But I ask myself, Why should a horse’s bit be inscribed as “holy,” if not to restrain the insolence of emperors, to curb the unrestrained boldness of tyrants?
Ambrose, De obitu Theodosii 50. 1-4
Jerome was very careful in commenting on Zechariah 14: 20 (which Ambrose here elucidated), and considered that the Ambrosian interpretation was ‘‘odd [ridicula]’ (Jer. Comm. in Zachariam 3. 20). But it is well known that, fine exegete though he was, Jerome was not a subtle ideologist. When Ambrose decided, in ad 395, to end his funeral oration for Theodosius I with a digression on Constantine's mother Helena and her discovery of the true cross, the sense of what he meant escaped Jerome completely. Even at the beginning of the twentieth century, several authors considered that digression in bad taste, or even completely unrelated to the speech as a whole (Schanz 1904: 321-2; Laurand 1921: 349-50). The contrary is the case. If we restore the natural integrity of Ambrose’s conclusion (Steidle 1978: 94), the significance of the account - of how Helena set a nail from the Crucifixion in Constantine's diadem and ordered another to be used in making a bit for the emperor’s horse (Ambrose, De obitu Theodosii 48. 10-13) - now seems perfectly clear. ‘‘ to her,'' said Ambrose in the same passage, ‘‘that day had dawned to which the prophet Zechariah had looked forward [14: 20], when the horse’s harness would be inscribed ‘holy to the Lord’ [in illo die erit, quod super frenum equi, sanctum domino omnipotenti].’ He pointed out to the young Honorius, Theodosius’ western heir, that the only other reason (apart from dynastic right) that would earn him the principate was the submission of the emperor to the divine law (Consolino 1984: 176-7). In putting it that way, Ambrose placed the relationship between Church and state on a basis quite different from that which had governed Eusebius’ attitude to Constantine.
Not many years before, in the east (ad 386), John Chrysostom - still only a presbyter in Antioch - did not refrain from using topical news of recent events in
A Companion to Late Antiquity. Edited by Philip Rousseau © 2009 Blackwell Publishing Ltd. ISBN: 978-1-405-11980-1
His comments on 2 Corinthians, and to direct scornful accusations against the Jews and the Gentiles. Constantine’s mausoleum had been recently completed. His body had been solemnly laid to rest in the Apostoleion (the Church of the Holy Apostles) in Constantinople in ad 337, being given the position of Christ among the twelve pillars that represented the apostles. It had been relocated c. ad 359 in the Church of Saint Acacius, because of building work in the Church of the Holy Apostles. After AD 370, it was finally laid to rest close to that church (Dagron 1991: 407-14) - an opportune choice, declared Chrysostom, as it allowed dead emperors to act as ‘‘Doorkeepers of the Fisherman’’ (loh. Chrys. In Epist. II ad Corint. Hom. 26. 5; Adversus Iudeos etgentiles 9; Bonamente 1988: 133; Siniscalco 2000: 99-100).
Almost a century of good relations between empire and Church had not, therefore, passed in vain. At the end of the fourth century, it no longer seemed sensible to honor Constantine as ‘‘equal to the Apostles,’’ as the intermediary between the King of Heaven and humanity on the earth, as the imitator of the Word Incarnate or Logos (Euseb. Vit. Const. 4. 71. 2; Laus Constantini 2. 3-5). So, during the reign of the pious Theodosius I (ad 379-95), while in the east Eusebius’ political theology was seriously questioned (see also Gr. Naz. C. Iulianum 2 = Or. 5. 17), in the west Ambrose developed the theory of a necessary subordination of the emperor to the divine law and the dependence of his authority on God’s intervention, so that only a true and proper faith could guarantee victorious permanence to power and its transmission to legitimate heirs (Ambrose, Defide 2. 16. 141).
It is significant that the same Fathers who would rethink the terms of the relationship between Church and empire (Gregory of Nazianzus, John Chrysostom, and Ambrose) drew virtually at the same time an ideal portrait of a bishop. Insisting on spiritual qualities and practical skills, they also indicated what should be the limits of a bishop’s sphere of action in relation to the authority of citizens, of imperial functionaries, and of the emperor. But we are dealing here with two only apparently different aspects of a single process, because the unresolved tension between imperium (empire) and sacerdotium (priesthood) permeated the redefinition of the reciprocal roles of the Christian emperor and the bishop: each of them related to the divine and the holy; each of them related to the earthly structures that they both called upon to make that other relationship a reality.
The moment at which this new theorizing started to develop is revealing. As Ambrose was already suggesting, the two points of reference were Constantine the Great and Theodosius I. Some contemporaries believed that the latter, by declaring Christianity to be the sole religion of the Roman Empire, concluded the process started by Constantine when he had recognized the legality of that religion and conferred privileged status on its ministers. So, in studying the development of the figure of the late antique bishop, it is appropriate to broaden the chronological boundaries of the inquiry in order to evaluate how the Church had grown in the centuries preceding the Constantinian turning point. We have to take into consideration the many spiritual and temporal matters that the bishop had already had to deal with during the third century, and we cannot neglect the results of that process in the actual circumstances (which varied from region to region) and in the canonical codification of the fifth and sixth centuries (Rapp 2005a: 13). Nevertheless, the period between Constantine and Theodosius remains central and, as such, must be emphasized, in order to grasp how the figure of the late antique bishop developed as the result of a dynamic interaction of image and reality.
