition, Besa quotes Psalms 111:6 and 101:3; compare the passages cited by the author of the Greek Life: Hebrews 13:8, Psalm 71:18 and Psalm 78:3. The ultimate focus on God is perhaps best expressed in several refrains: “Praise to the one [God] who has chosen him [Saba]” (Hymn 1:1; CSCO 323: 36); “Praise to your [Saba’s] Lord, through your [Saba’s] commemoration” (Hymn 5:1; CSCO 323: 47). “May we be made worthy to see him again!” (Hymn 2; CSCO 323: 39); “May we be made worthy of your virtue” (Hymn 4; CSCO 323: 45). Hymn 2:17 (CSCO 323: 42). Hymn 12:13–14 (CSCO 323: 59). Hymn 22:11 (CSCO 323:  81). Cf. “May our lord bless the settlement of your sons, and may the voices, which sing your psalms, increase!” Hymn 22:16 (CSCO 323: 82).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

253

of contract: Saba looks after the members of his community, and in turn receives more praise as his followers increase. Similarly, Faustus presents the praise of Honoratus as both a pleasure and a duty, in particular a filial obligation: “Nevertheless, I will obey my duty and your desire in pronouncing a speech, even if brief. . .this glorious father does not need the mouth of an unworthy son to be praised. . .but it is a very great pleasure for us, because of our zeal and affection, to commemorate, even briefly, his merits which are so abundant.”92 Faustus clarifies that the disciples’ praise is not intercessory, and Honoratus has no need of it.93 On the contrary Honoratus is their intercessor, and continuously supports the community in this role, offering “very great benefits” to them, because “he implores the Lord: ‘these men have committed a grave error; remit from them this sin’.”94 In this case, Honoratus secures the forgiveness of repentant monks, just as Theodore uses the commemoration of Pachomius to renew the community’s obedience to the rules. In his Encomium to Theognius, Paul, a disciple of this sixth-century abbot, exhorts his monastic audience to imitate Theognius’s example of repentance through tears:  “I frequently observed the blessed man wet with tears and importuning God on behalf of the whole world. Let it be that we also offer the Judge a bowl of repentance mixed with wailing and inexpressible groans, so that, because of this, we might share in the great rejoicing of the righteous in the age to come.”95 The significance of the disciples’ tears, however, is very different. Whereas Theognius employs them in intercessory prayer – an act for which Paul’s encomium memorializes him  – the audience’s tears are understood exclusively as a form of repentance. This key distinction is especially clear in the peroration, when Paul compares the laziness of the present community with the great ascetic feats of Theognius, and declares that they need the help of their patron: “Take with you, father, all the saints who love you and, along with them, be ambassadors to the compassionate King.”96 Thus, for Paul, an imperfect form of imitation is possible, which both calls upon the disciples to account for their own behavior and humbly affirms the necessity of patronage from their monastic father. 92 93

94 95 96

Hom. 72:2 (CCSL 101A: 775). For background see Leyser 1999. The authors of the First Greek Life similarly note: “We wrote down a few of the many things, not so that we might praise him, for he does not desire human praise, for he is there with his fathers, where the true praise is” (V. Pach. G1 98; Halkin:65). On the other hand, praise from the congregation is one of the “favors” that Honoratus enjoys in the heavenly court: Hom. 72:5 (CCSL 101A: 776). Hom. 72:14 (CCSL 101A: 780). Paul of Elusa, Encomium 20 (Vailhé: 103). Paul of Elusa, Encomium 20:25 (Vailhé: 112).

254

Collective Heart-Work Imitation through Obedience

As we have seen, hagiographers often call their audience to emulate the virtue of the saint. Yet Theodore’s commemorative program, like Paul of Elusa’s, recognizes the limits of imitation, given the sharp distinction he presents between the sinful disciples and their holy sponsor Pachomius. In his instructions, he does assert in general terms that it is necessary to imitate Pachomius in order to obtain his blessing (“Let us imitate the life (bios) of Apa Pachomius. Let us acquire for ourselves his parrhesia [with God] in this aeon and the next”);97 and to become his children through mimesis.98 In his eulogy to Pachomius, Theodore also suggests that the disciples should imitate their founder, not by repeating his great ascetic labors, but by following the commandments, as he himself did. Theodore reminds the disciples of Pachomius’s own obedience to the commandments: “How he used to gather us around him daily and speak to us about the holy commandments so that we might observe each one of his commandments, which are in the Holy Scriptures of Christ, and how he used first to practice them in his activities before giving them to us.”99 Indeed, Theodore’s commemoration of Pachomius’ Life seems to have been in response to a crisis of disobedience within the monastery: before the annual meeting, he is sick with worry because “he saw the majority of the siblings had grown cold in their desire to practice the commandments which the perfect man, our father Pachomius, had given them to perform with every enthusiasm.”100 Similarly, in the speech itself, Theodore worries, “I am fearful that we may forget his labours and that we not realise who made this multitude a single spirit and a single body.”101 Citing the biblical examples of the sons of Rechab who prospered by keeping “the commandments of their father” (Jeremiah 35:18, 19), Theodore assures them 97

98

99

100 101

Theo., Instr. 3:35 (CSCO 159: 56). Gennadius notes that Theodore wrote letters to his monasteries in which “he sets forth the examples of the life and teaching of his master and instructor Pachomius” (Genn., De vir. ill. 143, Bernoulli: 43). Theo., Instr. 3:47 (CSCO 159: 60): “We are worthy, my beloved, to be called among the inheritors of those [saints; Horsiesius has recently been named]. Let us make our own their behaviour that we may be found as children [of our fathers].” Cf. the discussion of “Theodore’s rhetorical fusing of biblical materials and the historical legacy of Pachomius” in Watts 2010, 99, and further in Watts 2016. V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 185). More generally on commemoration as the liturgical context of John the Little, see Davis 2008c, 29–32, who connects it to meditation on scripture and mimesis: he identifies the goal “of remembering John’s example of remembering God in Scripture and prayer” (32). V. Pach. SBo 193 (CSCO 89: 183). V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

255

that they will inherit the blessings promised to Pachomius if they do not become “negligent and forget his laws and his commandments, which he gave to us while still with us in the body.”102 In short, Theodore suggests that Pachomius’s death has resulted in a diminished enthusiasm for his commandments; he seeks to commemorate the founder’s life and virtue so that his “children,” the disciples of the Koinonia, will enthusiastically follow their pious fathers’ rules, as an inheritance.103 Faustus’s commemoration of Honoratus follows very closely the emphasis on obedience as laid out by Theodore. Even as he offers his eulogy, the abbot asserts that his predecessor Honoratus prefers imitation to praise, declaring to the monks: “in order to attain what he has obtained, let us follow his teaching.”104 Faustus’s evocative description of the pleasures of observing Honoratus’s precepts,105 as well as its attendant blessings, is worth quoting in full:106 Truly, my very dear brothers, those who have had the pleasure of finding themselves face-to-face with this extraordinary man have been filled with joy at living with him, at eating with him, at being a soldier of God under his discipline. But then, he who has walked on his traces, followed the scent of the perfume of Christ, is not able to take less joy, who has detached himself from his country or from relatives through love of him. . .Because that one, I say, who has observed his precepts, considers that it is as if he were seeing him in person. Because even if he . . . does not see him now, he will see him in eternity, which is much better. And he who is compelled to be an inheritor of his merits here below will be blessed also to become one day the co-inheritor of the favors which he has received.

Even those disciples who did not personally know the founder of their community are able to equally rejoice in him through obedience to his teaching, as if “seeing him in person.”107 This behavior ensures the inheritance of the blessings promised to Honoratus, whom they will see in heaven. 102

103

104 105

106 107

V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 185). Earlier in the Life, Pachomius himself linked obedience to his rule with inheritance of his divine blessing: “And also it is the Lord who knows every word of the law which I have left for you so that you might walk in them and do them, and so that you might fulfill them and see any of the places of rest for your souls” (V. Pach. SBo 118, CSCO 99/100: 89). Similarly, the hymns to Saba lament the loss of their spiritual guide: “Our life was set in order by you. But your order-bringing voice has left us” (Hymn 22:7; CSCO 323: 81). Hom. 72:3 (CCSL 101A: 776). Although there is no Rule attributed to Honoratus, according to Faustus he was a mediator of biblical commandments, namely “precepts of the apostolic rule, constituted from the two Testaments, as the two tablets, and taken from the teaching of the Egyptian fathers, as from a mountain of virtues” (Hom. 72:3, CCSL 101A: 776). Compare Theodore’s portrait of Pachomius as legislator. Hom. 72:3, CCSL 101A: 776. Brown chronicles the importance of the saint as patron, friend, and invisible companion, focusing on Paulinus of Nola and his poems on Felix (1981, 50–68). Rituals of commemorations encouraged

256

Collective Heart-Work Rites of Praise

Theodore’s encomium in honor of Pachomius provides a useful framework for exploring key ideas related to the commemoration of monastic founders: the patron receives praise for intercessory prayer; and imitates Pachomius by obeying his commandments, in order to inherit the blessings promised in his covenant with God. Theodore ties all these themes together at the end of his speech, orchestrating a ritual expression of praise, in what appears to be an antiphon, by reciting: “ ‘Blessed be the God of our righteous father Pachomius, who has become a guide to eternal life for us through the labor of his prayers.’ Then all the siblings answered with a single mouth and a single voice, ‘Blessed be our pious and righteous father, our father Pachomius, in everything and in all his works’.”108 It seems that Theodore is instituting a liturgical praise in the form of a responsory, which may have been included in an annual commemoration of Pachomius’s death. Theodore’s antiphon follows the Pachomian conception of prayer as a blessing of God that cultivates a sense of thanksgiving, as analyzed in Chapter 5. Here, Pachomius is praised alongside “the Lord who created us.”109 Furthermore, the blessing is done “with a single mouth and a single voice,” recalling Theodore’s earlier assertion that Pachomius “made this multitude a single spirit.”110 Indeed, the overall tenor of the ceremony is one of rejoicing and encouragement: the disciples are reassured of receiving a divine blessing because they have blessed Pachomius, “joyfully and with great trust in him.”111 Moreover, Theodore argues that this practice has scriptural precedent:  each biblical saint “exalts the one before him who showed him the way to life, that he might know God.”112 Thus, praising Pachomius was a kind of ritualized obedience, a metonymy for following all of his rules, which would earn them his support for their salvation.

108 109 110 111

112

disciples to imagine such a relationship with their monastic founder. Cf. the cultivation of Jesus as a friend by contemporary Evangelicals in Luhrmann 2012, 72–100. V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186). V. Pach. SBo 194. V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184). V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186). Compare the message of encouragement in a later Egyptian monastic biography, the Life of John the Little: “In hearing John’s Life read out on his feast day, the monks at his monastery would have been reminded annually of how their daily life was framed as a martyr’s struggle and how in the midst of that struggle they could take consolation in the fact that a “crown of righteousness” awaited those who finished the race and kept the faith” (Davis 2013, 358). V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 187).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

257

In addition to the annual commemoration, Theodore and Horsiesius regularly encouraged their disciples by reminding them of Pachomius’s patronage before God, interceding for their salvation. In a Letter, Theodore explains the benefits of obedience: “Then our father in the other age will be able to witness for us, ‘This is how I have commanded them’. For it is written, ‘He is our mediator before God, so that we may be saved from all sins’ (1 Jn 2:1–2).”113 Similarly, Horsiesius’s Testament recommends that monks imagine Pachomius praising them, joyfully, before God, for following his commandments:114 Thus, dearest siblings, you who follow the life and precepts of the cenobia, hold firm in your resolution once taken up, and fulfill the work of God: so that the father who first instituted the cenobia, rejoicing, may speak to God on our behalf: “As I have passed onto them, thus they live.”

Elsewhere he describes Pachomius boasting about his disciples among the saints: “ ‘These are my children and my people. And my children will not deny me.’ After such a testimony, let us not lose the trust of our good conscience, having polluted the garments with which he clothed us.”115 In short, disciples were taught to imagine Pachomius as a kind of personal sponsor and source of support, an attitude that was surely facilitated by the joyous annual commemoration.

III.

Conclusion

Scholars have largely overlooked the ritual aspects of commemorating Pachomius, focusing instead on the complex history of its written composition, and especially the priority of the Greek or Coptic versions. Indeed, Theodore also encouraged the creation of a Life written by Greek-speaking monks as part of his overall program of commemoration, and the authors of one of the resulting biographies were familiar with the Life of Antony, even citing it as a model.116 But this process seems to have begun only after Theodore’s initial encomium, which may have been delivered before the publication of the more famous hagiographical work attributed to

113

114 115 116

Theo., Ep. 2:4, trans. Veilleux 1982, 129 (Coptic text not yet published). Pachomius is also invoked as a supporter of the Koinonia in its worldly trials, for example when the duke spares Phbow because of his prayers: V. Pach. SBo 185; cf. V. Pach. SBo 125. Hors., Test. 12 (Boon: 116). Hors., Test. 46 (Boon: 138). V. Pach. G1 2.

258

Collective Heart-Work

Athanasius.117 While the Life of Antony was dedicated to an external audience, promoting the Egyptian hero as a model for others to emulate, the praise of Pachomius occurred within the Koinonia and was intended to cultivate a relationship with the departed founder as the community’s patron, including a renewed commitment to follow his commandments in order to inherit his blessings and obtain salvation. While not all disciples could emulate his virtue, they practiced their monastic theory of mind by following his divine revelations and inner prayer life, as expressed in his enlightened discipline of monks, and especially his supplications on the Koinonia’s behalf. When Theodore himself dies, the tradition of commemoration he had instituted for Pachomius is extended by Horsiesius, who leads the Koinonia in lamentation, citing their own sinfulness as the reason for Theodore’s departure: “This is the great grief, which we have taken on all the more because it is we who grieved him until he asked the Lord to take him from us quickly, and we have become orphaned.”118 After thus pointing to their faults, Horsiesius offers a consolation, namely all the prayers Theodore made on their behalf: “For you all know his great love for us, always praying to God on our behalf, that he might save us from the devil, who envies us.” Like Pachomius, his exceptional works are worthy of remembrance:119 So now, my beloved siblings, let us always remember his labors, his works of asceticism, and his tears, which he shed in the Lord’s presence day and night on our behalf, lest this passage of scripture apply to us also, “They hastened to forget his works nor did they keep his counsels” (Ps. 106/105:13); and lest we come under judgement.

By obeying Theodore’s teaching, the disciples not only fulfill their duty of commemoration, but assure that he will continue to intercede for them after his death, just as he did in life, but now before God and Pachomius, on the model of Jesus’ intercession (1 Jn 2:1–2). Finally, Horsiesius emphasizes that obedience to the law of the Koinonia will allow them to inherit eternal life, as the children of Pachomius: “Let it happen that they say to us, ‘Welcome, children who obeyed their father and kept the commandments which he gave them. Come, inherit eternal life with your fathers

117

118 119

V. Pach. SBo 194, 196; cf. V. Pach. G1 99, in which the writers declare “as zealous children we have endeavored to remember the fathers who raised us” (Halkin: 66). See Rousseau 1985, 44–48, for a discussion of passages related to the formation of the biographical tradition. V. Pach. SBo 208 (CSCO 89: 210–211). V. Pach. SBo 208 (CSCO 89: 211).

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

259

because you have walked in their footsteps and the commandments which they gave to you’.”120 This model of commemorating the founder was also practiced at the White Monastery federation, although little evidence remains for it until the time of Shenoute’s successor, Besa. While Shenoute himself seems to have delivered speeches in praise of Pcol,121 and possibly even composed a biography of Pshoi,122 the focus of his literary efforts, including references to the history of his monastic federation, is reflected in his nine volumes of Canons. Even after Shenoute’s own biographical tradition had achieved widespread popularity, it was the Canons that attracted the attention of Moses of Abydos, a monastic leader. This is reflected in a dialog with disciples about emulating his illustrious predecessors:  “They said to him, ‘You are Apa [Pachomius]’, and ‘You are Apa Shenoute’. He said, ‘No, but I strive to be a child to them’.” Yet he accomplished this not by imitating their life, but by studying their writings: “Because of his parrhesia and the purity of his heart, and the way he yearned for everything which is written, he would say: ‘If another speech is written, bring it to me’.”123 In the final chapter, we will explore Shenoute’s Canons as another ritual expression of monastic authority, one that focuses on grief rather than joy. As in biography, it was couched in a description of mutual obligations between the disciples and their leader, Shenoute, who selectively revealed his world of inner thoughts and life of prayer, including his own troubled history of directing the federation, as part of a collective ritual of repentance.

120 121

122

123

V. Pach. SBo 208 (CSCO 89: 212). There is limited evidence for a feast day of Apa Pcol:  the beginning of a speech of Shenoute (Acephalous Work A6), delivered on the 22nd of Mshir, has been preserved. For discussion, see Layton 2014, 32. According to the Arabic Synaxarion, Shenoute wrote the Life of Pshoi (CSCO 49: 452–453). In my view, the Naples Fragment may be from this Life, given its focus on Pshoi; however, the incomplete state of preservation makes it difficult to test this hypothesis. CSCO 73: 210.

Ch apter 7

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness Rituals of Collective Repentance

“I want to speak about the things which pain my heart. I also want to remain silent because of my inadequacies, which accuse me. The perception of my heart compels me to speak; once again my sins hinder me, in order that I be silent. It is better for me to speak than to remain silent; I will speak concerning the greatness of monasticism, which has been humbled.” Hors., Instr. 71 “After we read the epistle that we wrote at the beginning to our fellow congregations – these concerning whom we are also now troubled in heart – we remembered the things which happened to us, through the enemy, on account of our closed hearts; and we remember how God acted for us, until he plucked us from the demonic depths and impiety which were hard upon us.” Shenoute, Canons 62

Shenoute of Atripe was archimandrite of the White Monastery federation for over fifty years, from approximately 385 to sometime after 451 CE.3 In his nine volumes of Canons, addressed to the monks and nuns living in the three affiliated communities, Shenoute develops a complex self-presentation as an authoritative pastoral figure, providing his disciples’ material needs and care for their souls, and responding harshly to numerous conflicts and disciplinary challenges. While early scholarship highlighted Shenoute’s use of brutal force as a means of domination, recent studies have justifiably pointed to his rhetorical strategies as a far more effective exercise of power.4 These include frequent exhortations to maintain the federation’s purity, based on his privileged knowledge of the spiritual state

1

2 3

4

CSCO 157: 75–76. The manuscript heading appropriately states: “The things on account of which he experienced anguish.” Amélineau 2: 302. For the chronology of Shenoute’s career, see Emmel 2004b; cf. the criticisms in López 2013, which have in turn met with critical reviews, e.g. Dijkstra 2015. My approach builds on the previous studies of Krawiec 2002, Brakke 2006, and Schroeder 2006 and 2007.

260

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

261

of individual monks and the monastic federation as a whole; as well as his self-presentation as a humble “suffering servant.” Despite his ongoing struggles to maintain authority, Shenoute professes self-doubt about his ability to lead the federation: “For it is I who am a more sinful wretch beyond all people; and it is I who have become foolish, because I did not place my hand over my mouth from the start. Perhaps the Lord was intending for another one, more powerful, and more worthy for others to listen to him, because he is just in the way of those who have fallen asleep.”5 This stated ambivalence recalls the humble turmoil of Horsiesius as he dares to speak in the midst of his insecurities and emotional pain: I want to speak about the things which pain my heart. I also want to remain silent because of my inadequacies, which accuse me. The perception of my heart compels me to speak; once again my sins hinder me, so that I might be silent. It is better for me to speak than to remain silent; I will speak concerning the greatness of monasticism, which has been humbled.6

Like Horsiesius, Shenoute’s heart compels him to speak, both because of its perception of sin, and the emotional pain he experiences as a result of this sin; in communicating these feelings to his disciples, he calls upon them to repent. In this chapter, I  describe Shenoute’s heart-work in response to sin within the monastic community, especially as revealed in sections of Canons 1, 4, and 8.  In these volumes and others, Shenoute frequently and self-consciously refers to the key themes of the Canons: his privileged knowledge of evil thoughts and deeds within the monastic federation; his own resulting inner turmoil; the disciplining, including expulsion, of the sinners; followed by group repentance of the remaining monks.7 He even encourages monks to consult his own previous writings for a demonstration of his role as God’s intermediary in the unmasking and punishment of monks. These were read aloud, along with the rulebook, at the four yearly meetings, the most probable context for the rituals of collective repentance alluded to in the Canons. Shenoute urged his disciples to expel demonic thoughts from their heart, which – as a microcosm for the individual – had to be maintained in purity, just as he expelled sinful monks to avoid polluting the monastic community as macrocosm.

5 6 7

Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302, f. 3r.; text in Emmel 2004b, p.162, n. 33). Hors., Instr. 7 (CSCO 157: 75–76). E.g., Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 126), with many other examples discussed below.

262

Collective Heart-Work

I. The Canons and Shenoute’s Career During Shenoute’s extended career he produced a substantial corpus of writings, including the Canons, which were addressed exclusively to his monastic community. Each of these nine volumes is composed of individual works of varying length, which are referred to as “letters” (epistolē) or “speeches” (logos). Some works are directed at specific recipients, for example, Shenoute Writes to Tachom, the leader of the female community, in Canons 9.8 Others, such as the works in Canons 1, appear to have been circulated openly within the monastery, although their length (many are longer than, for example, an imperial edict) makes it difficult to imagine the precise means of publication and distribution.9 At least some of the letters were read aloud to the assembled congregation.10 Indeed, Shenoute frequently refers to his own oratory in the corpus, and he probably delivered some of the Canons “speeches” in person, which may have been recorded by stenographers.11 This background of oral delivery is reflected in the mixed use of verbs from writing and speaking. For example, Shenoute reports a challenge to his authority: “From where does this one who writes speak these words and these deeds?”12 He also invokes his own physical presence, as in a letter from Canons 8: “. . .he who speaks with you enters, and he is seated in your midst.”13 Thus, as we explore the Canons, it is important to remember that, although highly literary, they should also be understood in the institutional context of their production, initial delivery, and later recitation. As Stephen Emmel has demonstrated, the Canons reflect a certain organizational logic, and were in fact edited by Shenoute himself.14 Although 8 9 10

11

12

13

14

Krawiec 2002, 49. On this question, see Dilley 2017. In a letter from Canons 6, Shenoute describes how some of the nuns mocked one of his previous letters, as it was read aloud by his representative: “as he who speaks with you [i.e., Shenoute] wrote in the first letter which was read off to the side in you [f.s., i.e., the women’s congregation], while they were confused, before the death of our old father, as some who were coming to listen in the place where it was read cried; while others laughed; others ridiculed; and others mocked” (Amélineau 1:152). See the discussion in Krawiec 2002, 46. This seems more likely for the Discourses, similar to traditional patristic homilies, which Shenoute delivered before an audience usually consisting of both monks and non-monks, probably in a church, such as the distinctive Late Antique basilica still standing on site. Shenoute, Canons 5 (CSCO 73: 64). He responds “He says all these things and all these deeds which are written in the papyri. . .” For more on this and other passages related to the “papyri,” see below. Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 77). Earlier, he asks the recipients to “look upon his affliction when he speaks like this” (Boud’hors 2013: 77). The possible contexts in which the Canons were delivered, and their association with various written media, are discussed in Dilley 2017.

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

263

none of the nine volumes is preserved in its entirety, it is evident that each focuses on one or several recurring themes or events.15 Furthermore, the Canons appear to be organized roughly in chronological order (with the exception of Canons 3, apparently the latest), thus providing a basis for a history of Shenoute’s career. Canons 1 is the earliest and was written before Shenoute became leader of the federation. It consists of several letters to the congregation in response to a crisis of leadership, namely a revolt against the second father of the congregation, Ebonh. The rest of the volumes provide fascinating snapshots of the federation’s development under Shenoute’s leadership. Canons 2 is a collection of epistles addressed to the women’s community, apparently composed soon after he took control of the federation, as he sought to assert his authority over it in response to a series of internal disputes. The precise contexts of Canons 3, 5, and 9 remain elusive, because the preserved sections consist largely of rules, possibly written in response to related infractions. Canons 4 and 6 contain lengthy speeches in which Shenoute defends his disciplinary actions, generally before the entire congregation.16 Canons 7, composed around the time of the construction of the massive church still standing today, and its use during a refugee crisis, also contains addresses to the monastic assembly. Canons 8 contains various letters and speeches, both to the women’s community and the entire congregation, in which Shenoute makes frequent references to his own clothing and a debilitating skin illness.17 Canons 3 concludes with a “testament,” probably written at the end of his life, which includes a fascinating ritual script calling for obedience to the rules and repentance. The combined evidence of the Canons suggests that Shenoute was in a near-constant state of conflict. Indeed, the history of his interactions with the women’s community, as chronicled through a set of thirteen fragmentary letters found across several volumes, has been elegantly described as a series of ten “crises,” ranging from favoritism in food distribution to complaints over clothing.18 In these letters, Shenoute justifies his previous decisions, criticizing both the actions of specific individuals and the more general attitudes he attributes to the women’s community; at times 15 16 17

18

For an overview of the Canons, see Emmel 2004a, 2.553–605. For more on the structure of Canons 6, see Behlmer 2008. Canons 8 contains seven works, according to its editor Anne Boud’hors: five sermons of varying length (62, 62, 110, 59, and 22 manuscript pages), and several shorter letters at the end written for more specific circumstances (Boud’hors 2013, 71–74); for the texts related to the women’s community, see Krawiec 2002, 47–49. Krawiec 2002, 31–50.

264

Collective Heart-Work

he requests additional information about a dispute, and sometimes he recommends disciplinary action. Canons 4, 6, and 8 provide excellent examples of Shenoute’s defense of his own actions, apparently to the assembled congregation. Canons 4, in its current state of preservation, exists in two parts:19 a lengthy speech, Why, O Lord, in which he justifies his actions against a number of monks who have left the monastery (it is unclear whether they have willingly departed or been expelled by Shenoute); and a seemingly unrelated letter to the women’s community in which he attempts to intervene in a dispute. Canons 6 includes at least five individual works:20 the first, He Who Sits on his Throne, is an address to the monastic assembly in defense of his harsh beating of an elderly monk, apparently resulting in death; another speech, Remember, O Brethren, also concerns the dispute surrounding this same opponent. Several writings at the beginning of Canons 8 also relate to serious breaches in the monastic rule, in which Shenoute’s clairvoyance is at issue, as well as the visionary authority claimed by one of his opponents.

II.

Shenoute’s Rhetoric of the Heart

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Shenoute’s rhetoric in the Canons is the open discussion of his inner thoughts and emotions, from personal anxieties to communication with God. Indeed, the Canons can be read as a kind of selective, public diary. This strategy of self-presentation recalls the focus on the inner lives of Pachomius and Theodore in the biographical tradition, as examined in the last chapter, and there are hints of similar practices outside the Egyptian tradition: the Rule of the Master directs the superior to notify the congregation when under temptation, in order to obtain their support through prayer.21 However, Shenoute never suggests that he is actively struggling with demonic temptation; instead he focuses on communication with God and angels, and presents himself as a mediator of divine judgement.22 Shenoute’s claim to deliver God’s message to the congregation through warnings, curses and various other authoritative (if obscure) pronouncements can be profitably compared to the anthropology of spirit possession. 19 20 21 22

Emmel 2004a, 2.573–575. Emmel 2004a, 576–579. RM 15. Although he occasionally refers to demonic conflicts, such as his dramatic encounter with two demons disguised as a Roman magistrate and his assistant while wandering the monastery alone at night: see Canons 9 (CSCO 42: 37–41), discussed in Brakke 2006, 3–4 and 7–8.

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

265

As Janice Boddy has argued, “spirit possession” is a dramatic, public performance, a “rendering of embodied knowledge graspable by others through performance and conversation.”23 Building on this definition, cognitive anthropologist Emma Cohen analyzes public “spirit possessions” through the lens of theory of mind. She proposes two ways in which the audience might explain the speaker’s possession: first, the more intuitive “displacement principle,” according to which only one mind can be active at any particular time, in this case the spirit’s; and second, the “fusion principle,” that two minds, namely the spirit’s and the possessed individual’s, are simultaneously active.24 Conflicts over meaning and authority often involve differing interpretations of possession as displacement or fusion. Shenoute’s various “performances” before the congregation, as recorded in the Canons, can also be understood from the perspective of theory of mind: does he speak for God, or himself, in managing conflict? For example, his opponents assert that his actions against them reflect his own personal hatred, not divine will; however, Shenoute acknowledges his own sin, but attributes his disciplinary acts, including curses, to God’s command. In essence, this is a dispute about the nature of Shenoute’s interior state as leader of the monastery: he claims a “fusion principle,” according to which he can simultaneously speak for God and his own human insecurities in the Canons. On the other hand, his opponents represent a negative statement of the “displacement principle:” Shenoute does not represent God, but only himself. It is uncertain whether they accused him of instead being possessed by demons, as he accuses them. The simultaneous appeal to divine inspiration and human weakness is crucial to Shenoute’s self-presentation as a leader. His indecision and regret are meant to demonstrate to his audience that God is disciplining him as well, even as he punishes sinners with physical beatings and expulsion from the congregation. As Krawiec notes in her masterful analysis of the “rhetoric of suffering:” Shenoute also presented himself as God’s obedient servant, who had no choice but to obey God’s commands to beat and expel the monks. His obedience required him to suffer since God’s requirements were painful for him to execute. Hence his representation was meant to forge an identification with the monks; like them, he was to be obedient even if suffering resulted from that obedience.25 23 24 25

Boddy 1994, 426. Cohen 2007, 129–154. Krawiec 2002, 59. For a discussion of Shenoute’s self-presentation as the “suffering servant of God,” drawing especially on the Psalms and prophets, see Krawiec 2002, 51–73. She identifies three forms

266

Collective Heart-Work

On the one hand, Shenoute offers himself as a model of repentance for the entire congregation (including god-fearers with no part in the conflict), asserting that he is a sinner before God while lacing his speeches with tears.26 On the other, he does not acknowledge the charges brought against him by his opponents, always defending his acts of discipline and expulsion as following the divine will.27 Shenoute justifies his frequent expulsions through the logic of pollution:  an individual sinner threatens to pollute the entire monastic body through contagion, and must therefore be removed from the group.28 To demonstrate this, Shenoute draws on a rich set of metaphors, including the Pauline notion of individuals forming a single monastic body.29 In Canons 7, he uses the church as a metaphor for both the monastic community and individual disciples, who must maintain their own purity so that God may continue to dwell in the building and render it holy.30 As I will show in the following sections, Shenoute’s concern with purity extended to other aspects of the human person, specifically the heart.31 Sinners pollute the congregation because of evil thoughts and deeds; and just as he expels these sinners from the congregation, obedient disciples must remove evil thoughts from their heart. In writings from the Koinonia, purity of heart (or soul) is often combined with purity of body.32 Thus, in his First Instruction, Pachomius exhorts his audience to maintain “a single heart with your brother, virginity in all your members, virginity in your thoughts, a pure body with a pure heart.”33 In the same text, this purity is specifically tied to the monastic “promise,” which recalls the White Monastery oath: “After we promised God purity, after we promised monasticism, let us accomplish its works:  fasting, prayer without ceasing, purity of body and purity of

26

27

28 29

30

31 32 33

of suffering: “Through the renunciation of power to identify with the monks, through descriptions of the monastery as a suffering body, and by identifying himself as a suffering servant, in the same lineage as the prophets, apostles, and saints of the past” (66). “Woe to me, because I  have sinned; therefore my heart has become pained.” Canons 1, unpublished: FR BN Copte 1302 f. 1v–2r, Coptic text in Emmel 2004b, 163, n. 34. This strategy of denial is similar to the recommendation in the Rule Augustine that monastic leaders should not apologize for harsh discipline: they should ask God for forgiveness, not their community (Regulae 6:3). See the rich analysis in Schroeder 2007, 54–89. In Canons 8, for example, he associates the monastic community with a city (the heavenly Jerusalem), his own garments, and even his own body, suffering through illness. Schroeder 2007; in one extended metaphor, Shenoute compares the “measures of people’s hearts” to the dimensions of the place of God (Canons 7, Amélineau 2: 144; discussed in Schroeder 2007, 106). As Schroeder notes, “sin destroys the soul, heart, and body of the sinner” (Schroeder 2007, 102). Cf. Raasch 1969, 301. Pach., Instr. 1. (CSCO 159: 2).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

267

heart.”34 Shenoute similarly calls for purity of heart, which is achieved through resisting demonic thoughts. Although he does not explicitly link heart, body, and community together in a single passage, he frequently urges their purity on an individual basis. And the heart-body-community trichotomy is expressed in the Rule of the Master, in a description of key exercises that are cultivated within the monastery, including the fear of God and resisting temptation: “The workshop is indeed the monastery, in which, with the instruments of the heart kept in the enclosure of the body, it is possible to accomplish the work of the divine art by persevering with diligent care.”35

III.

