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VigiliaeChristianae

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Eschatology and Politics in Cyril of Jerusalem’s Epistle to Constantius

 Mattias GassmanQueens’ College Cambridge 3 9 United Kingdom

mpg46@cam.ac.uk 

 Abstract

Cyril’s letter to Constantius on the Jerusalem cross-apparition of 351 has usually been

read as a declaration of Cyril’s loyalty during Constantius’ war with Magnentius.

However, the letter also includes a discussion that links the cross to the eschatological

“sign of the Son of Man” (Matthew 24:30). Modern interpreters have either ignored this

eschatological section or assumed that it is aimed at a non-imperial audience. This

paper advances a unied reading of the letter that shows how Cyril uses explicit verbal

cues and his description of the cross’s appearance and position over the sacred land-

scape of Jerusalem to prepare his imperial reader for the switch from politics to escha-

tology. Cyril thus reinforces his portrayal of Constantius as a devout Christian emperor

and assures Constantius not just of military success but of the truth of the Christian

faith, while still maintaining his own episcopal authority.

Keywords

Cyril of Jerusalem – celestial cross – Constantius – Jerusalem – eschatology –

panegyric

* I thank Neil McLynn, who supervised the writing of this paper, Oliver Nicholson, PhilipBooth, and Mark Edwards for their advice. A draft of this paper was presented at the OxfordUniversity Byzantine Society XVth International Graduate Conference in February 2013. Allremaining errors are my own.

mailto:mpg46@cam.ac.ukmailto:mpg46@cam.ac.uk

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1 Introduction: The Political Interpretation of the Epistle to

Constantius

On 7 May 351, a shining cross appeared in the sky over Jerusalem. Severalaccounts of this apparition survive from the fourth and fth centuries, theearliest and most detailed of which is a letter to Constantius , pennedshortly afterwards by Cyril, bishop of Jerusalem. Cyril says that the cross,

 which appeared at around 9 a.m. and remained visible for several hours, was“fashioned out of light” and shone more brightly than the sun. Other ancientaccounts, which descend from a now-lost fourth-century source, assert that arainbow-like crown surrounded the cross. This description implies that the

apparition was a solar halo, which appears when light from the sun is refractedby atmospheric ice-crystals.

  The date is established by H. Chantraine, “Die Kreuzesvision von 351 – Fakten und Probleme,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift  86-87 (1993-1994) 430-441.

Cited henceforth by section and/or sentence number alone, according to the editionof E. Bihain, “L’Épître de Cyrille de Jérusalem à Constance sur la vision de la Croix (413),”  Byzantion  43 (1973) 264-296. There are brief notices regarding the apparition in theConsularia Constantinopolitana, a. 351 (R.W. Burgess, The Chronicle of Hydatius and the

Consularia Constantinopolitana: Two Contemporary Accounts of the Final Years of the Roman Empire  (Oxford 1993) 237), and Socrates, Historia Ecclesiastica  2,28,22. Sozomen, Historia Ecclesiastica 4,5 largely follows Cyril. See also n. 4, below.

4,17-21. Philostorgius, Historia Ecclesiastica 3,26 (Photius: ἴριδος µεάης στεφάνου τρόπον πανταχόθεν

αὐτὸν [sc. τὸν σταυρὸν] περιειττούσης; the crown, but not the cross, is missing from the version in the  Passio Artemii ). Chronicon Paschale, a.  351 ( 92,729-32) and Theophanes,

Chronographia, a.m. 5847 describe the ring surrounding the cross in similar terms. All of theseaccounts appear to go back to the same source, a history written by a non-Nicene Christian

favorable to Constantius (see P. Batifol, “Un historiographe anonyme arien du siècle,” Römische Quartalschrift für christliche Altertumskunde und Kirchengeschichte 9 (1895) 61, 94(57-97), and now R.W. Burgess, with W. Witakowski, Studies in Eusebian and Post-Eusebian

Chronography, 2: The Continuatio Antiochiensis Eusebii: A Chronicle of Antioch and the Roman Near East during the Reigns of Constantine and Constantius , 325-350 (Stuttgart, 1999)122-126).

For a lucid scientic account of halos and similar phenomena, such as parhelia or sundogs,

 with which the cross-apparition has often been identied (e.g. W. Telfer, Cyril of Jerusalemand Nemesius of Emesa  (London 1955) 195 n. 10), see R. Greenler, Rainbows, Halos, and

Glories  (Cambridge 1980) 23-124. The images in P. Weiss (trans. A.R. Birley), “The Vision ofConstantine,”  Journal of Roman Archaeology 16 (2003) plates 1.1-2 (237-259) and the photo-graphs of parhelia accompanied by a halo and a cross that were published by Xinhua on21 December 2012 (http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/photo/2011-12/21/c_131318327_2.htm;last accessed 22 August 2014) are good examples of the sort of phenomenon that Cyril may

have witnessed.

http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/photo/2011-12/21/c_131318327_2.htmhttp://news.xinhuanet.com/english/photo/2011-12/21/c_131318327_2.htm

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Such phenomena were widely known in antiquity, both as portents andas subjects of natural-philosophical enquiry. The most famous ancient solarportent is the vision of Constantine, about whose nature and timing there

has been unending controversy. Despite the opaqueness of the evidenceconcerning Constantine’s vision, it has overshadowed the scholarship regard-ing the apparition of 351, which occurred at a particularly delicate time forConstantius, after the usurper Magnentius had killed Constans and thePersians had retreated from their third siege of Nisibis. Cyril’s letter, whichpromises to embolden Constantius against his enemies and assures him thatGod is his “ally,” has often been seen as promising to Constantius exactly whatEusebius says that Constantine’s vision promised to him: the assurance that he

too would “by this sign conquer.”

E.g. Aristotle, Meteorologica 3,2-3,3, 371b18-373a31, 3,6, 377a29-378a14; Pliny, Naturalis Historia 

2,98; Suetonius, Divus Augustus 95,1. Eusebius, Vita Constantini   1,28-32; the commentary by Averil Cameron and S.G. Hall,

 Eusebius: Life of Constantine  (Oxford 1999) 204-213 provides a succinct overview of otherancient accounts and of the modern scholarly debate concerning Eusebius’ report. For tworecent discussions of Constantine’s vision, the rst on its biographical context, the second on

the religious and political concerns that shaped the main ancient accounts, see H.A. Drake,“Solar Power in Late Antiquity,” in A. Cain and N. Lenski (eds.), The Power of Religion in Late

 Antiquity (Farnham 2009) 215-226, and J. Long, “How to Read a Halo: Three (or More) Versionsof Constantine’s Vision,” in Cain and Lenski, Power of Religion 227-235. Both Drake and Longassume, following Weiss, “The Vision of Constantine,” that Constantine had a single vision,

 which underlies not only Eusebius’ report but also the dream described in Lactantius,  Demortibus persecutorum  44,5 ( 27,223), and the pagan theophany of Panegyrici Latini  6(7),21,3-7. Constantine, however, experienced visions frequently (Eusebius, Vita Constantini  1,47,3), which puts the validity of this assumption in doubt (cf. O. Nicholson, “Constantine’s

 Vision of the Cross,” Vigiliae Christianae 54 (2000) 309, 311 n. 9 (309-323)). On these events, see C.S. Lightfoot, “Facts and Fiction – The Third Siege of Nisibis (.. 350),”

 Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte  37 (1988) 105-125, and T.D. Barnes, Athanasius and

Constantius: Theology and Politics in the Constantinian Empire (Cambridge, 1993) 101-108. 2,11; 5,31. This assimilation of Cyril’s vision to Constantine’s is at least as old as A.-A. Touttée’s

preface to the letter, which was published posthumously in 1720 and later reprinted in 33,1153-1164 (here 1161-1164). Cf. J. Vogt, “Berichte über Kreuzeserscheinungen aus dem 4.

 Jahrhundert n. Chr.,”  Annuaire de l’institut de philologie et d’histoire orientales et slaves  9(1949) 595-596, 603-604 (593-606), J.W. Drijvers, “The Power of the Cross: Celestial Cross

 Appearances in the Fourth Century,” in Cain and Lenski, Power of Religion 242 (237-248), andM. Humphries, “In Nomine Patris: Constantine the Great and Constantius in ChristologicalPolemic,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 46 (1997) 452-453 (448-464). For two oppos-ing voices, see O. Irshai, “The Jerusalem Bishopric and the Jews in the Fourth Century:History and Eschatology,” in L.I. Levine (ed.), Jerusalem: Its Sanctity and Centrality to Judaism,Christianity, and Islam (New York 1999) 211 (204-220) and Chantraine, “Kreuzesvision,” 441.

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This political reading of the letter has often been coupled with the viewthat Cyril’s main reason for addressing the letter to Constantius was to advancehimself and his see in the emperor’s estimation. Cyril had only recently been

ordained bishop, and controversy had erupted even before his appointment, with a power-struggle between Maximus, his staunchly pro-Nicene predeces-sor, and his metropolitan, the homoian Acacius of Caesarea. Cyril himself was

 Acacius’ appointee, but his good relationship with the metropolitan would notoutlast the middle of the decade. The apparition of the cross, by this view,provided a suitable occasion for Cyril to write his rst letter to the emperorand, by pledging both his own loyalty and God’s favor, to bolster his own posi-tion with imperial backing.

2 Eschatology and Cyril’s Audience

It is readily apparent from Cyril’s repeated expressions of loyalty to Constantiusand from his portrayal of Jerusalem as a privileged locus of divine action that

See, besides the works cited in n. 9, Barnes,  Athanasius and Constantius  106-108 andO. Irshai, “Cyril of Jerusalem: The Apparition of the Cross and the Jews,” in O. Limor andG.G. Stroumsa (eds.), Contra Iudaeos: Ancient and Medieval Polemics between Christiansand Jews (Tübingen 1996) 91-92 (85-104), who holds that Cyril desired to exalt Jerusalem inConstantius’ eyes, albeit only as a secondary aim.