Many aspects of the process that supported the gradual rise of the bishop to become the center of the late antique city are by now well known. It is clear, for instance, that the responsibilities of the bishop grew - well before the final disruption of the western empire - within the vacuum of local power, well documented in many regions of the empire throughout the third century. In the same period, while the monarchical episcopate prevailed almost everywhere in the Church, bishops became the highest moral authority within the Christian communities, entrusted with manifold duties, not least the task of insuring the physical well-being of their congregations. Since he was expected to be inspired by the Holy Spirit, the bishop had to set an example of moral and virtuous conduct; he had to provide rules of behavior, and so was entitled to regulate the external comportment and internal balance of the faithful; above all, he was the guardian of the community chest and, as administrative officer, he managed those funds in order to support his own clergy and distribute the offerings for charity (Mazza 1993: 187-216).
Nevertheless, all those conditions would not have been sufficient to endow the bishop with the powers he came to exercise in the late antique city, had it not been for the revolutionary effect of Constantine’s conversion. The consolidation of the Christian Church as an institution recognized by the state - an institutional change that deeply affected the structures of the empire - assured the final enhancement of the bishop’s authority. Such a change also induced the most cultured and sensitive representatives of the ecclesiastical organization to define what kind of moral and spiritual identity a bishop ought to have in order to exercise his powers fully. This complex process was gradual, and reached different stages in different regions of the empire. It depended greatly on the interaction between certain variables: the political importance enjoyed by some cities that became episcopal sees; the lessening of local powers; and the personality of individual bishops. The foundation of such power, however, was already implicit in the status that Constantine had granted to the officiants of the Christian cult at the same moment in which Christianity was recognized as the lawful religion of the empire.
At the same time as proclaiming, soon after the defeat of Maxentius (ad 312), an end to persecution, and restitution to churches and individual Christians for damage to property, Constantine ordered the African proconsul Anullinus to support Caecil-ian, the bishop of Carthage, in the distribution among the clerics of his church of a sum of money that he, the emperor, had given, in order to provide his clergy with a salary in that difficult period following the persecutions. This step was taken in part under the influence of Ossius, bishop of Cordova. Constantine also decided to exempt clerics and bishops from the obligatory public liturgies, so that - as Cyprian of Carthage had suggested more than fifty years before (Cypr. Ep. 1.1.2)- secular problems would not distract them from celebrating that divine cult which, holier than all others, procured immense good fortune and benefit for the state (Euseb. Hist. eccl. 10.7.2). Such orders ratified the claim of Caecilian that he was the true bishop of the Christian community ofCarthage, not Maiorinus - head ofa schismatic group that in a few years would have Donatus as leader, giving rise to the Donatist movement (Maier 1987: 128-9; Duval 1989b); that he, Caecilian, was the only ‘‘Catholic,’’ by virtue of his relationship with other communities, particularly the Christian congregation of Rome.
Later, after the defeat of Licinius (ad 324) and after a council of bishops at Nicaea had formulated a universal creed (ad 325), the privileges granted to Caecilian were extended to all Nicene churchmen in the empire. Once again, this generous gift of money was designed to assure at least a part of the monthly salary that every bishop, since the first half of the third century, had given his clergy, dipping into his personal patrimony as well as into the community funds (Schclllgen 1988). The distribution later took the form of corn, which, by imperial arrangement, each municipality had to provide every year to the ministers of the divine cult (Theod. Hist. eccl. 1.11. 2-3; Soz. Hist. eccl. 5. 5. 2; Cod. lust. 1.2. 12 [November 12, ad 451, concerning salaria to be given from public funds in the form of foodstuffs]; Liebeschuetz 1997: 123; Wipszycka 1997; Lizzi Testa 2000b: 71-5). The exemption from all liturgies was specified through imperial rescripts (Cod. Theod. 16. 2. 1-2; 15. 5. 1), such as the exemption of the superior clergy from the munera civilia - that is, from the compulsory work that was required from individuals for the benefit of cities or of the state, such as the collection of taxes, the carrying and distribution of supplies to soldiers, maintenance of public buildings, and other similar tasks. These were all usually the responsibility of local citizens and proprietors, such as those inscribed in the curia (senate) of their original town (Lizzi Testa 2001a: 126).
Constantine granted other privileges to bishops: permission to travel by imperial post (the cursuspublicus, usually enjoyed only by imperial officials) in order to attend ecclesiastical councils (a concession ratified by law only in ad 382: Cod. Theod. 12. 12. 9); manumissio in ecclesia, the right to notarize the manumission of slaves (prescribed by law in ad 316: Cod. Iust. 1. 13. 1; and again in ad 321: Cod. Theod. 4. 7. 1; see also Cod. Theod. 2. 8. 1; Cod. Iust. 3. 12. 2); the possibility of transferring pending cases from a municipal to an episcopal court ( audientia episcopalis), provided that both parties agreed(Cod. Theod. 1.27. 1inAD 318 or 321; further developed in AD 333 by Const. Sirmond. 1, which allowed the transfer of a lawsuit from a municipal to an episcopal court at any time in the proceedings, and at the request of only one of the parties involved); and permission for anyone to bequeath whatever he wished to the ‘‘most holy and venerable council of the Catholic Church’’ (ad 321, Cod. Theod. 16. 2. 4).