Canons 1: Monastic Conflict and Shenoute’s Vocation

The first volume of the Canons was written in the midst of a serious conflict in the monastic federation, in which Shenoute played a key role. The two lengthy open letters allude to a period of factionalism and dispute, framed as disobedience to the traditional rules. Despite the intense emotions and imagery expressed, including numerous warnings of imminent divine judgment against the community, the details are obscure.36 Shenoute had a dispute with the federation’s leader, probably named Ebonh, over his lack of disciplinary resolve, before taking an oath to live separately from the community.37 His writings from this self-imposed exile describe in vivid biblical language his revelation of a particularly sinful act, which had been covered up by an influential monk and his co-conspirators. The sin in question may have been related to the rules – largely sexual in nature – quoted by Shenoute at the beginning of the extant letter. Since Ebonh had accepted the testimony of the chief conspirator, Shenoute proclaimed God’s condemnation of the perpetrators in a series of “judgement oracles” that build on imagery from the Hebrew prophets; he warned that the members of the congregation would share their fate, unless they responded to the sin and repent.38 34 35

36

37

38

Pach., Instr. 1:39 (CSCO 159: 16). See the discussion in Chapter 2. RM 6 (de Vogüé: 1.380). Giorgio Agamben cites this passage as evidence that “the precepts that the monk observes must be assimilated to the rules of an art rather than a legal apparatus” (Agamben 2013, 32). For previous discussions of the events described in Canons 1, see Emmel 2004b, Schroeder 2006, Schroeder 2007, 24–53. Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR–BN Copte 1302 f. 1): “Behold! I declare that if the Lord shows me the way, I charge myself not to eat in company until I go to God” (trans. Emmel 2004b, 163). For their identification as “judgement oracles” and a discussion of the intertextual background, see Schroeder 2006, 84–90, esp. 86–87.

268

Collective Heart-Work

The end of Canons 1 is no longer extant, and thus the precise resolution of the conflict remains uncertain. However, Shenoute clearly assumed leadership over the monastic federation, while his opponents almost certainly left the community or were expelled; Ebonh’s fate – and ultimate position in the conflict – are unknown. Shenoute justified this new position with a cryptic narrative on divine vocation, in the form of an angelic revelation experienced in the midst of the dispute. This passage is of fundamental importance for understanding Shenoute’s mode of self-presentation:  he portrayed himself as an authoritative leader with a divinely sanctioned duty to uncover sin and discipline the perpetrators. Already in the first letter, he states that he revealed the conspiracy “through a command from God.”39 In the second letter, he describes the turmoil and indecision he suffered after his appeals for repentance were rejected, leading to his withdrawal from the community:40 He went away from them, being greatly confused in the thoughts of his heart; and the counsels of his soul were many. And as he walked along his way he was uttering bitter words: “Evil things, now, instead of good things.” And after the man [Shenoute] was distressed in his thoughts that chastised him on account of the man who is in the pit [Ebonh?] that is very deep, fearful to look at or to contemplate. And thus he spread himself out over the road on which he was walking. After he entered his dwelling place he piled dirt on his head, weeping in that place, uttering all kinds of words in the presence of God; and after he got up from the ground, he walked about in a daze, grasping his head, because his thoughts were numerous.

Shenoute, referring to himself in the third person as usual, describes how the revolt against the leader (the man in the pit) occasioned an intense mental struggle, in which “numerous” thoughts “chastised” him for abandoning the leader by leaving the monastery. He also performs various prophetic gestures associated with the rhetoric of ekpathy and repentance: lying face down on the road; casting dirt on his head in his cell, while weeping; and addressing God about the situation.41 At this point, a divine interlocutor appears: And behold! A  man came upon him, having been sent by someone else [God]. He spoke with him with words that are not fitting to tell to anyone, except that the point of the words that he spoke to him is this:  “Either

39 40 41

Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302 f. 3r; text in Emmel, p. 162, n. 29). Shenoute, Canons 1 (Amélineau 1: 451–452). Shenoute, Canons 1 (Amélineau 1: 452–453). The text (or edition) appears corrupt in a few places, where I have made emendations, denoted by {}.

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

269

bear [the burden] and act according to what has settled upon your heart; or renounce [the monastic community] until the light comes up and God is pleased to visit this one [Ebonh].” And the man became distressed in amazement as a result of the words which he heard; and he was saying: “It is better for me that I bear [the burden], rather than renounce [the monastic community]; but it is also better {for me} that I renounce, rather than bear [the burden], {while} this one [Ebonh] is troubled.” And he was troubled in heart, namely this other one [Shenoute]; but the wage of workers who are without guile is great. And thus he did not see rest, nor did he see satisfaction until now, namely the man whose groans are great.

This mysterious man, whom Shenoute does not explicitly identify as a divine messenger, counsels him to decide between two options: “persevering” in some way, possibly a reference to staying within the community and assuming the burden of its troubles; or departing from it entirely (“renouncing”), leaving Ebonh “troubled,” and forcing him to deal with the situation by himself. This is a most unusual call to leadership:  the divine messenger essentially forces him to choose, but does not specify the correct choice. Although Shenoute does not explicitly state his decision, his description of ongoing emotional anguish suggests that he has taken up the burden of resolving the conflict. In the first letter of Canons 1 Shenoute clearly states that this pain is cast upon him by God due to his own shortcomings:  “Woe to me, because I have sinned; therefore my heart has become pained.”42 In Canons 4, he similarly interprets this grief as a punishment for his failure to lead in the way of his “just fathers:”43 I myself said in the greatness of my stupidity: “The lord saw that I have not served him according to the standard of the manner [of life] I was in while my just fathers were present. Therefore he has put all these [pains] into my heart.”

On the other hand, Shenoute sometimes blames this emotional pain on his opponents, as will be discussed below in detail. Finally, he implies that bearing the pain resulting from his disciples’ sin is actually a form of selfsacrifice: he chooses not to abandon the monastery because of the trouble that this would cause for “all the faithful siblings.”44 42

43 44

Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302 f. 1v–2r; text from Emmel 2004b, 163, n. 34). I translate his frequently-used expression, mokh nhēt, literally as “heart-pain.” Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117); cf. Canons 2 (CSCO 157: 131). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 147). Cf. this Pachomian passage suggesting that broken hearts are a pure sacrifice to God: “I exhort you, my siblings, to offer your bodies as a living victim, pure, agreeable to God, not only as a perfume because of the purity of your bodies, but because of the purity of your hearts, as David says: “A sacrifice to God is a broken heart” (Ps. 51:17).

270

Collective Heart-Work

Regardless of their source, Shenoute further asserts that his “heartpains” represent a personalized form of divine paideia, which he believes will remain with him until death: “It is the Lord who is witness that I will go to God while this knife of heart-pain is thrust in my heart and my spirit because I was not able to draw it out before it drew blood.” Even if God mercifully removes the “knife,” the emotional trauma will remain: “If the Lord pleases, he will take it from my heart sometime, except that its entire area, the place from which it was drawn, will remain as a punishment of heart-pain until I go to the Lord.”45 Indeed, at numerous points in the Canons, Shenoute highlights his own intellectual and emotional distress as the divine impetus for his impassioned speech. This generally sets him against the congregation, which he characterizes as joyous. In fact, in Canons 8, echoing Canons 4, Shenoute claims that he often wants to rejoice with them, but instead must make them mourn, because they have made him mourn.46

IV.

Canons 4: Love, Hate, and Hearts of Darkness

Canons 4 contains several documents, and opens with a lengthy letter (or speech), the beginning of which is lost.47 Despite the usual lack of context, it is clear that the text was composed in the midst of an ongoing dispute, possibly related to the initial crisis that preceded Shenoute’s assumption of leadership in the federation.48 Some monks have left the federation, while others were expelled, for various reasons, the nature of which is often not entirely clear. Among the estranged disciples was a group of monks who settled elsewhere.49 Some of them had apparently sought readmission to 45

46

47

48

49

Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302 f. 2r; text from Emmel 2004b, 163, n. 35). In The Lord Thundered (Discourses 4), Shenoute notes God’s ability to heal the wounds of sin: “All Scripture from Genesis down to the last words of the New Testament is calling all of us to listen to God and not to sin, or, having committed sin, to turn ourselves to Him so that He will heal our wounds; as it is written, He is ‘the healer of those wounded in their hearts, who binds their wounds’ ” (Ps 146:3 Budge), GG31 (Young 1993, 144); quoted in Timbie 2011, 626–627. Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013:  77); cf. Canons 4 (CSCO 42:  117). Both compositions are discussed in detail below. A lengthy section published by Leipoldt with the title De eis qui e monasterio discesserunt (CSCO 42: 115–151), currently being edited by Bentley Layton. Thus, Shenoute reminds the congregation of the “great evils which he did contentiously against our holy ancient father, who went to God not long ago” (CSCO 42: 142). This cannot be Pcol, who must have died before Shenoute’s predecessor, Ebonh, assumed leadership. While it is possible that Shenoute would remember Ebonh as a “holy ancient father” (his fate after the events in Canons 1 remains unknown), it is perhaps more likely that he is referring here to Pshoi, director of the smaller men’s community, who is mentioned as a mediator with the women’s community in Canons 2. Shenoute refers several times to “the place” where they have gathered (CSCO 42: 133 and 134).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

271

the monastery, but were denied entry by Shenoute.50 Perhaps as a result, other monks considered departing the community as well.51 Shenoute mentions two specific individuals: one who was expelled along with his family; and another, who seems to have left voluntarily, telling outsiders that Shenoute had “done him violence,” thus preventing him from fulfilling his “vows to God.”52 These same charges seem to have been repeated by other dissatisfied disciples, who stated that Shenoute prevented them from completing their vows (erēt),53 as well as from “doing good,”54 and “doing the work of God.”55 Apparently they were hindered by onerous work assignments, in the words of one complainant, “deeds beyond my capacity.”56 Some disciples appealed to earlier monastic authorities, rather than Shenoute, asking, “Didn’t Pachomius go up to heaven and bring down his commandments so that we might listen to them and do them?”57 The implication is that by assigning excessive labor or discipline, Shenoute rendered fulfillment of the monastic vow impossible. These accusations, as reported by Shenoute, are crucial for reconstructing the nature of the dispute. While he no doubt quotes selectively, presents the disciples’ words out of context, and sometimes clearly parodies them, for the purposes of rhetorical effectiveness he must allude to the actual content of his opponents’ grievances. Such attention to the audience’s concerns is found elsewhere in Late Antique homilies, and reflects ongoing communication between Shenoute and his congregation.58 Although it is not possible to reconstruct a detailed account of the conflict recorded in Canons 4, the key point under dispute is abundantly clear: whether the intense emotional bond that connects Shenoute as director to his disciples consists of love or hatred. His opponents claim that he

50

51 52

53 54 55 56 57

58

“There is no sin against me because I have not sent for them, nor is there a judgement upon the entire holy congregation, because I did not allow those disobedient and ignorant people to enter and dwell with us again . . .” (CSCO 42: 133). Shenoute mentions: “those who say ‘we will leave this place’ ” Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 144). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141). For hindering vows, cf. CSCO 42: 133, 134, and 142. Shenoute does not name these individuals, perhaps as a conscious rhetorical strategy to deny them personhood after their separation from the monastery. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 133; 134; 142). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 136). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 143). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 143); a similar charge is found in CSCO 42: 134. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 120); at another point, Shenoute repeats a similar question about “our ancient fathers:” “Did they not go up to heaven and bring down their words so that we might listen to them?” (CSCO 42: 140). For the case of Augustine’s remarks about fear of death, see Rebillard 2013b.

272

Collective Heart-Work

“hates” them, and “does them violence;”59 conversely, Shenoute asserts that he loves them, despite their hatred for him.60 In fact, it is his opponents who hate him, because he punishes their disobedience: “Perhaps we love those who have died and long for them because they are not with us so that they might hinder us in our disobedience, our conflicts, our strife, while we hate those who live with us. . .because they punish us, not to slander, whisper against, or find fault with those who dispute with us, lest God grow angry at us and destroy our works, as it is written.”61 He associates this disobedience with following the “wish of [their] evil heart” rather than following the community’s rule: “We will stand against you at the tribunal of Jesus, because you did not allow us to fulfill the wish of our evil heart.”62 Like Theodore, Shenoute emphasizes obedience to monastic laws, arguing that he has prevented his opponents from overturning “the traditions of our fathers and the law of the Lord, according to the Scriptures, ‘they have left behind the covenant (diathēkē) and scattered my law’.”63 Shenoute warns that if they do not follow the “traditions of our fathers” they will not share in their heavenly rewards.64 Both Shenoute and his opponents understood their dispute as taking place on two levels: in addition to the mundane world of monastic politics, the opposing sides were set against each another in divine court, with God acting as a judge between them.65 Shenoute invokes this shared understanding in a parody of his opponents’ departure: “And this is how they

59

60 61

62 63

64 65

He repeats this charge on multiple occasions: he “hates” them (CSCO 42: 122; 123; 131; 140; 143); or does them “violence” (CSCO 42:  123; 124; 130; 134; 143). Physical violence is not necessarily implied: it could be verbal violence or otherwise shameful treatment; Coptic ji enkyons corresponds with Greek adikia, which has the more general sense of “dishonour.” Kotsifou 2012 notes that adikoumai is frequently found in papyrus documents, namely petitions seeking redress for public violence, and that tis one of several words expressing anger in these petitions. Shenoute reverses the charge several times in Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 122, 124, 131). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140). Elsewhere he notes that they are disobedient to the monastic forefathers and covenant (CSCO 42: 119, 123–125). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 121). Cf. CSCO 42: 126, 131, 134. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 124). Shenoute also notes their failure to follow the “law of the Lord and the commandments of our fathers that have been left for us.” Elsewhere, he declares: “Woe unto those who abandon their beginning (archē),” probably another reference to their monastic vow (CSCO 42: 126). Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 125). For the scene of the divine courtroom, cf. Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 121); for God as the true judge, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 129). The invocation of the divine courtroom is also found in Theodore, Instruction Three, in which he seems to allude to a conflict: “If it is our superiors who give us scandal, then let us not obey them, and let us trample underfoot any rule established by our fathers. Only let each of us, great or small, be ready to present a defense to God.” Theodore’s call to “love” rather than “hate” (“Let us recall the Gospel oath (Mt 5:22) so as not to hate but rather to love a man who will make known his transgression”) also reflects Shenoute’s rhetoric (Instr. 3:22, CSCO 157: 50).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

273

departed us, lifting their hands to heaven, saying ‘We will stand against you at the tribunal of God, and we will receive a judgement with you in that place, because you did not allow us to establish a law for us in our undisciplined heart of darkness (hēt enkake) and our own polluted wisdom, so that we might abandon the law of the Lord and the commandments of our ancient fathers. . .’ ”66 In contrast to monks who left the congregation because they ultimately rejected the fear of God, including appeals to divine judgement, this dispute appears to have resulted from different interpretations of monastic tradition, despite Shenoute’s reduction of their complaints to disobedience. Indeed, Shenoute implies that many in the community agree with his opponents, or at least do not consider the dispute a serious matter. He begins the letter by quoting both from Isaiah and Lamentations, presenting himself as a prophetic figure suffering in isolation from the community, which is foolishly joyful despite harboring sin: “The Lord seized me and took me to a darkness of groaning and grief and reproach and humiliation, and not to a light of rejoicing and comfort and joy.”67 For Shenoute, this personal turmoil is God’s punishment for his own failures: “Therefore my heart has become troubled, as it is written, because it is the Lord who has determined to give me sadness, according to the Scriptures, causing grief and groans to pierce my innards and my kidneys, like flaming arrows, in repayment for all my sins.”68 With bitter irony he presents himself not as the monastery’s shepherd, but the lost sheep.69 As in Canons 1, Shenoute even expresses doubt about his competence as leader: “Perhaps the Lord was waiting for someone else, capable and worthy of others obeying him, because he is just like those who have fallen asleep.”70 While this humble attitude of repentance is intended to serve as an example for his disciples, there are significant qualifications. On the one hand, he measures himself against his deceased elders, not current monks.71 On the other, the portrayal of the community’s virtue is heavily 66 67 68

69

70 71

Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 116). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117). As we have seen, the “darts of the evil one” (Ephesians 6:16) are often associated with demonic thoughts in monastic (including Pachomian) sources, but Shenoute uses darts more widely to represent psychic wounds coming from God (CSCO 42: 116) or his opponents (CSCO 42: 146), or even from himself, against his opponents (CSCO 42: 120). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117). Cf. CSCO 42: 144, where Shenoute laments that the dispute has made him a “stranger” to the community. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 40: 118). Shenoute describes himself as unworthy of his monastic elders frequently in Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117, 118, 128), and even more so his opponents (CSCO 42: 118–119).

274

Collective Heart-Work

ironic, and quickly slips into thinly-veiled rebuke, as he implies that this joyful attitude is vainglorious: “For yours is all joy, siblings, because you contemplate very much the saying which is written: ‘Who will boast, while his heart is pure?’ ”72 In short, Shenoute’s presentation of the conflict is highly ambiguous, despite his tendencies towards dualistic thought. Many of the uncertainties he addresses, and seeks to resolve, can be framed in terms of the monastic theory of mind. For example, Shenoute asserts that he does not mistreat his disciples because he has the fear of God, and is aware of God’s omniscience: “Am I like the fool who says ‘God does not exist’ (Ps 13:1), or like those who asked, ‘How has God known?’, or ‘Is there knowledge on high?’ (Ps 72:11).”73 More controversially, he claims that he has concealed nothing related to the dispute from his community, testifies that he has no hatred in his heart towards his opponents, and reveals his intense life of prayer, especially related to his emotional anguish over the conflict. We will consider each of these aspects in turn. First, Shenoute assures his congregation that he is not hiding any information related to the dispute, asking rhetorically: “Pray tell, is there any deed or word hidden from you, siblings, which I have not told you about those who have left, or whom we have cast out of the congregations of God, so that (the thought) might fall upon one of your hearts: ‘Perhaps he indeed did violence against someone’.”74 He even requests that, if he has sinned against someone unknowingly, the victims report it to him, through the mediation of two or three respected monks, or even the entire congregation.75 He then proceeds to give an abbreviated, polemical account of two monks who have left the congregation; it is hardly a full narrative, but a parodic recounting of their complaints.76 Shenoute now abandons his earlier humility, asserting his superior handling of the dispute: “You all know the good I repaid him for all the complaints he made against me.”77 And rather than deferring judgement to God, he declares his own innocence and that of the congregation: “I am not guilty of sin. . .nor is there judgement upon the whole congregation.”78

72 73

74 75 76 77 78

Shenoute, Canons 4, echoing Proverbs 20:9 (CSCO 42: 117). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 123). Shenoute’s successor Besa also quotes Psalm 72:11 in response to those who are unconvinced by God’s omniscience (Frag. 3, CSCO 157: 6). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 139). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140–143). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 133). He offers similar assurances soon thereafter (CSCO 42: 143).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

275

Second, Shenoute proclaims that he has been completely transparent when describing his thoughts and emotions to the congregation: “There is no wickedness or envy or hatred or violence at all in my heart towards those people who say I  have done them violence; nor have I  hidden in my heart a profitable word or deed.”79 This is in response to questions about discernment, such as whether Shenoute’s disciplinary actions were motivated by obedience to God’s commands or his own personal hatred. His opponents emphasize the role of personal agency: it is Shenoute who “curses them;” his “speeches and rules are iniquitous.”80 He also notes how some monks left the community “sneering in mockery at the word of God, blaming me: ‘You curse me with parables when you open your mouth to speak in the name of the Lord through the Scriptures’.”81 Shenoute, for his part, argues that God is the one who rebukes the disobedient, and refutes his opponents’ complaints with scriptural quotations.82 Similarly, an estranged monk complains, “He is the one who has cast me violently from the congregation,” to which Shenoute replies, “It is not I who have cast him out, Jesus is the one who has cast him from the congregation.”83 Third, as in Canons 1, Shenoute reveals his communication with Jesus in response to his anguish about the dispute. The description of his prayer position recalls the rhetoric of ekpathy, except that he is addressing God, through his thoughts, rather than speaking to a monastic audience: “Many times on account of those people, I  have said, while spread out on the ground, on my face, ‘I entreat you with my whole heart and all my thoughts’.”84 The content of the prayers is both personal and unusual, evidently without parallel in Pachomian sources. For example, he requests not to die or be estranged from the congregation until he sees Satan reproved, and that God instruct his opponents with “grief and moaning and anguish and irresistible affliction.” He is at pains, however, to explain that this wish is not vengeful: “Not on my account, because they have thought evil things concerning me; for truly I am very evil next to you, Lord, so that I have done violence to myself alone in every act of lawlessness. But I hope 79 80 81 82 83

84

Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 138–139). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 118, 124, 141). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 119–120). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141–142); they also claim that “with great hatred you [Shenoute] uprooted us from the convent” (CSCO 42: 140). Shenoute’s strategy of appealing to God as the motivation for his disciplinary actions gives them authority, despite his acknowledgement of his own sin; cf. Augustine’s justification for obedience: “You should obey your superior as you would a father, with respect to his office, lest you offend God who is in him” (Regula 7:1, Lawless: 100). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 146).

276

Collective Heart-Work

that I have not sinned against these people in this way, as you teach my heart and my bowels.”85 While addressing God, Shenoute merely expresses “hope” that he has not done violence to his opponents, but says nothing to suggest that he actually has. Instead, he implies that they, like himself, should submit to the divine instruction of grief and related forms of emotional anguish. Finally, Shenoute claims that the only “violence” he has committed is to have forced his opponents to repent.86 This is likely a reference to grief and tears, which he claims earlier to have elicited from them in an unspecified act of compulsion.87 As in other Canons, he frequently urges repentance, in order to escape God’s impending judgement.88 In particular, he warns that additional monks will be expelled, unless they repent: “If there are others among us who have not yet washed their heart of the evil of the serpent Satan, I bear witness to those people in the presence of the Lord that if they do not repent (metanoei), they will be estranged from the congregations of our fathers . . .”89 In short, just as Shenoute has revealed his heart to the disciples, and proclaimed himself innocent of his opponents’ charges but in need of repentance, the other monks must follow by expelling Satan from their hearts. A group of three letters at the end of Canons 4, written by Shenoute to the head of the women’s community, also approaches questions of love and hatred.90 The leader has refused to report various sins within her community to Shenoute, who had received a letter from another female monastic accusing some of her colleagues. Later, when the head of the women’s monastery plans to practice corporal punishment in response to another conflict, Shenoute intervenes, arguing that he (and his representative) must approve of the discipline and administer it. In this second letter, he warns them that God will judge them for disobeying the canons and instead following demonic counsels:91 Now, if your heart is troubled because I have said these words to you, know also that it is with a very troubled heart that I have said them. And if you in 85 86 87

88

89 90 91

Shenoute, Canons 4. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 144). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117). It may also refer to the assignment of unusually strenuous acts of asceticism: cf. Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 144). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 126–127). The “papyri” may refer to earlier writings collected in the Canons (on which see below), but Shenoute also lists various examples of biblical sinners whom God destroys because they do not repent (CSCO 42: 132–133). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 129). Described in Krawiec 2002 and Layton 2011. Shenoute, Canons 4 (Young 1993: 93–94, trans. Layton 2011: 339).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

277

your domain want your heart to be at rest, then make our heart, too, be at rest in our domain and tell us straightforwardly about everything that happens in your domain. And the Lord will forgive us and dwell with us, for we will not have forgotten one another through Satan’s corruption.

Shenoute here describes the rhetoric of ekpathy: after becoming angry at their disobedience, he is troubled in his heart because of the responsibility to warn them of God’s impending condemnation. When he does so, they, too, are disturbed. The solution, he claims, is to inform him of any sin that occurs in the women’s monastery: “If you don’t tell us about the things that are in your heart as we tell you about the things that are in our heart, and if you don’t tell us about the things that have happened in your domain as we tell you about everything that has happened in our domain – then may God be with you!”92 This thinly-veiled threat builds on an implicit association between the heart, the deeds of individuals, and the physical space of the community: in particular, secret sins occur within the monastery and are hidden within individual hearts; they must be exposed to monastic leaders to maintain the community’s purity. Failing to reveal this sin, on the other hand, will produce anxiety and hostility:93 And from this day forward, if you in your domain hide any bad deed from us we shall feel great hostility towards you in our heart. And we – either ourselves or yourselves – shall spend all our time feeling anxious about one another like strangers. And what’s the use of our ever having felt anxious about you for any reason, and of your having felt anxious about us for any reason? But from this day forward, if you tell us about every bad deed that happens in your domain we shall feel great peace towards you in our heart. And we shall spend all our time feeling anxious about one another like siblings and like fellow members of one another [Rom. 12:5], ourselves together with yourselves.

Thus, for Shenoute, the mutual manifestation of thoughts is essential for maintaining “great peace” – at least in his heart. This is not a peace without anxiety, but involves the solicitous care for siblings. The beatings Shenoute assigns as punishment for certain nuns at the end of the letter is presented as a form of familial love, just as in the lengthy speech at the beginning of Canons 4: “It’s not because we hate those whom we in our domain instruct with rebukes and blows. Never! Rather it’s because of the love we feel for them, that we instruct them thoroughly, according to the Scriptures.”94 92 93 94

Shenoute, Canons 4 (Young 1993: 98, trans. Layton 2011: 340–341). Shenoute, Canons 4 (Young 1993: 96–97, trans. Layton 2011: 340). Shenoute, Canons 4 (Young 1993: 97–98; trans. Layton 2011: 340).

278

Collective Heart-Work

While in Canons 4 Shenoute is primarily concerned with effective surveillance, and especially reporting, elsewhere in his corpus he grapples with the question of clairvoyance.95 In contrast to the numerous revelations about sinful thoughts and deeds attributed to Pachomius and Theodore in the biographical tradition, Shenoute explicitly denies that he is aware of hidden sin: “So therefore, those who will say such things to me (‘I know those who sin secretly in these congregations’), their blood and their judgment is upon their head. For they said that which they did not ever hear me say.”96 Other monks suggest that Shenoute prays to God and asks him to reveal the identity of sinners; Shenoute protests that he is merely “handing over” the sinners to God.97 He explicitly states that he is not aware of hidden sin, although multiple acts of clairvoyance are depicted in his later Life.98 Sala writes: “In Shenoute’s argument, the sinners can remain undetected because God has already punished them, turning his caring gaze away from them . . . . The secret sinners are portrayed as being located beyond the reach of grace, in Hell – the blind spot of divine grace.”99 At the same time, this is a subtle and effective rhetorical stance: Shenoute’s claim that it is God who reveals the sinners, through his person, is very close to an assertion of clairvoyance. In effect, it attributes to Shenoute the prerogative to “unmask” certain people, while warning those who have not been designated for punishment that they too will be condemned, unless they repent.

V.

Canons 8: Hidden Sin, Darkened Hearts, and Discernment

Like other Canons, volume 8 contains a collection of epistles and speeches, composed relatively late in Shenoute’s career.100 I will focus on the first work of the volume, So Listen, because it is relatively long, nearly complete (only 95 96

97 98

99 100

For a discussion of Shenoute and clairvoyance, see Wees 2009 and Sala 2011, 370–437. Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 104). The same claims are at issue in the next letter: Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 128–129; 135). Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 136–137). For the relevant passages, see Sala 2011, 373, n. 7. This corresponds more generally to Shenoute’s strategy of disclaiming the charisms often associated with “holy men,” as astutely demonstrated in Brakke 2007. In the case of clairvoyance, Shenoute may have been particularly cautious because of the controversy surrounding Pachomius’s claim to this gift, for which see, most recently, Jenott 2013b. Sala 2011, 432. For an overview of its contents, see Emmel 2004a: 2.593–594. Canons 8 is now available in the magisterial critical edition of Anne Boud’hors (Boud’hors 2013), which is based especially on XO (and in particular, IFAO Copte 2), the largest surviving manuscript of Shenoute’s works.

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

279

the beginning and thirteen manuscript pages in the middle are missing), and focuses on discernment and revelation. As in Canons 4, Shenoute provides few details about the background conflict, which apparently reached a point of crisis when he refused to celebrate the Eucharist due to the presence of “impure people,” committing “pernicious acts:” “On the contrary, how will it not be difficult for that one [Shenoute] to whom people have been entrusted, to associate with impure people, while they commit pestilent acts among themselves, or to raise up Eucharistic offerings with them, while their blood and their judgement is upon him?”101 Shenoute further suggests that he cannot associate with them, “until he places the judgement upon their head and the blood upon the middle of his head,” because of his oath.102 He emphasizes (somewhat defensively) that pursuing sinners within the congregation brings him no pleasure, while affirming that he is constantly “ready to vow: ‘I desire to die, or that God visit me, rather than hear that someone has committed pestilent deeds among you (i.e., the monastic congregation)’.”103 Despite (or perhaps because of ) this death wish, Shenoute declares that he is prepared to expel sinners, as he has so often done in the past: “Isn’t it going to happen this time, as it frequently does to you, congregation, and all the other days that the one who speaks to you will spend while alive: through disturbances, and thrown vestments, and rough acts? But those who have been revealed to him committing pestilent acts within you, he will make foreign to you, without being disturbed, and without crying.”104 In other words, although the presence of sin causes Shenoute emotional anguish, its elimination through expulsion does not. As in Canons 4, the offenders seem to have disparaged the Pachomian tradition, which Shenoute quoted in reference to hidden sin: “You mock the saying which our fathers, of whom you are not worthy, have spoken: ‘Do not speak in obscurity’.” Shenoute describes their sinfulness as stemming from “a disobedient heart, dark to you” (Ro 1:21).105 He thus implies that his opponent is unable to recognize the presence of Satan in his heart. Shenoute soon provides more precise information about the dispute, which is intimately connected to prayer, revelation, and discernment. The unnamed monastic adversary seems to have appealed to visions of Jesus in

101 102 103 104 105

Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 78). Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 79). Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 80). Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 79). Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 80).