Jerome, Chronicon, a.  348 gives a particularly detailed (and hostile) account. There issome uncertainty whether Maximus had died, as Jerome says, or been deposed (Socrates,

 Historia Ecclesiastica 2,38,2; Sozomen, Historia Ecclesiastica 4,20,1), but Cyril was, in either

case, held in suspicion by pro-Nicenes (cf. also Runus,  Historia Ecclesiastica  10,24),

although he later won a reputation for orthodoxy (e.g. Theodoret,  Historia Ecclesiastica 2,26,6). See further J.W. Drijvers, Cyril of Jerusalem: Bishop and City  (Leiden 2004) 32-35and, especially on Cyril’s career post-360, P. Van Nufelen, “The Career of Cyril of Jerusalem(c. 348-87): A Reassessment,”The Journal of Theological Studies, 58 (2007) 134-146. OnCyril’s own theological views, see the nuanced discussion by R.P.C. Hanson, The Search forthe Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy, 318-381 (Edinburgh 1988) 398-413.

He was deposed in 357 (Drijvers, Cyril of Jerusalem, 35-39), but Socrates,  Historia Ecclesiastica  2,40,39 indicates that he had evaded deposition “for two years in a row(ἐφεξῆς δύο ἐνιαυτῶν).”

Cyril likely became bishop in 350 or early 351, though 348-349 is also possible (Drijvers,Cyril of Jerusalem, 34-35). He calls the letter his “rst rst-fruits” to Constantius (1,2; 7,39);this may refer to the letter’s date in the Pentecost season (G. Kretschmar, “Festkalenderund Memorialstätten Jerusalems in altkirchlicher Zeit,” Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins 87 (1971) 190-191 n. 86 (167-205)).

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the standard, political reading of his  Epistle  has merit. Nevertheless, Cyrildoes not limit himself to praise for Constantius and exaltation of Jerusalem.On the contrary, he promises at the beginning of the letter to tell how the appa-

rition has conrmed the truth of the Gospel’s predictions and repeatedly statesthat he wishes to strengthen Constantius’ condence in Christ. Even morestrikingly, he gives, in section 6, an eschatological interpretation of the appari-tion, which he describes as a partial fullment of Christ’s prophecy of “the signof the Son of Man” in Matthew 24:30. Cyril warns Constantius to read this pas-sage and the surrounding eschatological discourse (Matthew 24-25) carefully,lest he sufer harm from the “opposing power,” before he concludes the letter

 with further praise of the emperor.

The inclusion of theological material expressly aimed at the emperor mustsurely be signicant for any comprehensive interpretation of the letter, butcommentators have seldom given it much weight next to the letter’s politicalcontent. Only two scholars, Joseph Vogt and Oded Irshai, have attempted toexplain why Cyril interprets the sign eschatologically, after having earlier usedit to encourage Constantius in war. Vogt’s argument is the simpler and lesssatisfactory: Cyril, he says, was simply too biblically oriented a theologian tofocus on politics alone. Irshai has provided a subtler interpretation, arguingthat the description of the sign’s appearance in Jerusalem, which he comparesto “imperial adventus  ceremonies,” is meant to overshadow Cyril’s praise ofConstantius. “Cyril,” he says, “cleverly shifted the context of the apparitionfrom the sphere of imperial concerns . . . to the eschatological sphere,” whose“center” was (for Cyril, at least) Jerusalem. Thus, Cyril intended his letter lessfor Constantius, who was unlikely to have understood his eschatology, than forlocal readers, especially Acacius of Caesarea, upon whom he wished to impress

 Jerusalem’s eschatological importance.The rst of these readings presumes that Cyril’s inclusion of theological

elements is not really integral to the letter, the second that it is not aimed at

E.g. 1,2, 2,7, 7,39-41 (Jerusalem); 2,5-6, 5,25-27, 7,42-8,45 (loyalty to Constantius). 1,3-4; 2,9, 5,29-30. Cf. Chantraine, “Kreuzesvision,” 441, and Kretschmar, “Festkalender,” 190-191, each of

 whom emphasizes the letter’s eschatological content without providing an extensiveinterpretation.

Vogt, “Berichte,” 604.

Irshai, “Cyril of Jerusalem,” 88-98 (quote from 93). Ibid. 96-97. Irshai, “Jerusalem Bishopric,” 212; cf. id., “Cyril of Jerusalem,” 98, 104, and Drijvers, “Power

of the Cross,” 241-245, who incorporates elements of Irshai’s argument into an interpreta-tion focused on imperial politics.

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the emperor and is, therefore, fundamentally unrelated (or even opposed) tothe letter’s political content. These assumptions lack solid foundation: as I willshow in more detail in section 3, celestial crosses commonly bore an eschato-

logical signicance for fourth-century observers, and there is no reason to sup-pose that Constantius was ignorant of this widespread idea. Moreover, Cyrilexplicitly directs his eschatological discussion to Constantius and, in 2,9-11 and5,29-33, connects his promise to strengthen Constantius in his Christianity withhis assurance of divine favor in war. In fact, as this article will show through anextensive close reading, the eschatological discussion, far from being a digres-sion or a separate message intended for a secondary audience, is integral notonly to Cyril’s stated purpose of encouraging Constantius in Christian hope

but also to his (naturally unexpressed) aim of gaining a loftier position for him-self in the emperor’s eyes.Cyril assumes throughout the letter, as I will show, that Constantius has

a keen interest in theology and shies away from mentioning political specif-ics. He stresses the cross’s importance as a sign of God’s favor for Constantiusin order to reassure him regarding his most immediately pressing concerns.However, Cyril never loses sight of the cross’s theological signicance andcarefully prepares his reader for the switch from politics to eschatology, bothby explicit verbal cues and, more subtly, through his description of the loca-tion and appearance of the shining cross. In the eschatological section itself,Cyril foregrounds Constantius’ piety, augmenting the picture of the emperoras God-fearing ruler that he has developed throughout the letter. Even whiledoing this, however, he carefully reminds Constantius of Christian eschato-logical teachings, to which even the emperor must pay heed; he thus castsConstantius, whom he describes at 7,40 as his fellow “worshipper of Christ,” asa dutiful Christian receiving instruction from his loyal bishop, Cyril. The escha-tological section of the letter, therefore, not only encourages Constantius to

On eschatology and Constantine’s vision, see Nicholson, “Constantine’s Vision.” Another

heavenly cross is said by some to have been among the portents whose appearance at Jerusalem led to the failure of Julian’s attempt—fraught, for Christians such as Cyril

(see Catecheses  15,15), with eschatological undertones—to rebuild the Jewish temple(Gregory Nazianzen, Oratio 5,4 ( 309,300-302); Theodoret, Historia Ecclesiastica 3,20,7;Theophanes, Chronographia, a.m. 5855; see further Drijvers, “Power of the Cross,” 245-247,and Nicholson, “Constantine’s Vision,” 314-316). The Syriac letter, published by S.P. Brock,

“A Letter Attributed to Cyril of Jerusalem on the Rebuilding of the Temple,” Bulletin of theSchool of Oriental and African Studies 40 (1977) 267-286, that describes the failure of therebuilding-project is probably not Cyril’s own work; see now D.B. Levenson, “The Ancientand Medieval Sources for the Emperor Julian’s Attempt to Rebuild the Jerusalem Temple,”

 Journal for the Study of Judaism 35 (2004) 427-434 (409-460), who concludes that “no date[for the letter] between the late fourth and mid-sixth century can be ruled out.”

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stand fast in expectation of Christ’s return, of which the heavenly cross servesas a reminder, but also subtly advances Cyril’s claim to ecclesiastical authority.

3 Imperial Piety and Eschatology: A New Reading of the Epistle to

Constantius

Cyril begins by addressing Constantius as “most God-beloved and most rev-erent (θεοφιεστάτῳ καὶ εὐσεβεστάτῳ).” These honorics are programmaticfor the letter, which repeatedly stresses both the favor that God has shownConstantius and Constantius’ progress in Christianity. Cyril emphasizes that

his letter is based not on attery but on the predictions of the Gospels that haveplayed out in recent events; this is an allusion to the only Gospel text that Cyril will discuss, Matthew’s eschatological discourse. He maintains this empha-

sis on the reliability of his words in the next section, which contrasts his let-ter with the earthly crowns that Constantius has received. Cyril promises tobring to Constantius’ knowledge “the divine operation (ἐνέρειαν) of the heav-enly events (πραµάτων) that has been completed in Jerusalem.” This is not,he says, to bring Constantius from “ignorance (ἀνοίας)” to “knowledge-of-God(θεονωσίαν)”; on the contrary, the emperor is advanced enough in Christianityeven to teach others the things of the faith. Cyril thus indicates that he thinksthat Constantius knows enough Christian teaching to understand what he isgoing to tell him. Nor was this assumption unfounded: Constantius’ views weredenigrated by pro-Nicenes, but his piety and interest in theology are clear evenfrom their reports.

Next comes a key sentence. Cyril has written, he tells Constantius, with thefollowing purpose:

So that you might both be made certain of the very things which youknew before (ᾔδεις) and . . . when you have learned that you have beenhonored with greater heavenly crowns from God [than your father

1. 1,3-4. 2,5-6.

2,7. 2,8. Hilary, for example, admits that Constantius publically professed Christianity, built

churches, and honored bishops ( In Constantium 5, 7 ( 334,176, 180)); Gregory Nazianzen,Oratio 4,37 ( 309,136), in his zeal to attack Julian, gives an even more favorable evalua-tion of Constantius’ desire to unify the church.

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 was], you even now might give to God the universal emperor (θεῷ µὲντῷ παµβασιεῖ) the thanks that is tting, having been lled also (δὲ)

 with greater courage against your enemies (κατ’ ἐχθρῶν), since you have

grasped, through those wonders which he works in your time, that yourrule is indeed loved by God.