None of those concessions was of such a sort as to absorb the episcopate into the imperial administrative apparatus, turning bishops into bureaucrats in the imperial service. This is clear from the titles of bishop, usually addressed with such adjectives as gloriosissimus, reverentissimus, illustris, venerabilis, which were honorary titles, unofficial and predicative, not formal and official like those applied to members of the imperial bureaucracy (Jerg 1970; Mazzarino 1974: 151-70, 171-82). The concessions simply permitted bishops to fulfill, publicly and with the support of imperial legislation, certain functions that they had already practiced in their congregations before the religious peace - conciliation as peacemakers; the redemption of slaves on the occasion of their baptism. Many became effective only over the next two centuries (Rapp 2005a: 235-73) and thanks to the many bishops who pressured hostile and arrogant imperial functionaries into allowing them the patronage of their fellow citizens. There was the case, for example, of ecclesiastical asylum, which is first attested as a right in ad 343, guaranteed in the west in ad 409 ( Cod. Theod. 16. 8. 19) but enforced by general law only in the first twenty years of the fifth century (Cod. lust. 1. 12. 2). Bishops like Basil (Gr. Naz. Or. 43, 568), Ambrose (Paul. Med. Vit. Ambr. 34), John Chrysostom (Hom. in Eutropium 394), and Synesius (Epp. 42 and 72) fought hard for the freedom to exercise it (Lizzi 1987: 108-11).
What is more, those prerogatives would not have combined to favor the powers of bishops in the towns, had Constantine not first offered to Caecilian of Carthage and to his priests the sums of money already mentioned and exemption from munera civilia. Over the next fifty years, as economic difficulties increased, some emperors sought to limit those privileges, which had come to apply by then not just to a few officiants of the Catholic cult but to an increasing number of the Christian clergy. It was also felt necessary to offer different justifications for their continuation (Cod. Theod. 16. 2. 6, June 1, ad 329, Lizzi Testa 2001a: 133-5). Precautions were taken to avoid the recruitment of clergy that would compromise the functioning of a city (Cod. Theod. 12. 1. 59, 16. 2. 17, September 12, ad 364; 16. 2. 19, October 17, AD 370; 12. 1. 104, November 7, ad 383; and 12. 1. 99, April 18, ad 383). Despite this, the ministers of God were able to exercise sufficient pressure to preserve such immunities, which they judged to be more than simple fiscal concessions. Constantine’s political and institutional reforms changed the system that had regulated social relations throughout the whole of ancient society, particularly his reform of ordines, which conferred senatorial rank on some who had previously held equestrian office. There was a shift implied in the customary relation between order and office. So, during the previous three centuries, belonging to a certain order (usually by birthright) was the main criterion for obtaining office; but, from the first decades of the fourth century, it was the fulfilling of the function that conferred the rank (Porena 2003: 391). We can recognize the change from a variety of indicators: from specific designation symbols (insignia), from titles, from some judicial privileges (such as freedom from trial by torture), and finally from the type of fiscal exemption granted. Even if a Christian priest was not integrated into the secular hierarchy, the social effects of this institutional change profoundly shaped his identity. Both salary and exemption, granted by virtue of the functions that bishops and clerics performed in their community, acted as status indicators. The sacerdotal status, with its privileges and public salary, brought it closer to the most eminent people of an imperial town: members of local senates who, having held office in public administration, were regarded as primores (the first) among citizens and distanced from simple curiales (Lizzi Testa 2001a: 130).
It is true that similar exemptions were a traditional privilege of some pagan priests (e. g., the Vestals) and that Constantine extended it to the religious leaders of the Jews (Cod. Theod. 16. 8. 2, November 29, ad 330; 16. 8. 4, December 1, ad 331; Linder 1987: 72-3, 132-8; De Giovanni 2001: 62). But for those people, the exemptions could never be taken for granted and were not of universal significance. When granting them to Christian priests, Constantine acted not simply out of generosity but for the common good, because he believed that the fortunes of the empire depended on the Christian religion. Christian clerics were therefore guaranteed privileged status under the law: they were no longer only figures within the Church but fulfilled a broader social function.