280

Collective Heart-Work

order to justify the controversial views he held with respect to disciplining monastic children. Shenoute reproduces his alleged statements, which he identifies as advice placed in his heart by Satan; although these are quoted out of context, and no doubt selectively, they offer the only existing hints at the nature of the dispute:106 Are you going to say, braggart, while looking up to heaven or to the air, “I see Jesus,” or “I speak with him?” Why didn’t you see Satan in your heart, advising you about all the bad things you’re saying: “If I were the master of these little kids, I would make them go out and eat with a rod.” And “If only they were all old enough to labor through fasting and asceticism!” And “If they had really understood what sin is!” And all the other destructive sayings: “I will go to visit my family.” And “If I’m not sent to them [my family], I will go in secret and they [the monastic elders] will not discover where I am.” Don’t you know that you will be sent to them in anger, as you are cast out from this place, you and those about whom you’ve said “they are little children,” while you encourage them, through your own choice, to eat as they desire, until they die. Thus their blood will be upon your head.

In other words, the “braggart” apparently encouraged young children to break their fast, because he did not consider them to be old enough for strenuous asceticism. Some of the children evidently did, an act that, according to Shenoute, has threatened their salvation. He once again attacks the claim of heavenly visions:107 The saying which you said, “I gaze up to heaven, to Jesus,” didn’t you say it to me in person, in the error of your heart, before you entered this place? So no one will think that you didn’t say it, or that those who listen to you as you recount that which is revealed to you or that which is manifested to you by the demons are lying.

Interestingly, it seems that Shenoute’s opponent at one point denied having recounted his revelations to others. But during his entrance interview he apparently discussed his habit of contemplative prayer with Shenoute, who nonetheless admitted him to the monastic community.108 Thus his visions became problematic only when he attempted to use them to justify controversial disciplinary practices. This led to Shenoute’s condemnation of him for lacking discernment:109

106 107 108

109

Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 91–92). Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 92). Elsewhere he refers to his optimism about the federation before joining:  “Before coming here, I thought great things happened here.” Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 92–93).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

281

Nor do you even see the demons, much less Jesus. But it is your soul which is air for them, as they fly in it and reside in it, because you serve their false words through your disobedient and ignorant heart, as you go and come with each wind. And if you say this without seeing anything or when nothing has been revealed to you, then when the demon reveals himself to you, taking the form of an angel of light, although he is dark, how many times will you prostrate yourself and worship it, as you fall at your feet, because you do not have the judgement to discern whether spirits come from God or from Satan.

Shenoute thus asserts that the offending monk is himself at fault, and in particular his “disobedient and ignorant heart,” which shifts frequently like the wind, allowing demons to easily infest his soul. He predicts that these demons will eventually trick his opponent into worshipping them, perhaps hinting at a more obvious public embarrassment for the offending monk. These remarks apparently followed a dispute about visualization practices during prayer:110 You have said, yourself, “I gaze up to Jesus in heaven, with his angels,” when you are found in the places to which you withdraw yourself, not to pray, but to meditate on some vanities, in order to talk about them. Thus you said to some people, “This is a small part that I’m telling you, namely that I pray until I see the face of Christ.” And also, “Don’t think that I am a nobody in this respect [i.e., visions] compared to you.” Thus also your mouth, which is full of blasphemies, said: “I am more pure than the sanctuary of God.”

In contrast to the monk’s assertion of purity, it appears that Shenoute has called him a “prostituted soul,” a reference to Ez 16:26. Although the latter protests that this is an insult to the soul as an “image of God,” Shenoute counters that it has been destroyed through porneia.111 He offers a vivid image of the heart’s copulation with demons through its thoughts:112 Therefore, prostitute – which is your soul – listen to the word of the Lord, because you have scattered your money (Ez 15:35–36). And all the other words that the Old Testament speaks like this in its anger to souls which prostitute away from God and his true teaching, at all times, which is: you 110 111

112

Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 94). On the soul as prostitute in the Exegesis of the Soul, see Lundhaug 2010, 82–90, who shows that “its porneia imagery does not refer primarily to bodily prostitution or fornication, but rather, by way of metaphor, to the soul’s relationship to the material world, actual sexuality immorality being one of its bodily manifestations” (85); see now Lundhaug 2017, for parallels with Canons 8. Shenoute elsewhere declares that the monastery itself is a prostitute, just as “the sins of Israel, Jerusalem, or other nations, in the prophetic books of the Bible, are represented by the sin of fornication or porneia” (Schroeder 2006, 83). Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 100).

282

Collective Heart-Work have spread your legs before everyone who passes by (Ez 16:25), which is: the soul of your kind of person, and those who are polluted in every respect, has spread its thoughts and deliberations out before the demons, so that they might pollute it with their acts of wickedness and their defilements and their acts of disobedience. They [the demons] have fornicated with it [the soul] in their false counsels, which are like the flesh of donkeys and horses, according to the words of the prophet (Ez 23:20).

Shenoute declares that, through this fornication, the offending monk has become a “son of the devil” (citing Jn 8:44). In this text, Shenoute seeks not only general repentance, but also the expulsion of certain monks  – whether he has already identified specific individuals is uncertain.113 In a relatively obscure but significant passage, he specifically demands that the community remove the sinners from their midst:114 According to the command of the one whose word is true [Jesus?], or those whose word is true [monastic elders?], “Cast them out, cast them out, like sheep; do not be weak, do not be ashamed to cast them out:” It is I who am speaking to you, “Cast them out,” it is you who are prepared for this deed, according to the things which are in the papyri which are written from the beginning [of the monastery].

Shenoute seems to be quoting a scriptural or monastic tradition, which is difficult to identify. The reference is similar to Matthew 10:16, although in that case Jesus is commanding his disciples to go out and preach, not expelling them from his fellowship because of sin. He also invokes “the papyri which are written from the beginning” as a source of authority: the monks are encouraged to imagine their present situation as a re-enactment of the events recorded in them. More specifically, Shenoute is encouraging them to expel the sinners from the community, asserting that his disciples are fully prepared to do so.

VI.

The Canons and Ritual Repentance

Shenoute provides a clue as to the identity of these papyri in an extensive scribal note preserved at the end of the first volume of the Canons:115 “In the twenty-sixth year of our first father who has fallen asleep, which

113

114 115

In the following text in Canons 8, Shenoute refers to eleven monks who were recently expelled, possibly because of their involvement in this controversy. Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 90). Canons 1 (Munier 1916: 115). See also the translation and discussion in Emmel 2004b, 2.562–564.

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

283

is also the sixteenth year of our other father who has fallen asleep after him, we transcribed all of the things written in the papyri (chartēs) which were established at this time, into this book.” He further asserts that this new book is intimately connected to previous books “written for us.”116 Shenoute orders that his successors keep the book and ensure that it is read aloud at the four annual meetings, serving as a “witness.”117 The purpose of reading the volume is to provoke repentance in the audience, and thus ensure their salvation.118 In the following section, I explore various other references to these “papyri” throughout the Canons, which Shenoute cites as evidence for his ongoing anxiety and emotional pain as a result of sin in the community, as well as for the necessity of expulsion and the power of repentance. Moreover, I argue that the act of reading Shenoute’s growing corpus of Canons aloud at the annual meetings constituted the focal point of an extended ritual of collective repentance.119 Shenoute often notes that the current dispute is simply a reprisal of earlier monastic conflicts. Thus in Canons 4 he asserts that the “papyri that are written from the beginning” anticipate the events he describes: hidden sin within the monastery, to be followed by the departure or expulsion of the perpetrators:120 If you read the papyri which are written from the beginning, you will find in them every deed which is happening now, including those who are sinning or who will sin among us, in secret; and including those who have left, or will leave us, as they grumble and complain for no reason; and including those whom God has cast out, or whom he will cast out, on account of the evil deeds which they have done, or which they will do, among us in our congregations in these times now, and even more in previous times.

Thus the expulsion or voluntary departure of sinners is nothing new for Shenoute – he refers to past cases as additional evidence that the disciples 116

117

118

119 120

“Let he who has not understood everything written in it [this book] know it from all the words in the books that are written for us” (Canons 1, Munier 1916: 115–116). This is presumably a reference to the writings of Shenoute’s predecessors, including rule books, on which see Layton 2014, 36–38. “So let this book, in which are written things that are a witness to all the other words and deeds which are a witness to all the words and deeds which are in this book, be in the hand of the leader of these congregations, at all times, so that he might consider it, in order not to forget it and be neglectful that he read them in the four times of the year [established]” (Shenoute, Canons 1, Munier 1916: 116). “Those who do not want to repent of their evil deeds after they listen to all the words which are in this book will be ashamed in front of those who are able to go down from heaven onto earth, and also of going back up to heaven; but the fire of Gehenna will inherit them” (Shenoute, Canons 1, Munier 1916: 115–116). See also Dilley 2017. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 126).

284

Collective Heart-Work

should obey his instructions for resolving the conflict. And he follows this reference to the “papyri” with an exhortation to the disciples to repent or else face divine punishment. In both Canons 4 and 5, Shenoute also cites the papyri as evidence that it is God, not himself, who has expelled the sinful monks. While covering an extensive list of monastic regulations in Canons 5, he refers to “many congregations who defile themselves, not on account of those who practice righteousness in them, but because of those who reside with them, who do lawlessness.” Shenoute explains that the “papyri written from the beginning” demonstrate that he serves as the intermediary of divine vengeance.121 The whole blame of the word of God blames those congregations in part [i.e., blames the sinners] with rebuke, and also towards us, and also towards the whole world. You will also find this other matter written in the papyri that are written from the beginning, namely: In which way or Who is it who has advised this one who writes [Shenoute], so that he says all these things and all these deeds which are written in those papyri. Even if no one knows, yet you will also find it written in them, as the word of God condemns those who flee, [because] they were not sent by God, and as it blesses those who preach good things, because the Lord sent them.

Shenoute refers to a general challenge to his authority, as mediated through his writings: “From where does this one who writes speak these words and these deeds?”122 Notably, he does not appeal directly to Scripture (as he so often does), but rather to his own earlier writings, and the disciplinary actions they record, as evidence of his divine inspiration. In Canons 6, Shenoute describes a public reading of “the epistle that we wrote at the beginning,” perhaps a reference to Canons 1:123 After we read the epistle that we wrote at the beginning to our fellow congregations [literally, “friendly parts”] – these concerning whom we are also now troubled in heart – we remembered the things which happened to us, through the enemy, on account of our closed hearts; and we remembered how God acted for us, until he plucked us from the demonic depths and impiety which were hard upon us.

Shenoute is already in emotional anguish due to the present conflict, and the reading of his earlier letter is meant to cause his audience to become aware of the widespread existence of sin within their community. As a 121

122 123

Shenoute, Canons 5 (CSCO 73: 64). Note the conflation, here as elsewhere in the Canons, of the written word with the spoken word, and in this case with Shenoute’s actions as well. Shenoute, Canons 5. Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau 2: 302).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

285

central figure in both the past and the present dramas, he must ask the disciple to stop reading because the memory of these past events provokes unbearable pain:124 The entire affliction that has come upon him in that night, as he entreated the one who read, “enough my brother, enough my son.” Is it not enough that this one [Shenoute] remember the affliction and compulsion which touched him from the first in the midst of those people, after he came to them? Is it not they who saw his wretchedness, in that place, in that time, how he was loosened up? He was completely crushed, cast down and crying in that place, namely the altar of God, which they polluted at that time.

Although Shenoute does not specify the nature of the previous affliction, he has just described in Canons 6 a similar act of repentance – rolling on the ground in tears – that he performed as a result of the current conflict.125 He chastizes his current audience for not asking the proper questions regarding his own desperate words and actions, which are also described in “the papyri that are written for us:”126 For some congregations, in which a man has torn his garments very many times, while he is beating his face with force and he falls, stricken, upon the ground, because he cannot stand on account his heart, troubled by works of evil, it is difficult for God to forgive the things which they have done, man or woman, in those congregations. Is it [these actions] not a testimony for them? And if no one has asked why he tore his garments or why he went out and fell upon his face very many times, isn’t God going to ask? And the words and the deeds which are written in the papyri that are written for us, do they not inform those who listen to them, why [he does these things]? Do they not seek those who pay attention to them well? Will they not judge us and will they not condemn us, on account of all those things?

Shenoute seems to despair that his disciples do not listen attentively to his earlier works or understand them, nor do they comprehend the reason for his current desperation. His concern is somewhat surprising, given that the various monastic disputes across the nine volumes of the Canons all concern Shenoute’s knowledge of sin within the community, and the threat of divine judgement, which he seeks to communicate to his audience. 124 125

126

Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau 2: 302–303). Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau 2: 298–300). See the discussion of this passage in Chapter 3. Shenoute’s claim to have been “crushed” is likely a reference to Jeremiah 23:9, which he quotes at the beginning of a writing in Canons 8: “My heart is crushed within me, all my bones have shaken, I have become like a broken man, like a man who is drunk on wine, in the presence of the Lord, and in the presence of the greatness of the beauty of his glory. For the land is filled with adulterers, and the country is stricken with grief in the presence of these” (Boud’hors 2013: 113). Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau 2: 317).

286

Collective Heart-Work

Shenoute’s strategy of reading his own writings as a practice of remembrance and repentance is most fully articulated in Canons 3, composed near the end of his life.127 In Canons 6, Shenoute complains that his disciples never asked questions about his writings, and in particular the reasons for his distress; in Canons 3, he incorporates questions they should have asked into an imagined liturgy to be instituted after his death.128 After a series of blessings and curses, he concludes by blessing all those who will order the public reading of “that book,” and “this epistle,” and cursing the ones who will hinder its recitation.129 He also commands that they keep his torn robes, which he ripped many times while in emotional pain, to be brought out for the ceremony. All those listening to the recitation of the Canons will say: “What are these torn garments, and all these written words, and all these curses?” There follows a lengthy responsory, as in the conclusion of Theodore’s encomium to Pachomius (here are the key sections): And they will say: “In that time the Lord was very angry with us, in a great wrath; and he turned his face from us in great anger, so that he might bring upon us great curses, and evil afflictions, and difficult trials, because we sinned against him, while Satan came upon us like a lion, tearing, roaring; and he beat those who are ours.” And they will also say, “After we repented in great affliction, in hunger and thirst and weeping and tears, for [our] hypocrisy, God turned his face {towards} us, and he moderated his anger, so as not to punish us with great and evil trials. And he removed the whole curse from us, and he had mercy on us with a great mercy, and he blessed us with a great blessing, while he brought his hand upon us with a rod, compassionately, as he boiled us into purity, as it is written: ‘I will bring my hand upon you [monastic congregation] and I will boil you into purity’, and also he removed from our midst evil people and sinners without parallel, as it is written: ‘I will destroy those who are disobedient, and I will remove all the lawless from you, with all the proud. And I will establish for you a judge, at first; and a counselor, at last’.” And they will say, “This is how God acted towards us, because we are his servants, and how the Lord taught us mercifully, and rebuked us compassionately, because we are his children, and he is our father.”

127

128

129

Emmel notes: “References throughout Canons 3 indicate that it is a collection of letters from very late in Shenoute’s life, probably his last five years, for at one point he indicates that he has ‘been living in the desert . . . more than a hundred years’ ” (YA 295) (Emmel 2004a, 2.556; for a general description of its contents, see 2.570–573). This section is given the title Testamentum Sinuthii by Leipoldt (CSCO 73: 204), but this is misleading: the Canons as a corpus comprise Shenoute’s testament, as he orders that they are to be read in their entirety as part of the ceremony. Shenoute, Canons 3 (CSCO 73: 205–206).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

287

In short, Shenoute’s imagined post-mortem ceremony reprises the major themes of the Canons, which he orders to be recited in front of his torn garment. His knowledge of the monastery’s sin, and subsequent emotional anguish, must both be shared with the rest of the community, resulting in group repentance and the expulsion of sinners. Despite Shenoute’s frequent hesitation to claim the powers of the holy man, including clairvoyance, he leaves the Canons as a textual relic, alongside his ripped monastic vestments, bearing witness to the need for collective discipline and repentance.130 Although Shenoute imagined that this ritual would take place after his death, his first volume of Canons, and probably others, were read alongside the rulebook during the four annual meetings. While we cannot recover the precise context of the speeches and public readings of letters attested in the other eight volumes, their message of repentance perfectly fits these collective gatherings devoted to personal scrutiny of obedience to the rule. Theodore’s traditional mode of speaking to the assembled Koinonia in the Great Coptic Life, with his rebuke bringing the majority of the audience to tears, also suggest the rhetorical and ritual dynamics of delivering or reading the Canons. Another ritual of collective repentance is attested in the Life of Phib, the associate of Apa Apollo, the founder of a monastic community at Bawit in Middle Egypt. Every year, Apa Phib, Apollo’s associate, is commemorated on the day of his death, in which forgiveness of sins is granted to all who prostrate themselves and repent.131 Several passages from the Great Coptic Life of Pachomius are particularly evocative of the Canons in their descriptions of the unmasking and punishment of sin – including through expulsion – followed by a justification of this process to the congregation. In one anecdote, when Pachomius visits Tabennesi, he perceives that a monk there has sinned. After praying to God, an angel symbolically “executes” this brother, whom Pachomius then expels. Subsequently, he warns the community of the danger they had faced: “He sat down and spoke with the brothers through the word of God. He frightened them with the negligence of those whom he had cast out, crying very hard, with many tears, because of the wretchedness that had overtaken them because of the pollutions they had done night and day in the presence of God. Then he got up and prayed with all of them, 130

131

A collective repentance ceremony is also attested for Middle Egyptian monasticism:  see Vivian 1999b. Evidence for this ritual and its celebration in various Egyptian communities is discussed in Vivian 1999.

288

Collective Heart-Work

and each one went back to his house, calmly meditating on the word of God.”132 In another instance, Pachomius identifies a brother who had consented to perform an unspecified action suggested by the devil. He summons the wayward disciple before the community and questions him, leading to a confession followed by expulsion from the monastery.133 A similar procedure of public interrogation is ascribed to Theodore. In this instance, the monks do not confess their sin, but are still expelled. Theodore explains to the congregation that he had fulfilled his duty as a monastic leader by warning them that they would receive “blows” because of their sins, and had no other choice in the face of their intransigence.134 The delivery of a public rebuke, followed by expulsion, is also formalized in the Rule of the Master. The abbot addresses the sinner in front of the community, accusing him of imitating Judas and following the devil; the scene of divine judgement is evoked, in which the abbot will be vindicated against his opponents.135 In addition to the basic narrative of sin, expulsion, and repentance, these stories share key themes with the Canons: the courtroom imagery; the leader’s prayer to God, in the midst of tears for the many sins committed within the community; and the emphasis on instilling the fear of God. Shenoute frequently presents himself as a mediator of God’s judgement, most explicitly by quoting scriptural verses. This practice, especially when combined with his striking postures of mourning, recalls Janice Boddy’s interpretation of spirit possession as a dramatic, public performance, a “rendering of embodied knowledge graspable by others through performance and conversation.”136 Her understanding of possession accords well with Victor Turner’s model of ritual as a response to social drama, such as monastic conflict.137 Drawing on these two approaches, the rituals of collective repentance alluded to in the Canons resemble, in some respects, the mechanisms of catharsis. Shenoute, employing the rhetoric of ekpathy, 132

133

134

135 136 137

V. Pach. SBo 108 (CSCO 107:  150–151). On expulsion in the Pachomian tradition, see Ruppert 1971, 166–183; Rousseau 1986, 96–97, who argues that it was only used infrequently, and Brakke 2006, 89. V. Pach. SBo 107; Cf. V. Pach. SBo 106. Similarly, Shenoute recounts how he summoned an opponent (who refuses to come) for questioning before the council of elders (Canons 4; CSCO 42: 142–143). V. Pach. SBo 149; see the discussion of this passage in Chapter 4. According to V. Pach. SBo 195, Theodore used expulsion as part of the care of souls in the case of negligent monks who threatened the salvation of other disciples. RM 13. Boddy 1994, 426. Turner 1968 and 1980.

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

289

seeks to provoke grief in his audience, both through references to the present conflict, and the recitation of earlier Canons describing similar, painful instances of sin in the community. The resulting increase in “heart-pain” leads to tears of repentance in his audience. Yet the practice of communal repentance did not necessarily produce a cathartic release of “heart-pain.” Indeed, Shenoute emphasized that his grief is a scar from earlier wounds that will not disappear until death. Nor does Turner argue that rituals in response to social drama diffuse tension through the mechanism of catharsis; instead of increasing such emotions in order to purge them, he suggests that the community’s heightened tension is redirected.138 Thus, in the Canons, the focus of the purge is different: the grief is channeled into righteous anger at the sinners, who are expelled from the monastery, along with their impurity. At the level of the community (the macrocosm), unrepentant sinners must be expelled, otherwise their pollution will spread throughout the group. For those disciples who remain, there is a different kind of purge: they are to remove Satanic temptations from their hearts, including those identified by Shenoute in his speeches. The heart thus functions as a microcosm that the monks must maintain pure by avoiding sinful thoughts, just as they are expected to uphold the purity of their bodies (the mesocosm) by avoiding sinful behavior. From this perspective, Shenoute’s rhetoric of ekpathy persuades the community by “banishing” the opinions and thoughts of the expelled monks. Indeed, he identifies complaints spoken against him in the monastery with evil thoughts: in Canons 4, his opponents depart “saying in their evil thoughts of the heart: ‘We were not allowed to do the will of God is this place’.”139 Shenoute forbids his opponents to return, lest they spread these wicked thoughts to others, as suggested by the following complaint against him: “We will be judged with you in the presence of God, because you did not allow us to enter the congregation, so that we might dwell there, to destroy other (monks) with corruptions of the heart’.”140 Besa similarly condemns monks:

138

139 140

Turner 1968, 268. Shenoute does, however, allude to extended periods characterised by “peace” and “love,” as in this passage from Canons 3: “Siblings, if you are at peace with one another, in love, from last year until today, then it is possible, through God, to remain in this way until each of you goes to the Lord” (Young 2001). “Last year” may refer to a previous ritual of collective repentance. Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 134). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 121).

290

Collective Heart-Work who turn from good to evil . . . and from all the righteousness of God to lawlessness, deceit, slander, and whispering like the snake, destroying the hearts of those who will encounter them, deceiving those who go about with a heart similar to them, in its whispers and slanders, speaking to one another, saying what is not the case, or not having revealed what is the case.141

Conversely, obedient disciples share “a single heart in the teaching of the Scriptures,”142 and “a single heart with the laws of the Lord.”143 In short, bad thoughts were easily transferable among disciples through illicit speech, resulting in the spread of cognitive pollution within the monastic body; similarly, assenting to demonic suggestions was figured as cognitive fornication. Shenoute’s expulsion of individual monks was thus also a purging of their corrupted minds from the community, at the same time as he publicly revealed and refuted their arguments for the benefit of the disciples who remained. The resulting purified monastic body thus shared a single heart, united by the “teaching of the Scriptures.”144

VII.

Conclusion

As Shenoute wrote and assembled the Canons over his long career, which spanned several decades, he noted that the monastic conflicts he was chronicling in papyri often repeated themselves. In the first volume, he recorded his own role in the unmasking of grave sin, as well as his own angelic commission narrative, which is marked by uncertainty in his decision to lead the community. The affair left him with permanent trauma, a wound in his heart because of his deficiencies: “If the Lord pleases, he will take it from my heart sometime, except that its entire area, the place from which it was drawn, will remain as a punishment of heart-pain until I go to the Lord.”145 In subsequent texts of the Canons, Shenoute revisits his personal insecurities as a leader, revealing his emotional distress to the congregation, including his private entreaties to God. At the same time, he

141 142 143

144

145

Besa, Frag. 12 (CSCO 157: 80). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 135). Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 139). Cf. Hors., Ep. 3:2, an invitation to one of the Koinonia’s annual meetings, which urges the monks to “think this single thought to one another,” quoting Romans 12 (Coptic text unpublished; trans. Veilleux 1982, 158). Shenoute’s simultaneous revelation and regulation of his own heart and those of his disciples recalls anthropologist Maurice Bloch’s contention that “a central implication of ToM [Theory of Mind] is that all social relationships imply interpenetration and, therefore, the arbitrariness of boundaries within the social fabric applies not just to people who are related, but between all human beings who are in contact” (Bloch 2007). Cf. the analysis of socially distributed cognition in Cassian by Chin 2013. Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302 f. 2r; text from Emmel 2004b, 163, n. 35).

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

291

mixes statements of personal humility with assertive claims to follow the divine will, in cursing his opponents through Scripture and expelling them from the congregation. He thus follows the “fusion” model of possession, switching quickly between humble admissions of human weakness and confident assertions of divine inspiration. And just as Shenoute revealed his own self-doubt to the congregation, he also confidently discerned the inner state of his opponents, even while denying clairvoyance regarding their evil deeds. Thus in Canons 4 he speaks generally of their disobedience to “the law of the Lord and the commandments of our ancient fathers,” as manifest in their “heart of darkness (hēt e nkake)” and “polluted wisdom.”146 And in Canons 8 Shenoute contests his opponent’s claim to divine revelation – associated with visualization practices during prayer – instead proclaiming “a disobedient heart, dark to you” (Ro 1:21), which has been invaded by demons.147 In short, while Shenoute maintains a humble profile, there is a clear distinction between his own “heart-pain,” a grief over the sins of the community he feels unworthy to lead; and the demonic thoughts, words and deeds of his opponents. There is a usual pattern of conflict and expulsion of sinners, preventing their pollution of the community, through, among other things, the spread of evil thoughts and opinions. Shenoute himself noted that this pattern was evident in “the papyri,” namely his own Canons, which were read at the annual ceremony. In the third volume, he presents this event as a collective ritual of repentance, in which the monks who remain in the community follow Shenoute in humbly re-committing to follow its rules, in contrast to the expelled sinners’ disobedient “heart of darkness.”

146 147

Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140). Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 80).

Conclusion

“Let us take off the old self, with its deeds and its thoughts, and let us put on the new self, with its works.” Theo., Instr. 3:101

Shenoute justified the expulsion of disciples from the White Monastery federation by appealing to God’s removal of Adam from Paradise:2 “Consider our first father Adam. It is a single command that God ordered for him: ‘Do not eat from this tree, lest you perish’. Behold, after he disobeyed him, he (God) did not put up with him for a single instant, but cast him from Paradise with great anger. Then will he spare us, if we transgress (paraba) his commandments, to not cast us from his holy places?” Thus, for Shenoute, the primal sin was disobedience:  Adam disobeyed the only “rule” of Paradise, and God justifiably cast him out. He is drawing on an earlier cenobitic exegetical tradition, articulated in Letter 5 of Pachomius: “Adam led the way as a model of disobedience and contempt.”3 In the Introduction, we saw that the Pachomians further attributed the proliferation of evil thoughts and temptations to Adam and Eve’s partaking from the Tree of Knowledge. In Discourses 5, Shenoute similarly asserts that the devil sowed disobedience into the hearts of Adam and Eve, and humanity suffered as a consequence.4 These two trends in the cenobitic interpretation of the Fall suggests that disobedience and evil thoughts are the two primary markers of sinful humanity. From this perspective, the monastic ideal of freely choosing to live in obedience and cultivate 1 2

3

4

CSCO 107: 45. FR-BN 1304 101 (Leipoldt 1903: 194): Acephalous Work A1, described in Emmel 2004a, 2.685–687; see the discussion in Chapter 2. Cf. Pachomius’s homily on salvation history, in which Moses’ law is contrasted with Adam’s: “not in one word, as in Paradise: ‘Do not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil’ ” (Paralip. 38, Halkin: 162). Letter 5:7 (Boon: 91). In Letter 3:10, Adam’s sin is related to theft, which seems to have been a common infraction in Late Antique monastic communities. Emmel 2004a, 2:635–636. Jenott 2013 compares conceptions of Adam and Eve in Egyptian ascetic sources with their portrayals in Nag Hammadi Codex II; however, he does not consider Pachomian literature or the writings of Shenoute.