Here, Cyril gives three reasons for his writing. The rst is that Constantius besecured in what he already knows, that is, in the θεονωσία that Cyril has justpraised him for holding and teaching. Cyril thus hints, yet again, that his let-ter will include more than praise and political news. He does not dwell on thepoint, however, but quickly moves on to his second wish: that Constantius

praise God for the honor he has shown him. This he links back, through the word “crowns (στεφάνοις),” to his previous claim that his letter’s message is atruer prize than any earthly crown. Constantius should, thirdly, Cyril says, beemboldened against his enemies because of the proof of God’s love of his rul-ership that Cyril will supply. This section contains the letter’s sole referenceto any earthly enemy; Cyril, unlike Philostorgius, does not explicitly point toMagnentius, which tells against those readings that see Cyril as trying chieyto embolden Constantius against the usurper. Instead, he allows Constantiusto interpret his words however he should like, without tying his letter’s mes-sage to transient political circumstances.

Next, Cyril tells how divine grace rewarded Constantine’s piety with the dis-covery of “the salvic wood of the cross”; Constantius has surpassed his father’s“piety” and has, therefore, received “wonders no longer (οιπόν) from earth, butout of the heavens.” Cyril calls the heavenly cross “the trophy (τρόπαιον) for(κατὰ) the victory over death,” terminology very close to that in Eusebius’ VitaConstantini , which describes Christ’s cross as it had appeared to Constantineand was explained to him by attendant Christians. Unlike Eusebius—or

Philostorgius, who claims that the apparition foretold Constantius’ victoryover Magnentius—Cyril does not suggest that the apparition was, in itself, a

2,9-11. Cf. Chantraine, “Kreuzesvision,” 441; Philostorgius, Historia Ecclesiastica 3,26. 3,12-13. 3,14-15; Cyril mentions the relics of the cross at Catecheses 10,19, 13,4 (cf.Catecheses 4,10).

On the role played by the cross in his ecclesiastical politics, see J.W. Drijvers, “Promoting Jerusalem: Cyril and the True Cross,” in J.W. Drijvers and J.W. Watt (eds.),  Portraits ofSpirituality Authority: Religious Power in Early Christianity, Byzantium and the Christian

Orient  (Leiden 1999) 79-96. 3,16; Eusebius, Vita Constantini  1,28,2, 32,2.

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promise of victory over the emperor’s earthly enemies. Rather, the appari-tion of the cross signied God’s favor for Constantius because the nding ofthe True Cross signied God’s favor toward Constantine. Thus, even in arguing

that the cross proves divine favor for Constantius, Cyril maintains his focus onthe cross’s religious signicance and the emperor’s piety.Immediately after his comparison of Constantius to Constantine, Cyril

describes the apparition, introducing elements that hint at the eschatologicalinterpretation that is to come. First, he states that “the cross . . . appeared aboveholy Golgotha, stretched out as far as the holy Mount of Olives,” which liesdue east. This claim, which is repeated both by Sozomen and by the tradi-tion descending from the Arian Historiographer, is very strange: Cyril seems

to have been at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, whither he says that the whole city rushed. The cross, appearing at about 9 a.m., would have stoodin the south-eastern sky, not overhead, with at most its northern arm over theMount of Olives. This oddly counterintuitive element of Cyril’s descriptionhas possible theological signicance. Cyril frequently mentions Golgotha, theplace of the crucixion, in the Catecheses; the Mount of Olives features as thesite of Christ’s ascension and is once explicitly paired with Golgotha. Bothsites were, furthermore, commemorated by Constantinian churches. Thecross thus appeared to Cyril to be over the site of the crucixion—a centralfocus of his theology—and the place whence Christ ascended. Even Cyril’sdescription of the apparition’s location would suggest, therefore, to one versedin scripture and Christian teaching, as he expects Constantius to be, that theapparition had partaken of the spiritual signicance of these two holy sites.

Cyril signals further the theological implications of the sign in his greatlybelabored description of the cross’s brightness. “It conquered (νικήσας),” he

 Pace  Drijvers, “Power of the Cross,” 242 n. 26, who reads τὸ κατὰ τῆς τοῦ θανάτου νικῆςτρόπαιον simply as νικῆς τρόπαιον. Contrast Philostorgius, Historia Ecclesiastica 3,26. 4,18. As nn. 2, 4, above.

4,21. Cyril does not name the church, but the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where hedelivered his Catecheses  (e.g.Catecheses  4,10), was “the central church of Jerusalem”(Drijvers, Cyril of Jerusalem, 74-75).

Telfer, Cyril of Jerusalem, 195, n. 10. E.g. Catecheses 4,10, 13,4, 13,28.

Catecheses 4,14; cf.Catecheses 2,12, 10,19, 14,23, 25. Eusebius, Vita Constantini  3,29-43.

P.W.L. Walker, Holy City, Holy Places? Christian Attitudes to Jerusalem and the Holy Landin the Fourth Century (Oxford 1990) 256 calls the cross “the apex of [Cyril’s] system” oftheology.

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says, “the rays of the sun with its lightning-ashing sparklings (for it wouldhave been hidden, overcome (νικώµενος) by them, had it not provided lightsmore powerful than the sun to those watching).” Cyril accurately describes

the appearance of a solar cross, which might appear to be a separate, brighterobject superimposed upon the disk of the sun, but his report is more extensivethan mere physical description would require. More probably, Cyril stressesthis point in order to allude to the common idea that the eschatological cross,the “sign of the Son of Man” of Matthew 24:30, would shine more brightly thanthe sun.

Early Christian apocryphal literature had associated overwhelming bright-ness with Christ’s return: in the second-century  Apocalypse of Peter , Christ

says, “with my cross going before my face will I come in my majesty; shiningseven times brighter than the sun will I come in my majesty”; so also Epistulaapostolorum 16. Yet more striking is Origen’s commentary on Matthew 24:29-30, which gives two alternative interpretations, both of which transfer Christ’sbrightness to his cross. In the rst, Origen states, according to the survivingLatin translation, that, after the sun and moon have gone dark and the starshave fallen, the eschatological signum  “will shine most brightly” (maxime

4,20. The interpretation of the σηµεῖον τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου as a cross was well-established by

Cyril’s day (E. Peterson, “Das Kreuz und das Gebet nach Osten,” in  Frühkirche, Judentumund Gnosis: Studien und Untersuchungen  (Rome 1959) 15-35; cf. Opus Imperfectum in

 Matthaeum, 56,919). This view may be as old as  Didache 16,6 (E. Stommel, “Σηµεῖονἐκπετάσεως (Didache 16,6),”  Römische Quartalschrift für christliche Altertumskunde und

 Kirchengeschichte  48 (1953) 21-42) and is reected in late Roman Christian artwork

(E. Dinkler,  Das Apsismosaik von S. Apollinare in Classe (Cologne 1964) 50-60, 77-87; cf. J. Engemann, “Auf die Parusie Christi hinweisende Darstellungen in der frühchristlichenKunst,” Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 19 (1976) 139-156, who situates such eschato-logical themes within a multiplicity of possible theological resonances conveyed by the

 works in which they appear). See also Nicholson, “Constantine’s Vision,” 312-317, andIrshai, “Cyril of Jerusalem,” 97-104, who have discussed Cyril’s eschatological interpre-

tation of the sign at 6,34-37, albeit without addressing the details of his description in4,19-20.

 Apocalypse of Peter  1 (J.K. Elliot,The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal

Christian Literature in an English Translation Based on M.R. James (Oxford 1993) 600). Ibid. 566. Cf. Apocalypse of Elijah 32,1-6, which compares either Christ or the cross to the sun (thus

Dinkler, Apsismosaik , 81).

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  fulgebit ). In the second, he proposes that the appearance of the cross willitself make the heavenly bodies go dark, their light “consumed, as it were, by thegreat power ( virtute) of that sign,” just as happened to the sun at Calvary. Cyril

himself says, when instructing his catechumens in eschatology, that the “signof a luminous cross will go before” the returning Christ. John Chrysostom, whose conception is reminiscent of Origen’s, repeatedly asserts that the cross, which is “brighter than the ray” of the sun and shines “whenever [the sun] is

darkened,” will shine forth on the Last Day, even as it shone at Calvary, whenthe sun was “conquered by the cross’s brightness.” There was, therefore, a

 widespread expectation that a cross brighter than the sun itself would precedeChrist’s return, and it is likely that Cyril emphasizes the super-solar brightness

of the cruciform apparition in order to prepare his reader for his impendingrevelation of its eschatological signicance.Cyril concludes his description by telling how everyone rushed together to

the church and, “as if from one mouth, sang hymns to our Lord Jesus Christ, theonly-begotten Son of God, the wonder-worker.” For, as he tells the emperor,alluding to 1 Corinthians 2:4, “the most holy doctrine (δόµα) of the Christiansis not in plausible words of wisdom but in demonstration of the Spirit andpower, not only proclaimed by men but born witness to out of the heavens byGod (θεόθεν).” Here, Cyril explicitly states what he has already implied, thatthe staurophany has demonstrated the truth of Christian teaching; indeed, heindicates that it is as trustworthy as the scriptural testimonies to which he else-

 where applies the apostle’s words. The apparition, therefore, proves not onlyGod’s favor for Constantius but also the truth of Christianity. What specicδόµα the cross’s appearance proves Cyril still leaves unsaid, however. Instead,he rearms his and his city’s piety towards God and loyalty to the emperor,

Origenes Werke : Origenes Matthäuserklärung : Die lateinische Übersetzung derCommentariorum Series, ed. U. Treu and E. Klostermann, with E. Benz (Berlin 1976)99,9-100,6.

Ibid. 100,15-101,2. Catecheses 15,22 (cf.Catecheses 13,41).  Homilia in illud, Pater si possibile est, transeat  2 ( 51,35); cf. Homilia in Matthaeum 

3 ( 58,698),  De providentia Dei   17,11-13 ( 79,230), and De cruce et latrone  , 4 (49,404), , 4 ( 49,414).

4,23. 4,24.