Such concessions had, however, unexpected consequences. In proclaiming the legality of the Christian Church, Constantine had been selective from the beginning. Only clerics in those parts of the Christian community that were declared Catholic were defined as Christian ministers (as was illustrated in the case of Caecilian and Maiorinus). This system had already been adopted by the Christian congregations in the third century, where bishops stopped payments to those clerics who had deviated from the true faith (Cypr. Ep. 34). Constantine now believed it would be useful to adopt the same strategy as an aid to imposing appropriate distinctions in cases of doctrinal dissent ( Cod. Theod. 16. 2. 1; 16. 5. 1). On the basis of that criterion, and invoking his rights as arbiter of religious matters within his empire, Constantine started to manage the Donatist crisis (Euseb. Hist. eccl. 10. 5. 18-20), attempted to resolve the question of Arianism by calling the Council of Nicaea, and tried to bend a reluctant Athanasius to accept his commands (Barnes 1993). Subsequently, during the reign of Constantius II especially, the Church suffered the consequences of that overconfident interpretation of the relationship between imperium and sacer-dotium, which was conceived without foreseeing how heavily the emperor could interfere in church affairs, even trying to influence its doctrinal choices. After the death of Constantine in ad 337, succession politics were both dramatic and cruel, resulting, during the following decade, in a precarious political balance, which in turn rekindled disputes within the Church. Constans was devoted to the Nicene cause; but Constantius II supported the moderate Arian party, denying the divinity of Christ and his identity in nature with the Father. He intervened against bishops of major sees who dared to dissent from the religious creed that had been formulated at the Councils of Arles and Milan (ad 353 and 355). Athanasius was removed from Alexandria, recalled, and then exiled again. Constantius, sole emperor after ad 353 (like Constantine after ad 324), was increasingly influenced by bishops of moderately Arian persuasion, and persecuted and exiled Nicene bishops - Dionysius of Milan, Eusebius ofVercelli, and Liberius of Rome (Pietri 1989a: 113-78). Bishops, standing outside the imperial hierarchy but strongly dependent on privileges granted by the emperor, could lose, therefore, both their autonomy and their social identity, if they lost imperial favor.
Emperors had become obsessed with safeguarding the unity of the empire by imposing doctrinal unity. The most dogged adversary of such a view, Lucifer of Cagliari, called the emperor of his day ‘‘the bishop of bishops [episcopus episco-porum]' (De regibus apostaticis 2). By allowing the split between different doctrines to grow, such emperors provoked a sort of moral laxity in the heads of major sees. The latter became inclined (with a few exceptions) to devise compromises and to seek a way of maintaining their sees without having to submit to imperial coercion. The emperor following Constantius, the pagan sympathizer Julian, was well aware of this. With his ascetic rigor, his utopian vision imbued with mysticism (hugely indebted, nevertheless, to the Christian culture that had pervaded society), he expressed a deep contempt for the spreading corruption of the Church. Yet, his moralizing impetus, paradoxically, was not so different from that which, within a short time, found new expression in the Church in the writings and episcopal careers of men like Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nazianzus, and Ambrose of Milan.
Other factors intervened to make the role of bishops within the Christian community both complex and problematical. In the second half of the fourth century, policies in favor of Christianity were realized through progressively more severe anti-pagan legislation. Suggested and supported by the religious advisers of the emperors, severe laws threatened divine and human sanctions against pagan ceremonies and practices ( Cod. Theod. 16. 10. 2, 5, 7-11). The strong support given to the Nicene cause by Gratian and Theodosius I was translated into fierce moves against all the religious minorities that no Catholic leader could hope to absorb into the Church (Cod. Theod. 16. 5. 7,9, 11). Furthermore, when he visited Rome in ad 357, Constantius had ordered the altar of Victory to be removed from the Senate chamber. It had been a civic and religious symbol of the fortune of the Roman Empire since the Augustan age and, over the next thirty years, the challenge to its acceptability provoked a conflict between the newly intolerant Christians and the conciliatory spirit of the last cultivated pagans of Rome. The great Symmachus, for example, had pleaded that ‘‘one cannot arrive at so great a mystery by a single path’’ (uno itinere non potestperveniri ad tamgrande secretum (Rel. 3, 10)). In such a climate - when combined with the fact that, in choosing lower-level imperial functionaries, religious factors became more important and those who shared the faith of the emperors were favored in their careers - it was inevitable that the process of christianization should have gathered pace among the senatorial aristocracy (Salzman 2002: 34-5; Lizzi Testa 2004: 105-25).
That did not always mean an authentic and deep conversion. The subjects of bishops’ homilies reflect with what difficulty they interacted with the new believers who came from the highest and richest classes. Involved in the political administration of the towns, they were used to looking for compromise and mediation, preferring dissimulation to direct speech. A bishop’s ability to adapt his sermons to the social and cultural position of his audience was soon seen as crucial (Ambrose, Ep. 36. 5-7). It became a virtue, and was listed as the most important among other prerogatives recommended in treatises on correct episcopal behavior (Gr. Naz. De fuga 2. 28-9). The whole of the third part of Gregory the Great’s Pastoral Care, dedicated to the issue of preaching, addresses the question of how to achieve this excellent episcopal ability (Cur. past. 3, preface; see Lizzi 1998: 81 n. 3; Rousseau 1998: 393; MacMullen 2003: 471-5).