292

Conclusion

293

good thoughts represents the path to salvation, a return to life in Paradise: in the words of Theodore, the removal of “the old self, with its deeds and thoughts,” through the care of souls. Putting on the “new self ” required obedience to the monastic superior, including conformity to the traditional rules, institutions, and discipline of the cenobium; but also the exercise of free choice, and in particular active participation in the disciplining of thoughts and emotions. This process was based on metacognition, an increased attention to one’s own mental processes, but went beyond the conscious effort to monitor and regulate the cognitive stream. Disciples gradually acquired a particularly monastic theory of mind, including assumptions about the mind’s permeability to divine or demonic influence, the moral significance of assenting to evil thoughts, the visibility of one’s thoughts and emotions to God and certain saints, and the possibilities of revelation. The key aspects of the care of souls in cenobitic monasticism, including initial vetting procedures, cognitive disciplines, and collective rituals, all have the goal of eliminating negative thoughts and emotions and redirecting the heart towards, for example, scriptural meditation and images of divine judgment and magnificence. This monastic heart-work reflects a spirituality in which regular discipline, both individual and collective, gradually changes mental experience, understood as a purification of the mind. While scholars of the ancient world have long drawn on anthropological theory to understand group structure and ritual dynamics, in this book I have frequently engaged with recent work in cognitive and psychological anthropology, which is documenting the efforts and consequences of contemporary religionists to enact change in their mental processes, from emotions and thoughts to perception. While we cannot conduct similar surveys or other experimental studies on the inhabitants of the late Roman world, we must take seriously the frequent monastic exhortations to monitor, understand, and discipline the mind, and the related assertions of reformed cognition: a heart inscribed with scripture, for example, or infused with fear, or thankfully contemplating the cosmos created by God. Already at the monastery’s gate, the numerous entrance procedures were related to theory of mind: leaders had to determine the motivations and character of postulants, to ensure that they were sincere in their commitment and would not endanger other monks through their sinful behavior. In particular, there were lingering suspicions about attraction to the monastic life as an escape from worldly obligations rather than a desire for virtue and salvation; and concern that family, government, or other interested parties would contest the decision to become a monk. Some

294

Collective Heart-Work

postulants appealed to commitment narratives – corresponding to typologies of ascetic vocation – in order to emphasize that they were exercising their free choice in joining the community, and that they were not compelled by personal circumstances or zealous monastic recruiters. Even if a postulant’s background was openly discussed in an initial interview and determined satisfactory, there was the additional question of character: were they capable of the obedience necessary for the fasting and other ascetic practices, labor, and heart-work of a cenobitic monk? As Augustine observed, most disciples could not evaluate their own heart, so the superior’s task of evaluating another’s was impossible. Not all shared his pessimism regarding theory of mind: while Pachomius and his successor Petronius claimed a charismatic knowledge, the Koinonia and other large monastic communities adopted a series of entrance procedures beyond the interview, such as initial rejection, hazing, property renunciation, and the vow. These “high cost” actions signaled long-term commitment, and created incentives to remain in the community, beginning with investiture in the monastic habit, a marker of cultural capital and source of prestige. For disciples who were admitted, obedience was not only a matter of following rules and directions, to support the normal activities of the community; it also involved the manifestation of one’s thoughts to a monastic director, willingly submitting to their instructions, and actively training in the cognitive disciplines of Scripture, fear of God, and prayer. Cognitive disciplines were a way to struggle against evil thoughts: to “answer” them with biblical arguments, or refuse assent by imagining the agony of postmortem punishment. Prayer, understood in the broad sense of dialogue with God, progressed as the monk gained experience: one listened to the divine voice of the conscience, spoke to God in a biblical mode, and praised the magnificence of His creation, gradually coming to perceive the power of divine providence, protecting the monk from demonic threats. The study of Scripture was perhaps the most basic form of cognitive discipline:  the illiterate learned to copy biblical verses from a monastic pedagogue as the first step to memorization, and the larger goal of writing them on the heart. Monks also practiced attentive listening to the regular catecheses and subsequent discussion, thereby learning standard interpretations of the key passages for monastic life, along with relevant emotions, from joy to grief to fear. In the “oracular mode” of Scripture, disciples were trained to perceive certain biblical verses as directly spoken to them by God; in the “prosopopoeic mode,” monks spoke in the voice of biblical characters, such as David in the Psalms. Through such practices, monks

Conclusion

295

learned to think in scriptural terms, and to recognize certain thoughts as coming from God, to whom they might respond in turn. Learning the fear of God entailed the acceptance of what was, at least for some, a radically new idea: that God was aware of and judged not only secret acts, but secret thoughts. Monks expanded their sense of shame, guilt, and bodily pain through a potent combination of imagination and discipline, based on the concept of the last judgement. Disciples learned that their interior assent to demonic temptation, which was already known to God and clairvoyant monks, would be exposed for all to see at the divine tribunal; they acquired a sense of guilt through imagining divine condemnation at this same scene, and listening to the rebuke of their supervisors. Finally, corporal discipline gave monks a sense of the bodily pain associated with post-mortem punishment. They were urged to practice the fear of God through personal exercises, and draw on it to resist evil thoughts. As disciples progressed, they developed various techniques of prayer, broadly understood as a conversation with God. Although the institutional context of the cenobium is perhaps less immediately evident for prayer than the other cognitive disciplines, it is important. The divine voice of conscience is said to address new monks who consider breaking the rules. Furthermore, as with catechesis, there were regularly scheduled times of group prayer in both the Koinonia and the White Monastery federation. Night vigils were encouraged, and Pachomius taught a special body posture designed to help stay awake during prayer. More advanced monks learned how to cultivate their “perception” of God’s grandeur and beneficence through praise. Like the fear of God, this could also include efforts at visualization, and such internal image meditation is likely related to the report of frequent unusual sensory experience (visionary, auditory, and to a lesser extent olfactory) in the Life of Pachomius, who is said to have led an informal discussion group of elders who had visions. While the cognitive disciplines of Scripture, fear of God, and prayer were practiced with the help of cenobitic institutional structures, they were common to the care of souls in other forms of monasticism, and indeed ancient Christianity more generally. Several community rituals, in particular commemoration and collective repentance, represent a form of heartwork more distinctive to cenobitic monasticism. Like other hagiography, the substantial biographical corpus of Pachomius and Theodore afford its audience a way to practice the monastic theory of mind, by offering a privileged perspective on the saints’ internal deliberations, including the use of clairvoyance and other revelations in their disciplinary decisions. The secret prayers of Pachomius (and Theodore) on behalf of the Koinonia are

296

Collective Heart-Work

emphasized, establishing his role as patron of the disciples’ salvation both before and after death. Theodore accordingly established a joyous commemorative ritual, in which the disciples fulfill their filial obligation to praise Pachomius, as part of a reaffirmed commitment to follow his laws, with the assurance that their patron would secure them a place in heaven. While Shenoute certainly commemorated Pcol and Pshoi as founders of the White Monastery federation, his Canons provide evidence for a ritual of collective repentance, much like Theodore’s oratory following the revolt against Horsiesius. Shenoute directed that these Canons, with their enumeration of the community’s traditional rules, be read at the four annual meetings; as is evident from various hints in the texts, their reading was accompanied by the weeping of collective repentance, and a renewed commitment to obedience. In fact, many writings in the Canons were likely composed and delivered around the time of the four yearly meetings, in response to internal conflicts, which often ended with Shenoute’s expulsion of sinners. Like Pachomian hagiography, Shenoute’s writings offer the audience an intimate picture of the leader’s thoughts, emotions, and prayer life; they are striking in their quick alternation between his grieved voice of humble self-doubt, and confident claims of divine inspiration for his aggressive discipline. This alternating performance allows Shenoute both to reject challenges to his authority and to act as a model of repentance for his congregation. He presents the heart as a microcosm for the individual and the monastery, directing his disciples to expel their evil thoughts, just as he guards the community’s purity by expelling sinners. The coordinated expulsion of bad thoughts through collective repentance demonstrates the strong institutional context of monastic cognition. The various forms of heart-work explored in this book have not suggested that monasticism, or Christianity, is primarily constituted by the interior experience of an autonomous believer, to the exclusion of practice and group dynamics. While scholars frequently warn against René Descartes’s assumption of a mind-body dualism, I  would also point to an equally problematic heritage, namely his radically individualized approach to metacognition: in the Discourse on Method, he relates his need for complete solitude in order to examine his own thoughts thoroughly, and his discovery of certitude in these alone.5 This ideal of cognitive autonomy is applied to moral discourse in Émile, Rousseau’s Enlightenment Bildungsroman, in the proclamation of the Savoyard priest: “I need only consult myself with

5

Descartes, Discourse on Method 2.

Conclusion

297

regard to what I wish to do; what I feel to be right is right, what I feel to be wrong is wrong.”6 Here discernment is an entirely personal matter, in stark contrast to the manifestation of thoughts in ancient Christian monasticism, whether to a teacher or the entire community. While there are certain similarities between this practice and modern cognitive behavioral therapy, the process was far more extensive for Late Antique disciples, who were expected not only to reveal their thoughts, but to acquire a new model of the mind and its path to purification through cognitive disciplines and collective heart-work.

6

Rousseau, trans. Foxley 1911, 249.

Bibliography

Primary Sources: Texts Ambrose. (1989). De virginitate, ed. F. Gori, Opere II/2: Verginità e vedovanza: Opera omnia di Sant’Ambrogio, 14.2, Rome, 16–106. Pseudo-Ambrose. (1969). Niceta von Remesiana: De lapsu Susannae, ed. K. Gamber, Regensburg. Ammonas. Ammonii eremitae epistolae, ed. M. Kmosko, Paris (1913), trans. D. Chitty and S. Brock, The Letters of Ammonas, Successor of Saint Antony Oxford (1979). Antony. (1994). Epistulae, trans. S. Rubenson, The Letters of St. Antony: Origenist Theology, Monastic Tradition, and the Making of a Saint, Lund. Aristotle. (1959). Rhetoric, ed. W. D. Ross, Aristotelis Ars Rhetorica, Oxford. Athanasius. Epistula ad Marcellinum. PG 27, 11–46. Vita Antonii, (1994). ed. G. J. M Bartelink, Vie d’Antoine, SC 400, Paris. Pseudo-Athanasius. (2002). Vita Syncleticae, ed. L. Abelarga, The Life of Saint Syncletica: Introduction, Text, Critical Commentary, Thessaloniki. Augustine of Hippo. (1949). De catechizandis rudibus, eds. G. Combès and A. Farges, Le magistère Chrétien. Oeuvres de saint Augustin 11, Paris, 28–147. De Doctrina Christiana. (1996). ed. R. P. H. Green, Oxford. De Opere Monachorum. (1900). ed. J. Zycha, CSEL 41, Vienna. Ennarrationes in Psalmos. PL 36–37. Regulae. (1987). ed. G. Lawless, Augustine of Hippo and His Monastic Rule, Oxford. Sermones. PL 38–39. Barsanuphius and John. (1997–2002). Quaestiones et responsiones, eds. L. Regnault and P. Lemaire, SC 426, 427, 450, 451, 468, Paris. Pseudo-Basil. (1953). Homilia de virginitate, eds. D. Amand and M. C. Moons, Une curieuse homélie grecque inedite sur la virginité addressée aux pères de famille. Revue Bénedictine 63, 35–69. Basil of Caesarea, Sermones ascetici. PG 31, 870–882. Epitimia. PG 31, 1305–1314. Regulae fusius tractatae. (2005). PG 31, 905–1052, trans. A. Silvas, The Asketikon of St. Basil the Great, Oxford. 299

300

Bibliography

Regulae brevius tractatae. (2005). PG 31, 1080–1305, trans. A. Silvas, The Asketikon of St. Basil the Great, Oxford. Basili Regula. (2013). ed. K. Zelzer, CSEL 86 (Vienna, 1986), trans. A. Silvas, The Rule of St. Basil in Latin and English: A Revised Critical Edition, Wilmington. Basil of Ancyra, Liber de vera virginitate. PG 30, 669–810. Besa. (1953). Fragmenta, ed. and trans. T. Kuhn, Besa’s Letters and Sermons, CSCO 157–158, Louvain. Caesarius of Arles. (1988). Statua sanctarum virginum. eds. A. de Vogüé and J. Courreau, SC 345, Paris. Callinicus. (1971). Vita Hypatii, ed. G. J. M. Bartelink, SC 177, Paris. Clement of Alexandria. (2002). Paedagogus, Clementis Alexandrini Paedagogus, ed. M. Marcovich, Leiden. Stromateis. (1951–2001). eds. M. Caster et  al., SC 30, 38, 278, 279, 428, 446, 463, Paris. Codex Justinianus. (1928). ed. R. Schöll, Corpus iuris civilis: Novellae, vol. 3, Berlin. Codex Theodosianus. (1905). eds. T. Mommsen and P. Krueger, Theodosiani libri XVI cum constitutionibus sirmondianis . . ., Berlin. Constantine. Epistula ad episcopos catolicos, in C. Ziwsa, ed., CSEL 26, 208–210. Coptic Apocrypha in the Dialect of Upper Egypt. (1913). ed. E. A. W. Budge. Cyril of Scythopolis. (1939). Lives of the Monks of Palestine, Kyrillos von Skythopolis, ed. E. Schwartz, TUGAL 49/2, Leipzig. Descartes, R. (1998). Discourse on Method and Meditations on First Philosophy, trans. Cress, Indianapolis. Dorotheus of Gaza. (1963). Doctrinae diversae, ed. L. Regnault and J. de Préville, SC 92, Paris. Ephrem. (1972). Hymns to Julian Saba, ed. E. Beck, CSCO 323, Louvain. Epictetus. (1999). Encheiridion, ed. G. Boter, The Encheiridion of Epictetus and Its Three Christian Adaptations, Leiden. Epistula Ammonis. (1986). ed. J. Goehring, The Letter of Ammon and Pachomian Monasticism, Berlin. Evagrius of Pontus. (1912). Antirrheticus, ed. W. Frankenberg, Abhandlungen der königlichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, Berlin. (Syriac), trans. (2003). The Greek Ascetic Corpus, ed. R. E. Sinkewicz, Oxford. D. Brakke. (2009). Evagrius of Pontus: Talking Back: A Monastic Handbook for Combatting Demons, Kalamazoo. Faustus of Riez. (1970). Sermon on Honoratus, ed. F. Glorié, CCSL 101A, Turnhout. Fortunatianus. (1863). Rhetores latini minores, ed. C. Halm, Leipzig. Gennadius. (1895). De viris inlusbribus, ed. C. A. Bernoulli, Freiburg. Gerontius. (1962). Life of Melania, ed. D. Gorce, SC 90, Paris. Nazianzus, G. (1908). Oration 43, ed. Boulenger. Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours funèbres en l’honneur de son frère Césaire et de Basile de Césarée. Hilary of Arles. (1977). Life of Honoratus, ed. M.-D. Valentin, SC 235, Paris. (1961). Historia Monachorum in Aegypto, ed. A.-J. Festugière, SH 35, Brussels. (1896). History of the Egyptian Solitaries, ed. F. Nau, Revue de l’Orient Chrétien 13, 266–283, Paris.

Bibliography

301

Horsiesius. (1953). Instructions, ed. L.-Th. Lefort, Oeuvres de s. Pachôme et de ses disciples, CSCO 159, Louvain. (1953). Letters, ed. L-Th. Lefort, CSCO 159, 63–66. (1953). Regulations, ed. L.-Th. Lefort, CSCO 159, 82–99. (1933). Testament, ed. A. Boon Pachomiana Latina, Louvain. Abba Isaiah of Scetis. (1911). Orationes, ed. Augustinus Monachus, Tou hosiou patros hēmon abba Esaiou logoi 29, Jerusalem. Isaac the Syrian. (1923). Mystic Treatises, trans. A. J. Wensinck, The Mystic Treatises by Isaac of Nineveh, Amsterdam. Jerome. (1949–1963). Epistulae, ed. J. Labourt, Saint Jérôme: Lettres, 8 vols., Paris. (2013). Epitaphium Sanctae Paulae, ed. A. Cain, Jerome’s Epitaph on Paula, Oxford. Jesus-yab. (1897). History of Jesus-Sabran, ed. J. B. Chabot, Histoire de JésusSabran, écrite par Jésus-yab d’Adiabène. Nouvelle archives des missions scientifiques et littéraires 7, 485–584. John Cassian. (1955–1959). Collationes, ed. E. Pichery, SC 42, 54, 64, Paris. (1965). De Institutis Coenobiorum, ed. J.-C. Guy, SC 109, Paris. John Chrysostom. Comparatio regis et monachi. PG 47, 387–391. De Compunctione ad Demetrium. PG 47, 393–411. Epistula ad Theodorum lapsum. PG 47, 277–316. De sacerdotio. PG 48, 623–691. John Climacus. Scala Paradisi. PG 88, 623–1164. John of Ephesus. (1923–1925). Lives of the Eastern Saints, ed. E. W. Brooks, PO 17–19, Paris. Pseudo-Libanius. (1927). Epistolary Styles, ed. R. Foerster, Libanii Opera, vol. 9, Leipzig. Pseudo-Longinus. (1968). On the Sublime, ed. D. A. Russell, Oxford. Menander Rhetor. (1856). On Epideictic Speeches, ed. L. Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, vol. 3, 368–446, Leipzig. Nilus, De monastica exercitatione. PG 79, 720–809. Epistulae. PG 79, 81A–581B. Oratio in Albianum. PG 79, 695–712. Origen. (1967–1976). Contra Celsum, SC 132, 136, 147, 150, 227 Paris. (1899). De orantione, ed. P. Koetschau, Origenes Werke 2: Buch 5–8 gegen Celsus, die Schrift vom Gebet, GCS 2, Leipzig, 297–403. Pachomius. (1953). Instructions, ed. L.-Th. Lefort, Oeuvres de s. Pachôme et de ses disciples, CSCO 159 Louvain; (1975a). Letters. Greek:  ed. H. Quecke, Die Briefe Pachoms:  Griechischer Text der Handschrift W.  145 der Chester Beatty Library, Regensburg; (1932). Latin:  ed. D. A. Boon, Pachomiana Latina, Louvain;(1932). Rules. Latin: ed. D. A. Boon, Louvain; (1953). Coptic: Oeuvres de s. Pachôme et de ses disciples ed. Lefort. Palladius. (1904). Historia Lausiaca, ed. D. C. Butler, The Lausiac History of Palladius, Cambridge. Der Papyruscodex saec. VI-VII der Phillippsbibliothek in Cheltenham. (1915). eds. W. E. Crum and A. Ehrhard, Strassburg.

302

Bibliography

Paulinus. (1894). Epistulae, ed. G. de Hartel, CSEL 29, Vienna. Philostratus. (1871) Lives of the Sophists, ed. C. L. Kayser in Flavii Philostrati Opera, vol. 2, 1–127, Teubner, Leipzig. Philoxenus. (1956). Homélies par Philoxène de Mabboug, ed. E. Lemoine, SC 44, Paris. (1963). La lettre à Patricius de Philoxène de Mabboug, ed. R. Lavenant. PO 30.5, Paris. Plutarch. (1939). De tranquillitate animi, ed. W. C. Helm, LCL, 197, Cambridge, MA. (2012). Politics, Monasticism, and Miracles in Sixth Century Upper Egypt: A Critical Edition and Translation of the Coptic Texts on Abraham of Farshut, ed. J. Goehring, Tübingen. Quintilian. (2002). Institutio Oratoria, ed. D. A. Russell, The Orator’s Education, LCL, 5 vols. Cambridge, MA. Regula Magistri, (1964). ed. A. de Vogüé, SC 105–107, Paris. Rousseau J.-J. (1911). Emile or Education, trans. B. Foxley, London. Namatianus, R. (1934). De reditu suo, LCL 434, Cambridge, MA, 764–830. Salvian of Marseilles. (1883). De gubernatione Dei, ed. F. Pauly, CSEL 8, Vienna. Seneca. (1917–1925). Epistulae, ed. R. M. Gummere, LCL, 3 vols., Cambridge, MA. Serapion, Regula ad monachos. PG 34, 971–978. Severus of Antioch. (1919–1920). Letters, ed. E. W. Brooks, A Collection of Letters  of Severus of Antioch:  From Numerous Syriac Manuscripts, PO 12, 14, Paris. Shenoute. (2013). Le Canon 8 de Chénouté, 2 vols., ed. Anne Boud’hors, Cairo. (1993). Coptic Manuscripts from the White Monastery: Works of Shenoute, ed. D. Young, Vienna. (1996). De iudicio, ed. H. Behlmer, Schenute von Atripe: De iudicio, Turin. (1907–1914). Oeuvres de Schenoudi:  Texte copte et traducion française, ed. E. Amélineau, 2 vols., Paris. (1906–1913). Sinuthii Archimandritae Vitae et Opera Omnia, 3  vols., ed. J. Leipoldt, CSCO 42, 43, 73, Paris. Socrates, Historia Ecclesiastica. PG 67, 34–842. Sozomen. (1960). Historia Ecclesiastica, eds. J. Bidez and G. C. Hansen, GCS 50, Berlin. Severus, S. (1866). Dialogi, ed. C. Halm, CSEL 1, Vienna, 152–216. Syriac and Arabic Documents Regarding Legislation Relative to Syrian Asceticism. (1960). ed. A. Vööbus, Stockholm. The Teaching of Addai. (1981). trans. G. Howard, The Teaching of Addai, Chico, CA. Theodore. (1932). Letters. Latin: ed. D. A. Boon, Pachomiana Latina, Louvain; (1975). Coptic: ed. H. Quecke, Ein Brief von einem Nachfolger Pachoms. Orientalia 44, 426–433. (1953). Instructions, ed. L.-Th. Lefort, Oeuvres de s. Pachôme et de ses disciples, CSCO 159, 160, Louvain. Theodorus of Petra. (1891). Vita Theognii, ed. S. Vailhé, Analecta Bollandiana 10, 73–118.

Bibliography

303

Theon. A. (1854–1856) Progymnasmata, ed. L. Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, 3  vols. (Leipzig), 2, 59–130; trans. G. A. Kennedy, Progymnasmata. Greek Textbooks of Prose Composition and Rhetoric. Atlanta (2003), 1–72. Verus. (1916). Vita Eutropii, eds. J. H. Albanés and U. Chevalier, Gallia Christiana novissima 6, 10–18, Montebéliard. Vita Antonii. (1994). ed. G. J. M Bartelink, Vie d’Antoine, SC 400, Paris. Vita Danielis Scet. (2007). ed. B. Dahlman, Saint Daniel of Sketis: A Group of Hagiographic Texts Edited with Introduction, Translation, and Commentary, Uppsala. Vita Dosithei. (1963). ed. B. Dahlman, 122–145. Vita Eupraxiae. (1735). Acta Sanctorum Mart. ii, March 13, Venice. Vita Fulgentii. (1929). ed. G. Lapeyre, Vie de Saint Fulgence de Ruspe de Ferrand, Diacre de Carthage, Paris. Vita Marcelli. (1968). ed. G. Dagron, La Vie ancienne de Saint Marcel l’Acémète. Analecta Bollandiana 86, 271–321. Vita Onnophrii. (1993). trans. T. Vivian, Histories of the Monks of Upper Egypt and the Life of Onnophrius by Paphnutius, Kalamazoo, MI. Vita Pachomii. (1953). Bohairic: Pachomii vita bohairice scripta, ed. L.-T. Lefort, CSCO 89, Louvain; (1932). Greek: Sancti Pachomii vitae graecae, ed. F. Halkin, Brussels and Le corpus athénien de Saint Pachome. (1982). ed. F. Halkin, Geneca; Sahidic: Sancti Pachomii vitae sahidice scriptae. (1933). ed. L.-T. Lefort, CSCO 99, 100, Paris. Vita Pisenthii. (1887). ed. E. Amélineau, Un Évêque de Keft au XVIIe Siècle, Paris. Vita Severi. (1907). ed. M.-A. Kugener, Vie de Sévère, PO 2.1, Paris. Vita Sinuthii. (1888). Arabic:  Monuments pour servir à l’histoire de l’Égypte chrétienne aux IVe et Ve siècle, ed. E. Amélineau, Paris, 289–478. Bohairic: (1888). Amélineau, 1–99. Vita Syncleticae. (2002). ed. L. G. Abelarga, The Life of Saint Syncletica. Contribution to the Research and Studying of the Early Ascetic, Thessaloniki. Vita Thaisis. (1903). ed. F. Nau, Histoire de Thaïs, Annales du Musée Guimet 30, 51–114. Vita Theodorae. (1889). ed. K. Wessely, Fünfzehnter Jahresbericht des k.k. Staatsgymnasiums in Hernals, Wien, 24–44.

Primary Sources: Inscriptions, Ostraca, and Papyri Bataille, A. (1951). Les inscriptions grecques du temple de Hatshepsout à Deir el-Bahari, Cairo. Biedenkopf-Ziehner, A. (2001). Koptische Schenkungsurkunden aus der Thebais, Wiesbaden. Bucher, M. (1931). Les commencements des psaumes LI à XCIII: inscription d’une tombe de Kasr es Saijad, Kemi 4, 157–160. Crum, W. E. (1902). Coptic Ostraca from the Collections of the Egypt Exploration Fund, the Cairo Museum, and Others, London. (1913). Theological Texts from Coptic Papyri, Oxford.

304

Bibliography

Crum, W. G. and Bell, H. I. (1922). Wadi Sarga: Coptic and Greek Texts from the Excavations Undertaken by the Byzantine Research Account, Hauniae. Derda, T. (1995). Deir el-Naqlun: The Greek Papyri, Warsaw. Harrauer, H. and Sijpesteijn, P. J. (1985). Neue Texte aus dem antiken Unterricht. Mitteilungen aus der Papyrussammlung der österreichischen Nationalbibliothek in Wien, Neue Serie, vol. 15, Vienna. Hasitzka, M. (1990). Neue Texte und Dokumentation zum Koptisch-Unterricht. Mitteilungen aus der Papyrussammlung der österreichischen Nationalbibliothek in Wien, Neue Serie, vol. 18, Vienna. Kahle, P. (1954). Bala’izah:  Coptic Texts from Deir el-Bala’izah in Upper Egypt, Oxford. Parsons, P. J. (1970). A School-Book from the Sayce Collection. ZPE 6, 133–149. Winlock, H. E., Crum, W. E., and Evelyn-White, H. G. (1926). The Monastery of Epiphanius at Thebes, 2 vols., New York.

Secondary Sources Agamben, G. (2013). The Highest Poverty: Monastic Rules and Form-of-Life, Palo Alto. Albarrán Martínez, M. (2012). Women Reading Books in Egyptian Monastic Circles, in Eastern Christians and their Written Heritage: Manuscripts, Scribes and Context, eds. J. Pedro Monferrer-Sala, H. Teule, and S. Torallas Tovar, Leuven, 199–212. (2013). Authority to Teach in Female Monasteries in Late Antique Egypt, in Cultures in Contact: Transfer of Knowledge in the Mediterranean Context, ed. S. Torallas Tovar and J. Pedro Monferrer-Sala, Cordoba and Beirut, 51–60. (2015). Female Asceticism and Monasticism in Late Antique Egypt according to Papyrological Sources, Journal of Coptic Studies 17, 1–31. Allen, P. and Mayer, W. (2000). Through a Bishop’s Eyes: Towards a Definition of Pastoral Care in Late Antiquity, Augustinianum 40, 345–97. Allen, P., Neil, B. and Mayer, W. (2009). Preaching Poverty in Late Antiquity: Perceptions and Realities, Leipzig. Andreopoulos, A., Casiday, A. and Harrison, C. (2011). eds. Meditations of the Heart: the Psalms in Early Christian Thought and Practice: Essays in Honour of Andrew Louth, Turnhout. (2000). L’Art Copte en Égypte: 2000 ans de christianisme. Exposition présentée à l’Institut du monde arabe, Paris du 15 mai au 3 septembre 2000 et au musée de l’Éphèbe au Cap d’Agde du 30 septembre 2000 au 7 janvier 2001. Gallimard: Institut du Mond Arabe. Asad, T. (1993). Genealogies of Religion:  Discipline and Reasons of Power in Christianity and Islam, Baltimore. Bachatly, C. (1965). Le monastère de Phoibammon dans la Thébaide, vol. 2, Cairo. Bacht, H. (1956). Antonius und Pachomius:  von der Anachorese zum Cönobitentum, in Antonius Magnus Eremita, ed. B. Steidle, Rome, 66–107. (1976). Logismos, Dictionnaire de spiritualité 9, 955–959.

Bibliography

305

Bagnall, R. S. (1989). Official and Private Violence in Roman Egypt, Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 26, 201–216. (1993). Egypt in Late Antiquity, Princeton. (2001). Monks and Property:  Rhetoric, Law, and Patronage in the Apophthegmata Patrum and the Papyri, in Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 42, 7–24. Bamberger, J. E. (1968). MNHMH-DIATHESIS: The Psychic Dynamisms in the Ascetic Theology of Saint Basil, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 34, 233–251. Bar-Asher Siegal, M. (2013). Early Christian Monastic Literature and the Babylonian Talmud, Cambridge. Barone-Adesi, G. (1990). “servi fugitivi in ecclesia:” indirizzi cristiani e legislazione imperial, Atti dell’Accademia Romanistica Constantiniana 8, 695–741. Barnes, T. (2010). Early Christian Hagiography and History, Tübingen. Barrett, J. (2004). Why Would Anyone Believe in God?, Lanham, MD. Barthes, R. (1975). The Pleasure of the Text, trans. R. Miller, New York. Beck, R. (2006). The Religion of the Mithras Cult in the Roman Empire: Mysteries of the Unconquered Sun, Oxford. Beckwith, J. (1963). Coptic Sculpture 300–1300, London. Behlmer, H. (2008). “Do Not Believe Every Word Like the Fool . . .!:” Rhetorical Strategies in Shenoute, Canon 6. in Christianity and Monasticism in Upper Egypt, Vol. 1: Akhmim and Sohag, eds. G. Gabra and H. N. Takla, Cairo and New York, 1–12. (2009). “Our Disobedience Will Punish Us. . .:” The Use of Authoritative Quotations in the Writings of Besa, in Texte-Theben-Tonfragmente: Festschrift für Günter Burkard, eds. D. Kessler et al., Wiesbaden, 37–54. Bell, C. (1992). Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, Oxford. Bénazeth, D. (2000). In L’Art Copte en Égypte, 105–143. Benedict, R. (1946). The Chrysanthemum and the Sword:  Patterns of Japanese Culture, Boston. Berliner, D. and Sarró, R. (2007). eds. Learning Religion:  Anthropological Approaches, New York/Oxford. Binns, J. (1994). Ascetics and Ambassadors of Christ: The Monasteries of Palestine, Oxford. Bitton-Ashkelony, B. (2003). Demons and Prayers:  Spiritual Exercises in the Monastic Community of Gaza in the Fifth and Sixth Centuries, Vigiliae Christianae 57, 200–221. (2011). The Limit of the Mind (ΝΟΥΣ):  Pure Prayer according to Evagrius Ponticus and Isaac of Nineveh, Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum/Journal of Ancient Christianity 15, 291–321. Bitton-Ashkelony, B. and Kofksy, A. (2006). eds. The Monastic School of Gaza in Late Antiquity, Leiden. Bloch, M. (2007). Durkheimian Anthropology and Religion: Going in and out of Each Other’s Bodies, in Religion, Anthropology, and Cognitive Science, eds. H. Whitehouse and J. Laidlaw, Durham, NC, 63–80.