Catecheses  13,8; cf. A.A. Stephenson’s introduction to the letter in L.P. McCauley and A.A. Stephenson, The Works of Saint Cyril of Jerusalem 2 (Washington, .. 1970) 229.

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for whom they “have made and will make continuous prayers . . . in the holyplaces,” over two of the greatest of which the cross had appeared.

Cyril now explains how he came to write the letter, saying that he “was

eager . . . to proclaim the good news (εὐαγείσασθαι)” to Constantiusimmediately. His purpose, he says, repeating much of the thought of section2, was twofold:

That you, having built upon the good foundation of your pre-existingfaith the knowledge that comes from the things expressly revealed byGod, might rst (µὲν) more securely take up hope in our lord Jesus Christ,and might second (δὲ), taking courage . . . inasmuch as (ὡς ἂν) you have

God himself as an ally, most readily bear forward the trophy of the cross,the boast of boasts, bringing on the sign revealed in heaven.

It is not by chance that Cyril describes his letter in evangelistic terms, as therst aim that he expresses, here as at 2,9-11, is to conrm Constantius’ knowl-edge of Christianity and condence in Christ. He does not even refer to theemperor’s enemies here, much less name them, though he again assuresConstantius of God’s favor and bids him boldly to carry forward the cross, in

 which even “heaven . . . has boasted.”Cyril thus alludes to the cross’s function as a military standard but swiftly

shifts his focus back onto the vision’s transcendent signicance, which he nowdescribes, fullling his promise to reinforce not just Constantius’ courage butalso his Christianity. The miracle seen in Jerusalem “has now,” he says, “beenfullled and will again be fullled more greatly” according to the prophets andChrist himself. Cyril urges Constantius to take up the Gospel book even ashe is accustomed and read there Matthew’s words concerning the “sign of theSon of Man.” “These,” he says, “I especially urge you, master, to heed . . . because

of the remainder of the things written according to the succession there (τῶνκατὰ τὴν αὐτόθι εραµµένων ἀκοουθίαν) . . . so that no harm might await froman opposing power (ἐξ ἀντικειµένης ἐνερείας).”

Cyril tactfully urges Constantius to take the heavenly cross as a proof thatChrist’s prophecies in Matthew’s eschatological discourse were indeed going

5,25-27.

5,28. 5,29-32; Cyril also uses the phrase καύχηµα καυχηµάτων of the cross at Catecheses 13,1. 5,33. 6,34. 6,35-37.

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to be fullled. He shies away, however, from saying that the end certainly isnigh, as Irshai has pointed out, and leaves the matter to the emperor’s owninterpretation. He thus casts himself as a dutiful bishop who faithfully advises

Constantius regarding the testimonies of God, both scriptural and heavenly,and, at the same time, shows Constantius to be a pious reader of scripture.Nevertheless, Cyril is careful not to say too denitely what Constantius

should expect—he would, after all, be repeating the Christian teaching in which he has asserted that the emperor is well-versed—and maintains a

respectful tone (hence δέσποτα at 6,37). Cyril thus softens what he is intimatingin mentioning the undened “opposing power,” a term that seems to refer tothe eschatological Antichrist. For Cyril, as for many others, this nal enemy

 would appear at the end of the Roman Empire and exalt himself until he isdestroyed by the returning Christ. Cyril is tacitly suggesting to Constantiusthat he should take care: the sign is a proof of God’s favor for his empire, butit is also a proof that a greater sign shall appear, which might mark its end. It

 would not have been politic to have asserted outright that the emperor wasin danger of being overthrown; for this reason, Cyril leaves to Constantius theresponsibility for determining what the prophecies of Matthew 24-25 mightbode for himself and his empire, and thereby implies even more strongly hiscondence in the emperor’s piety and theological astuteness.

Cyril nishes the letter singing the praises of Constantius, whom he calls“the most genuine and altogether reverent worshipper with us of Christ,” inkeeping with his focus throughout the letter on Constantius’ theological eru-dition, serious piety, and faith in Christ. Christ, Cyril says, completed hissalvation of the world in Jerusalem and “trampled death here (ἐνταῦθα),” pro-

 viding “spiritual, heavenly (ἐπουράνιον) grace for all who believe.” Cyril usesἐπουράνιος elsewhere to describe baptismal grace; his use of the adjectivehere, however, holds special signicance, since he has used it several times to

describe the staurophany. Christ, he is implying, has not only accomplishedhis great works of salvation in Jerusalem; he has, again in Jerusalem, given to

Irshai, “Jerusalem Bishopric,” 212. Irshai, “Cyril of Jerusalem,” 98-99. Cyril, Catecheses  15,9-22, to which compare John Chrysostom, Homilia in Epistolam

Secundam ad Thessalonicenses 1 ( 62,485), Lactantius, Diuinae Institutiones 7,15,11-19,Tertullian,  Apologeticum  32 ( 1.1,142-3), De resurrectione mortuorum  24,18 (

1.2,952), and Irenaeus, Aduersus Haereses 5,26,1 ( 153,324-326). 7,40. 7,40-41. Catecheses 17,19 (cf.Catecheses 16,26). Cf. 1,3, 2,7, 2,10, 5,28.

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Cyril, his congregation, and their imperial fellow-worshipper assurance that he will indeed return in glory to conquer his enemies and save his people.

Cyril is, as many have noted, seeking to encourage Constantius in war and

to glorify Jerusalem (and thus himself) in Constantius’ eyes, but he is alsotrying to strengthen the emperor in his condence in Christ. Cyril portraysConstantius as an earnest reader of scripture and worshipper of God; Cyrilhimself, however, is the one who tells him what to read and for what cause tothank God, even as he and his congregation have already done and are going tocontinue doing, alongside their prayers for the emperor. Thus Cyril not onlyencourages Constantius in his Christianity, but, at the same time, shows him-self to be both a loyal subject who wishes Constantius “many peaceful years

(πολαῖς ἑτῶν [sic] εἰρηνικαῖς περιόδοις)” and a faithful bishop who looks out forhis emperor’s spiritual welfare.The apparition of May 351 was, therefore, for Cyril neither solely an occa-

sion to encourage the emperor politically nor only an opportunity to outankhis metropolitan and future rival, Acacius. More than either of these things, it

 was a heaven-sent revelation that gave him the opportunity to demonstrate toConstantius his emperor, as well as to any other readers, the truth of Christ’spromises, a truth that, as he so delicately reminds Constantius, will endureeven when the greatest kingdom falls. Reiterating his loyalty one last time,Cyril wishes Constantius to rule in peace and be succeeded by his own sons;even more than that, however, he desires, as he has expressed throughout hisletter, that he would continue steadfast in piety, thanksgiving, and faith towardGod, in war and in peace, trusting in the truth and power of Christ, whose signthe heavens had manifested over Jerusalem.

5,25-27. Cf. Touttée in 33,1157-8, “ita dem ejus praedicat ut tamen quid ipsi sequendumsit praescribat”; he links this astute observation, unfortunately, to the spurious invoca-tion of the “consubstantial Trinity” found in one manuscript (Bihain, “L’Épître de Cyrille,”277 n. 1).

7,42.

Cf. Stephenson’s suggestion, in McCauley and Stephenson, Works of Saint Cyril  2, 229-230,that Cyril is encouraging “Constantius to receive Baptism, preferably (ch. 7) at Jerusalem,to avoid the risk of dying unbaptized either in battle or on the Last Day”; this reads toomuch into Cyril’s words.

7,42-8,45.

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4 Conclusion

Cyril demonstrates an impressive ability to combine panegyric and theological

instruction in addressing Constantius. His letter displays striking parallels tothe invectives of pro-Nicene bishops written in the 350s, in upholding piety asthe chief virtue that an emperor should display, comparing Constantius to hisGod-fearing father, and using a strictly Christian, rather than Classical, vocabu-lary for addressing the emperor. Cyril presents, however, an alternative pathto that taken by writers like Athanasius for approaching a Christian emperor,one that cuts with, rather than against, the grain of politically acceptablepanegyric. His letter is thus a key example of a kind of text that is otherwise

lacking from the literary remains of Constantius’ reign: a work addressed tothe emperor that combines Christianized panegyric and Christian theology inorder to praise, rather than blame, Constantius for his piety and to remind himand all readers of the truth of a central Christian doctrine. In the  Epistle toConstantius, therefore, we get a rare glimpse of the way in which bishops whosought the favor of Constantius could communicate substantive theologicaladvice to their emperor and, at the same time, claim the authority to announcethe testimonies of God to all Christians, even the most powerful.

R. Flower,  Emperors and Bishops in Late Roman Invective  (Cambridge 2013) 78-126; cf.Humphries, “In Nomine Patris.”

Cf. Flower, Emperors and Bishops, 107-108, who mentions Cyril’s letter only briey whilecanvassing the meager remnants of pro-Constantian Christian literature contemporaryto his reign.

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brill.com/vc

VigiliaeChristianae

© , , � | ./ -

The Apple among the Trees: To Abraham (PBodmer 30) and the Apple at the Sacrice

of Isaac

 Kevin J. Kalish

Bridgewater State University, Department of English

kevin.kalish@bridgew.edu

 Abstract

The poem from the Bodmer Papyrus (PBodmer 30) To Abraham contains a number of

perplexing phrases and images—one in particular is the ambiguous word µῆον, which

appears in no other known text on the Sacrice of Isaac. In this poem Abraham, in place

of his son Isaac, chooses the µῆον. I contribute to our understanding of how the poem

 works by demonstrating what µῆον signies in this context. I argue that the poem

deliberately uses the ambiguous word µῆον precisely because it can mean both sheep

and apple. Moreover, when the apple is understood in the context of patristic interpre-

tations of Song of Songs 2:3 (one of the few places µῆον appears in the Septuagint), it

becomes clear that the apple that Abraham chooses in place of his son points typologi-

cally to Christ and the meal Abraham prepares anticipates the Eucharist.