The bishops could see that the faith of their fellow citizens, even though now openly declaring themselves Christian, was failing - a faith that implied doctrinal certainty, high moral behavior, and social commitment. They insisted, therefore, on specifically Christian duties: the shunning ofcrime, respect for widows, and contempt of avarice, arrogance, and fornication. They asked the faithful to adopt true humility in order to acquire virtue, not the semblance of humility (virtutem, non speciem humilitatis). Landowners were exhorted not to refuse to pay their servants (whether operarii, mercenarii, or servi: Ambrose, Ep. 36. 12; 31); not to wear them out as slaves till death - which would in any case accentuate a shortage of manpower already prevalent in territories such as northern Italy (Gaudentius of Brescia, Tract. 13. 21-2, 33). The rich were called upon to bestow hospitality upon troops requiring quarters (Ambrose, Ep. 62. 6), and to pay their due taxes (Maximus of Turin, Sermo 71. 3). They were asked not to become like ‘‘wolves for avarice,’’ taking advantage of the other men’s ruin during wartime, but to use their resources to ransom prisoners (Maximus, Sermo 18. 3). They should not abandon their land, if it were overrun by barbarians, escaping to their country houses (Maximus, Sermo 82. 2). They had to cooperate with the Church in eradicating superstition and paganism in the countryside (Maximus, Sermo 107. 1). And they should not enter into mixed marriages with barbarian or pagan women (Ambrose, Ep. 62. 2; 7; 34).
Besides those specific exhortations, there was an increasingly frequent and general tendency in episcopal sermons to attribute to the faithful a spiritual superiority in proportion to their high social status (Gaudentius, Praefatio 2). In fact, it made the teaching of the Christian message much easier among the higher classes of a town. Moreover, in emphasizing charity, some preachers readily attributed an expiatory and penitential value to the giving of alms (Maximus of Turin, Sermo 22. 1; 22a. 4). The emphasis placed on charity could even overshadow the importance of baptism - although Ambrose, for example, still considered baptism central to the experience of conversion: it had a distinctive value as an irrevocable choice, and it introduced the believer into a group marked by canons of excellence, preeminence, and perfection. A degree of moral tolerance, however, affected a bishop’s view of the converted: associated with an ever growing intransigence toward religious minorities, that was the price that new Christian institutions had to pay in order to foster the growth of Christianity across an entire city. So, the power of the bishop within the city became proportional to his ability to come to terms with the acquisitive and contractual ethos of the highest and richest classes that were still at the head of the Roman cities (Lizzi 1989: 118-19).
Another factor that made the process of defining the role of the late antique bishop more complicated was the sudden acceleration of christianization. Since it was necessary to organize larger plebes christianae, more and more clerics and bishops were recruited. Constantius II did not hesitate to explain that his generous policy of fiscal immunities for the clergy was adopted ‘‘in order that the assembly of the churches [in itself, a striking allusion to the single nature of the Church within the empire] might be filled by a coming together of huge numbers of people’’ (ut ecclesiarum coetus concursu populorum ingentium frequentetur ( Cod. Theod. 16.2.10)). Even when Valentinian I and Theodosius I returned to more reasonable concessions (Lizzi Testa 2001b: 194-202), the number of clergy increased, especially at the higher levels of the hierarchy, because in a large number of areas few sees had previously existed. What happened in northern Italy during Ambrose’s episcopate (Lizzi Testa 2000a: 73-82) can be taken as an example of the organizational endeavors of the Church at a time when the Nicene group had the full support of an emperor like Theodosius I and the empire enjoyed a brief period of economic stability.
The increase in ecclesiastical personnel did not lower the social rank of bishops. A humble social background had never been an official obstacle - either then or in ensuing years - to a clerical appointment, episcopal or otherwise. Neither the normative texts of the Church nor the canons of councils provided any specific recommendations on that subject (Wischmeyer 1992: 101-4). There were a few instances when ecclesiastical officials came from very humble levels of society (including, as late as the fourth century, slaves). There were, by contrast, equally few instances of senatorial bishops, who began to make their appearance during the last twenty or so years of the fourth century, but included even then only a small percentage of the whole episcopate, varying from region to region and attested chiefly in Gaul in the fifth and sixth centuries (Sotinel 1997: 196). Otherwise, the chief source for the recruitment of deacons and bishops remained the curial class (Gilliard 1966, 1984; Eck 1978; Cracco Ruggini 1998a: 884-90). That must have been the case already when Constantine legalized the Catholic Church. It makes the best sense of the fiscal exemptions he granted, which clergy from a curial background would have appreciated the most. And throughout the fourth century, the curial origin of those at the highest levels of the ecclesiastical hierarchy was assured by the vitality of the curial class itself, which endured, at least in some regions, until the end of the fifth century. Besides, it was to just that class that Christian communities would almost always look when searching for an effective bishop - one likely to be not only a good shepherd but also a good patron, used to mixing with the great, to speaking and writing their language, and to understanding the intricacies of administration and law (Lepelley 1998: 29).
Churchmen soon felt, however, that the time had come to alter the pattern of recruitment at the higher levels of the hierarchy, since it seemed to be increasingly independent of religious faith and too acquiescent toward imperial authority. Church leaders continued to insure that legislation did not create too many obstacles to the ordination of curiales (Ambrose, Ep. 73). At the same time, new screening rules were brought in to guarantee the quality of ecclesiastical personnel: electoral rules were improved; the canons of councils insisted on sexual restraint, recommending continence, chastity, and celibacy; and training ‘‘seminaries’’ (in Cappadocia and northern Italy) were created for good ascetic-clerics. Even bishops like Basil and Ambrose did not dare to decide ex auctoritate (on their own authority) which candidates were best suited locally as deacons or bishops. A more theoretical model of priesthood was proposed, which stressed the many heavy tasks of the ministry and the risks of self-glorification. A single image of the ideal priest now defined his essential qualities: dedication of spirit, a thorough understanding of doctrine, an ability to interact with different sectors of the faithful, and exemplary behavior that would encourage the congregation to follow his teachings and pagans to recognize him as a worthy advocate (Lizzi 1998: 86).