306

Bibliography

(2008). Why Religion is Nothing Special but is Central, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B 363, 2055–2061. Boddy, J. (1994). Spirit Possession Revisited:  Beyond Instrumentality, Annual Review of Anthropology 23, 407–434. Bolman, E. (1998). Mimesis, Metamorphosis and Representation in Coptic Monastic Cells, Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 35, 65–77. (2001). Joining the Community of Saints:  Monastic Paintings and Ascetic Practice in Early Christian Egypt, in Shaping Community:  The Art and Archaeology of Monasticism, ed. S. McNally, Minneapolis, 41–56. (2016). ed. The Red Monastery Church: Beauty and Asceticism in Upper Egypt, New Haven. Bonner, S. (1977). Education in Ancient Rome, Berkeley. Børtnes, J. (2000). Eros Transformed: Same-Sex Love and Divine Desire: Reflections on the Erotic Vocabulary in St. Gregory of Nazianzus’ Speech on St. Basil the Great, in Greek Biography and Panegyric in Late Antiquity, eds. P. Rousseau and T. Hägg, Berkeley, 180–193. Boud’hors, A. (2000). In L’Art Copte en Égypte, 52–91. (2008). Some Aspects of Volume 8 of Shenoute’s Canon, in Christianity and Monasticism in Upper Egypt, Vol. 1. Akhmim and Sohag, eds. G. Gabra and H. N. Takla, Cairo and New York, 13–20. Bourdieu, P. (1977). Outline of a Theory of Practice, trans. R. Nice, Cambridge. (1991). Rites of Institution, in Language and Symbolic Power, trans. John Thompson, Cambridge, MA, 117–126. (1998). The State Nobility: Elite Schools in the Field of Power, Palo Alto, CA. Boyarin, D. and Castelli, E. (2001). Foucault’s The History of Sexuality:  The Fourth Volume, or, A  Field Left Fallow for Others to Till, Journal for the History of Sexuality 10, 357–374. Boyer, P. (1994). The Naturalness of Religious Ideas: A Cognitive Theory of Religion, Berkeley. (2001). Religion Explained:  The Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought, New York. Brakke, D. (1994). The Authenticity of the Ascetic Athanasiana, Orientalia 63, 17–56. (1995a). Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism, Oxford. (1995b). The Problematization of Nocturnal Emissions in Early Christian Syria, Egypt, and Gaul, JECS 3, 419–460. (2001). The Making of Monastic Demonology:  Three Ascetic Teachers on Withdrawal and Resistance, Church History 70, 19–48. (2005). Making Public the Monastic Life:  Reading the Self in Evagrius of Pontus’ Talking Back, in Religion and the Self in Antiquity, eds. D. Brakke, M. L. Satlow and S. Weitzman, Bloomington, IN, 222–233. (2006). Demons and the Making of the Monk:  Spiritual Combat in Early Christianity, Cambridge, MA. (2007). Shenoute, Weber, and the Monastic Prophet:  Ancient and Modern Articulations of Ascetic Authority, in Foundations of Power and Conflicts of

Bibliography

307

Authority in Late Antique Monasticism: Proceedings of the International Seminar Turin, December 2–4 2004, eds. A. Camplani and G. Filoramo, Louvain, 47–74. (2010). A New Fragment of Athanasius’s Thirty-Ninth Festal Letter:  Heresy, Apocrypha, and the Canon, Harvard Theological Review 103 (2010), 47–66. (2013). Macarius’s Quest and Ours:  Literary Sources for Early Monasticism, Cistercian Studies Quarterly 48, 239–251. Brakke, D. and Crislip, A. (2015).  Selected Discourses of Shenoute the Great, Cambridge. Brock, S. (1998). The Spirituality of the Heart in Syriac Tradition, The Harp 1, 93–115. Brown, P. (1971). The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity, Journal of Roman Studies 61, 80–101. (1981). The Cult of Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity, Chicago. (1983). The Saint as Exemplar in Late Antiquity, Representations 2, 1–25. (1988). The Body and Society:  Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity, New York. (1992). Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity:  Towards a Christian Empire, Madison. (2000). Enjoying the Saints in Late Antiquity, Early Medieval Europe 20, 1–24. Bruce, S. G. (2007). Silence and Sign in Medieval Monasticism:  The Cluniac Tradition, c. 900–1200. Cambridge. Bucking, S. (1997). Christian Educational Texts from Egypt:  A  Preliminary Inventory, Akten des 21. Internationalen Papyrologenkongresses, Berlin, September 13–19, 1995, eds. B. Kramer, W. Luppe, H. Maehler, and G. Poethke, Stuttgart, 132–138. (2006). A Sahidic Coptic Manuscript in the Private Collection of Lloyd Cotsen, Journal of Coptic Studies 8, 55–78. (2007). Scribes and Schoolmasters? On Contextualizing Coptic and Greek Ostraca Excavated at the Monastery of Epiphanius, Journal of Coptic Studies 9, 21–47. Budge, E. A. W. (1902). The Histories of Rabban Hormizd the Persian and Rabban Bar –’Idta, 2 vols., London. (1907). The Paradise, or Garden of the Holy Fathers, London. (1913). Coptic Apocrypha in the Dialect of Upper Egypt, London. (1934). The Wit and Wisdom of the Christian Fathers of Egypt: The Syriac Version of the Apophthegmata Patrum, London. Bulbulia, J. (2014). Why Costly Signalling Models of Religion Require Cognitive Psychology, in Origins of Religion, Cognition and Culture, ed. A. Geertz, New York, 71–81. Burrows, M. S. (1987). On the Visibility of God and the Holy Man: A Reconsideration of the Role of Apa in the Pachomian Vitae, Vigiliae Christianae 41, 11–33. Burrus, V. (2007a). Saving Shame:  Martyrs, Saints, and Other Abject Subjects, Philadelphia. (2007b). The Sex Lives of Saints: An Erotics of Ancient Hagiography, Philadelphia.

308

Bibliography

Burton-Christie, D. (1993). The Word in the Desert:  Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in Early Christian Monasticism, Oxford. Cain, A. (2009). The Letters of Jerome:  Asceticism, Biblical Exegesis, and the Construction of Christian Authority in Late Antiquity, Oxford. Cairns, D. (1993). The Psychology and Ethics of Honor and Shame in Ancient Greek Literature, Oxford. Camelot, T. (1952). Les traités “de Virginitate” au IVe siècle, in Mystique et continence:  Travaux scientifiques du VIIe Congrès international d’Avon, Etudes Carmélitaines, 273–292. Caner, D. (2002). Wandering, Begging Monks: Spiritual Authority and the Promotion of Monasticism in Late Antiquity, Berkeley. (2009). Not of this World: The Invention of Monasticism, in A Companion to Late Antiquity, ed. P. Rousseau, Malden, MA, 588–600. Carruthers, M. (1998). The Craft of Thought: Meditation, Rhetoric, and the Making of Images, 400–1200, Cambridge. Castelli, E. (1986). Virginity and its Meaning for Women’s Sexuality in Early Christianity, Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 2, 61–88. (1991). Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power, Louisville, KY. Chaniotis, A. (2011). Emotional Community through Ritual: Initiates, Citizens, and Pilgrims as Emotional Communities in the Greek World, in A. Chaniotis, ed., Ritual Dynamics in the Ancient Mediterranean: Agency, Emotion, Gender, Representation, Stuttgart, 264–290. (2012). Constructing the Fear of Gods: Epigraphic Evidence from Sanctuaries of Greece and Asia Minor, in idem, ed., Unveiling Emotions: Sources and Methods for the Study of Emotions in the Greek World, Stuttgart, 205–234. Chialà, S. (2005). Abramo di Kashkar e la sua comunità. La rinascita del monachesimo siro-orientale, Communità di Bose. (2010). Les règles monastiques syro-orientales et leur caractère specifique, in Le monachisme syriaque, ed. Florence Jullien, Paris, 107–122. Chin, C. (2007). Grammar and Christianity in the Late Roman World, Philadelphia. (2013). Cassian, Cognition, and the Common Life, in Ascetic Culture: Essays in Honor of Philip Rousseau, eds. B. Leyerle and R. D. Young, South Bend, IN, 147–166. Chin, C. and Vidas, M., eds. (2015). Late Ancient Knowing:  Explorations in Intellectual History, Berkeley. Chitty, D. J. (1954). Pachomian Sources Reconsidered, Journal of Ecclesiastical History 5, 38–77. (1966). The Desert a City, Oxford. (1970). Pachomian Sources Once More, Studia Patristica 10, 54–64. Choat, M. (2002). The Development and Usage of Terms for ‘Monk’ in Late Antique Egypt, Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 45, 5–23. (2009). Property ownership and Tax Payment in Fourth-Century Monasticism, in Monastic Estates in Late Antique and Early Islamic Egypt: Ostraca, Papyri and

Bibliography

309

Studies in Honour of Sarah Clackson, ed. A. Boudhors, J. Clackson, C. Louis and P. Sijpesteijn, Oxford, 129–140. (2010). Athanasius, Pachomius, and the Letter on Charity and Temperance, in Egyptian Culture and Society: Studies in Honour of Naguib Kanawati Vol. I, eds. A. Woods, A. McFarlane, S. Binder, Cairo, 97–104. (2015). From Letter to Letter-Collection:  Monastic Epistolography in LateAntique Egypt, in Collecting Early Christian Letters: From the Apostle Paul to Late Antiquity, eds. B. Neil and P. Allen, Cambridge, 80–93. Clark, E. A. (1981). Ascetic Renunciation and Feminine Advancement: A Paradox of Late Ancient Christianity, Anglican Theological Review 63, 240–257. (1984). The Life of Melania the Younger: Introduction, Translation, Commentary, New York. (1991). Sex, Shame, and Rhetoric: Engendering Early Christian Ethics, Journal of the American Academy of Religion 59, 221–245. (1992). The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate, Princeton. (1998). Reading Renunciation:  Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity, Princeton. Clark, G. (1995). Women and Asceticism in Late Antiquity:  The Refusal of Status and Gender, in Asceticism, eds. V. Wimbush and R. Valantasis, New York, 33–48. Cohen, E. (2007). The Mind Possessed: The Cognition of Spirit Possession in an AfroBrazilian Religious Tradition, Oxford. Constable, G. (1987). The Ceremonies and Symbolism of Entering Religious Life and Taking the Monastic Habit, from the Fourth to the Twelfth Century, in Segni e riti nella chiesa altomedievale occidentale (Settimane di studio del centro italiano di studio sull’alto medioevo XXXIII), Vol. 2, Spoleto, 771–834. Cooper, K. (1996). The Virgin and the Bride:  Idealized Womanhood in Late Antiquity, Cambridge, MA. Cooper, K. and Wood, J. Forthcoming, The Violence of Small Worlds:  The Landscape of Small-scale Social Control in Late Antiquity, in Fear and Belonging in Late Antiquity:  Social Control and the Spectre of Violence in Household, School and Monastery, eds. K. Cooper and J. Wood, Cambridge. Copeland, K. (2004). The Earthly Monastery and the Transformation of the Heavenly City in Late Antique Egypt in Heavenly Realms and Earthly Realities in Late Antique Religions, eds. A. Y. Reed and R. Boustan, Cambridge, 142–158. Cox-Miller, P. (1983). Biography in Late Antiquity:  A  Quest for the Holy Man, Berkeley. (1994). Dreams in Late Antiquity, Princeton. (2003). Is There a Harlot in this Text? Hagiography and the Grotesque, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 33(3), 419–435. (2009). The Corporeal Imagination: Signifying the Holy, Philadelphia. Craske, M. G. (2010). Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy, Washington, DC.

310

Bibliography

Cribiore, R. (1996). Writing, Teachers, and Students in Graeco-Roman Egypt. Atlanta. (1999). Greek and Coptic Education in Late Antique Egypt, in Ägypten und Nubien in spätantiker und christlicher Zeit, ed. S. Emmel, Wiesbaden, 2, 279–286. (2001). Gymnastics of the Mind: Greek Education in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, Princeton. (2007a). The School of Libanius in Late Antique Antioch, Princeton. (2007b). The Coptic School Exercises in the Collection of Columbia University, Aktes des 23. Internationalen Papyrologenkongresses, Wien, 22.-28. Juli 2001, Vienna, 127–130. Crislip, A. (2005a). From Monastery to Hospital:  Christian Monasticism and the Transformation of Health Care in Late Antiquity, Ann Arbor. (2005b). The Sin of Sloth or the Illness of the Demons? The Demon of Acedia in Early Christian Monasticism, Harvard Theological Review 98, 143–169. (2013). Thorns in the Flesh:  Illness and Sanctity in Late Ancient Christianity, Philadelphia. (2017). Emotional Communities and Emotional Suffering in Shenoute’s White Monastery Federation: Sadness, Anger, and Fear in Select Works of Shenoute, in From Gnostics to Monastics: Studies in Coptic and Early Christianity, eds. D. Brakke, S. J. Davis, S. Emmel, Leuven, 355–381. Crum, W. E. (1904). A Study in the History of Egyptian Monasticism, Journal of Theological Studies 5, 129–133. Culler, J. (2010). The Closeness of Close Reading, ADE Bulletin 149, 20–25. Czachesz, I. (2012). The Grotesque Body in Early Christian Discourse: Hell, Scatology, and Metamorphosis, Bristol, CT. Czachesz, I. and Biró, T. (2011). eds. Changing Minds:  Religion and Cognition through the Ages, Leuven. D’Andrade, R. (1995). The Development of Cognitive Anthropology, Cambridge. Davis, S. (2001). The Cult of Saint Thecla:  A  Tradition of Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity, Oxford. (2008). Coptic Christology in Practice: Incarnation and Divine Participation in Late Antique and Medieval Egypt, Oxford. (2013a). The Category of Memory in Recent Scholarship on the Desert Fathers, in Coptic Studies from Old Cairo to the New World. Studies Presented to Gawdat Gabra on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, Colloquia Antiqua 9, eds. S. Moawad and Y. N. Youssef, Leuven, 59–76. (2013b). Completing the Race and Receiving the Crown: 2 Timothy 4:7–8 in Early Christian Monastic Epitaphs at Kellia and Pherme, in Asceticism and Exegesis in Early Christianity, ed. H.-U. Weidemann, Göttingen, 334–373. Debié, M. (2010). Livres et monastères en Syrie-Mésopotamie d’après les sources syriaques, in Études Syriaques 7: Le monachisme syriaque, ed. Florence Jullien, Paris, 123–168. DeConick, A. (2006). What is Early Jewish and Christian Mysticism?, in Paradise Now:  Essays on Early Jewish and Christian Mysticism, ed. A. DeConick, Atlanta, 105–125.

Bibliography

311

Demacopoulos, G. (2006). Five Models of Spiritual Direction in the Early Church, South Bend. De Vogüé, A. (1961). La communauté et l’abbé dans la Règle de saint Benoît, Paris. (1971). Sub regula vel abbate: the Theological Significance of the Ancient Monastic Rules, in Rule and Life: An Interdisciplinary Symposium, ed. M. Basil Pennington, Spencer, MA, 22–64. (1977). The Cenobitic Rules of the West, Cistercian Studies 12, 175–183. (1991–2008). Histoire littéraire du mouvement monastique dans l’antiquité, 12 vols., Paris. (1996). De Saint Pachôme à Jean Cassien: Études littéraires et doctrinales sur le monachisme égyptien à ses débuts, Rome. Diem, A. (2001). Organisierte Keuschheit: Sexualprävention im Mönchtum der Spätantike und des frühen Mittelalters, Invertito: Jahrbuch für die Geschichte der Homosexualitäten 3: 8–37. (2010). On opening and closing the body: Techniques of Discipline in Early Monasticism, Koerper er-fassen:  Koerpererfahrungen, Koerpervorstellungen, Koerperkonzepte, eds. K. Schnegg and E. Grabner-Nie, Innsbruck/Wien/ Muenchen, 89–112. Dietz, M. (2010). Wandering Monks, Virgins, and Pilgrims:  Ascetic Travel in the Mediterranean World, A.D. 300–800, State College, PA. Dijkstra, J. (2015). Review of Ariel G.  López, Shenoute and the Uses of Poverty. Rural Patronage, Religious Conflict, and Monasticism in Late Antique Egypt, Vigiliae Christianae 69: 97–103. Dilley, P. (2008). Dipinti in Late Antiquity and Shenoute’s Monastic Federation: Text and Image in the Paintings of the Red Monastery, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 165, 1–18. (2016). Appendix 1: The Greek and Coptic Inscriptions in the Red Monastery Church, in The Red Monastery Church: Beauty and Asceticism in Upper Egypt, ed. E. Bolman, New Haven, 288–300. (2017). From Textual to Ritual Practice: Written Media and Authority in Shenoute’s Canons, in M. Choat and Mariachiara Giorda, eds., Writing and Communication in Early Egyptian Monasticism, Leiden. Dörries, H. (1962). The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism, Studia Patristica 5, 284–311. Driscoll, J. (1994). The Mind’s Long Journey to the Holy Trinity: The Ad Monachos of Evagrius Ponticus, Collegeville, MN. Driver, S. (2013). John Cassian and the Reading of Egyptian Monastic Culture, London. Driscoll, J. and Sheridan, M. (1994). eds., Spiritual Progress:  Studies in the Spirituality of Late Antiquity and Early Monasticism, Rome. Dumont, L. (1992). Essays on Individualism:  Modern Ideology in Anthropological Perspective, Chicago. Dunn, M. (2000). The Emergence of Monasticism: From the Desert Fathers to the Early Middle Ages, Oxford. Dysinger, L. (2005). Psalmody and Prayer in the Writings of Evagrius of Pontus, Oxford.

312

Bibliography

Elm, S. (1994). Virgins of God:  The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity, Oxford. Emmel, S. (2004a). Shenoute’s Literary Corpus, 2 vols., Leuven. (2004b). Shenoute the Monk:  The Early Monastic Career of Shenoute the Archimandrite, in Il monachesimo tra eredità e aperture:  Atti del simposio Testi e temi nella tradizione del monachesimo cristiano per il 50e anniversario dell’istituto monastico di Sant’Anselmo, Roma, 28 maggio-1e giugno 2002, eds. M. Bielawski and D. Hombergen, Rome, 151–174. (2008). Shenoute’s Place in the History of Monasticism, in Christianity and Monasticism in Upper Egypt, Vol. 1: Akhmim and Sohag, eds. G. Gabra and H. N. Takla, Cairo and New York, 31–46. Emmel, S. and Layton, B. (2016). Pshoi and the Early History of the Red Monastery, in The Red Monastery Church:  Beauty and Asceticism in Upper Egypt, ed. E. Bolman, New Haven, 11–16. Escolan, P. (1999). Monachisme et église: le monachisme syrien du IVe au VIIe siècle: un ministère charismatique, Paris. Fauconnier, G. and Turner, M. (2002). The Way We Think: Conceptual Blending and the Mind’s Hidden Complexities, New York. Fischer, J. (1971). ΜΕΛΕΤΗ ΘΑΝΑΤΟΥ:  Eine Skizze zur frühen griechischen Patristik, in Wegzeichen, eds. E.  C. Suttner  and C.  Patock, Würzburg, 43–54. Flavell, J. H. (1976). Metacognitive Aspects of Problem Solving, in The Nature of Intelligence, ed. L. B. Resnick, Hillsdale, NJ, 231–235. Flower, H. I. 1996, Ancestor Masks and Aristocratic Power in Roman Culture, Oxford. Fögen, T. (2009). ed., Tears in the Graeco-Roman World, Berlin. Foucault, M. (1988). Technologies of the Self, in Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault, eds. L. Martin, H. Gutman, and P. Hutton, Amherst, 16–49. (1988–1990 [1976–1984]). The History of Sexuality, 3  vols., trans. R.  Hurley, New York. (1995 [1975]). Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. A. Sheridan, New York. (1999a [1979]). Pastoral Power and Political Reason, in Religion and Culture: Michel Foucault, ed. J. R. Carrette, New York, 134–152. (1999b [1980]). About the Beginnings of the Hermeneutics of the Self, in Religion and Culture: Michel Foucault, ed. J. R. Carrette, New York, 158–181. (1999c [1992]). The Battle for Chastity, in Religion and Culture: Michel Foucault, ed. J. R. Carrette, New York, 188–198. Frank, G. (2000). The Memory of the Eyes: Pilgrims to Living Saints in Christian Late Antiquity, Berkeley. (2013). The Memory Palace of Marcellinus: Athanasius and the Mirror of the Psalms, in Ascetic Culture: Essays in Honor of Philip Rousseau, eds. B. Leyerle and R. D. Young, South Bend, 97–124. Frank, K. S. (1975). Frühes Mönchtum im Abendland, vol. 1, Zürich.

Bibliography

313

Frankfurter, D. (1996). The Legacy of Jewish Apocalypses in Early Christianity: Regional Trajectories, in The Jewish Apocalyptic Heritage in Early Christianity, eds. J. VanderKam, W. Adler, Assen, (1998). Religion in Roman Egypt: Assimilation and Resistance, Princeton. (2012). Comparison and the Study of Religions in Late Antiquity, in C. Calame and B. Lincoln, eds., Comparer en histoire des religions antiques: Controverses et propositions, Liège, 83–98. Frankish, K. (2012). Cambridge Handbook of Cognitive Science, Cambridge. Gabra, G. and Takla, H. N. (2008). Christianity and Monasticism in Upper Egypt, Vol. 1. Akhmim and Sohag, Cairo and New York. Garel, E. (2016). Lire Chénouté dans la région thébaine aux VIIe-VIIIe siècles in Études coptes XIV. Seizième journée d’études, Genève 19–21 juin 2013, eds. A. Boud’hors and C. Louis, Paris, 181–190. Garitte, G. (1966). Textes hagiographiques relatifs à st Léonce de Tripoli, II: L’Homélie copte de Sévère d’Antioche, Muséon 79: 335–386. Gavigan, J. (1962). De vita monastica in Africa Septentrionali inde a temporibus S. Augustini usque ad invasiones Arabum, Turin. Geertz, A. (2010). Brain, Body and Culture: A Biocultural Theory of Religion, Method and Theory in the Study of Religion 22, 304–321. Gibbs, R. (2006). Embodiment and Cognitive Science, Cambridge. Gibson, C. (2008). Libanius’s Progymnasmata:  Model Exercises in Greek Prose Composition and Rhetoric, Atlanta. Gill, C. (2013). Philosophical Therapy as Preventative Psychological Medicine, in Mental Disorders in the Classical World, ed. W. V. Harris, Leiden, 339–362. Giorda, M. (2009). De la direction spirituelle aux règles monastiques. Péchés, pénitence et punitions dans le monachisme pachômien (IVe-Ve siècles), Collectanea Christiana Orientalia 6, 95–113. (2010). Alla base della pedagogia monastica: le tecnologie del sé nell’Egitto del IV–Vsecolo, Rivista Lasalliana 2, 215–226. Glad, C. (1995). Paul and Philodemus: Adaptability in Epicurean and Early Christian Psychagogy, Leiden. Goehring, J. E. (1986). New Frontiers in Pachomian Studies, in The Roots of Egyptian Christianity, eds. B. A. Pearson and J. E. Goehring, Philadelphia; reprinted in Goehring (1999a), 162–186. (1992a). The Origins of Monasticism, in Eusebius, Christianity, and Judaism, eds. H. W. Attridge and G. Hata, Detroit, 235–255; reprinted in Goehring (1999a), 13–35. (1992b). Through a Glass Darkly:  Images of the ‘Αποτακτικοí(αí) in Early Egyptian Monasticism, in Discursive Formations, Ascetic Piety, and the Interpretation of Early Christian Literature, ed. V.  Wimbush, 25–45; reprinted in Goehring 1999a, 53–72. (1999a). Ascetics, Authority, and the Desert: Studies in Early Egyptian Monasticism, Harrisburg, PA. (1999b). The Fourth Letter of Horsiesius and the Situation in the Koinonia Following the Death of Theodore, in Goehring 1999b, 221–240.

314

Bibliography

(2006). Remembering Abraham of Farshut: History, Hagiography, and the Fate of the Pachomian Tradition, JECS 14, 1–26. (2008). Pachomius and the White Monastery, in Christianity and Monasticism in Upper Egypt, ed. G. Gabra and H. N. Takla, Cairo and New York, 47–57. (2011). The Ship of the Pachomian Federation:  Metaphor and Meaning in a Late Account of Pachomian Monasticism, in Christianity in Egypt: Literary Production and Intellectual Trends, ed. P. Buzi and A. Camplani, Rome, 289–303. Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums: Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates, New York. Golitzin, A. (2001). Earthly Angels and Heavenly Men:  the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Niketas Stethatos, and the Tradition of Interiorized Apocalyptic in Eastern Christian Ascetical and Mystical Literature, Dumbarton Oaks Paper 55, 125–153. Goodman, A. (2012). Theory of Mind, in The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy of Cognitive Science, eds. E. Margolis, R. Samuels, and S. Stich, Oxford, 402–424. Gould, G. (1993). The Desert Fathers on Monastic Community, Oxford. (1997). Pachomian Sources Revisited, Studia Patristica 30, 202–217. Gould, S. J. (1997). Evolution: The Pleasures of Pluralism, The New York Review of Books, June 26, 1997 issue, available at www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/ 1997/jun/26/evolution-the-pleasures-of-pluralism/. Gould, S. J. and Lewontin, R. (1979). The Spandrels of San Marco and the Panglossian Paradigm:  A  Critique of the Adaptationist Programme, Proceedings of the Royal Society of London 205, 581–598. Graf, F. (1992). Gestures and Conventions. The Gestures of Roman Actors and Orators, in A Culture History of Gesture, eds. J. Bremmer and H. Roodenburg, Ithaca, 36–58. Graham, W. (1987). Beyond the Written Word: Oral Aspects of Scripture in the History of Religion, Cambridge. Granić, B. (1929). Die rechtliche Stellung und Organisation der griechischen Klöster nach dem justinianischen Recht, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 29, 6–34. Greenblatt, S. and Callagher, C. (2001). Practicing New Historicism, Chicago. Griffith, S. H. (1994). Julian Saba, “Father of the Monks” of Syria, JECS 2(2), 185–216. Grünbeck, E. (2004). Kardiognosie, Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum 20, coll. 123–137. Guillaumont, A. (1952). Cor et cordis affectus, Dictionnaire de Spiritualité 2, cols. 2281–2288. (1976/1977). Les visions mystiques dans le monachisme oriental chrétien, Nouvelles de l’Institut Catholique de Paris 1, 116–127. (2004). Un philosophe au désert, Évagre le Pontique, Paris. Hadot, P. (1995). Philosophy as a Way of Life:  Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault, trans. A. Davidson, Oxford.

Bibliography

315

Hägg, T., Rousseau, P. and Høgel, C. (2002). Greek Biography and Panegyric in Late Antiquity, Berkeley. Haines-Eitzen, K. (1998). “Girls Trained in the Art of Beautiful Writing:” Female Scribes in Roman Antiquity and Early Christianity, JECS 6, 629–646. Halperin, D., Winkler, J. J. and Zeitlin, F. (1990). Introduction, in Before Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World, eds. Idem, Princeton. Harmless, J. W. (2004). Desert Christians: An Introduction to the Literature of Early Monasticism, Oxford. (2008). Monasticism, in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, eds. D. Hunter and S. Ashbrook-Harvey, Oxford, 493–520. Harper, K. (2011). Slavery in the Late Roman Mediterranean, AD 275–425, Cambridge. Harries, J. (1999). Law and Empire in Late Antiquity, Cambridge. Harris, W. V. (2013). ed. Mental Disorders in the Classical World, Leiden. Harvey, S. A. (1990). Asceticism and Society in Crisis: John of Ephesus and the Lives of the Eastern Saints, Berkeley. (1998). The Stylite’s Liturgy. Ritual and Religious Identity in Late Antiquity. JECS 6, 523–539. (2005). “Incense in Our Land:” Julian Saba and Early Syrian Christianity, in Wilderness:  Essays in Honour of Frances Young, ed. R. S. Sugirtharajah, London, 120–133. (2006). Scenting Salvation: Ancient Christianity and the Olfactory Imagination, Berkeley. Hausherr, I. (1990). Spiritual Direction in the Early Christian East, trans. A. Gythiel, Kalamazoo, MI. Henning, M. (2014). Educating Early Christians through the Rhetoric of Hell: “Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth” as Paideia in Matthew and the Early Church, Tübingen. Hevelone-Harper, J. (2005). Disciples of the Desert:  Monks, Laity, and Spiritual Authority in Sixth-Century Gaza, Baltimore. Hillner, J. (2007). Monastic Imprisonment in Justinian’s Novels, JECS 15, 205–237. (2015). Prison, Punishment and Penance in Late Antiquity, Cambridge. Himmelfarb, M. (1983). Tours of Hell: An Apocalyptic Form in Jewish and Christian Literature, Philadelphia. Hirschfeld, Y. (1992). The Judean Desert Monasteries in the Byzantine Period, New Haven. Hirschkind, C. (2006). The Ethical Soundscape:  Cassette Sermons and Islamic Counterpublics, New York. Hogan, P. C. (2003). Cognitive Science, Literature, and the Arts:  A  Guide for Humanists, New York and London. Holland D. and Quinn, N. (1987). Cultural Models in Language and Thought, Cambridge.

316

Bibliography

Holmes, B. (2013). Disturbing Connections:  Sympathetic Affections, Mental Disorder, and the Elusive Soul in Galen, in Mental Disorders in the Classical World, ed. W. V. Harris, Leiden, 147–176. Horn, C. (2006). Asceticism and Christology in Fifth-Century Palestine: The Career of Peter the Iberian, Oxford. Horn, J. (2013). Die Ausstrahlung des Ägyptischen Mönchtums auf den Westen:  Zur Vermittlerrolle der Kirchenväter Hieronymus und Johannes Cassianus in Ägypten und sein Umfeld in der Spätantike: vom Regierungsantritt Diokletians 284/285 bis zur arabischen Eroberung des Vorderen Orients um 635–646: Akten der Tagung vom 7.-9.7.2011 in Münster, Philippika, 61, eds. F. Feder, A. Lohwasser, Wiesbaden, 139–156. Hutchins, E. (1995). Cognition in the Wild, Cambridge, MA. Jackson, S. (1999). Care of the Psyche:  A  History of Psychological Healing, New Haven. Jacobs, A. and Krawiec, R. (2003). Father Knows Best? Christian Families in the Age of Asceticism, JECS 11, 257–263. James, W. (1902). The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature, London. Jenal, G. (1995). Italia ascetica atque monastica:  das Asketen- und Mönchtum in Italien von den Anfängen bis zur Zeit der Langobarden (ca. 150/250–604), 2 vols., Stuttgart. Jenott, L. (2013a). Recovering Adam’s Lost Glory: Nag Hammadi Codex II in its Egyptian Monastic Environment, in Jewish and Christian Cosmogony in Late Antiquity, eds. L. Jenott and S. K. Gribetz, Tübingen, 222–236. (2013b). Clergy, Clairvoyance, and Conflict: The Synod of Latopolis and the Problem with Pachomius’ Visions, in Beyond the Gnostic Gospels:  Studies Building on the Work of Elaine Pagels, eds. E. Iricinschi, L. Jenott, N. Denzey Lewis, and P. Townsend, Tübingen, 320–334. Joest, C. (1994). Apa Pachom, Mönchsvater und Diener aller: Die Doppelberufung Pachoms († 347) und sein Konflikt mit Theodoras († 368), Studia Monastica 36, 165–181. (1999). Die pachomianische Geheimschrift im Spiegel der HieronymusÜbersetzung. Mit dem deutschen Text von Brief 11b des Pachomianischen Schriftencorpus und dem Versuch einer Übertragung, Le Muséon 112, 21–46. (2005). Von der Geduld der Gläubigen. Pachoms Brief 11a und seine Botschaft, Journal of Coptic Studies 7, 23–47. (2007). Horsiese als Redaktor von Pachoms Katechese 1, “An einen grollenden Mönch:” Eine stilkritische Untersuchung, Journal of Coptic Studies 9, 61–94. (2008). Josef in der Wüste:  Der achte Brief Pachoms und seine Botschaft, Journal of Coptic Studies 8, 103–122. (2011). Erneute Erwägungen zur Chronologie Pachoms (287–347), Journal of Coptic Studies 13, 157–181. (2012). Die Leges Pachoms und die Mönchsregeln der Pachomianer, Vigiliae Christianae 66, 160–189. (2014). Die Pachom-Briefe: Übersetzung und Deutung, Leuven.

Bibliography

317

Jullien, F. (2008a). Aux sources du monachisme orientale. Abraham de Kashkar et le développement de la légende de Mar Awgin, Revue de l’histoire des religions 225, 37–52. (2008b). Le monachisme en Perse:  La réforme d’Abraham le Grande, père des moines de l’Orient, Louvain. (2010). Le monachisme syriaque, Paris. Kalvesmaki, J. (2013). The Theology of Arithmetic : Number Symbolism in Platonism and Early Christianity, Washington, DC. Kalvesmaki, J. and Young, R. D. (2016). eds., Evagrius and His Legacy, South Bend, IN. Kasper, C. M. (1991). Theologie und Askese. Die Spiritualität des Inselmönchtums von Lerins im 5. Jahrhundert, Münster. Kaster, R. A. (2005). Emotion, Restraint, and Community in Ancient Rome, Oxford. Kelly, C. (2012). Cassian’s ‘Conferences’. Scriptural Interpretation and the Monastic Ideal, Farnham-Burlington, VT. Kennedy, G. (1983). Greek Rhetoric under Christian Emperors, Princeton. (2001). A Historical Survey of Rhetoric, in Handbook of Classical Rhetoric in the Hellenistic Period 330 B.C.–A.D. 400, Leiden, 3–42. (2003). Progymnasmata:  Greek Textbooks of Prose Composition and Rhetoric. Writings from the Greek and Roman World 10, Atlanta. Kessel, G. (2013). The East Syriac Book in the Library of St. Catherine’s Monastery, Sinai: The Case of M20N from the ‘New Finds,’ Христианский Восток NS 6 [12], 185–215. Kolbet, P. (2006). Athanasius, the Psalms, and the Reformation of the Self, Harvard Theological Review 99: 85–101. (2009). Augustine and the Cure of Souls: Revising a Classical Ideal, South Bend. Kollmann, B. (1996). Das Schwurverbot Mt. 5.22–37/Jak 5.12 im Spiegel antiker Eidkritik, Biblische Zeitschrift 40(2), 179–193. Konstan, D. (2006). The Emotions of the Ancient Greeks, Toronto. Kotsifou, C. (2007). Books and Book Production in the Monastic Communities of Byzantine Egypt, in The Early Christian Book, eds. L. Safran and W. Klingshirn, Washington, DC, 48–68. (2012a). Book Binding and Manuscript Illumination in Late Antique and Early Medieval Monastic Circles in Egypt, in Eastern Christians and their Written Heritage:  Manuscripts, Scribes and Context, eds. J.-P. Monferrer-Sala, H. Teule and S. Torallas Tovar, Leuven, 215–244. (2012b). “Being Unable to Come to You and Lament and Weep with You:” Grief and Condolence Letters on Papyrus, in Unveiling Emotions:  Sources and Methods for the Study of Emotions in the Greek World, ed. A. Chaniotis, Stuttgart, 317–328. Krawiec, R. (2002). Shenoute and the Women of the White Monastery:  Egyptian Monasticism in Late Antiquity, Oxford. (2008). Asceticism, The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, eds. D. Hunter and S. Ashbrook-Harvey, Oxford, 764–785.