Keywords

Early Christian poetry – sacrice of Isaac – Bodmer Papyri – hymnography 

* An earlier draft of this paper was read at the Ancient Ornamentalism Conference, Ohio State

University, October 2009; Michael Ierardi and Matthew Dasti provided extensive feedback

during the Oce of Teaching and Learning Summer Institute (Bridgewater State University).

I would like to thank those who provided feedback on these earlier versions, as well as the

anonymous reviewer, for the many helpful corrections and suggestions.

mailto:kevin.kalish@bridgew.edumailto:kevin.kalish@bridgew.edu

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  Introduction

The account in Genesis 22 of Abraham’s willingness to take his son Isaac and

sacrice him—before God’s messenger commands him to sacrice a ram in hisplace—has inspired, and continues to inspire, a range of reactions. Referred toas the Aqedah (the binding of Isaac) or the Sacrice of Isaac, this brief narrativestands as a central narrative in both Jewish and Christian traditions, and alsoplays an important role in Islamic tradition. The story of Abraham’s supremetest of faith has been retold and refashioned in literature and art, both ancientand modern; commentators, exegetes, poets, and homilists have returned to itagain and again. Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling and Auerbach’s illuminating

essay “The Scar of Odysseus” attest to its continuing importance in the modernage. A number of recent studies have explored this narrative and the multitudeof interpretations this Biblical text has inspired.

Even with this great multitude of ancient and modern attempts to unpackthe meaning of Genesis 22, unexpected readings are still to be found. An anon- ymous Greek poem from the Bodmer Papyri, To Abraham (PBodmer 30) pro- vides one of those unexpected readings of the Sacrice of Isaac. This poem,dating from the late fourth to early fth century, is unique and revealing inits reading of Genesis 22, giving us a fresh way to look at the familiar Biblicalnarrative. Discovered in 1952 in Egypt, this poem was rst published in 1999.The codex in which this poem survives is itself unusual. Entitled by the editors“Codex of Visions” on account of the two vision narratives found within it—the visions from the Shepherd of Hermas, as well as the new poem the Vision of

 Dorotheus—the codex also contains many short poems composed in classicalmeters and full of epic vocabulary. Although presented in this archaizing dress,the subject matter of these poems concerns not gods and heroes but episodesfrom the Bible. To Abraham ts this pattern; the language is archaizing, though

Robin M. Jensen, “The Ofering of Isaac in Jewish and Christian Tradition,”  Biblical

 Interpretation  2 (1994): 85-110; Mishael Caspi and Sascha Benjamin Cohen, The Binding

(Aqedah) and Its Transformations in Judaism and Islam: The Lambs of God  (Lewiston 1995);

Lukas Kundert,  Die Opferung/Bindung Isaaks  vol. 1-2 (Neukirchen-Vluyn 1998); Edward

Noort and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, The Sacrice of Isaac: The Aqedah (Genesis 22) and Its

 Interpretations  (Leiden 2002); Edward Kessler,  Bound by the Bible: Jews, Christians, and the

Sacrice of Isaac (Cambridge 2004).

André Hurst and Jean Rudhardt, Codex des Visions: Poèmes Divers, Papyrus Bodmer 30-37

(Munich 1999).

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the subject of the poem is a praise of Abraham, told via a series of speechesand a unique retelling of the sacrice of Isaac.

Previous scholarship on this poem, while giving us a readable text and

exploring certain aspects of this poem, has left many questions unresolved. André Hurst and Jean Rudhardt published the text in 1999 (under the auspicesof the Foundation Martin Bodmer, which owns the papyri). Their edition, withan introduction, commentary, and translation into French, provides the basisfor any further study. A version of the poem was published prior to this byEnrico Livrea, although controversy surrounds the unauthorized publicationof this text. An article by Tadajczyk and Witczak suggests many improvedreadings. In 2002 two translations appeared in English with further com-

mentary and discussion of how this poem ts into the broader context of Jewish and Christian literature. While these translations and commentariesmake strides towards solving the problems of the text and its meaning, muchremains unclear. Hilhorst, in the most recent publication on To Abraham, callsattention to the need for further study. Concerning the question of whetherthe poem’s origins are Christian or Jewish, he writes: “what we need is a con- vincing explanation of how the images function with the present poem. In themeantime, I would prefer to leave the question open.” What is lacking, there-fore, is a sense of the poem as a whole, a unied understanding of how theimages, metaphors, and allusions work together. In this essay, I will contrib-ute to our understanding of how the poem works by demonstrating what theapple signies. My argument is that the poem deliberately uses the ambigu-ous word µῆον because it can mean both sheep and apple; moreover, whenthe apple is understood in the context of patristic interpretations of Song ofSongs 2:3, it becomes clear that the apple that Abraham chooses in place ofhis son points typologically to Christ and that the meal they share anticipatesthe Eucharist.

Enrico Livrea, “Un poema inedito di Dorotheos: Ad Abramo,” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und

 Epigraphik  100 (1994): 175-187. On the controversy surrounding this publication, see Hans E.

Braun, “Mitteilung der Bibliotheca Bodmeriana,”  103 (1994): 154.

Tomasz Tadajczyk and Krzysztof Witczak, “Critical Notes to Dorotheos’ Hymn Πρὸς Ἀβραάµ,”

 Eos XXX (1999): 257-65.

Pieter van der Horst and F. G. Parmentier, “A New Early Christian Poem on the Sacrice of

Isaac,” in  Le Codex des Visions, ed. André Hurst and Jean Rudhardt (Genève 2002), 155-172;

 A. Hilhorst, “The Bodmer Poem on the Sacrice of Abraham,” in The Sacrice of Isaac. The

 Aqedah (Genesis 22) and Its Interpretations, ed. Noort and Tigchelaar (Leiden 2002), 96-108.

Hilhorst, “The Bodmer Poem on the Sacrice of Abraham,” 107-08.

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  Overview of the Poem

 After a three-line proem in which we hear that God the Creator sent a mes-

senger to Abraham, the poem then follows an alphabetic acrostic. Two lines(13 and 14) are missing, but otherwise the papyrus is in fairly good shape. Therst part of the poem proceeds as a succession of speeches. We have not only Abraham and Isaac giving speeches, but Sarah plays a positive role as well,and this is uncommon in early Christian texts—she even usurps Abraham’srole of telling Isaac to prepare. She exhorts her only-begotten to go to hisdeath with joy (11). Unfortunately, the two lines that are missing happen tobe just where Sarah speaks. Isaac in turn responds by asking for his bridal

chamber to be prepared and for his hair to be braided. As Abraham preparesthe altar, the ames are likened to the parting of the Red Sea (20-21). Whenthe Lord stops Abraham from slaying his son, there appears nearby not aram but a sheep or apple (25). Abraham, with the fruit from amongst thetrees in place of his son, then provides a nice banquet. A three-line sum-mary completes the poem in which Abraham is praised for ascending theTower (28-30).

 A distinguishing characteristic of this poem is its alphabetic acrostic. Acrostics functioned in a variety of poetic genres in antiquity, and its use in To Abraham signals how late antique poets were adapting and using this formalstructure. Often acrostics are found in liturgical poetry of this period. The poemalso rewrites a Biblical episode—a common technique in Christian hymnody.In addition, its use of dialogue and imagined speeches connects it with hymnsof the period, especially those coming from the Syriac tradition. Yet the meterand Homeric diction connect To Abraham to the classicizing poetry of poetssuch as Gregory of Nazianzus or Nonnus. Indeed the poem displays a meldingof genres and poetic types as it incorporates elements from various poetic tra-

ditions. Below is a translation of the text.

See the Appendix for the Greek text.

See discussion of Sarah’s involvement in Sebastian Brock, “Two Syriac Verse Homilies on the

Binding of Isaac,”  Le Museon 99 (1986): 61-129; Brock, “Sarah and the Aqedah,”  Le Muséon 

87 (1974): 67-77; Brock, “Genesis 22 in Syriac Tradition,” in  Mélanges Dominique Barthélemy 

(Göttingen 1981), 2-30.

Hurst and Rudhardt, Codex des Visions: Poèmes Divers, 37-8.

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  TRANSLATION

To Abraham

He who joined together the world, both heaven and the seasent to Abraham from the heavenly realm a swift messenger,instructing him to sacrice his beloved son as a perfect sacrice.  According to the alphabet As soon as he learned he rejoiced with a ready heart

5  And he went to see if he could convince his renowned wife.“my wife, the immortal God desires that I should carry away brilliant Isaac, the great gift given us in our old age,

our child. May he accomplish God’s will. With my hand outstretched I shall bind my unblemished son to thealtar.”

10  As soon as Sarah learned this, she began to wax poetic in herencouragement:

“Be brave, my beloved son, because you’ve been happy in this lifeIsaac, the child of my loins,[two lines missing]

15 Rejoicing greatly the bright-shining son spoke these soothing words:“My parents, make ready the blossoming bridal chamber,let the people braid my radiant hair with braids,so that I may complete with an eager spirit the holy sacrice” At once experienced men built a re around the altar,

20 the sea gushed forth around the ame, the sea that Moses would part; A wave raised up the son of AbrahamThe father brought his son, smelling of incense; the son rejoiced at the

altar

 while the father introduced his son above Hephaistos; Abraham was rushing to strike the sharp sword against his neck—

25 but the hand of God restrained him—for nearby there appeared anapple/sheep.

 Abraham, saving his son, plucked from among the trees the fruit,he proceeded to choose the fruit for preparing the feast

This translation relies upon the textual conjecture of Hurst and Rudhart; other transla-

tions are possible depending on how the beginning of the line is reconstructed. For more

on this line, see below pages 8-9.

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  Conclusion At once, O man of great soul, may you receive another reward for this,a thousand owering children, to illumine you

30 the all-worthy giver of gifts, who climbed upon the tower.