The Christian literature of the previous three centuries had discussed, it is true, the nature and role of the ideal bishop. The letters of Ignatius of Antioch (ad 98-117), together with the Apostolic Tradition and the Didascalia apostolorum (both early third century), provide us with much information about the qualities expected of a bishop. He was regarded as a successor of the apostles and partook of the same Spirit as they had { Apostolic Tradition 2-3). His ministry was bestowed on him by an act of God’s love, not because others wanted to appoint him or because he sought that distinction for himself {Ign. Phld. 1. 1-2). He needed to cultivate and display virtues that would give him the moral authority to lead the community {Eph. 6.1; Mg. 3.1; Tr. 2. 1; Pol. 6. 1), excluding unworthy members and readmitting them only after sincere repentance {Didascalia apostolorum 1929: 56, 104). And his practical attributes would make him a clever administrator {ibid. 32-3, 98-101). 1 Timothy 3: 1-7 lists the qualities required of a perfect bishop {and later on of deacons) and was used widely by Christian authors of the early period {Rapp 2005a: 6).
But it is easy to spot the differences between such earlier reflections and those that developed from the second half of the fourth century onward - as in Gregory of Nazianzus’ In Defense of His Flighty John Chrysostom’s On the Priesthood, and Ambrose’s On the Duties of the Clergy; a tradition maintained in the treatise On the Contemplative Life {written in ad 497 by Julianus Pomerius, the teacher of Caesarius of Arles), and reaching forward to Gregory the Great’s Pastoral Care a century later. In all those treatises, it is easy to detect an awareness of the public role demanded of a bishop and a determination to present his relationships with the emperor and his functionaries in terms of reciprocal autonomy. The evolution from treatise to treatise lay wholly within the Church. It began with the experience of the religious crisis brought about by Julian, moved from there to interference in doctrinal affairs by emperors like Constantius II and Valens, far from supportive of the Nicene party, and finally allowed that party to denounce such policies openly, during the reign of Theodosius I, as intolerable abuses. Several notable spokesmen, drawn from the leadership classes within the towns {Basil, Gregory of Nazianzus, John Chrysostom), and even from the senatorial class itself {Ambrose), transposed, in their configuration of the relationship between Church and empire, the ideological results of a centuries-old debate on the relationship between the imperial government and the Senate. In defining the new episcopal model, they were able to preserve the sense of Christianity’s transcendent religiosity and of its aspiration toward spiritual perfection; but they infused the latter with the attributes and traditional qualities of the oldest Roman officials. Even within the Church, the authority and welfare of families with long and respectable pedigrees came once again to the fore {as is proven by hundreds of celebratory inscriptions), while on the other side a new ‘‘aristocracy of service’’ gathered strength, originally prompted by Constantine’s institutional and political reforms.
Let us take as an example events in Milan when, in ad 386, Mercurinus Auxentius pretended that the building of a basilica for his congregation {the Arian community) had been supported by the court of Valentinian II and his mother Justina. Ambrose refused to appear before the imperial consistory to argue his contrary opinion {McLynn 1994: 179-80), and, in order to justify his courageous behavior, he quoted a decision of Valentinian I, which declared that bishops, not emperors, should judge other bishops on matters of faith {haec enim verba rescripti sunt, hoc est sacerdotes de sacerdotibus voluit iudicare {Ambrose, Ep. 75. 2)). It is impossible to question the existence of such a rescript. Even though it was not included in the Theodosian Code, we can already observe its application during Gratian’s reign in the jurisdictional relationship between the bishop of Rome, provincial metropolitans, and other bishops (Lizzi Testa 2004: 175-6). It is symptomatic of how far ecclesiastics had gone in claiming an autonomous space for themselves vis-a-vis imperial authority.
In the new Theodosian climate, therefore, in order to avoid acquiescent submission to the imperial authorities, bishops realized that they had to acquire enough authority to compete with civic magistrates, with imperial functionaries, and even with the emperor. Only spiritual hegemony could guarantee that, which is exactly what the treatises on the priesthood express. In Greek examples of this kind of literature, the episcopal function is called arche, hegemonia, epistasia, or prostasia, to show that these men exercised the same political patronage as was usually enjoyed by imperial functionaries. Indeed, the bishop was recognized as one kind of exarchos (leader) among other civic officials (Gr. Naz. Or. 2. 78; 3.7; Ioh. Chrys. De Sacerd. I. 3; II. 1, 2; III. 9, 10). In comparison to the Greek texts, the language of the Latin treatises is less forceful in its implications (even in Ambrose’s On the Duties of the Clergy):, the episcopus is pastor, sacerdos, doctor, sanctuspraedicator, praepositus, rector ecclesiae, princeps sacerdotii ipsius. But in the works of Hilary of Poitiers, Eusebius of Vercelli, and of Ambrose himself, as in the deliberations of the councils directed by Damasus or inspired by Ambrose, the use of refined rhetorical topoi allowed the discussion of problems such as the right relationship between the bishop and the emperor, recognizing each of them as exercising equivalent power (Ambrose, Ep. 72. 13; 76. 19; 75. 10).