318

Bibliography

(2009). Garments of Salvation:  Representations of Monastic Clothing in Antiquity, JECS 17, 125–150. (2012). Monastic Literary Culture in John Cassian: Towards a New Sublimity, Church History 81, 765–795. Krueger, D. (1996). Symeon the Holy Fool: Leontius’s Life and the Late Antique City, Berkeley. (2004). Writing and Holiness: The Practice of Authorship in the Early Christian East, Philadelphia. (2010). The Old Testament and Monasticism, in The Old Testament in Byzantium, eds. P. Magdalino and R. Nelson, Washington, DC, 199–222. (2011). Between Monks: Tales of Monastic Companionship in Early Byzantium, Journal of the History of Sexuality 20(1), 28–61. (2014). Liturgical Subjects: Christian Ritual, Biblical Narrative, and the Formation of the Self in Byzantium, Philadelphia. Kuhn, K. H. (1954a). A Fifth-Century Egyptian Abbot. I. Besa and his Background, Journal of Theological Studies 5, 36–48. (1954b). A Fifth-Century Egyptian Abbot. II. Monastic Life in Besa’s Day, Journal of Theological Studies 5, 174–187. (1955). The Observance of the “Two Weeks” in Shenoute’s Writings, in Papers Presented at the Second International Conference on Patristic Studies Held at Christ Church, Oxford, vol. 2, eds. F. L. Cross and K. Aland, Berlin, 427–434. Ladeuze, P. (1898). Étude sur le cénobitisme pakhomien pendant le IVe siècle et la première moitié du Ve, Paris-Louvain. Laidlaw, J. (2007). A Well-Disposed Social Anthropologist’s Problems with the “Cognitive Science of Religion,” in Religion, Anthropology, and Cognitive Science, eds. H. Whitehouse and J. Laidlaw, Durham, NC, 211–246. Lakoff, G. and Johnson, M. (1980). Metaphors We Live By, Chicago. Larsen, L. (2007). The Apophthegmata Patrum and the Classical Rhetorical Tradition, Studia Patristica 39, 409–416. (2013). The Sayings of the Desert Fathers and the Monostichs of Menander: Learning a New Alphabet Using Classical Models, in Early Monasticism and Classical Paideia, ed. S. Rubenson, Leuven, 59–77. Layton, B. (2002). Social Structure and Food Consumption in an Early Christian Monastery: The Evidence of Shenoute’s Canons and the White Monastery Federation AD 385–465, Muséon 115, 25–55. (2007). Rules, Patterns, and the Exercise of Power in Shenoute’s Monastery: The Problem of World Replacement and Identity Maintenance, JECS 15, 45–73. (2008). The Ancient Rules of Shenoute’s Monastic Federation, in Christianity and Monasticism in Upper Egypt. Vol. 1. Akhmim and Sohag, eds. G. Gabra and H. N. Takla, Cairo and New York, 73–81. (2009a). The Monastic Rules of Shenoute, in Monastic Estates in Late Antique and Early Islamic Egypt:  Ostraca, Papyri, and Essays in Memory of Sarah Clackson (P. Clackson), eds. A. Boud’hors, et al., Cincinnati, 170–177.

Bibliography

319

(2009b). Some Observations on Shenoute’s Sources:  Who are Our Fathers? Journal of Coptic Studies 11, 44–59. (2011). Punishing the Nuns:  A  Reading of Shenoute’s Letters to the Nuns in Canons Book Four, in Christianity in Egypt:  Literary Production and Intellectual Trends. Studies in Honor of Tito Orlandi, eds. P. Buzi and A. Camplani, Roma, 325–345. (2014). The Canons of Our Fathers: Monastic Rules of Shenoute, Oxford. Layton, R. (2004). Didymus the Blind and His Circle in Late Antique Alexandria, Urbana. Leclercq, H. (1953). Tonsure, in DACL, ed. D. Cabrol, Paris, t. XV, 2, c. 2430–2443. Lehmann, K. (1951). Die Entstehung der Freiheitsstrafe in den Klöstern des hl. Pachomius, Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte: Kanonistische Abteilung 37, 1–94. Leipoldt, J. (1903). Schenute von Atripe und die Entstehung des national ägyptischen Christentums, Leipzig. Lenski, N. (2004). Valens and the Monks:  Cudgeling and Conscription as a Means of Social Control, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 58, 93–117. Leyerle, B. (2001). Theatrical Shows and Ascetic Lives: John Chrysostom’s Attack on Spiritual Marriage, Berkeley. Leyerle, B. and Young, R. D. (2013). eds. Ascetic Culture: Essays in Honor of Philip Rousseau, South Bend. Leyser, C. (1999). This Sainted Isle:  Panegyric, Nostalgia, and the Invention of Lerinian Monasticism, in The Limits of Ancient Christianity: Essays on Late Antique Thought and Culture in Honor of R.A. Markus, eds. W. Klingshirn and M. Vessey, Ann Arbor, 188–214. (2000). Authority and Asceticism from Augustine to Gregory the Great, Oxford. (2005). Homo pauper, de pauperibus natum: Augustine, Church Property, and the Cult of Stephen, Augustinian Studies 36, 229–237. (2007). “A Wall Protecting the City:” Conflicts of Power and Authority in the Life of Fulgentius of Ruspe, in Foundations of Power and Conflicts of Authority in Late-Antique Monasticism:  Proceedings of the International Seminar Turin, December 2–4, 2004, eds. A. Camplani and G. Filoramo, Leuven, 175–194. Lienhard, J. (1980). On “Discernment of Spirits” in the Early Church, Theological Studies 41, 505–529. Long, A. A. (2006). From Epicurus to Epictetus: Studies in Hellenistic and Roman Philosophy, New York. (2015). Greek Models of Mind and Self, Cambridge, MA. Louth, A. (1981). The Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition:  From Plato to Denys, Oxford. López, A. (2013). Shenoute of Atripe and the Uses of Poverty:  Rural Patronage, Religious Conflict, and Monasiticism in Late Antique Egypt, Berkeley. Lubomierski, N. (2007). Die Vita Sinuthii: Form- und Überlieferungsgeschichte der hagiographischen Texte über Schenute den Archimandriten, Tübingen.

320

Bibliography

Luhrmann, T. M. (2004). Metakinesis:  How God Becomes Intimate in Contemporary U.S. Christianity, American Anthropologist 106(3), 518–528. (2012). When God Talks Back:  Understanding the American Evangelical Relationship with God, New York. (2011). Towards an Anthropological Theory of Mind, Journal of the Finnish Anthropological Association 36(4), 5–69. Luhrmann, T. M. and Morgain, R. (2012). Prayer as Inner Sense Cultivation: An Attentional Learning Theory of Inner Sense Cultivation, Ethos 40, 359–389. Luijendijk, A.-M. (2014). Forbidden Oracles? The Gospel of the Lots of Mary, Tübingen. Lundhaug, H. (2010). Images of Rebirth:  Cognitive Poetics and Transformational Soteriology in the Gospel of Philip and the Exegesis on the Soul, Leiden. (2011). Baptism in the Monasteries of Upper Egypt:  The Pachomian Corpus and the Writings of Shenoute, in Ablution, Initiation, and Baptism in Early Judaism, Graeco-Roman Religion, and Early Christianity, ed. D. Hellholm, Berlin, 1347–1380. (2013). Origenism in Fifth-Century Upper Egypt: Shenoute of Atripe and the Nag Hammadi Codices, Studia Patristica 64, 217–228. (2014). Memory and Early Monastic Literary Practices: A Cognitive Perspective, Journal of Cognitive Historiography 1, 98–120. (2017). Monastic Exegesis and the Female Soul in the Exegesis on the Soul (NHC II, 6), Antti Marjanen Festschrift, 1–13. Lundhaug, H. and Jenott, L. (2015). The Monastic Origins of the Nag Hammadi Codices, Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum, Tübingen. Luomanen, P., Pyysiäinen, I. and Uro, R. (2007). Explaining Christian Origins and Early Judaism: Contributions from Cognitive and Social Science, Leiden. Lutz, C. (1999). Crying: A Natural History and Cultural History of Tears, New York. Mahmood, S. (2005). Politics of Piety: The Islamic Revival and the Feminist Subject, Princeton. Malley, B. (2004). How the Bible Works: An Anthropological Study of Evangelical Biblicism, Lanham, MD. Martin, L. (2011). Evolution, Cognition, and History, in Past Minds: Studies in Cognitive Historiography, eds. L. Martin and J. Sørenson, 1–10, London. Maxwell, J. (2006). Christianization and Communication in Late Antiquity: John Chrysostom and his Congregation in Antioch, Cambridge. Mayer, W. (1998). Monasticism at Antioch and Constantinople in the Late Fourth Century: A Case of Exclusivity or Diversity? in Prayer and Spirituality in the Early Church, eds. P. Allen, R. Canning, L. Cross, and J. B. Caiger, vol. 1, Brisbane, 275–288. McCauley, R. and Lawson, E. T. (2002). Bringing Ritual to Mind: Psychological Foundations of Cultural Forms, Cambridge. McCutcheon, R. (1997). Manufacturing Religion:  The Discourse on Sui Generis Religion and the Politics of Nostalgia, New York. McNary-Zak, B. (2010). Useful Servanthood: A Study of Spiritual Formation in the Writings of Abba Ammonas, Collegeville, MN.

Bibliography

321

Merkelbach, R. (1980). Analphabetische Klostervorsteher in Konstantinopel und Chalkedon, ZPE 39, 291–294. Metz, R. (1954). La Consécration des vierges dans l’église romaine, Paris. Michelson, D. (2015). The Practical Christology of Philoxenus of Mabbug, Oxford. Morelli, G. (2004). Christian Asceticism and Cognitive Behavioral Psychology, in Raising Lazarus: Integrating Healing in Orthodox Christianity, ed. S. Muse, Brookline, MA. Morris, H. (1976). On Guilt and Innocence: Essays in Legal Philosophy and Moral Psychology, Berkeley. Moschos, D. (2010). Eschatologie im ägyptischen Mönchtum:  Die Rolle christlicher eschatologischer Denkvarianten in der Geschichte des frühen ägyptischen Mönchtums und seiner sozialen Funktion, Tübingen. Moussa, M. (2003). The Coptic Literary Dossier of Moses of Abydos, Coptic Church Review 24, 66–90. (2010). I Have Been Reading the Holy Gospels by Shenoute of Atripe (Discourses 8, Work 1):  Coptic Text, Translation, and Commentary, Dissertation, Washington, DC. Naumescu, V. (2012). Learning the “Science of Feelings:” Religious Training in Eastern Christian Monasticism, Ethnos 77(2), 227–251. Neumann, H. and Thür, G. (2006). Eid, in Der Neue Pauly, eds. H.  Cancik, H. Schneider, M. Landfester, Brill Online, last accessed 10/2015. Newman, B. (2005). What Did It Mean to Say I Saw? The Clash Between Theory and Practice in Medieval Visionary Culture, Speculum 80, 1–43. Newman, R. J. (1989). Cotidie meditare:  Theory and Practice of the meditatio in Imperial Stoicism, Berlin. Noll, R. (1985). Mental Imagery Cultivation as a Cultural Phenomenon, with Commentary, Current Anthropology 26, 443–461. Nongbri, B. (2013). Before Religion: A History of a Modern Concept, New Haven. Nouailhat, R. (1988). Saints et patrons: les premiers moines de Lérins, Paris. O’Laughlin, M. (1988). Elements of Fourth-Century Origenism, in Origen of Alexandria: His World and His Legacy, eds. C. Kannengieser and W. Petersen, South Bend, IN, 357–373. Olivar, A. (1991). La predicacion Cristiana Antigua, Barcelona. Oppenheim, P. (1931). Das Mönchskleid im christlichen Altertum, Freiburg. (1932). Symbolik und religiöse Wertung des Mönchskleides im christlichen Altertum, Münster. Otto, R. (1923). trans. J. W. Harvey, The Idea of the Holy, London. Painchaud, L. and Wees, J. (2002). Connaître la difference entre les hommes mauvais et les bons:  le charisma de clairvoyance d’Adam et Ève à Pachôme et Théodore, in For the Children, Perfect Instruction, Studies in Honor of HansMartin Schenke, eds. H.-G. Bethge, S. Emmel, K. King, H.-M. Schenke, I. Schletterer, Leiden, 139–155. Papaconstantinou, A. (2002). Notes sur les actes de donation d’enfant au monastère thébain de Saint-Phoibammon, Journal of Juristic Papyrology 32, 83–105.

322

Bibliography

(2014). Egyptians and “Hellenists:” Linguistic Diversity in the Early Pachomian Monasteries, in Le myrte et la rose. Mélanges offerts à Françoise Dunand par ses élèves, collègues et amis, eds. G. Tallet and C. Zivie-Coche, Montpellier, 13–19. Patrich, J. (1995). Sabas, Leader of Palestinian Monasticism: A Comparative Study of Eastern Monasticism, Fourth to Seventh Centuries, Washington, DC. Perrone, L. (2006). The Necessity of Advice: Spiritual Direction as a School of Christianity in the Correspondence of Barsanuphius and John of Gaza, in Christian Gaza, ed. B. Bitton-Ashkelony and A. Kofsky, Leiden. Pettazzoni, R. (1956). The All-Knowing God:  Researches into Early Religion and Culture, trans. H. J. Rose, London. Phang, L. (1978). Roman Military Service:  Ideologies of Discipline in the Late Republic and Early Principate, Cambridge. Prinz, F. (1988). Frühes Mönchtum im Frankreich: Kultur und Gesellschaft in Gallien, den Rheinlanden, und Bayern am Beispiel der monastischen Entwicklung (4. bis 8. Jahrhundert), 2nd ed., Munich. Pyysiäinen, I. (2012). Cognitive Science of Religion: State-of-the-art, Journal for the Cognitive Science of Religion 1, 5–28. Raasch, J. (1968). The Monastic Concept of Purity of Heart and its Sources, III: Philo, Clement of Alexandria, and Origen, Studia Monastica 10, 7–55. (1969). The Monastic Concept of Purity of Heart and its Sources, IV:  Early Monasticism, Studia Monastica 11, 269–314. Rapp, C. (1999). For Next to God, You are My Salvation: Reflections on the Rise of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity, in The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, eds. J. H. Johnston and P. A. Hayward, Oxford, 63–81. (2005). Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity, Berkeley. (2007). Holy Texts, Holy Men, and Holy Scribes. Aspects of Scriptural Holiness in Late Antiquity, in The Early Christian Book, eds. W.  E. Klingshirn, L. Safran, 194–222. Rebillard, E. (2013). Interaction Between the Preacher and his Audience: the Casestudy of Augustine’s Preaching on Death, in Transformations of Religious Practices in Late Antiquity, ed. E. Rebillard, Farnham, 15–26. Rebillard, S. A. (2013). The Speech Act of Swearing: Gregory of Nazianzen’s Oath in Poema 2.1.2 in Context, JECS 21(2), 177–207. Reddy, W. M. (2001). The Navigation of Feeling: A Framework for the History of Emotions, Cambridge. Rich, A. D. 2007, Discernment in the Desert Fathers:  Diakrisis in the Life and Thought of Early Egyptian Monasticism, Milton Keynes. Rosenwein, B. (2006). Emotional Communities in the Early Middle Ages, Ithaca. Rosen-Zvi, I. (2011). Demonic Desires: Yetzer Hara and the Problem of Evil in Late Antiquity, Philadelphia. Rousseau, P. (1978). Ascetics, Authority, and the Church, Oxford. (1985). Pachomius:  The Making of a Community in Fourth-Century Egypt, Berkeley.

Bibliography

323

(1994). Basil of Caesarea, Berkeley. (1999). Ascetics as Mediators and as Teachers, in The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, Oxford, 45–59. (2000). Monasticism, in The Cambridge Ancient History, vol. XIV. Late Antiquity: Empire and Successors, A.D. 425–600, eds. A. Cameron, B. WardPerkins, and M. Whitby, Cambridge, 745–780. (2007). The Successors of Pachomius and the Nag Hammadi Codices: Exegetical Themes and Literary Structures, in The World of Early Egyptian Christianity. Language, Literature, and Social Contest, eds. J. E. Goehring and J. A. Timbie, Washington, DC, 140–157. Rubenson, S. (2007). Argument and Authority in Early Monastic Correspondence, in Foundations of Power and Conflicts of Authority in Late Antique Monasticism: Proceedings of the International Seminar Turin, December 2–4 2004, eds. A. Camplani and G. Filoramo, Louvain, 75–88. (2009). “As Already Translated to the Kingdom While Still in the Body:” The Transformation of the Ascetic in Early Egyptian Monasticism, in Metamorphoses: Resurrection, Body and Transformative Practices in Early Christianity, eds. T. Karlsen Seim and J. Økland, Berlin, 271–289. (2012). Monasticism and the Philosophical Heritage, in Oxford Handbook of Late Antiquity, ed. S. Johnson, Oxford, 487–512. Ruppert, F. (1971). Das pachomianische Mönchtum und die Anfänge klösterlichen Gehorsams, Münsterschwarzach. Sala, T. (2011). Dismantling Surveillance in Late Antique Corporate Monasticism, PhD Dissertation, Yale. Saller, R. (1982). Personal Patronage under the Early Empire, Cambridge. Salzman, M. (1989). Aristocratic Women:  Conductors of Christianity in the Fourth Century, Helios 16, 207–220. (2002). The Making of a Christian Aristocracy: Social and Religious Change in the Western Roman Empire, Cambridge, MA. Sarris, P. (2006). Economy and Society in the Age of Justinian, Cambridge. Scarry, E. (1985). The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World, New York. Schroeder, C. (2006). Prophecy and Porneia in Shenoute’s Letters: The Rhetoric of Sexuality in a Late Antique Egyptian Monastery, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 65, 81–97. (2007). Monastic Bodies:  Discipline and Salvation in Shenoute of Atripe, Philadelphia. (2009). Children in Early Egyptian Monasticism, in Children in Late Ancient Christianity, eds. C. Horn and R. Phenix, Tübingen, 317–338. (2012). Child Sacrifice in Egyptian Monastic Culture: From Familial Renunciation to Jephthah’s Lost Daughter, JECS 20, 269–302. Sheridan, M. (2004). The Modern Historiography of Early Egyptian Monasticism, in Il monachesimo tra eredità e aperture: Atti del simposio Testi e temi nella tradizione del monachesimo cristiano per il 500 anniversario dell’Istituto Monastico di Sant’Anselmo, Roma, 28 maggio – 10 giugnio 2002, eds. M. Bielawski and D. Hombergen, Rome, 197–220.

324

Bibliography

(2007a). John Cassian and the Formation of Authoritative Tradition, Foundations of Power and Conflicts of Authority in Late-Antique Monasticism, eds. A. Camplani and G. Filoramo, Leuven: Peeters, 157–173. (2007b). Rhetorical Structure in Coptic Sermons, in The World of Early Egyptian Christianity: Language, Literature, and Social Context, eds. J. Goehring and J. Timbie, Washington, DC, 25–48. Shisha-Halevy, A. (1980). Shenoute Quotations in an Unpublished British Library Manuscript, Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 17(3–4), 167–172. Short, W. (2012). A Roman Folk Model of the Mind, Arethusa 45, 109–147. Sneath, D., Holbraad, M., and Pedersen, M. A. (2009). Technologies of the Imagination: An Introduction, Ethnos 74, 5–30. Snell, B. (1982). The Discovery of the Mind in Greek Philosophy and Literature, New York. Sorabji, R. (1997). Is Stoic Philosophy Helpful as Psychotherapy? in Aristotle and After, ed. R. Sorabji, London, 197–209. (2000). Emotion and Peace of Mind: From Stoic Agitation to Christian Temptation, Oxford. (2006). Self: Ancient and Modern Insights about Individuality, Life, and Death, Chicago. Sosis, R. and Alcorta, C. (2003). Signaling, Solidarity, and the Sacred:  the Evolution of Religious Behavior, Evolutionary Anthropology 12, 264–274. Sperber, D. (1985a). On Anthropological Knowledge. Three Essays, Cambridge. (1985b). Anthropology and Psychology:  Towards an Epidemiology of Representations. Man 20(1)(Mar.), 73–89. Sperber, D. and Wilson, D. (1995). Relevance:  Communication and Cognition, Oxford. Spolsky, E. (2003). Cognitive Literary Historicism:  A  Response to Adler and Gross, Poetics Today 24, 161–183. Stewart, C. (1991). The Desert Fathers on Radical Self Honesty, Vox Benedicta 8, 7–54. (1998). Cassian the Monk, Oxford. (2001). Imageless Prayer and the Theological Vision of Evagrius Ponticus, JECS 9, 202–204. (2003b). John Cassian’s Schema of Eight Principal Faults and his Debt to Origen and Evagrius, in Jean Cassien entre l’Orient et l’Occident, eds. C. Badilita and A. Jakab, Paris, 205–219. (2013). The Ascetic Taxonomy of Antioch and Edessa at the Emergence of Monasticism, Adamantius 19, 207–221. Stock, B. (1983). The Implications of Literacy, Princeton. Stroumsa, G. (1990). “‘Caro Salutis Cardo’: Shaping the Person in Early Christian Thought.” History of Religions 30: 25–50. (2008). The Scriptural Movement of Late Antiquity and Christian Monasticism, JECS 16, 61–76. Suciu, A. (2015). Revisiting the Literary Dossier of Stephen of Thebes:  With Preliminary Editions of the Greek Redaction of the Ascetic Commandments, Adamantius 21, 301–325.

Bibliography

325

Tavares-Bettencourt, S. (1945). Doctrina ascetica Origenis seu quid docuerit de ratione animae humanae cum daemonibus, Rome. Taves, A. (1999). Fits, Trances, and Visions: Experiencing Religion and Explaining Experience from Wesley to James, Princeton. (2009). Religious Experience Reconsidered: A Building-Block Approach to the Study of Religion and Other Special Things, Princeton. Teitler, H. C. (1985). Notarii and Exceptores: An Inquiry into Role and Significance of Shorthand Writers in the Imperial and Ecclesiastical Bureaucracy of the Roman Empire (From the Early Principate to C. 450 A.D.), Amsterdam. Timbie, J. (2011). The Interpretation of the Solomonic Books in Coptic Monastic Texts: “Reading” Community, in Christianity in Egypt: Literary Production and Intellectual Trends. Studies in Honor of Tito Orlandi, eds. P. Buzi and A. Camplani, Roma, 501–512. (2016). The Education of Shenoute and Other Cenobitic Leaders:  Inside and Outside the Monastery, in Education and Religion in Late Antique Christianity: Reflections, Social Contexts, and Genres, eds. P. Gemeinhardt, L. van Hoof, P. van Nuffelen, London and New York, 34–46. Torrance, A. (2009). Standing in the Breach: The Significance and Function of the Saints in the Letters of Barsanuphius and John of Gaza, JECS 17, 459–473. (2013). Repentance in Late Antiquity: Eastern Asceticism and the Framing of the Christian Life c.400–650 CE, Oxford. Turner, V. (1968). The Drums of Affliction, Ithaca. (1980). Social Dramas and Stories about Them, Critical Inquiry 7, 141–168. Uhalde, K. (2007). Expectations of Justice in the Age of Augustine, Philadelphia. Upson-Saia, K. (2011). Early Christian Dress:  Gender, Virtue, and Authority, New York. Urbaniczyk, T. (2002). Theodoret of Cyrrhus: The Bishop and the Holy Man, Ann Arbor, MI. Urbano, A. (2012). “Dressing a Christian:” The Philosopher’s Mantle as Signifier of Pedagogical and Moral Authority, in Studia Patristica 54: Papers Presented at the Sixteenth International Conference on Patristic Studies, held at Oxford 2011, vol. 10, ed. M. Vinzent, Leuven, 213–229. Van Cauwenbergh, P. (1914). Étude sur les moines d’Égypte depuis le Concile de Chalcédoine (451) jusqu’à l’invasion arabe (640), Paris. Van der Vliet, J. (1992). S. Pachôme et S.  Athanase:  un entretien apocryphe, Analecta Bollandiana 110, 21–27. (2013). Ancient Egyptian Christianity, in The Cambridge History of Religions in the Ancient World, vol. II. From the Hellenistic Age to Late Antiquity, eds. M. R. Salzman and W. Adler, New York, 211–234. Van Molle, M. M. (1970). Vie commune et obéissance d’après les intuitions premières de Pachôme et Basile, Le Supplément 93, 196–225. Vecoli, F. (2006). Lo Spirito soffia nel deserto. Carismi, discernimento e autorità nel monachesimo egiziano antico, Brescia. Veilleux, A. (1968). La liturgie dans le cénobitisme pachômien au quatrième siècle, Rome.

326

Bibliography

(1980–1982). Pachomian Koinonia, 3 vols., CS46-8, Kalamazoo, MI. Vivian, T. (1993). History of the Monks of Upper Egypt and the Life of Onnophrius, Kalamazoo, MI. (1999a). Humility and Resistiance in Late Antique Egypt: The Life of Longinus, Coptic Church Review 20, 2–30. (1999b). Monks, Middle Egypt, and Metanoia: The Life of Phib by Papohe the Steward (Translation and Introduction), JECS 7(4), 547–571. (2000). Coptic Palladiana II:  The Life of Evagrius, Coptic Church Review 21(1), 8–23. (2008). Witness to Holiness: Abba Daniel of Scetis, Kalamazoo, MI. Vööbus, A. (1960a). History of Asceticism in the Syrian Orient, 3 vols. CSCO 184, 197, 500, subs. 14, 17, 81, Louvain 1958, 1960, 1988. (1960b). Syriac and Arabic Documents Regarding Legislation Relative to Syrian Asceticism, Stockholm. Vuolonto, V. (2015). Children and Asceticism in Late Antiquity, Farnham. Walters, C. C. (1989). Christian Paintings from Tebtunis, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 75: 191–208. Watts, E. (2010). Riot in Alexandria: Tradition and Group Dynamics in Late Antique Pagan Communities, Berkeley. (2016). Teaching the New Classics: Bible and Biography in a Pachomian Monastery, in Education and Religion in Late Antique Christianity: Reflections, Social Contexts and Genres, eds. P. Gemeinhardt, L. van Hoof, and P. van Nuffelen, London and New York, 47–58. Webb, R. (1997). Imagination and the Arousal of Emotions in Roman Rhetoric, in The Passions in Roman Thought and Literature, eds. S. M. Braund and C. Gill, Cambridge, 112–127. (2001). The Progymnasmata as Practice, in Education in Greek and Roman Antiquity, ed. Y. L. Too, Leiden, 289–316. (2009). Ekphrasis, Imagination and Persuasion in Ancient Rhetorical Theory and Practice. Burlington, VT. Wees, J. (2007). False Prophets are False Fathers: Clairvoyance in the Career of Shenoute of Atripe, L. Painchaud and P.-H. Poirier, eds., Colloque international: L’Évangile selon Thomas et les textes de Nag Hammadi, Quebec, 635–652. White, E. and Hugh, G. (1926). The Monasteries of the Wadi ‘n Natrûn, 3 vols., New York. Whitehouse, H. (2007). Towards an Integration of Ethnography, History, and the Cognitive Science of Religion, Religion, Anthropology, and Cognitive Science, eds. H. Whitehouse and J. Laidlaw, Durham, NC, 247–280. Wilfong, T. (2002). Friendship and Physical Desire:  The Discourse of Homoeroticism in Fifth-Century CE Egypt, in Among Women:  From the Homosocial to the Homoerotic in the Ancient World, eds. N. S. Rabinowitz and L. Auanger, Austin, 304–329. Williams, B. (1993). Shame and Necessity, Berkeley. (1997). Stoic Philosophy and the Emotions:  Reply to Richard Sorabji, in Aristotle and After, ed. R. Sorabji, London, 211–213.

Bibliography

327

Williams, M. (2006). The Monk and the Book: Jerome and the Making of Christian Scholarship, Chicago. Williams, R. D. (2002). Faith and Experience in Early Monasticism: New Perspectives on the Letters of Ammonius, Erlangen. Wimbush, V. (1990). ed. Ascetic Behavior in Graeco-Roman Antiquity: A Sourcebook, Minneapolis. Wimbush, V. and Valantasis, R. (1995) eds. Asceticism, New York. Wimmer, H. and Perner, J. (1983). Beliefs about Beliefs:  Representation and Constraining Function of Wrong Beliefs in Young Children’s Understanding of Deception, Cognition 13, 103–128. Wipszycka, E. (1984). Le degree d’alphabétisation en Égypte Byzantine, Revue des Études Augustiniennes et Patristiques 30, 279–296. (2009). Moines et communautes monastiques en Egypte, IVe-VIIIe siècles, Warsaw. (2015). Il monachesimo della Tebaide, in Eremitismo e habitat ruperstre:  Atti del VI Convegno internazionale sulla civiltà rupestre in ricordo di Giuseppe Giacovazzo, ed. E. Menestò, Spoleto, 13–28. Wittgenstein, L. (1966). Lectures on Religious Belief, in Lectures and Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychology and Religious Belief, compiled from notes taken by Y. Smythies, eds. R. Rhees and J. Taylor, and C. Barrett, Berkeley. Xygatalas, D. and McCorkle, W. (2014). Mental Culture: Classical Social Theory and the Cognitive Science of Religion, London. Young, F. (1997). Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture, Cambridge. Zachhuber, J. and Torrance, A. (2014). Introduction, in Individuality in Late Antiquity, eds. J. Zachhuber and A. Torrance, Farnham, 1–9. Zanetti, U. (1994). Un index liturgique du Monastère Blanc, in Christianisme d’Égypte, Paris-Louvain, 55–74. Zumkeller, A. (1986). Augustine’s Ideal of the Religious Life, New York. Zunshine, L. (2006). Why We Read Fiction:  Theory of Mind and the Novel, Columbus, OH. (2010). ed., Introduction to Cognitive Cultural Studies, Baltimore.