  The Apple among the Trees

 After all the preliminary details—Abraham receiving the command from God,then preparing for their journey; Isaac and Abraham traveling alone after leav-ing behind their servants—the narrative of Genesis 22 reaches its crux when

father and son nd themselves at the place for the sacrice. Although Isaac issilent in the Biblical account up to this point, he now asks the question thatmust weigh heavily upon him: where is the animal for the sacrice? His father Abraham assures him that God will provide the sheep. With his son boundupon the wood of the altar, Abraham is about to slay his son when this licideis called to a quick halt. The messenger of God tells Abraham that he need notslay his son. Instead, he is to take the ram “held fast in a sabek plant by thethorns. And Abraam went and took the ram and ofered it up as a whole burntofering instead of his son Isaak” (Genesis 22:13).

The most troubling questions for any interpreter to answer come at thismoment, with the last minute substitution that just barely prevents humansacrice. Why does God test Abraham in such a drastic manner? Very early inthe Christian exegetical tradition, this almost-sacrice is understood as a type,a gure of things to come. Reading events of the Old Testaments as types andgures that will have their fulllment with the coming of Christ is a method ofnon-literal interpretation established already in St. Paul. In the Epistle to theRomans, Adam “is the gure (typos) of him that was to come” (Romans 5:14).

 According to this nonliteral gurative reading, Isaac is the innocent victim will-ing to be sacriced; he anticipates the fulllment of this sacrice with Christ’sdeath upon the cross. Melito of Sardis, writing in the second century, makesthe connection between the binding of Isaac and Christ’s sacrice explicit:

Quotations from the Old Testament are taken from the New English Translation of the

Septuagint (); New Testament passages are from .

The literature on typology in Biblical interpretation is vast and much has been writtenabout how typology relates to allegory; for a recent discussion with a survey of recent

literature, see P. W. Martens, “Revisiting the Allegory/Typology Distinction: the Case of

Origen,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 16 (2008) 283-317.

ὅς ἐστι τύπος τοῦ µέλοντος. See also Cor 10:6 where the sins of the past are types.

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For as a ram he was bound(he says concerning our Lord Jesus Christ),and as a lamb he was shorn,

and as a sheep he was led to slaughter ,and as a lamb he was crucied;and he carried the wood on his shouldersas he was led up to be slain like Isaac by his Father.But Christ sufered, whereas Isaac did not sufer;for he was a model of the Christ who was going to sufer.

Melito here draws upon Isaiah 53:7. This furthers Melito’s typological reading

as both Genesis 22 and the notion of the Sufering Servant in Isaiah are inter-twined as types that have their fulllment in Christ. Melito draws attentionto the incomplete nature of Isaac’s sacrice as Isaac is called a model (typos).Christ’s sacrice then completes the form of the sacrice set forth by Abrahamand Isaac. Typology in this instance highlights the relationship between thetwo events; the latter event fullls the earlier event.

This typological reading of Isaac as a gure of Christ becomes common-place in patristic exegesis. In a homily attributed to John Chrysostom, thisreading is developed further, as each element in Genesis 22 is seen as a type ofChrist’s sacrice:

Christ is led like a sheep to the slaughter [Is 53.7]; Isaac is led to the sac-rice as a type of Christ. The sacrice is before his eyes, and Isaac doesnot disobey his father. For he is a type of Christ, “who was obedient to hisFather, even unto death, the death of the cross” [Phil 2.8]. Isaac was a sonand at the same time a sacrice. Likewise Christ also is the son of God,and “the lamb that takes away the sin of the world” [Jn 1:29]. The father

[Abraham] did not spare Isaac, and neither did God spare Christ. “For hedid not spare his own Son, but handed him over for all (Rom 8:52).”

For these typological readings to work, there must be the incomplete earliergure—here, Isaac—and the one who comes later to be the fullness that

Melito of Sardis, On Pascha (trans. Stuart George Hall; Oxford 1979) Fragment 9.

“And he, because he has been ill-treated, does not open his mouth; like a sheep he was led

to the slaughter, and as a lamb is silent before the one shearing it, so he does not open his

mouth.”

Contra ludos et theatra ( 56, 549-550).

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the gure represented. Typology bridges the temporal divide between thetwo events.

These forms of typological interpretation highlight the strangeness of what

is going on in To Abraham. In this poem Isaac is not a type or gure of thingsto come, as he is in the examples above. Whereas those typological readingsemphasize a temporal diference between the events of Isaac’s binding andChrist’s sacrice, in To Abraham  the temporal divide is broken down when Abraham chooses the sheep/apple and provides a feast. Moreover, To Abraham uses a word not seen in other texts that deal with Genesis 22. In the Genesistext Isaac asks his father about the absence of the crucial piece for a sacrice when he asks “where is the sheep (πρόβατον)?” When the sacrice of Isaac is

halted, a ram (κριός) is discovered nearby entangled in a bush. As evident in thepassages quoted above, Christian commentators often linked Genesis 22 withIsaiah’s mention of the lamb (ἀµνός). But To Abraham uses neither πρόβατονnor κριός, nor ἀµνός to describe that which Abraham sacrices in place of hisson: “there appeared nearby a sheep/apple” (φάνεσκε ὰρ ἐγύθι µῆον 25). Asis customary in this poem, the language is trying to sound archaic with the useof the epic form of the verb “to appear” (φάνεσκε) and the adverb for “nearby”(ἐγύθι). It is what appears nearby that is so perplexing, since µῆον can havetwo very diferent meanings. It can mean small livestock, such as a sheep; butit can also mean an “apple.”

 At rst one might be tempted to assume that µῆον here must mean “sheep,”since this is a sacrice and sheep are usually sacricial victims, whereas onerarely if ever hears of an apple being sacriced. But the following lines compli-cate matters. Here are lines 25-27:

  φάνεσκε ὰρ ἐγύθι µῆον·ψῆεν δ᾽ Ἀβρ]αὰµ, υἷα σώων, ἀνὰ δένδρεα καρπὸν

ὧστε προσθ]έµ̣ενος τό ῥ᾽ ἐέξατο δαῖτα πονεῖσθαι.for nearby there appeared a sheep/apple. Abraham, saving his son, plucked from among the trees the fruit,he proceeded to choose the fruit for preparing the feast.

 While it is certainly unusual to have an apple as a sacricial victim, it is just asunusual to have a sheep called a fruit and taken from among the trees. Hurst

Genesis 22:7.

Doric and Aeolic µᾶον ‘apple’ (cf Latin mâlum) came to have an eta in Ionic and appear

and sound identical to µῆον ‘sheep.’

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and Rudhardt ofer a solution with the suggestion that fruit here simply meansany product of the earth, thus including livestock. There are also challengeshere due to the state of preservation of the papyrus. Fortunately, the papyrus

preserves with clarity the whole phrase in line 25 about how there appearednearby the sheep/apple (µῆον). In the next two lines (26-27) the papyrus isdamaged, making the rst phrases dicult to discern fully. The papyrus pre-serves intact the phrases “saving his son” (υἷα σώων) and “among the trees thefruit” (ἀνὰ δένδρεα καρπὸν) along with the mention of the feast in the line 27:“he chose the fruit for preparing the feast” (τό ῥ᾽ ἐέξατο δαῖτα πονεῖσθαι). Thebeginnings of these last two lines (26-27) present diculties. While the recon-struction Ἀβρ]αὰµ is pretty certain, the initial word of this line is less so. I have

followed Hurst and Rudhardt’s reading, but even in their notes they expressuncertainty. Tadajczyk and Witczak ofer the reading “ψίζετ(ο) [he has cried(with joy)].” In the next line Abraham prepares a feast; this much is clear. Again the beginning of the line is uncertain. Hurst and Rudhardt’s recon-struction ὧστε προσθ]ε  µ̣ενος translates as something like “and continuing.”Tadajczyk and Witczak again ofer a nice solution with their reconstruction:“ὤριµον ἱ]ε  µ̣ενος” (“when he took of the mature fruit from the tree, has orderedto make the sacrice”). While much remains uncertain here, some things areclear: Abraham’s son is saved and a sheep/apple from among the trees takesthe place of his son. Even if the rst phrases of lines 26-7 remain uncertain, what is clear is that Abraham chooses the fruit (τό ῥ᾽ ἐέξατο δαῖτα πονεῖσθαι 27)and this fruit is the µῆον of line 25 (φάνεσκε ὰρ ἐγύθι µῆον).

There are compelling and so far unnoticed reasons for understanding theµῆον as an apple. In typical fashion, To Abraham incorporates here a phrasefrom an earlier poet. Hesiod’s Theogony describes the apples of the Hesperidesas “fruit among the trees”: Ἑσπερίδας θ’, αἷς µῆα πέρην κυτοῦ Ὠκεανοῖο / χρύσεακαὰ µέουσι φέροντά τε δένδρεα καρπόν (“and the Hesperides, who care for the

golden, beautiful apples beyond glorious Ocean and the trees bearing thisfruit”). To Abraham uses the phrase “δένδρεα καρπόν” in the same metrical

Hurst and Rudhardt 41.

Hurst and Rudhardt 55.

Tadajczyk and Witczak, 261. Hilhorst 99.

Tadajczyk and Witczak 262.

Theogonia 216. Translation from Hesiod, Theogony, ed. Glenn W. Most (Cambridge,

2006).

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position at the end of the line. The borrowing from Hesiod could thus bean easy solution to ll out the verse, as is common in this type of archaizingpoetry. But the allusion also suggests a number of things. First of all, it explains

 why To Abraham uses “trees” instead of a single tree. Secondly, the allusion toHesiod prevents us from assuming that the µῆον is simply a sheep. Althoughat rst one is tempted to read µῆον as a sheep, the allusion to Hesiod bringsthe sense of “apple” to the forefront.