The new literary treatises, besides listing almost the same virtues as conferring both spiritual and temporal superiority, were careful to set out how those virtues should, in the case of churchmen, be displayed. In a society as formal as that of Late Antiquity, where relations among the members of the upper class (from which, for the most part, the authors of those treatises came) were regulated by a precise etiquette, much importance was given to exterior habitus and to its capacity to reveal the inner soul. Therefore it is not surprising that the perfect minister of God was asked to lead his public life ‘‘as if in some theatre’’ (velut in quodam theatro (Ambrose, Ep. Extra coll. 14. 71; compare Jer. Ep. 60. 14)). Since episcopal behavior was constantly subjected to other people’s judgment, like that of any representative of the civil administration, our writers believed that a specific way of speaking, specific facial expressions, and a solemn comportment would reflect those inner qualities. Instructions were supplied about how to control anger before it flared up or how to repress it if it did so, when to speak and when to keep silent, how to avoid annoying others by raising one’s voice (Ambrose, De off. 1. 90-7; 1. 5-13; 67; see Jer. Ep. 52. 5; 9; 15-16). Such behavior would adequately reflect the inner strength of a man who could control his passions with reason ( ratio). And to show an outward, rational calm was a way of defending oneself against an adversary, be he heretic, pagan, or corrupt official (they were adept at describing all categories), such as might lie in wait ready to find fault with the minister of God on the basis of an uncontrolled gesture, a flushed face, or a single word spoken in anger (Ambrose, De off. 1. 105-15). The attitude of the priest at his ordination was also very important. Not seeking episcopal office, refusing it more than once, or even fleeing once ordained, he would truly express an indifference to power that revealed a nature most befitting to exercise it (Gr. Naz. Or. 2. 8; loh. Chrys. De sacerd. III. 10; see Synesius of Cyrene, Ep. 105).
Taken together, although they were written in different periods, the treatises we are discussing here give us a homogeneous image of the ideal bishop. That is partly because the writers shared a common social and cultural background: they came from the same elite, they had an aristocratic knowledge of appropriate behavior, they had learned the same rhetorical rules, and they clung to the same Stoic-Platonic traditions that Hellenistic Christianity had made its own. These authors, bearers of a systematic plan of moral life, also came from a social class used to managing political responsibilities in the city or the imperial administration, able to manage political power and to give it adequate ideological representation, and determined to further the assured development of the episcopal office, which included deciding what skills a bishop should have. The persistence of that social and cultural profile among churchmen is remarkable, even amid the crumbling of many public institutions. Gregory the Great, consecrated (albeit reluctantly) bishop of Rome in ad 590, wrote his manual for the training of priests, the Pastoral Care, entirely in the same spirit: as we have seen, it drew heavily upon earlier work by Gregory of Nazianzus, John Chrysostom, and Ambrose. In its own day, the work enjoyed instant popularity. Gregory sent copies to several bishops and priests, and even to the emperor Maurice in Constantinople, who wanted it translated into Greek. Gregory bequeathed to the Latin Middle Ages an argument for inner flight from an appointment with grave responsibilities, and both exemplified and analyzed the suffering provoked by tension between the active and the contemplative life. He reiterated the moral qualities and practical skills upon which the authors of the fourth century had built their model of the perfect priest-bishop, and he did so in a decisive period for the relationship between the Church and the empire.
All that effort of reflection and literary formulation was extremely effective in facilitating a gradual shift of major civic functions into the hands of new episcopal bureaucrats, who, during the fifth and sixth centuries in regions like Italy and Gaul, controlled resources well in excess of those accessible to individual wealthy citizens. The bishop, ‘‘nourisher’’ and ‘‘lover of the poor,’’ protected in his own court this new constituency from abuse by the powerful - a constituency numbering many more than mere wretches or beggars. The ‘‘poor of Christ’’ was a rhetorical phrase used to embrace all citizens, and had a wider meaning than the traditional Roman plebs (Brown 2002: 45-6). During the reigns of the first barbarian kings, whether curiales abandoned their duties or continued to work alongside other civic institutions, the bishop was counted among the primores (first officials). He undertook to negotiate the entry of the new conquerors into his city. He pleaded for the defeated leaders. He was able to maintain the demographic profile of a city by, among other things, urging prominent figures to remain there, instead of fleeing to their country houses. A bishop could often cooperate with military leaders as well as civilian officials, alleviating through diplomacy the difficulties of a siege, ransoming prisoners, relieving famine, and obtaining remission of taxes (Liebeschuetz 1997: 113-14). By AD 409, the bishop was numbered among the most notable (the honorati possessores and curiales), who selected the defensor civitatis ( Cod. lust. 1. 55. 8). Emperor Anastasius included the bishop among those who chose officials charged with a city’s corn supplies (the sitones. Cod. lust. 10. 27. 3), and made him responsible, with the archon (the most important official), for the distribution of provisions to troops quartered near his town ( Cod. lust. 1. 4. 18). In accordance with Justinian’s wishes, the bishop became, in ad 530, a member of the exclusive committee charged with checking on the operations of other civic administrators (Cod. lust. 1. 4. 26).