Index Locorum

Page numbers with ‘n’ are notes. Aelius Theon Progym. 108, 120n58 151-2, 140n189 158, 122n77 168, 140n188 170, 138n172 Ambrose De virginitate 2:1:2, 238n25 2:6:29, 236n15 Ammonas Ep. 2, 208n116 3, 208n118 7, 209n120 8, 207n113 9, 208n117 10, 208n119, 214n161 11, 101n24, 182n142, 207n112 12, 208n114 Antony, Ep., 1, 101n25 Apophth. Patr. Dioscorus 3, 95n151 John the Cenobite 1, 91n125 Macarius the Egyptian 31, 58n111 Arabic Life of Pachomius see V. Pach. Ar. Aristotle Rhetorica 1388ab, 237n22 1406b, 145n220 Athanasius Ep. Marcell. 2, 145n219 10, 140n187 12, 145n220 27, 120n60 33, 125n96

Ep. Virg. 1:3, 44n27 2:8, 43n25 Festal Letter, 39:21, 218n177 prol., 237n21, 239n28 V. Ant. 2:2, 143n206 2:3, 142n203 2:4, 142n204 3, 238n26 3:1, 143n207 3:7, 122n73 66:2, 122n73 72:1, 111n5, 122n73 Augustine De catech. rud., 1:7-11, 250n78 De op. mon., 25, 38n100, 38n99 Doct. chr. Preface 4, 122n74 1.43.93, 122n74 4.17.4, 125n95 4.19.38, 127n101 4.24.53, 127n102 Ep. 98:6, 54n88 211, 224n11 Mon. 20, 141n197 21, 118n48 Psal. 99.11, 38n101 Reg. 4-5, 149n9 6:3, 266n27 7:1, 275n83 Serm. 132:2, 150n10 243:5, 160n50 356:7, 59n116

329

330

Index Locorum

Augustine (cont.) 356:8, 58n110 Mor. 14, 122n75 Aurelian Mon. 17, 54n89 32, 114n25 Barsanuphius Resp. prologue, 189n20 255, 198n69 256, 199n70 257, 50n65, 200n78 258, 200n79, 200n80, 200n81, 200n82 261, 251n84 265, 15n71 319, 50n62 326, 50n63 327, 119n53 442, 169n95 Basil Ep., 34n78 94, 34n73 173, 82n84 199, 44n30, 82n82 223, 33n71 LR 10, 74n42, 76n52, 77n56 10:1, 76n48 10:2,  68n6 11, 59n117 12, 53n79, 53n81 13, 111n10 14, 82n83, 90n122 15, 55n98, 56n103 22:3, 95n150 22-3, 94n145 25, 227n30 26, 100n17 33,  3n11 37, 141n198 41,  7n34 43, 34n75 45,  2n7 46, 100n17 54, 34n75 prol., 62n135 Moralia, 734, 53n82 RBas 6:4-5, 76n48 6:9-11, 76n52 195,  9n39 SR 75, 9n39, 104n46 119, 34n75

157, 203n95 235, 3n14, 118n48 236, 117n46 Benedict Reg. 30:2-3, 55n92 70:4, 54n89 70:4-5, 55n92 Besa Frag. 1, 7n35, 88n111 3, 133n131, 133n132, 156n36, 274n73 5, 137n170, 137n171 7, 89n115 8, 133n131 12, 121n67, 124n89, 130n115, 133n131, 290n141 13, 45n39, 45n40 14, 45n39, 80n69, 133n139 16, 226n21 27,  2n10 30, 45n39, 90n120, 90n121 31, 80n70, 80n71, 81n72 32, 45n39 33, 55n97 35, 45n39 38, 251n85 Bible Acts 2:28,  228 4:32,  229 4:35,  143 8:23,  162 14:8-10, 162n67 21:13,  123 2 Chr., 3:3,  137 Col. 3:16,  141 2 Cor., 3:2-3, 139n181 Dan., 2:21,  211 Deut. 4:10,  139 4:19, 204n96 11:18-20, 110 Eph. 6:12,  143 6:16, 273n68 Ezek. 3:20,  228 15:35-36,  281 16:25,  282 16:26,  281 23:20,  282 Gal. 2:1-2,  251 Gen. 13,  250 17:2,  136

Index Locorum Heb. 10:22, 190n28 10:31,  148 10:36,  143 11:32,  251 13:7, 251, 252n86 13:8, 238, 252n86 Hos. 7:13,  165 13:4, 204n96 Isa. 44:28,  137 61:10,  137 Jer. 17:5, 250n79 23:9, 285n125 28:50,  137 35:18,  254 35:19,  254 Jn.  3:8,  216 8:44,  282 1 Jn2:1-2, 257, 258 Job, 24:15, 151n18 1 Kg. 9:19-20,  162 16:6-12, 162n67 4 Kg. 4:27, 162n67 5:25-7, 162n67 Lam. 3:27-30, 143 Lk. 2:19,  124 14:26,  190 Mt. 6:34,  143 12:33,  164 13:42,  173 13:52,  139 15:19, 104n46 19:21,  142 22:29,  156 2 Pet., 2:21, 90n119 Phil. 3:15,  211 Prov. 3:3, 139, 139n181 3:9-10,  136 3:27-28,  137 5:1,  124 9:10, 149n5 13:2,  139 20:9, 274n72 21:22, 162n67 23:12,  124 23:19, 124n86 27:23, 162n67

30:1, 124 Ps. 7:10,  167 10:11, 151n18 13:1,  274 34:12-15,  136 51:17, 269n44 6261:12, 123n81 68,  210 68:2-3,  202 69:2, 144n211 71:18, 238, 252n86 72:11, 274, 274n73 73:11, 151n18 78:3, 238, 252n86 86:11, 149n5 94:7, 151n18 101:3, 252n86 101:5, 134n148, 202 102:1,  203 106/105:13,  258 111:6, 252n86 115:3,  203 117:8, 250n79 118:11,  106 146.3, 270n45 Qo 9:8,  137 12:13-14,  149 Rev., 2:23,  167 Rom. 1:21, 279, 291 12:5,  277 Sir. 16:16-7, 151n18 16:20-1, 151n18 23:18-20, 151n18 Wis., 10:17,  139 Caesarius Virg. 7, 54n89 7:3, 114n25 Callinicus V. Hyp. 14, 163n69 21, 59n120 24, 52n76 Cassian Coll. 3:1, 246n61 3:3, 62n136 3:4, 62n138, 64n147 3:5, 62n134, 64n148 7:90, 104n46 10:8, 146n224

331

332 Cassian (cont.) 10:10, 147n225 10:11, 144n211, 145n220, 145n221 18:4,  7n34 21:1-8, 53n80 21:8, 64n146 21:9, 53n83 21:10, 53n84 Inst. coen. 1:2, 94n145 1:19, 101n24 3:1, 246n61 4, 242n44 4:1, 69n13, 72n23 4:3, 73n34 4:3-4, 79n64 4:5, 92n136 4:5-6, 91n127 4:6, 94n145 4:7, 73n30 4:8, 72n23 4:9, 99n10 4:17, 111n12 4:30, 54n87, 240n35 4:40, 239n28 7:2, 209n122 7:5, 105n48 24:26, 51n68 Chrysostom Compunct. 1 1:1, 47n46 1 1:6, 47n49 Sac., 1, 47n50 Stag.1, 47n48 Thdr., 47n51 1:17, 48n53 2:1, 90n119 Cicero, De oratore 101,  125 Clement of Alexandria Paed. 1:2, 125n92 1:8, 99n12, 157n42 1:9, 157n41 1:89, 125n93 Codex Theodosianus, 12.1.63, 46n44, 52n75 Con. S. 59n118 Constantine, Epistula ad episcopos catholicos, 148, 151n17 Cyril of Scythopolis, V. Sab., 54n90 Dorotheus of Gaza Doct. 1:12, 142n205 1:19, 94n147

Index Locorum 1:25, 119n55 3, 167n90 4:52, 181n140 6, 166n83, 188n13 7, 242n48 10:105, 119n54 Inst., 5, 210n124 V. Dos.3, 243n49 Epictetus Encheiridion, 181n139 Ep. Am. 2, 40n7, 72n25 3, 143n208, 143n209 7, 124n85 8, 126n97 16, 162n66 17, 126n98, 162n68, 167n89 19-20, 162n68 20, 167n88, 167n89 21, 167n87, 167n88 22-4, 162n68 23, 167n87, 167n88 24, 167n89 26, 162n68, 167n88 Esaias Or. 15:1, 164n78 15:2, 164n79 Evagrius of Pontus Cap. Prac., Prologue 8, 94n145 Or., 3, 106n52 Thoughts 17,  9n42 8, 101n24 Faustus of Riez Hom. 72:3, 255n105, 255n106 72:14, 253n94 72:2, 253n92 72:3, 255n104 72:5, 253n93 First Greek Life of Pachomius see V. Pach. G1 Fortunatianus, Ars Rhetorica 3.13-4, 117n43 Gennadius, 143, 254n97 Gerontius, V. Mel, 23,  233 Great Coptic Life of Pachomius see V. Pach. SBo Greek Lives of Pachomius see V. Pach. G2, G3, etc.

Index Locorum Gregory the Great Dial. 2:3, 56n105 2:11, 56n105 Past.2:7, 96n152 Gregory Nazianus Or. 43, 199n71, 249n74 43.23.4, 110n4 Hieronymus Abac. 2:2, 139n181 Ep. 14:9, 90n119 22, 43n23 22:2, 90n121 22:34,  7n34 22:29, 59n115 22:3, 45n35 22:8, 45n36 33:35, 242n43 46:1, 43n24 53:1, 105n48 77:9, 48n54 Epitaph to Paula 20.1.1, 59n115 Matt. 2:2, 139n181 V. Malch., 3, 48n55 Hilary of Arles V. Hon. 4:18, 163n70 23:3, 46n45 23:6, 46n45 32:8 132n128 Historia Monachorum (HM) 1, 139n181 2:9, 207n109 3, 242n42 23.2, 46n42 24:2, 74n36 31:12, 76n51 Horsiesius Ep. 1-2, 26n27 2, 240n34 3:2, 290n143 3-4, 26n27 4:5, 226n24 4:7, 226n24 Frag., A, 84n91, 95n149 Instr. 1, 136n162 1:2, 94n147 2, 136n163, 136n164 3, 136n165 4, 137n166

333

5, 137n167 6 320.12168, 186, 203, 204n96, 204n97, 206n104, 207n109 6:4, 168n93 7, 135n159, 160n53, 260, 261n6 7:2, 200n76 Reg. 6, 202n87 10, 124n88 16, 117n44 18,  67n3 39-40, 141n195 44-7, 141n195 Test. 1-5, 187n7 5, 2n9, 164n77, 189n18 7,  2n9 10,  2n7 12, 257n114 13, 6n25, 228n32 15,  6n25 15-16,  6n26 17,  5n24 19, 66n160, 106n49, 188n15 21, 66n158 22, 39n4, 187n8 27, 79n64 28, 99n11, 136n165 31-32, 90n119 36, 165n82, 204n96 40, 228n31 43, 112n14 46, 66n159, 257n115 47, 66n159 51, 110n2, 139n180, 140n190 56, 149n8 Hymn to Julian Saba (Ps.-Ephrem) 1:1, 252n87 2, 252n88 2:17, 252n89 4, 252n88 5:1, 252n87 12:13-14, 252n90 22:11, 252n91 22:16, 252n91 22:7, 255n103 Isaac of Nineveh, Mystical Treatises, 80, Jerome see Hieronymus John Climacus Scal. 15, 245n57 4:11, 60n124 26, 200n77

 246

Index Locorum

334

John of Ephesus Lives of the Eastern Saints 15, 243n50 19, 244n51 20, 60n127, 61n130, 73n32, 74n40, 77n55, 92n134, 97n1 Justinian Nov. 5,  36n91 5:2, 37n98, 59n121, 60n124, 72n28 5:4, 81n76 5:5, 81n75 5:7, 81n76 123:40, 53n85 Kritias, Frag., 25,

1:31, 191n34 1:33, 152n20, 159 1:36, 226n20 1:38, 163, 165n80, 167 1:39, 267n34 1:41, 155n33, 165n81, 183n144, 226n20 1:43, 183n144, 226n20 1:45, 193n39 1:51, 83n88, 88n112 1:53, 123n80 1:55, 151n19 1:55-6,  97n3 1:59, 181n141 2, 226n22 6, 163n72 8, 163n72 11, 163n72 12, 163n72 14, 141n191 58-61, 226n20

150n15

Menander Rhetor, On Epideictic Speeches, 13:297-8, 128n109 Musonius, Frag., 6, 107n58 Nilus Alb., 241n41 De mon. ex., 9, 60n129 Ep. 2:167, 199n72 2:290, 65n152 Origen Comm. ad Rom, 9:6, 160n49 Or., 14:2, 187n4, 187n5 Princ., 3:2:4, 101n24 Pachomius Ep. 3, 225n18 5:7, 292n3 7:1, 226n19 Frag.4, 48n52, 51n70 Instr. 1, 266n33 1:1, 124n86 1:6, 235n14 1:9, 106n54 1:10, 103n36 1:11, 97n2, 99n13, 106n55 1:12, 144n212 1:18, 22n7, 235n14 1:22,  22n7 1:23, 104n45 1:24, 103n37 1:27, 202n89 1:28, 124n90 1:30, 182n143

P 3, 201n85 5-7, 201n85 7, 242n47 8, 163n73 11-12, 201n85 17, 163n71, 163n72 18, 163n71 22, 163n71 33, 111n12 36-7, 141n194 48, 163n71 49, 37n97, 60n126, 70n16, 71n21, 74n39, 113n18 87-8, 205n103 97, 92n131 121, 163n71 125, 163n71 131, 163n71, 163n72 135, 163n71, 163n72, 163n73 137, 163n71 139, 70n17, 113n18, 114n22, 116n37, 140n182 139-40, 115n29 140, 117n44 144, 158n45, 163n71 145, 163n72 PInst 6, 163n71 8, 163n71 11, 163n71 12, 163n71 14, 201n85 18, 178n128

Index Locorum PIud 1, 163n75 2, 163n75, 166n85 3, 166n85 4, 170n102 5, 166n85 6, 166n85 9, 163n75 PLeg, 10, 201n85 Palladius HL 7:6,  21n4 11:4, 117n47 18, 240n37 18:13,  21n4 19, 60n123 22, 74n36, 76n50 32, 4n15, 72n27, 242n42 32:8,  21n4 32:9,  21n4 32:12, 117n47 33-4, 42n19 34:6, 242n46 38:10, 120n63 47,  8n37 69, 60n122 Paralip. 2, 174n112 4, 212n144 7,  98n7 8:16, 189n17 9:20,  39n3 11, 118n49 12, 184n147 17, 213n152 19, 90n119 19-20, 178n129 20, 205n101 24-6, 213n152 27,  5n20 37 1n4 38, 2n5, 2n6, 8n36, 292n2 Paul of Elusa, Encomium, 20, 253n95, 253n96 Paulinus Ep. 24:2, 81n73 29:14, 233n1 Philodemos, Adv. soph, col.4, 9-14, 177n126 Philostratus, Lives of the Sophists, ‘Aristides’, 2:252-3, 128n110 Philoxenus, Homily, 3:70, 56n102, 61n132 Plato, Phaedrus, 261a7-9, 128n104 Pliny, Ep. 10:36, 83n86 Ps.-Ambr., Laps. virg., 18, 64n149

Ps.-Aristotle Rhetorica ad Alexandrum 1:3 1358b, 125n94 1421 b9, 125n94 Ps.-Athanasius De incarnatione contra Apollinarem, 1:15, 105n47 V. Syncl. 1, 43n26 31, 45n38 42, 44n29 Ps.-Basil, De virg., 2:15-18, 44n34 Ps.-Lib., Epist., 52, 237n23 Ps.-Longinus On the Sublime 13:2-14:3, 237n22 15:1, 138n173 15:9, 128n108 Questions and Answers on the Ascetic Rule, 625,  97n2 Quintilian Inst. or. 1.1.35-6, 140n182 1.8.2-3, 144n213 1.9.2-3, 120n59 6.2.9, 128n106 6:2:29, 138n174 8.3.62, 67, 128n107 8.3.67, 128n107 11.2.33, 123n78 11.2.51, 123n79 11.3.65-97, 131n122 11.3.71, 131n123 11.3.104, 131n125 RM 6, 267n35 7,  7n35 7:53-6, 66n158 11, 238n27 12, 166n84, 166n86 13, 171n105, 288n135 14, 171n104 14:79, 54n89 15, 99n15, 264n21 15:28-33, 143n210 24, 141n196 26, 238n27 29, 160n52 50:12-3, 115n29 50:64-9, 114n26 59:10, 54n89 71, 238n27 82, 77n54

335

336

Index Locorum

RM (cont.) 87, 60n128, 78n61, 81n74, 82n77 87-8, 73n31 89, 89n116 90, 60n128, 78n61, 96n152 90:1, 74n37 90:3, 77n54 90:81, 92n133 91, 50n66 Rufinus, H.E., 2:9, 33n72 Rules of Dadīšō’ 7, 114n21 Sahidic Lives of Pachomius, see V.Pach. S1, S2, etc. Salvian, De Gubernatione Dei, 4:7, 93n138 Seneca Ep. 52, 62n137 94:43, 177n124 Serapion, Regula ad monachos 7:9-10, 59n119 Severus of Antioch, Ep. 2.10.6, 51n70 Shenoute Acephalous Work A1, 84n94 Apocalypse of Shenoute (Ps.-) CSCO 73: 198, 215n164 CSCO 73: 198–204, 215n163 CSCO 73: 199–200, 215n165 CSCO 73: 210, 259n123 Canons 1, 28n38, 106n51, 129n112, 223n3, 224n12, 227n27, 230n48, 261n5, 266n26, 267n37, 268n39, 268n40, 268n41, 269n42, 270n45, 282n115, 283n116, 283n117, 283n118 2, 121n68, 227n29, 231n53 3, 169n96, 286n129, 289n138 4, 112n15, 129n113, 129n114, 130n116, 130n117, 131n119, 131n120, 168n94, 177n121, 225n14, 231n49, 231n50, 261n7, 269n43, 269n44, 270n46, 271n51, 271n53, 271n54, 271n55, 271n56, 271n57, 272n60, 272n61, 272n62, 272n63, 272n64, 273n67, 273n68, 273n69, 273n70, 273n71, 274n73, 274n74, 274n75, 274n76, 274n77, 274n78, 275n79, 275n80, 275n81, 275n82, 275n83, 275n84, 276n85, 276n86, 276n87, 276n88, 276n89, 276n91, 277n92, 277n93, 277n94, 283n120, 288n133, 289n139, 289n140, 290n142, 290n143, 291n145 5, 262n12, 284n121, 284n122 6, 131n126, 172n107, 172n108, 173n111, 260, 284n123, 285n124, 285n125, 285n126 7, 266n30

8,

68n8, 137n169, 156n39, 231n52, 262n13, 270n46, 278n96, 278n97, 279n101, 279n102, 279n103, 279n104, 279n105, 280n106, 280n107, 280n109, 281n110, 281n112, 282n114, 291n146 9, 89n114, 91n128, 102n34, 264n22 De iudicio dei, 146n223, 178n132, 179n134, 179n135, 180n136, 180n137 Discourses 4, 102n33, 171n103 5, 133n130 Rules 1-2, 196n60 3, 196n61 5, 196n62 6, 195n53 22-24, 226n25 24, 164n76 25, 86n102, 86n103, 223n5 48, 195n53 54, 196n54 57, 195n53 60-2, 196n57 86, 79n65 95, 196n58 127, 196n59 143, 161n55 223, 197n63 243, 79n66, 81n72 258-60, 51n71 299, 197n63 314, 227n26 338, 75n44 344, 135n159 368, 197n63 370, 226n25 410, 75n43, 78n60 418, 80n68 420, 55n98 440, 78n59, 84n92, 87n105 449, 80n68 464, 87n105, 244–45 465, 77n53 472, 37n93, 71n22, 80n67, 92n133 513-516, 196n56 538, 73n34 571-2, 195n53 Socrates H.E. 4: 20, 33n72 6:3, 47n47 Sozomen H.E. 4:17, 33n72

Index Locorum Sulpicius Severus Dial. 1:10,  7n34 1:10-16, 244n52 V. Mart.10, 121n65 Testament of Reuben, 2:1-3:7, 103n38 Theodoret, Ep.81, 56n100 Theodore Ep. 1, 26n27 2, 26n27, 225n17, 225n18 2:2, 123n81 2:4, 257n113 Instr. 2, 188n9 3:1, 99n15, 191n33 3:2, 99n14 3:3, 84n90, 94n147, 228n34 3:5, 228n35 3:6, 99n15, 123n83, 144n212 3:8, 112n14, 159n47 3:9, 202n88, 210n125 3:10,  292 3:11, 193n43 3:11-14, 187n7 3:13, 7n35, 67, 73n35, 76n49, 83n85, 193n43 3:14, 111n10 3:16, 70n18 3:17, 71n19, 228n36 3:18, 229n40 3:20, 25n22, 39, 39n4, 41n13, 101n28, 148n3 3:21, 188n10, 228n37 3:23, 228n35, 229n40, 229n41 3:24, 61n131, 84n90, 228n31, 228n34 3:26, 202n90 3:27, 66n157, 72n23, 228n34 3:29-30, 188n16 3:30, 228n31, 228n35 3:35, 254n97 3:36, 228n34 3:37-8, 229n40 3:41, 66n156, 193n43 3:43, 66n157 3:46, 226n23 3:47, 228n35, 254n98 V. Dos. 1, 50n64 1-2, 75n47 2, 60n127 V. Eupr. 8, 56n106, 57n107 10, 91n129

V. Fulg. 3, 50n65, 74n38 4, 49n58 8, 240n38 11, 240n39 14:30, 241n40 V. Macr., 36-8, 54n88 V. Marcelli, 12, 52n74 V. Mariae, 245n59 2, 247n64 3, 246n60 V. Mel., 8, 45n37 V. Pach. Ar. Amélineau1889: 424-7, 194n48 Amélineau1889: 426-7, 194n49 Amélineau1889: 427, 195n51 Amélineau1889: 428, 195n52 Amélineau1889: 435, 195n52, 198n68 Amélineau1889: 477, 197n66 Amélineau1889: 511ff, 199n73, 200n78 Amélineau1889: 591-5, 162n63 V. Pach. G1, 24n15, 195n52 2, 257n116 2-5, 63n141 5, 63n142 9, 110n1, 110n3 10, 135n156 16, 205n103 17, 237n24 18,  148 22, 210n128 24, 72n24, 110n3 28,  2n7 33, 48n56, 63n143 35, 37n96, 48n57, 63n144 36, 216n167 37, 41n12, 49n58, 71n20 40, 189n22, 190n24 48, 161n59, 218n179 49, 55n94 56, 104n43 56-58, 134n143, 135n155 57-8, 134n145 60, 205n103 62, 135n153 65, 190n23 67, 167n89 68, 190n25 70, 54n86, 167n88 74, 161n59 75, 135n150 80, 51n72 87, 207n109 89, 141n195, 161n59 91, 133n134

337

338

Index Locorum

V. Pach. G1 (cont.) 93a, 213n151 93b, 212n146 95, 118n49 96, 100n21, 104n42, 206n106 98, 253n93 99, 134n148, 214n159, 237n24, 258n117 102, 211n138, 214n159 104, 55n93, 84n92 105, 236n18, 236n19, 239n31 106, 167n88 106-7, 237n20 107, 217n176 109, 189n21 112, 162n63, 162n64 119, 240n33 121, 190n24 125, 134n141, 134n143 132, 104n44, 148n3, 221n1 134 10n19, 107 135, 162n65 140, 72n26 199, 239n30 232,  9n41 V. Pach. G3, 195n52 V. Pach. G4,  3n14 33,  2n8 49,  2n8 V. Pach. G8, 32, 51n71, 64n145 V. Pach. G96, 207n107 V. Pach. S1, 5n21, 5n22, 41n9, 84n93, 101n28, 204n99, 209n121 V. Pach. S2, 207n110 V. Pach. S3, 83n89, 84n93, 88n112, 90n117, 90n118, 100n16, 190n27, 192n37, 193n38, 248n69 V. Pach. S3b, 250n80, 251n83, 252n86 V. Pach. S3C, 1n1, 1n2, 105n47, 190n28, 191n29, 193n40, 193n41 V. Pach. S4, 203n94 V. Pach. S5, 65n155, 168n91, 191n32, 207n107, 207n108 19, 135n157 20, 135n152 92, 197n66 V. Pach. S6, 75n45, 101n26, 170n98, 193n42 V. Pach. S7, 190n27 V. Pach. S10, 55n92, 105n47, 123n83, 144n211, 186, 186n3, 187n6, 190n27, 190n28, 191n29, 193n39, 195n52, 203n91, 203n93, 203n94, 206n105, 210n131, 211n132 frag.2, 114n24 V. Pach. S13, 191n33 V. Pach. SBo 3-5, 24n15

3-7, 7, 8, 12, 14, 15, 17, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29,

63n141 24n16 24n16, 63n141, 63n142 211n133, 235n11 110n3 110n3 205n103, 211n134, 213n151, 235n11 211n133, 213n151, 213n152, 235n11 25n21, 69n11, 74n41  68n5 37n93  2n7 25n21, 36n92, 42n19, 135n150 124n87, 134n143, 134n146, 135n149, 239n29, 251n84 30, 37n96, 48n57 31, 48n56, 63n143, 111n6, 192n35 32, 216n168 33, 216n169 35-8, 217n170 37, 41n12, 49n58, 49n59, 49n60, 71n20 38, 36n92 40, 37n93, 95n148 41, 134n146 46, 134n141, 134n143, 203n94 49, 211n134 51,  2n9 52, 2n9, 211n134 56, 51n72 59, 161n59, 205n103 63, 190n24, 190n25, 217n171 64, 161n56, 161n59 65, 54n86, 167n88, 210n127 66, 212n149 67, 135n155, 217n175 69, 217n172 70, 217n173 72, 161n57, 161n61, 167n88, 190n26 73, 176n117, 176n118, 213n151, 217n174 74, 141n195, 161n56, 188n10, 188n12 74-5, 217n174 75, 167n89 76, 213n151, 217n174 77, 133n134, 161n56, 161n59, 217n175 78, 67n4, 134n147 80, 217n175 81, 37n93, 212n145, 213n151 82, 173n109, 179n133, 212n146 83, 212n145 84, 213n151 85, 213n151 87, 134n142, 161n60, 168n91, 191n31, 191n32 88, 135n157, 170n100, 212n147 89, 37n94, 37n95, 49n61, 118n49 94, 142n202, 163n75, 167n88

Index Locorum 95, 211n136, 212n142 97, 134n143 98, 134n142 101, 65n155, 170n101 102, 162n62 103, 211n137, 211n138 104, 135n151 105, 135n154 106, 161n59, 199n73, 239n32 107, 1n3, 7n30, 22n8, 68n5, 68n7, 74n42, 161n59, 167n88, 187, 193n43, 199n73, 211n137, 288n133 108, 161n60, 211n135, 288n132 111, 37n95, 161n59 112, 211n136, 212n142, 213n151 113 205n100, 207n109 114, 212n143, 212n148 115, 65n154 117, 212n148 118, 255n102 122, 161n59 123, 212n145, 214n159 125, 257n113 127,  22n9 132, 210n129 138, 190n24 139, 211n135, 212n141, 213n151 141, 230n43, 230n44, 230n45, 230n46 141-5, 224n6 142, 223n5, 225n14, 230n42 144, 212n141, 212n142, 213n151 148, 161n59

149, 155, 181, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 193, 194,

339

173n110, 183n146, 288n134 211n138 212n145 213n151 192n36 161n59, 212n149, 257n113 106n50, 135n158 135n154 126n100, 230n47 27n29, 145n218 135n158 98n8, 99n15, 100n16, 100n19, 188n14 129n111, 225n16, 254n100 40n5, 233, 233n2, 248n68, 248n69, 248n70, 250n79, 250n80, 254n101, 255n102, 256n108, 256n109, 256n110, 256n111, 256n112, 258n117 195, 100n16, 161n59, 187n7, 204n98, 229n38, 288n134 196, 258n117 198, 190n27, 191n30, 248n65, 248n66 199, 134n140 208, 258n118, 258n119, 259n120 209, 134n140, 134n143, 135n154, 140n190, 210n130 V. Sinuthii 8, 91n128 V. Thaisis, 176n115, 176n116 V. Theodorae, 73n35 3, 78n62 Vegetius, 2:5, 83n87 Verus, V. Eutropoii, 4, 209n123 Vitae patrum, Fornication 1, 101n25

Subject Index

Page numbers with ‘n’ are notes. abandonment of monastic life, 41 Abraham of Farshut, 75, 103–4 Abraham of Kashkar, 29, 35 accounting for souls by leaders, 228–29 Adam and Eve, 1–2, 292–93 admonition, 166, 167–68 Admonitions (Rabbula), 35 Aelius Theon, Progymnasmata, 120, 122, 138, 140 Agamben, Giorgio, 7 ‘agent detection’, 10 hyperactive agent detection device (HADD), 150 Albinus, 241 Ambrose, On Virgins, 44, 235–36, 238 Ammon, 42 Epistle of Ammon, 72, 123–24, 126 monastic discipline, 167 oracular mode of Scripture, 143 on Theodore’s cardiognosticism, 162 Ammonas Letters exercises in the fear of God, 182 moral progress, 214 techniques of prayer, 207–9 anchorites, defined, 21–22 angelic speech, 26 anthropology, cultural, 11–12 Antirrheticus (Evagrius of Pontus), 16, 144 Antony and attentive listening, 122 imitation, 238 motivations for human action, 101 oracular mode of Scripture, 142–43 and Paul the Simple, 74, 76 on superiority of cenobitic life, 22 typologies of vocation, 62–63 Aphthonia, 45 Apocalypse of Shenoute, 214–15 apocalyptic literature, 214–15

apocryphal literature, 27, 170, 218 Apollo, 30–31 Apollonius, 197–98 Apophthegmata Patrum, 8, 10, 32, 121 Arabic Life (V. Pach. Ar.) see under Lives of Pachomius Aristotle, Rhetoric, 125, 128, 237 art, contemplation of, 176–77 Athanasius of Alexandria, 24, 49–50 Festal Letter 39, 27 Letters to Virgins, 43, 44 Life of Antony, 32, 122, 257–58 emulation, 237 oracular mode of Scripture, 142–43 on paraphrase, 120 scriptural exercises, 140, 145 attentive listening, 122–24, 134 auditory revelations, 212 Augustine, 32 admission of postulants, 37–38, 58, 69 on attentive listening, 122 emulation, 237 fear of God, 149, 160 Homilies, 32 On Christian Doctrine, 127 on praising monastic founders, 250, 257–58 property renunciation, 81 on rhetoric, 125 Rule, 32, 149–50 scriptural exercises, 141 Ausonius, 162 authority demonstration of, 210–11 pastoral, 5–7 Awgin (Eugenius), 35 Barsanuphius condescension, 189 and Dorotheus, 50, 198–99, 200–1