In addition to these allusions and comparanda, there is an even more com-pelling reason why µῆον in To Abraham  should be understood as “apple.”The word µῆον appears rarely in the Bible, although it does appear a numberof times in the Song of Songs. While Hurst and Rudhardt made this initial

observation, what has gone unnoticed is what the apple in the Song of Songssignied in patristic interpretations. In Song of Songs 2:3, the beloved com-pares her lover to a fruit or fruit-tree in the midst of the trees of the forest: “as anapple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons” (Ὡςµῆον ἐν τοῖς ξύοις τοῦ δρυµοῦ, οὕτως ἀδεφιδός µου ἀνὰ µέσον τῶν υἱῶν). Patristicinterpreters found ways to connect the apple here in the Song of Songs toChrist. When we look to Gregory of Nyssa (335/340-395), we nd a key to whatthe apple signies. Gregory’s commentary is careful to demonstrate how thesensual language is to be understood spiritually: “what is described there isan account of a wedding, but what is intellectually discerned is the humansoul’s mingling with the Divine.” He goes on to say that “it philosophizes bymeans of things not to be spoken, that is, by setting before our minds, with a view to establishing these teachings, a picture of the pleasurable things of thislife.” Still further, “he [Solomon] has so disposed the soul that she directs

Livrea also notes Homer Odyssey 11.588 and 19. 112, as well as Apollonius of Rhodes 1.1142.

In these instances the phrase is not in the same metrical position as it is in Hesiod andTo Abraham.

Genesis 30:14; Joel 1:12; Proverbs 25:11; Song of Songs 2:3, 2:5, 4:3, 6:7, 7:9, 8:5. I wish to

thank the anonymous reviewer for highlighting these additional usages.

Hurst and Rudhardt 41.

Gregory of Nyssa, Homilies on the Song of Songs (trans. Richard A. Norris Jr., Atlanta 2012).

Gregory’s commentary on the Song of Songs most likely comes from the 390s. Origen’s

commentary on the Song of Songs laid the groundwork for much that came after, but

for his commentary we must rely on the Latin translations of Runus and Jerome. On

Origen’s commentary, see J. Christopher King, Origen on the Song of Songs as the Spirit ofScripture: The Bridegroom’s Perfect Marriage-song (Oxford 2005).

Homily 1 (Norris 25). For the Greek text, see Gr. Nyss.,  In Canticum Canticorum  (ed.

Hermann Langerbeck, Leiden 1960).

 In Cant . 1 (Norris 25).

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her gaze toward purity by means of instruments that seem inconsistent withit and by means of impassioned utterances communicates a meaning that isundeled.” All of this is to set up the manner by which Gregory interprets the

meaning of the apple in Song of Songs 2:3. Gregory understands the generalscopos of the Song to be about the soul uniting to Christ and this informs everydetail of the text. Thus, he understands the apple to be Christ. He explains thatat this moment in the text the soul rst beholds the beauty of the Bridegroom(Christ). After some discussion of the meaning of various details, Gregoryconcludes his discussion of the apple with the following:

 What is our conjecture, then? He who for love of humanity grew up in the

 woods of our nature became an apple [µῆον] by sharing esh and blood.For in the coloring of this fruit one can see a likeness to each of these. Byits whiteness it copies a characteristic of esh, while its reddish tinge byits appearance attests its kinship with the nature of blood.

Here Gregory is explicit in making the connection: the apple in Song of Songs2:3 represents none other than Christ who took on esh and dwelt amongstmankind. At rst this may seem extraordinary, but for Gregory the allegory ofthe Song is all about the soul’s union to God, which comes about through theIncarnation, through Christ taking on human nature and restoring mankind toits primal beauty.

This interpretation of the apple is not limited to Gregory of Nyssa and thusnot an isolated or esoteric reading of what the apple in the Song of Songssignies. Procopius of Gaza (475-538) is straightforward in his explanationof what the apple signies: “Christ is the apple, because of the whiteness ofhis esh and the redness of his blood, and the sweet-scent of his preaching.”Procopius develops the same idea found in Gregory, namely that the colors

of the apple relate to the esh and blood of Christ. Furthermore, this under-standing of the apple is apparent in liturgical hymnody. A hymn attributedto Joseph the Hymnographer (812/818-886) praises Mary who gives birth tothe sweet-smelling apple: “Hail, from whom alone there springs the unfading

 In Cant . 1 (Norris 31).

 In Cant . 4 (Norris 117).  In Cant . 4 (Norris 139).

Procopius of Gaza, Catena in Canticum Canticorum ( 87,1588). µῆον δὲ ὁ Χριστὸς, διὰ τὸ

ευκὸν τῆς σαρκὸς καὶ τὸ ἐρυθρὸν τοῦ αἵµατος, καὶ τὴν τοῦ κηρύµατος εὐωδίαν. Cf 87,1581:

ὁ δὲ Κύριος ὡς µῆον έονεν ἐν δρυµῷ·

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Rose; / hail, for thou hast borne the sweet-smelling Apple (῾Ρόδον τὸ ἀµάραντον, χαῖρε, ἡ µόνη βαστήσασα· / τὸ µῆον τὸ εὔοσµον, χαῖρε, ἡ τέξασα).

 While this example is from a later period, what we see is that the inter-

pretation established in the 4th and 5th centuries by Gregory of Nyssa andProcopius of Gaza becomes common-place, so that a hymn to the Mother ofGod can describe her giving birth to the apple with only an indirect referenceto the Song of Songs.

Now the use of µῆον in To Abraham takes on a new dimension. In light ofthese examples, it would seem likely that the poem uses this ambiguous wordstrategically: we are meant to rst consider a sheep, but then with the mentionof the fruit from the trees we are led to see the fruit from the trees as Christ.

This gural interpretation unlocks the ambiguity present in To Abraham. If theapple from the trees is Christ, then we can make sense of these nal lines ofthe poem. Abraham chooses in place of his son an apple—a symbol pointingahead to Christ—and they share a feast in anticipation of the Eucharist whenChrist’s sacrice will bring about a new feast.

 What is interesting here is that Isaac is not a type as so often in patristic exe-gesis. Instead, Abraham takes from the tree a symbol, the apple, which standsfor Christ; not only does he take from the trees the fruit that anticipates Christ,but he also prepares a feast with this fruit from the tree. Genesis 22 makesno mention of a meal of any kind; after the sacrice of the ram, the angel ofGod tells Abraham that he will be blessed. Abraham returns to the young men who were left waiting and they return. But here in this poem we have a feast.In addition to the strangeness of there being a feast, the word δαῖτα (27) hereis surprising, as it calls to mind Homeric feasts. It has been noted that this islikely a Eucharistic meal. If the sheep/apple is Christ, then all the more rea-son to see this meal as Eucharistic. According to both Gregory of Nyssa andProcopius, the two colors of the apple (the red exterior and the white interior)

stand for the blood and the body of Christ. Thus when Abraham prepares abanquet, they partake of an apple in symbolic anticipation of the Eucharist when the faithful will partake of the body and blood of Christ. Thus the reasonfor using µῆον with both its meanings: as a sheep, Christ is the sacricial ofer-ing in place of Isaac. As an apple, Christ shows his nature as human and divineand his appearance in the esh. This is a remarkable way to recast the narrativeof Genesis 22: in place of the ram caught in the thicket, they enjoy an apple.

Canon for the Akathistos. For the text see Wilhelm von Christ and Matthaios K. Paranikas,

 Anthologia Graeca Carminum Christianorum (Lipsiae 1871) 247.

Livrea, “Un poema inedito di Dorotheos: Ad Abramo,” 187.

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No other retelling or commentary of Genesis 22 imagines there being an appleto take the place of Isaac.

  Isaac the Bride

Now that we have established how to understand the sheep/apple, it is worthlooking at other moments in the poem to see if they make more sense in lightof this reading. As we have seen, the presence of the sheep/apple in place ofIsaac fundamentally recasts the narrative. Instead of a ram we have a symbolthat anticipates Christ, and the narrative ends with feasting. This unexpected

feast (at least for readers of Genesis 22) highlights the sense of joy that perme-ates the entire poem.From the very beginning of the poem, there are unexpected moments.

 Whereas Sarah is entirely absent from the narrative in Genesis, here in thispoem she plays a prominent role. After Abraham hears with great enthusiasm(“rejoiced with a ready heart” ἐχήρατο πρόφρονι θυ[µῶι 4), the command fromGod, he rst tells his wife Sarah. Then Sarah, who is silent throughout theBiblical narrative, addresses her son and she speaks like a Homeric hero as sheurges him on: “As soon as she learned this she boasted as she spoke wise words”(ἠύξατο δ᾽ ὡς πεπύθε[σ]κε υν[ὴ] πεπνυµέ[να βάζει]ν· 10). She does not bid himto look forward to future joy, but consoles him by observing that his life hasbeen good: “Be brave, my beloved son, Isaac, the child of my loins, because you’ve been happy in this life” (θάρσει, ἐµὸν φίε τέκνον ἐπ[εὶ] µάκαρ ἔπ[εο σὺζ]ῶν/ ᾽Ϊσα[κ] ἐµῶν µεέων τ[έκος] 11-12).

Isaac, who after all is the one who must endure this sacrice, might be theone to express some hesitation. Even in Genesis he begins expressing someconcern when he asks his father why he has all the tools required for the sacri-

ce, except the lamb. Yet in To Abraham there is no hesitation on Isaac’s part.He not only expresses the same joy as his parents, but he also speaks about thesacrice as if it were a marriage. Others have noted the strangeness of Isaacbeing depicted as a bride rather than a groom, but the signicance has beenleft unexplored. When Sarah entreats Isaac to prepare with eagerness for the

While a number of other texts depict Abraham as eager and even joyful, Sarah’s pres-

ence is quite rare. Philo presents Abraham as glad and eager; Ephrem Syrus’ Commentaryon Genesis presents a similar image of a joyful Abraham. See the discussion in Brock,

“Genesis 22 in Syriac Tradition,” 6.

“I wonder if Isaac here features as a bride. This needs further research.” Hilhorst, “The

Bodmer Poem on the Sacrice of Abraham,” 106.