So, alongside holy men and martyrs, bishops also began to be honored as wonder workers, and people celebrated on their tombs the cult of the saint bishop, the heavenly patron of his town. It was not felt necessary to find new reasons to justify this exalted notion of episcopal holiness. Already by the end of the fourth century, the bishop’s superior virtue was enough to inspire the admiration of the faithful and the awe of his adversaries. It was this virtue that gave him the courage to challenge the officials of the empire. It conferred upon the bishop a sort of miraculous aura. Like a new Elisha, the prophet-shepherd, endowed with foresight and unarmed, he did all that he could against the enemies of his Church and country (Cracco Ruggini 2002). Very soon, therefore, Cyprian, Athanasius, Gregory the Wonderworker, Basil (Forlin Patrucco 1994), Acolius of Thessalonica, Eusebius of Vercelli (Lizzi 1994), Ambrose of Milan (Cracco Ruggini 1999) were venerated as bishop saints. Their saintliness was seen as based on a lifestyle that avoided solitary asceticism, conceived as an alternative to ministerial duty, and realized an attitude that Cicero had already praised as typical of Scipio Africanus. the otium negotiosum (the active quiet) of the great leaders of ancient Rome (Ambrose, Ep. 51. 5-7,12; Cic. Off. 3. 1; Rep. 1. 17. 27). By the end of the fourth century, however, episcopal otium had become a kind of sublime meditation that guided the man who drew superior power from his contact with the divine. Even when such power was directed less to the perfection of self and more to helping the community, it was easy to see it as a hallmark of holiness (Lizzi 1994. 53-6).
So, the main characteristics of the late antique bishop were defined during the fourth century. The figure of the bishop revealed all the paradoxes of a civilization that purported to moderate the abuses and arrogance of absolute power with the values of the ancient paideia and of Roman gravitas (Brown 1992. 35-70). But that same civilization allowed charisma and holiness to absorb all those aspirations to a democratizzazione of culture (Mazzarino 1974. 74-98; 1984. 431-647; 1989. 63-4), which, since the third century, had marked the spiritual life as well the arts and the imperial economy (Giardina 2001; Salamito 2001. 174-8). This democratization of holiness was furthered by the fact that men of virtue characterized the periphery of the empire more than its center. No longer did emperors become saints. indeed, they were no longer automatically divi - such consecrations occurred only in a few cases and without much conviction, as in the case of poor Theodosius I (Bonamente 2002. 381). Only those thought of as viri Dei and ascetics were sanctified. So, the bishop, whom Constantine had made a public figure, confirming his vocation to devote great spiritual and practical talents to his congregation and to the faithful, in less than fifty years could be thought of as a saint, the patron saint of his city - provided that he was able to transform his otium of the spirit into an effective negotium.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
The study of the dynamic interaction between the construction of the episcopal figure and the reality of episcopal power has been relatively recent. For the east, see Lizzi 1987; for differences between east and west, see Rebillard and Sotinel 1998. The resulting impression owes much not only to new, but also to broader perspectives in the study of Christianity: the religious phenomena of Late Antiquity now share with institutional, political, and economic developments a central place in the historical analysis of the period. For crucial reflections, see Momigliano 1972; Brown 1982.
The study of bishops has thereby been associated with many other preoccupations: the study of women, of children, and of ethnic minorities; urban archaeology and monumental and funerary epigraphy; sociology, anthropology, and psychoanalysis. We take into account the understanding of human nature, private life, individual and collective mentalites, social etiquette, and the exercise of power outside the institutions of Church or empire (examples: Veyne 1985; Brown 1988b; and Giardina 1989). Meanwhile, study of the christianization of the empire now focuses on the emergence of a ‘‘dominant discourse’’ rather than (as used to be the case) on a ‘‘narrative of triumph’’: Cameron 1991.
The bishop, in this context, had to temper his religious ambitions by taking up in his own terms what were otherwise traditional roles. For civic leadership, see McLynn 1994; Cracco Ruggini 1998b; Lizzi Testa 2001a. For bishops and asceticism, see Rousseau 1978, 1994; Leyser 2000a. For the need to make one’s stand even against emperors, still ‘‘the divine vortex of the earthly power,’’ see Brown et al. 1982. For adaptation to audience, see Cunningham and Allen 1998. For ‘‘management’’ of the sacred more generally, see Brown 1981 and - specifically in relation to the management of the Church’s financial resources - 2002.
Late antique bishops soon learned to juggle with those expectations and opportunities: see Sterk 2004; Rapp 2005a. The resulting ‘‘representation’’ was encapsulated, at least in the west, in Gregory the Great’s Pastoral Care, and embedded thereafter in the thought-world of medieval Europe: Markus 1997; Elm 2003.
World History