341

342

Subject Index

Barsanuphius (cont.) evaluation of, 32 self-blame, 169 Barthes, Roland, 234 Basil of Caesarea, 33–35, 46, 47 on children in monasteries, 56 on confession, 99n10 entrance procedures, 62, 74, 76 and fugitive slaves, 59 habit, 95, 96 and habitual sinners, 68n6 hazing, 76–77 on married postulants, 52–53 monastic oaths, 82, 90 pressures from ecclesiastical authorities, 49 and Gregory Nazianzen, 33–35, 47, 110, 199, 249 Introductory Outline of Asceticism, 51 on literacy, 114, 118 Long Rules, 23, 34, 52–53, 62, 227–28 prayer, 203 scriptural exercises, 111, 141 Short Rules, 23, 34, 104 on sin, 9 Bawit, monastery, 30–31, 140 beating see corporal punishment Benedict, Ruth, 153 Besa annual meetings, 226 attentive listening, 124 catechesis, 137 commemoration of Shenoute, 251–52 entrance procedures on children in monasteries, 55 renunciation of property, 80–81 keeping monastic oaths, 90 on monastic care, 2n10 monastic discipline, 156 monks turning bad, 289–90 rhetoric style, 133 scribes, 121 on Shenoute’s rhetoric, 133 writings, 30, 45 Bitton-Ashkelony, Brouria, 107 blame, 129 self-, 168–69 blasphemy, 206–7 Bloch, Maurice, 11 Boddy, Janice, 265, 288 Book of Governors (Thomas of Marga), 36 Bourdieu, Pierre, 93, 94, 154–55 Boyer, Pascal, 10 Brakke, David, 102 Brown, Peter, 73 Bucking, S., 116, 140

Burrus, Virginia, 153 Burton-Christie, D., 122 Caesarius of Arles, 54, 114 calligraphy, 120–21 Callinicus, Life of Hypatius, 59 Canons (Shenoute), 23, 29, 259, 260, 262–64, 296 1, 262–63 annual meetings, 227 conflict/Shenoute’s vocation, 267–70 on Pachomian Lives, 28 rhetorical ekpathy, 129 2, 88, 263 3, 263, 286 4, 263, 264, 270–78, 291 fear of God, 177 grief of Shenoute, 269 monastic conflict, 283–84, 289 rhetoric of ekpathy, 129 5, 262n12, 263, 284 6, 260, 263, 264, 284–86 7, 263, 266 8, 262, 263, 264, 270, 278–82, 291 9, 86, 87–88, 262, 263 annual meetings, 227 on children in monasteries, 55 contemplation of art, 177 duties of leaders, 230–32 entrance procedures, investiture, 91 monastic oaths, 86–89 monastic rhetoric, 129–32, 138, 223, 264–67 self-blame, 168–69 sexual activity, 195–97 weeping, 231, 268 cardiognosticism, 159, 161–62, 167–68, 234 Carruthers, M., 214 Cassian, John, 21–22, 23, 31 on cenobitic life, 242 cognitive disciplines, 105 Conferences, 51, 53, 146–47, 246 on entrance procedures, 61–64, 73, 79, 91, 94 on literacy, 119–20 and manifestation of thoughts, 99 metakinetic states, 209 on Pinufius, 54, 239 scribes, 120 scriptural exercises, 145 Catecheses (Horsiesius), 135–37, 138 catechesis, monastic, 134–39 cells inspection of, 160–61 use in learning the fear of God, 175–76 cenobites, defined, 21–22

Subject Index charisms, 75 clairvoyance, 159, 161–63 discernment, 68–69, 75, 101–2, 105, 275, 278–82, 297 and prayer, 198, 206–7 Chariton, 33 children in monasteries, 54–58 and Shenoute dispute, 280 Chitty, D.J., 194 Chrysostom, John, 47–48 Comparison between a King and a Monk, A, 46–47 On Compunction, 46–47 pressures from ecclesiastical authorities, 49 clairvoyance, 159, 161–63, 278 see also revelations Clement of Alexandria, Pedagogue, 125, 157 Climacus, John, Ladder of Divine Ascent, 60, 245 cognitive activity, 4, 12–13 cognitive anthropology, 11–12 ‘Cognitive Communities’, 12 cognitive disciplines, 8–9, 15–17, 97–109, 146–47, 294–96 cognitive historiography, 12 cognitive manifestations, 98–100 cognitive science, 10 Cognitive Science of Religion (CSR), 10–11, 150 cognitive theory, 12 cognitive typologies, 101–5 Cohen, Emma, 265 collective ritual, 221–23, 225–27, 231–32 commemoration of community founders, 222–23, 247–59, 295–96 commitment narratives, 62–66, 294 Comparison between a King and a Monk, A (Chrysostom), 46–47 concealed sanctity, 241–47 conceptual blending theory, 10 conceptual metaphor theory, 10 condescension, 189–90 Conferences (Cassian), 31, 119–20 on married postulants, 51 on Paphnutius, 246 scriptural exercises, 146–47 confession, 6, 198 reverse, 232, 235, 242–43 see also manifestation of thoughts conscience, 104–5, 160, 167–68, 190–93, 295 consciousness, 107 see also confession, reverse Constantine, Epistula ad episcopos catholicos, 148, 151 contemplation of art, 176–77 of the majesties of the glory of God, 203–4 corporal punishment, 16, 169–75

343

costly ritual, 69–70, 94 see also renunciation of property counseling, 4–5 see also confession; manifestation of thoughts court, heavenly/divine see heavenly court covenant see monastic oaths Cribiore, R., 115, 146 criminals, 60 curses for breaking monastic oaths, 86 and rhetoric of ekpathy, 130–31, 286 and sexual activity, 196 Cyril of Scythopolis, History of the Monks of Palestine, 33 Czachesz, Istvan, 150 Dadīšō’, 114 Dalmatius, 51–52 D’Andrade, Roy, 11 Daniel of Scetis, 244–45 Davis, Stephen, 91 De iudicio dei (Shenoute), 178 death, fear of, 177–81 DeConick, A., 212 demonic thoughts, Pachomius on, 102–3 Descarte, René, 296 desire, 196–97 deterrence, 156 Dionysius Exiguus, 27n33 discernment, 68–69, 75, 101–2, 105, 275, 278–82, 297 and prayer, 198, 206–7 discipline see punishment Discourses (Dorotheus), 33, 50, 242 Discourses (Shenoute), 29, 292 disobedience and Adam and Eve, 1–2, 292–93 see also obedience displacement principle, 265 divine court see heavenly court Dodds, E.R., 153 Dorotheus of Gaza, 32–33, 50, 60, 119 concealed sanctity, 242–43 on conscience, 167 on the fear of God, 181 on guilt, 166 and joy, 209–10 and porneia, 198–99, 200–1 rules, 188 Dositheus, 60, 64, 75, 243 Douidouna, 198 Dumont, Louis, 7 Ebonh, 224, 263, 267–70 ekpathy, 127–33, 230, 268, 277, 288–90

344

Subject Index

elderly postulants, 54 Elm, Susanna, 42 Emmel, Stephen, 262–63 emotions, 10–17 and cognitive activity, 12–13see also Canons (Shenoute); monastic rhetoric; repentance, collective Encomium to Theognius (Paul), 253–54 entrance procedures, 37–38, 67–73, 94–96, 293–94 hazing, 76–77 instruction in lifestyle/rule, 77–79 investiture, 90–96 rejection/scrutiny, 73–76 Ephrem, 175, 178 Epictetus, 107, 181 Epiphanius at Thebes, Monastery of, 30 Epistle of Ammon (Ep.Am.), 40, 123–24, 126 oracular mode of Scripture, 143 Epistles (Barsanuphius and John), 32, 50, 189 Epistula ad episcopos catholicos (Constantine), 148 Eupraxia, 56–58, 77, 91 Euro-American secular theory of mind, 14 Euro-American supernaturalist theory of mind, 14 Eustathius, 33, 46, 93 Eustochium, 31, 42n20, 43, 45, 249 Evagrius of Pontus, 16, 184–85 calligraphy, 120 eight thoughts, 102 on the habit, 94 on manifestation of thoughts, 99n10 and the oracular mode of Scripture, 144 on prayer and Scripture, 106 exercises, spiritual, 107 exomologēsis see confession expulsion, 228, 266, 292 Pachomius, 287–88 Shenoute, 275, 276, 279, 282, 283–84 false belief test, 13 families, in monastic life, 51–52 father-son groups see families Fauconnier, G., 10 Faustus, 250, 253, 255–56 fear of death, 177–81 fear of God, 15–16, 105–9, 183–85, 295 clairvoyance, 159, 161–63 guilt, 165–68 image/discipline/practice, 152–58 individual exercises in, 175–81 pain and corporal punishment, 169–75 repentance and prophylaxis, 181–83 self-scrutiny, 159, 163–64 shame, 158–61 surveillance, 160–64

Festal Letter39 (Athanasius), 27 fictional narratives of saints, 234 First Greek Life (V. Pach. G1), see under Lives of Pachomius Fortunatianus, 117 Foucault, Michel, 6, 107, 197, 201 free choice, 193 free will, 61, 101, 105, 193 Cassian on, 61–62 Horsiesius on, 66 Pachomius on, 8 Theodore on, 65–66 friendships, homosocial, 199–200 Fulgentius, 74, 240–41 fusion principle, 265, 291 Geertz, Clifford, 11 Gerontius, 45 gestures in rhetoric, 131–33 see also posture Goffman, Ervin, Asylums: Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates 92 Great Coptic Life (V. Pach. SBo), see under Lives of Pachomius Great Monastery, Mount Izla, 35 Greek Lives (V. Pach. G2, G3, etc.), see under Lives of Pachomius Gregory Nazianzen, and Basil of Caesarea, 33–35, 47, 110, 199, 249 guilt, and the fear of God, 153–54, 165–68 habit, 71, 90–96 tearing by Shenoute, 285–87 habitus, 154–55 Hadot, Pierre, 107 hagiography, 233–35 commemoration, 247–57 imitation, 235–47 hatred/love, and Shenoute, 271–72, 276 hazing, 76–77 heart-pain, 230, 270, 289, 290–91 heart-work, 15, 108, 293 and Scripture, 112–13 see also repentance hearts of darkness, 273, 291 heavenly court, 15 and fear of God, 152, 158–59, 168–69, 172, 176–77 and prayer, 187, 202, 212, 218 Hermeneumata, 122 Hilary of Arles, 32, 46, 132–33, 163 Hirschkind, Charles, 112, 126, 141 Historia Monachorum, 46, 241–42 History of the Monks of Egypt, hazing, 76 History of the Monks of Palestine (Cyril of Scythopolis), 33 Homilies (Augustine), 32

Subject Index homosexuality see same-sex erotic activity Honoratus, 31, 132–33, 163, 250, 253, 255–56 Horsiesius, 24–25 attentive listening, 124 Catecheses, 135–37, 138 on cell inspection, 160n53 commemoration of Pachomius, 258–59 contemplation of the majesties of the glory of God, 203–4 duties of leaders, 228 entrance procedures, 39, 40–41, 66, 90, 95 and imitation, 239–40 Instruction friendships, 199–200 prayer, 186, 206 self-blame, 168, 261 Letters, annual meetings, 226 on manifestation of thoughts, 99 on prayer, 202 revelations, 210 revolt against, 129 scriptural exercises, 112, 140 Testament, 2, 25, 26 fear of God, 105–6, 149, 164, 165–66 on pastoral authority, 5–6 praise of Pachomius, 257 rules of Pachomius, 187, 189 on scriptural exercises, 110, 139 and Theodore, 215 humility, 241–47 Pinufius’, 240 Silvanus’, 237 Hypatius, 52 on clairvoyance, 163 on slaves, 59 hyperactive agent detection device (HADD), 150 images/imagery in catechesis, 135–39 cultivation of, 213–14 and fear of God, 152–53, 157, 158, 165 Stoic, 181 imagination, 247, 295 technologies of the, 108, 185, 202 imitation, 140, 235–47, 254–56 individual/individualism, 7 initiation see entrance procedure Institutes (Cassian), 31, 119, 120, 242 Instruction (Horsiesius) friendships, 199–200 prayer, 186, 206 self-blame, 168 instruction in lifestyle/rule, 77–79 Instructions (Pachomius), 26, 99 attentive listening, 124 forgiveness, 226

manifestation of thoughts, 99 monastic oaths, 83 purity of heart/body, 266–67 scriptural exercises, 140–41 vices/spirits/demonic thoughts, 102–3 Instructions (Theodore), 39–40, 292 annual meetings, 226 on attentive listening, 123 conscience, 191, 193 entrance procedures, 67, 69, 70–71 and free will, 61 monastic oaths, 83–84 manifestation of thoughts, 99 prayer, 187–88 repentance, 229 on vocation, 39 intention, 12, 14, 141 internalisation of the fear of God, 155 of Scripture, 135, 140 Introductory Outline of Asceticism (Basil of Caesarea), 51 investiture, 90–96 Isaac of Nineveh, Mystical Treatise 80, 246–47 Isaiah of Scetis, 32, 164 Jacob of Nisibis, 35 James, William, 65 Jeremias monastery (Saqqara), 31 Jerome, 23, 25, 31, 139 on God observing his thoughts, 175 Letter 14, 48 Letter 22, 31 and the Life of Pachomius, 27n33, 238 memorials, 249 on the Pachomians, 242 on scribal activity, 121–22 John the Archimandrite, 133 John (brother of Pachomius), 36 John of Ephesus Lives of the Eastern Saints, 36, 61, 97, 243–44 on entrance procedures, 73, 74 on hazing, 77 John, Mar, 243 Johnson, M., 10 Jones, A.H.M., 41 judgement divine, 157, 158 and admonition, 167–68 post-mortem, 150 Julian Saba, 35, 250, 252–53 Justinian, 36 Novel 5, 36, 37, 59, 72, 81 Novel 123, 53

345

346

Subject Index

Kaster, Robert, 12–13 kinship language, 238 Koinonia, 1, 2–3, 21, 22–23, 29n47, 225–26 Krawiec, R., 119–20, 265 Krueger, Derek, 145, 242 laborers, 58–59 Ladder of Divine Ascent (Climacus), 60, 245 Ladeuze, P., 194 Lakoff, G., 10 Later Roman Empire, punishment in, 155–56 Latopolis, Council of, 162 Lausiac History (Palladius), 3–4, 74, 241 hazing, 76 humility, 240 on manifestation of thoughts, 99n10 Lawson, E.T., 10 Layton, Bentley, 4, 22 Lenski, Noel, 46 Letter 14 (Jerome), 48 Letter 22 (Jerome), 31, 44–45 Letter to Theodore (Chrysostom), 47 Letters (Ammonas), 182, 207–9 Letters (Horsiesius), 226 Letters (Pachomius), 25, 26, 110 annual meetings, 225–26 disobedience, 292 Letters (Shenoute), 29 Letters (Theodore), 257 Leyser, Conrad, 23 Life of Antony (Athanasius), 32, 122, 257–58 emulation, 237 oracular mode of Scripture, 142–43 Life of Daniel of Scetis, 244–45 Life of Dositheus (Dorotheus), 33, 243 Life of Eupraxia, 56–58, 77, 91 Life of Fulgentius, 74, 240–41 Life of Hypatius (Callinicus), 59 Life of Mary, 245–46 Life of Onnophrius, 246 Life of Pelagia, 245 Life of Phib, 287 Life and Repentance of Thais the Former Prostitute (Thais), 175–76 Life of Shenoute, commemoration, 249–50 Life of Syncletica (Ps.-Athanasius), 43–44 Life of Theodora of Alexandria, 73, 77, 78–79 Life of Theognius (Paul of Elusa), 33 liminality, 92–93 literacy/learning to read, 4, 111, 113–17, 118–22, 146 Lives of the Eastern Saints (John of Ephesus), 36, 61, 97, 243–44 on entrance procedures, 73, 74 on hazing, 77

Lives of Pachomius, 222, 234 Arabic Life (V. Pach. Ar.), 92, 194, 195 First Greek Life (V. Pach. G1), 27, 51, 55 catechesis, 134 emulation, 237–38 entrance procedures, 78, 84 fear of God, 148 revelations, 218 scriptural exercises, 110 Great Coptic Life (V. Pach. SBo), 27, 49, 67, 233 commemoration of Pachomius by Theodore, 248 manifestation of thoughts, 99, 100 on monastic rhetoric, 126–27 on rejection of applicants, 68 sin and expulsion, 287–88 on Theodore, 129, 215 Greek Lives (V. Pach. G2, G3, etc.), 216 Sahidic Lives (V. Pach. S1, S2, etc.), 27, 186 on commemorating Pachomius, 251 conscience, 192 five mental processes, 104–5 monastic oaths, 83, 84 prayer, 203, 204–5, 207, 209 Long Rules (Basil of Caesarea), 23, 34 categories of motivation, 62 on marriage, 52–53 responsibilities of monastic leaders, 227–28 love/hatred, and Shenoute, 271–72, 276 low-status postulants, 58–62 Lubomierski, Nino, 249–50 Luhrmann, Tanya, 11, 12, 14, 108, 208, 213 Lundhaug, H., 138 McCauley, R., 10 Macrina (Basil’s sister), 42 Malley, Brian, 112 manifestation of thoughts, 98–100, 277, 294 Marcella, 43 married postulants, 39, 51, 52–53 Martin, Luther, 12 Mary (reformed prostitute), 245–46 Mary (sister of Pachomius), 36, 42, 49, 51, 64 Matrona, 53–54 Mauo/Maios, 195 meditations, and the fear of death, 177–81 meetings, four yearly, 225–27, 231–32, 261–62 Melania the Younger, 44, 45, 233 memorials see commemoration memorisation, 111, 114–15, 117–18, 123, 125, 134 men, single, 45–50 Menander Rhetor, 128 metacognition, 9, 97, 293, 296 metakinesis, 108, 208, 209

Subject Index mimesis see imitation mind, theory of see theory of mind monastic discipline see discipline, monastic monastic oaths, 82–90 White Monastery federation, 266–67 monastic rhetoric, 124–27, 146 catechesis, 134–39 rhetoric of ekpathy, 127–33, 268 monastic theory of mind, 15 Morgain, R., 213 Moses of Abydos, 30, 133, 140 motivations, 39–42 of single men, 45–50 single women, 42–45 Musionius, 107 mysterium tremendum, 149 Mystical Treatise 80 (Isaac of Nineveh), 246–47 mysticism, 212 Nag Hammadi Library, 27 Naumescu, Vlaud, 11 neophytes, 189 New Historicism, 12 Nilus of Ancyra, 34–35, 60–61, 64–65 on Albinus, 241 on homosocial friendships, 199 notaries, 121 Novel 5 (Justinian), 36, 37 entrance procedures, 59, 72, 81 Novel 123 (Justinian), 53 oaths see monastic oath obedience, 7 Adam and Eve, 292–93 imitation through, 254–56 monastic oaths, 82–90 see also rules olfaction, 212 omniscience, divine, 149–51, 163 omologia, 85–86 On Christian Doctrine (Augustine), rhetoric, 127 On Compunction (Chrysostom), 46–47 On the Sublime (Ps.-Longinus), 128, 138 On Virgins (Ambrose), 44, 235–36, 238 oracular mode of Scripture, 142–44 ordinance of God, 228–29 Origen controversy, 218 on sin, 9n39, 160 tripartite classification of cognition, 101 ostraca, 30, 86, 116, 140 Otto, Rudolf, 149 Pachomius, 1–3, 23–24, 45–46, 118 catechesis, 134–35 cognitive typologies, 104–5, 190–91

347

entrance procedures, 22 on children in monasteries, 55 commitment, 65 on married postulants, 51 pressures on single men, 47–48 fear of God, 148, 151, 152, 183–85 clairvoyance, 161–62 corporal punishment, 173–74 discipline, 155 guilt, 165 post-mortem punishment, 169–70 repentance/prophylaxis, 181–83 free will, 8 imitation, 235, 236–37 Instructions, 26, 99 attentive listening, 124 on forgiveness, 226 manifestation of thoughts, 99 monastic oaths, 83 purity of heart/body, 266–67 scriptural exercises, 140–41 on vices/spirits/demonic thoughts, 102–3 Letters, 25, 26, 110, 292 annual meetings, 225–26 and manifestation of thoughts, 98, 99 metacognition, 9 and pastoral care, 5–6 prayer/monastic progress, 106–7, 209 condescension, 189–90 and porneia, 194–95, 197–98 revelations, 210, 211, 214 rules, 188 scriptural exercises, 140–41 attentive listening, 123, 124 rhetoric, 133 and Theodore, 217–18 vocation of, 63 pain, 153, 169–70 heart-pain, 230, 270, 289, 290–91 self-infliction of, 174–75 see also discipline Palamon, 24, 77–78 Palladius Lausiac History, 3–4, 74, 241 on hazing, 76 panopticon divine, 159 see also omniscience, divine Paphnouti, 36, 48–49, 189–90, 217 Paphnutius, 8, 246 Paralipomena, 183–84 paraphrase, 120 pastoral authority, 5–7 pastoral responsibilities/duties, 227–32 Patlole, 161, 168, 191 patronage, 3, 7 Paul, Encomium to Theognius, 253–54

348

Subject Index

Paul of Elusa, 33 Paul the Simple, 74 Paula, 31, 42n20 Pcol, 23n11, 28–29, 129, 224–25 commemoration of, 259 entrance procedures, 86 Pecosh, 251 Pedagogue (Clement of Alexandria), 125, 157 Pelagia, 245 perception, 105, 202–3, 218–19, 295 Petronius, 24–25, 51, 81 Phib, 31, 287 Philostratus, 128 Philoxenus of Mabbug, 56, 61 Phoibammon, monastery, 30, 56, 116 Pinufius, 54, 239, 240 Plato, 128 Pliny, 83 Poemen, 125 porneia, 187 and prayer, 193–201 Shenoute on, 281 possession, spirit, 264–65, 288, 291 Postumianus, 244 posture in prayer, 205–6, 213 in punishment, 163 see also gestures prayer, 105–9, 186–87, 218–19, 294, 295 as cognitive discipline, 15–16 and condescension, 189–90 and conscience, 190–93 Pachomian techniques of, 201–10 and porneia, 193–201 and revelations, 210–15 Precepts, 25, 60 fear of god, 163 on literacy/learning to read, 113, 114, 116–17 on physical contact, 195 on preliminary entrance procedures, 70, 71–72, 73, 74 instruction in lifestyle/rule, 78 investiture, 91 renunciation of property, 79 prosopopoeic mode of Scripture, 145 Precepts and Institutes, 25 Precepts and Judgements, 25, 166 Precepts and Laws, 25 pressures on married postulants, 52–53 on single men, 45–50 on single women, 42–45 progress monastic, 151 Theodore’s, 215–18 see also prayer moral, 214

progymnasmata, 120 Progymnasmata (Theon), 122 property, renunciation, 3 prophylaxis, 181–83 prosopopoeic mode of Scripture, 142, 144–46 prostitutes, reformed, 175–76, 245–46 protreptic literature, 40, 44, 46–47 by Hypatius, 52 Introductory Outline of Asceticism, 51 see also monastic rhetoric Ps.-Athanasius Life of Syncletica, 43–44 Ps.-Basil, 44 Ps.-Libanius, 237 Ps.-Longinus, On the Sublime, 128, 138 Psalms of David, 144–46, 200, 218 Pshoi, 29, 259 entrance procedures, monastic oaths, 85, 86 punishment, 5n19, 152–58, 163, 167 corporal, 12, 16, 157, 169–75 divine, 148, 155–56, 157–58, 175 of the Later Roman Empire, 155–56 post-mortem, 169–70, 174–75 purity, 209 Pachomian, 83, 210, 286 Shenoute, 88–89, 231, 261–62, 266–67, 289 Quintilian attentive listening, 123 on gestures in speaking, 131, 132 monastic rhetoric, 128, 138 on paraphrase, 120 scriptural exercises, 140 Rabbula, Admonitions, 35 rapture experiences, 213–14 reason, 36, 128 rebuke, 127, 129–31, 163, 164–69, 223–25, 229–30 reformation method of, 229–30 see also repentance rejection of postulants, 73–76 ‘relational access’, 14–15 relevance theory, 112–13 remedial discipline, 157 Remission, 225 renunciation of property, 45, 79–82 repentance, 27, 163, 181–83 collective, 31, 222, 260–62, 282–90, 296–97 responsibilities of monastic leaders see pastoral responsibilities/duties responsories, 256, 286 retribution, 155 revelations, 28, 170, 208, 210–15, 268–69, 278–82 rhetoric meditations on the fear of death, 177–81 monastic see monastic rhetoric

Subject Index Rhetoric (Aristotle), 125, 128, 237 rites of passage, 92–94 ritualisation, 157–58 Rosenwein, Barbara, 12 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 296–97 Rufinus, 35 ‘rule of the angel’, 72 Rule (Augustine), 32 fear of God, 149–50 Rule of the Master, 23, 35, 264 entrance procedures, 73 hazing, 77 instruction in the lifestyle/rule, 78 investiture, 92, 96 on low-status postulants, 60 monastic oaths, 89 on parental consent, 50 property renunciation, 81 on rejection of postulants, 74 fear of God corporal punishment, 171 guilt and discipline, 166 surveillance, 160 heart-body-community trichotomy, 267 imitation, 238 on manifestation of thoughts, 100 scriptural exercises, 143–44 literacy, 114–15, 118 sin and expulsion, 288 rules, 187–89 Rules of Dadīšō’, 114 Rules for Virgins (Caesarius of Arles), 114 Sahidic Lives (V. Pach. S1, S2, etc.), see under Lives of Pachomius salvation, 4 Salvian, 93 same-sex erotic activity, 196–97, 197n66 scribal activity, 120–22 scriptural practice, 15–16, 105–9, 146–47, 294–95 exercises, 139–45 instruction, 113–24 monastic rhetoric, 124–27, 146 catechesis, 134–39 rhetoric of ekpathy, 127–33 scrutiny of postulants for entrance, 73–76 self-, 159, 163–64 Second Letter to Virgins (Athanasius of Alexandria), 43 self, technologies of the, 107–8 self-blame, 168–69, 261 self-examination, 65 self-knowledge, 197 self-scrutiny, 159, 163–64 self-will, 200

Seneca, 62, 177 sententiae, 177–81 separation from the community as entrance procedure, 92–93 as punishment, 163, 171 sermon audition, 141 sexual temptation see porneia shame, 158–59 Basil on the habit, 95 and the fear of God, 152–55, 158–61 shaving of the head, 91–92 Shenoute, 4, 29, 260–62 cognitive typologies, 102 commemoration, 249–50, 251–52 De iudicio dei, 178 Discourses, 29 duties of leaders/rules, 228, 229, 230–32 education, 119 fear of God, 156–57, 169, 171–73, 175 Letters, 29 on manifestation of thoughts, 100 on monastic care, 2 monastic oaths, 84–85 ritual of commemoration, 223–25 scribal activity, 121 scriptural exercises, 106, 112, 146 tonsure, 92 use of notaries, 121see also Canons Short Rules (Basil of Caesarea), 23, 34, 104 signaling, emotional, 70n15 silence, 111 Silvanus, 55, 78, 84, 174, 236–37 sin, hidden, 277–82, 283 sinners, admission as postulants, 68, 74 situational belief, 183 slaves, 59–60 social background see status spirits, Pachomius on, 102–3 status, 39–42 and imitation, 239–40 single men, 45–50 single women, 42–45 and vestments, 93–94 Stewart, Columba, 98 Stoicism, 181 Strauss, Claudia, 40 Sulpicius Severus, 58, 244 ‘supernatural agents’, 10, 14 surveillance, 160–64, 278 reverse, 248 Syncletica, 43–44, 45 Tabennesi (monastery), 24 talking back, 144, 166, 206 Taves, A., 213 Tawatha monastery, 32

349

350

Subject Index

technologies of the self, 107–8 Testament (Horsiesius), 2, 25, 26 fear of God, 149, 164, 165–66 on pastoral authority, 5–6 praise of Pachomius, 257 rules of Pachomius, 187 scriptural exercises, 110, 139 tetrapharmakos, 177 Thais, Life and Repentance of Thais the Former Prostitute, 175–76 thankfulness, 203, 211 thanksgiving, 15, 187 Theodora of Alexandria, 73 fear of God, 148, 167–68, 173 hazing, 77 instruction in the lifestyle/rule, 78–79 and oracular mode of Scripture, 142 Theodore, 24–27, 48–49, 118 on being a cenobitic leader, 221–22 commemoration of Pachomius, 222–25, 247–49, 250–51, 254–55, 256–58 entrance procedures, 70–71, 83–84, 89–90, 94 on abandonment of monastic life, 41 on free will, 61, 65–66 parental opposition, 41, 48–50 fear of God, 106, 159, 161, 163–64 and imitation, 236–37, 239 Instructions, 39–40, 292 annual meetings, 226 on attentive listening, 123 commitment, 67 conscience, 191, 193 entrance procedures, 69, 70–71, 83–84 prayer, 187–88 repentance, 229 on vocation, 39 Letters, 257 and manifestation of thoughts, 98–100 pastoral responsibilities, 228–29 prayer/monastic progress, 202, 215–18 and condescension, 189–90 and conscience, 191–93 revelations, 210 scriptural exercises, 106, 145 on attentive listening, 123–24 catechesis, 104, 135 monastic rhetoric, 126, 127–28 oracular mode of Scripture, 143, 144 on Scripture, 112 vocation of, 63–64 Theodore of Alexandria, 37 Theodoret of Cyrrhus, 55–56 Theognius, 253–54 Theon see Aelius Theon Theophilus of Alexandria, 219 theory of mind, 12–15, 38, 234, 235, 293, 294

Thomas of Marga, Book of Governors, 36 ‘three classes of humans’, 65 Timothy of Alexandria, 39 tonsures, 91–92, 96 totalitarianism, 7 Turner, Victor, 93, 288, 289 typologies of vocation, Cassian’s, 62–64 van Gennep, Arnold The Rites of Passage, 92 vices, Pachomius on, 102–3 vigils, 213 nighttime, 205–6, 295 virginity treatises, 44 visions see revelations vocation, 39–42 Shenoute’s, 268–70 typologies/commitment narratives, 62–66 vows see monastic oaths voyeurism monastic, 149–50, 234–36, 242–43, 245–46, 247–48 weeping, 230, 231, 268 and prayer, 208 and rhetoric, 127, 131–33 White Monastery federation, 28 annual meetings, 226–27 cell inspection, 160 commemoration of the founder, 259 entrance procedures, 72, 74–75 instruction in the lifestyle/rule, 78 investiture, 92n133 property renunciation, 79–80 oath, 266–67 self-scrutiny, 164see also Shenoute wisdom, 105, 210–11 Wittgenstein, L., 183 women dressing as men, 244–45 single postulants, 42–45 vestments, 93 White Monastery communities and Canons 2, 263 entrance procedures, 75, 86 manifestation of thoughts, 100 Shenoute’s letters to, 276–77 see also Aphthonia; Eupraxia; Macrina; Marcella; Mary (reformed prostitute); Mary (sister of Pachomius); Matrona; Melania the Younger; Paula; Pelagia; Syncletica; Thais; Theodora of Alexandria Zosimus, 245–46, 247 Zunshine, Lisa, 234