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sacrice, he responds by telling his parents to prepare a “blossoming wedding-chamber” (νυµ[φί]διο̣ν θαερὸν θάαµον 16). This image of the “blossoming”(θαερὸν) wedding chamber is unique to the poem. It is not unusual to use

θαερὸν in conjunction with marriage (Od . 6.66, 20.74), but it is rare to nd itused with the bridal chamber itself. Young people and plants are referredto as blossoming, since this word comes from a verb to describe the growthof plants (θάλω). The chamber (θάαµον), on the other hand, usually signi-es a woman’s chamber; with νυµ[φί]διο̣ν the idea of a wedding chamber isclear. Yet θάαµον, in addition to meaning a chamber or inner room, is alsoused metaphorically to refer to the grave. When Antigone approaches herdeath in Sophocles’ tragedy, she speaks of the chamber (θάαµον) metaphori-

cally as the nal resting place, i.e. the grave (Ant. 804 τὸν πακοίτην ὅθ’ ὁρῶθάαµον “common chamber in which all come to lie”). To return to the poem,the implication is that the wedding-chamber/bed will be Isaac’s tomb. Isaac isnot delusional, as one might expect from someone who just heard that he is tobe sacriced. Instead, he seems to have classical heroines in mind. He soundslike Iphigenia at Aulis awaiting her wedding (which turns out to be a sacri-ce) or Antigone anticipating her death. Or better yet, Isaac is like Jephtha’sdaughter, who had already been made into a Greek-type heroine. There is along and well-documented tradition in Greek poetry of comparing marriage todeath that stretches back to Greek drama and continues in Greek folk song.

First let us examine how Isaac is like Iphigeneia from Greek mythology. Inthe version of Iphigenia’s sacrice as told in Euripides’ drama Iphigenia at Aulis,Iphigenia thinks that she is coming to her wedding. Her father Agamemnon, who has heard from the prophet that they can only sail for Troy if he sacriceshis daughter to the goddess Artemis, brings her to Aulis (where the Greek eetis stuck with a lack of winds) under the pretense that she is to marry Achilles.The language of marriage and sacrice are intertwined as the chorus sings of a

Livrea, “Un poema inedito di Dorotheos: Ad Abramo,” 183. Apollonius of Rhodes (1.1031;

3.656) has similar language, but in none of these is the bridal chamber ‘blossoming’

(θαερὸν).

   s.v. θάαµος .

Sophocles, Antigone (ed. Mark Grith, Cambridge 1999), 266.

In a review of Kessler’s Bound by the Bible, Van der Horst points out that the connection

between Isaac and Iphigenia is already in Josephus,  Ant. Jud. 1:223.  Bryn Mawr Classical

 Review 2005.02.47 (2005). Jephtha’s daughter is discussed in van der Horst and Parmentier 159-160; see also Margaret

 Alexiou and Peter Dronke, “The lament of Jephtha’s daughter: themes, traditions, origi-

nality” Studi Medievali  12 (1971) 819-863.

Margaret Alexiou et al., The Ritual Lament in Greek Tradition (Lanham, 2002).

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 wreath that will adorn not a bride but a sacricial victim: “But you, Iphigeneia,on your / lovely hair the Argives will set / a wreath, as on the brows / of aspotted heifer.” Immediately after this choral song Clytemnestra announces

that her daughter now knows the truth. Iphigeneia boldly accepts this fate and willingly asks for the sacricial wreath: “set the wreath on my head.” Just asIphigenia expected a wedding wreath but now nds herself wearing the wreathof a sacricial victim, so too does Isaac participate in a reversal. Isaac asks notfor a wreath of sacrice, but for his hair to be braided, as if he is a bride prepar-ing for a wedding: “let the people plait my radiant hair with braids” (ξαν[θ]ήνµοι ποκάµοισι κόµην πέξασθε ποῖται 17). This word for “braided hair” is rare,although it is used by archaic and Hellenistic poets. Gregory Nazianzus uses a

similar phrase for braided hair, for instance in his poem for his sister: “Anothersang the beauty of my sister; below the radiant, braided hair her dark browrising above her silver cheeks.” Clearly Gregory of Nazianzus when speakingof braided hair is talking about the hair of a woman. So what does it mean forIsaac to speak as if he is the bride? His speech lacks the morose tone oftenfound in these speeches of heroines about to meet their death. To Abraham changes the usual pattern. Instead of a young woman discovering that she willnot be married but will encounter death, Isaac discovers that he will encounterdeath and rejoices as if it were a wedding.

Since what Isaac encounters at the sacrice is the symbolic apple that rep-resents Christ, his joy seems to be in anticipation of this encounter. This wouldthen explain why Isaac speaks in language redolent of weddings. Nuptial imag-ery is present already in the New Testament with the parables about the wise virgins (Matthew 25), and patristic literature develops these images at greatlength. Nuptial symbolism is found in the Shepherd of Hermas, 2nd Clement , afragment of Melito, the Odes of Solomon, as well the second and third centuryfathers Hippolytus, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Cyprian, and Clement of Alexandria,

as J. Christopher King has shown. In the parable of the wise virgins (Mt 25),the wise virgins await the coming of the bridegroom. The virgins who areready to meet the bridegroom are gures of the Church awaiting its marriageto Christ, the bridegroom. The earliest witness to this imagery outside the NewTestament comes, in fact, from another text in the Bodmer Papyri. Bodmer

σέ δ᾽ἐπὶ κάρα στέψουσι καλικόµαν / πόκαµον Ἀρεῖοι Eur.  1080; translation of Merwin

and Dimock, Iphigeneia at Aulis (New York 1992) 1455-1458.  Ibid . 1477.

37,1494 (2.2.2). Ἄλος ἄεισε / Κάλος ἐµὸν, ξανθοῖσιν ὑπὸ ποκάµοισι µέαιναν / Ὀφρὺν

ὑπερτέλουσαν ὑπ’ ἀρυρέῃσι παρειαῖς.

King, Origen on the Song of Songs, 2f.

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Papyri 12 contains a brief hymn, likely by Melito of Sardis, in which Christ iscalled the bridegroom: τὸν νυµφίον ὑµῶν Χριστόν. In the Shepherd of Hermas the Church is depicted as a bride coming out of a bridal chamber who then

encounters Hermas. As King observes, “among writings of the subapostolicperiod, the Shepherd of Hermas (c. 148) most plainly shows the rst evidenceof an early openness to nuptial symbolism.”

 Another source for the nuptial imagery is of course the Song of Songs. Thebride and the bridegroom were understood as the Church and Christ or as thesoul and God—i.e. some combination of a feminine entity (ekklesia, psyche)and a male gure. Gregory’s commentary—as we have already discussed inthe explication of the apple—demonstrates how nuptial, even carnal, imagery

can take on a spiritual sense. Moreover, Gregory of Nyssa’s commentary dem-onstrates how the male Isaac can take on the female role of the bride:

 What is described there is an account of a wedding, but what is intel-lectually discerned is the human soul’s mingling with the Divine. Thatis why the one who is called ‘son’ in Proverbs is here called ‘bride,’ and Wisdom, correspondingly, is transferred into the role of bridegroom. Thisis to assure that the human person, once separated from the bridegroom,might be betrothed to God as a holy virgin (cf. 2 Cor 11:2), and, once joined to the Lord, may become ‘one spirit’ (1 Cor 6:17) through beingmingled with that which is inviolate and impassible, having become puri-ed thought rather than heavy esh.

 With this allegorical understanding of the marriage between the soul and Godin place, let us look at Isaac’s words in comparison to another poet’s use of thisimagery. Gregory of Nazianzus in one of his poems depicts a mystical marriage, where the groom is Christ and the bride the soul about to enter the wedding

chamber:

Christ has opened the veil,he is astounded, seeing the prized, exceedingly beautiful bride,good, like a pearl, sitting gracefully, with a high brow;although you are beautiful, yet he adds further charm.

 Bibliotheca Bodmeriana: The collection of the Bodmer Papyri , (München 2000). See alsoKing, Origen on the Song of Songs.

Vision 23 (iv.2).

King, Origen on the Song of Songs, 2.

 In Cant . 1 (Norris 25).

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Christ will lead you (the bride) rejoicing to his home,and he will prepare for you a wedding banquet along with great,spotless choirs singing heavenly songs.

 And he will crown your head with ever-blooming graces,and he will set forth a bowl full of a sweet drink,and he will reveal the mysteries of wisdom, the true lights of his unclothed

mind—of which we see down here only the image in a mirror.

This epithalamion takes the conventions of the marriage song but applies themin an allegorical manner. Gregory imagines what happens as Christ the bride-groom encounters the pure soul, the bride, and leads it into the inner cham-

ber. A banquet is laid out for the rejoicing soul. In fact Gregory of Nazianzususes the same word for rejoicing (καχαόωσαν) that is used in To Abraham todescribe Isaac’s own rejoicing (καχαόων 15).

Isaac’s delight comes from his anticipated wedding to death, because at hisdeath he will meet his bridegroom. To Abraham employs nuptial imagery inline with Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory of Nazianzus, and the linked imageryfrom the Song of Songs and the parable of the Wise Virgins unlocks the myster-ies of this poem. Isaac, therefore, represents the chaste soul, υἱὸν] α  θ̣̣ι[κτον (To

 Abraham 9), a pure and unblemished ofering who prepares for his marriageto Christ. He foresees—or maybe Sarah suggests to him—that his sacrice is amatter for rejoicing, since it means that he is going to meet his beloved. Isaac isnot a preguration or a type of Christ in this poem, as he so often is in Christianliterature. Rather, Isaac is a virginal soul who anticipates meeting Christ, theapple among the trees, who will be sacriced and provide a banquet by ofer-ing his body and blood, represented here in the poem by the apple.

  Conclusion

Modern discussions of gural interpretation have tended to emphasize a dis-tinction between typology and allegory; these studies of the interpretativepractices of patristic readers have argued that typology was often favored overallegory since typology preserved historical distinction. Erich Auerbach inhis classic essay “Figura” denes typology thus: “Figural interpretation estab-lishes a con