There are many reasons for returning to a field in which I was involved twenty years ago, when I brought out a detailed analysis of the Nika riot. Given the theme of this volume, however, it would be of little relevance to focus too narrowly on the events of January 532.1 Instead, I propose to examine at a more general level the dynamics of riots in the fifth and sixth centuries, seeking in particular to discern what factors were involved, and more particularly to what extent religious or doctrinal loyalties played a part, and what the consequences of the developments over this period were. I shall start with a brief survey of how approaches to factions and violence have changed in recent scholarship; one of the key themes here will be the blurring of lines between factional and religious violence, as scholars have underlined the numerous common traits of factions and the Church, both of which constituted powerful empire-wide organisations with their own objectives and interests.2

The writings of John Chrysostom reveal a great interest in the emotion of fear and a deep appreciation for its utility in the service of ethical formation. He understood that through fear people could be restrained from doing wrong and goaded into doing right, and, to these ends, he favoured and promoted the telling of frightening stories. He also believed that a lively sense of fear could promote compassion for the misfortunes of others and strengthen group solidarity. But, above all, Chrysostom exploited the ‘deliberative aspect’ of fear: its ability to trigger reflection on the value of threatened goods and the proximity of apparent danger. By inciting fear, he called into question the value of material goods and drove home belief in the reality and immanence of the Last Judgement. Fear, in his writings, has thus not only a repressive, but also a creative – even imaginative – aspect.

Roman generals in the late fifth century were rarely active participants in theological disputes. Thus, when Vitalian revolted against the Emperor Anastasius (491–518) in Thrace in 513, at least partly motivated by the emperor’s anti-Chalcedonian policies, and led an army to Constantinople, this was not behaviour typical of the period. There was initially no fighting, however, and during negotiations Anastasius promised that the pope would be invited to settle Vitalian’s religious concerns. This did not happen and in 514 Anastasius sent an army against Vitalian. When Anastasius’ troops were defeated, Vitalian again marched on Constantinople and forced the emperor to organise a Church council at Heraclea. Although the pope and Eastern bishops were invited, the council did not take place. Vitalian then marched on Constantinople for a third time in 515, but he was defeated in fighting on land and sea. This revolt is exceptional in Late Antique history because of its religious motivation, which enables us to ask some interesting questions about imperial and religious politics in the early sixth century.1

In Encomium in xl martyres ii, Gregory of Nyssa relates a violent biographical incident that was life changing. When Gregory was an adolescent, his mother, Emmelia, commissioned the building of a martyrium in Ibora, for the Forty Martyrs. Emmelia asked Gregory to accompany her to the inaugural festival. Gregory went grudgingly. Once there, his lax behaviour earned him a visit from the Forty Martyrs, during which they beat him. This chapter examines the violent episode from three perspectives. First is the discussion of what ‘acceptable’ violence is within the household of an elite Cappadocian family in the fourth century. Late Roman family law informs an examination of the tension and resolution between Emmelia and Gregory, as mother and son. Next, what valence Gregory gives this traumatic event is explored with regard to his familial history. Both were extremely important to Gregory and inextricably bound up with the Forty Martyrs. The chapter ends with an analysis of the startling ways Gregory employs the beating in the sermon, both to reify his family as kin to the martyrs, and to promote imitation of the martyrs among the faithful. The particular consequences of family violence upon Gregory as an elite Cappadocian Christian thus unfold.

Around 400 AD, Augustine of Hippo wrote De catechizandis rudibus, which teaches others how to address non-Christians interested in converting to the religion. Written in a time of increasing state hostility to non-Christians, the text has been used to study ‘coercive conversions’ to Christianity. However, this elides the fact that a North African convert had a choice between two increasingly hostile Christian factions: the one Augustine belonged to, or that of the better established rival bishops Augustine labelled ‘Donatist’. This chapter argues that the treatise should be seen as an attempt by Augustine to use the frame of teacher training as a means of strengthening control over minor clergy in a context of episcopal conflict. De catechizandis rudibus does not address converts directly, but instead the minor clergy who taught them. This focus, in particular on managing their affect (and disciplining the insufficiently cheerful), fits with Augustine’s faction having less social power in comparison to the Donatists at the time of writing. Instead, Augustine used his considerable rhetorical prowess in this treatise to prevent minor clergy from becoming demoralised (or defecting to the opposing bishops) during the conflict.

Only a few years before freedom of religion was proclaimed within the Roman empire, the last empire-wide persecution of Christians was instigated.1 An imperial edict that ordered the razing of churches, the burning of the Scriptures, the loss of civil rights especially for Christians of high status and the re-enslavement of (Christian) Caesariani was published in Nicomedia on 23 February 303.2 This act, appropriately planned on the day of the feast of Terminalia (in honour of Terminus, the god of boundaries), ended the ‘peace of Gallienus’, which lasted for approximately forty years.3 The issuance of this particular edict was not an isolated incident; more edicts were to follow. A second one was issued in the summer of the same year and prescribed the imprisonment of the clergy. In November 303, the third imperial edict was posted, which ordered that clergy in prison must sacrifice (and, after doing so, be freed).

Having described the rapid triumph of Christianity under Constantine in chapter 20, and the short revival of traditional religion by Julian in chapter 23, according to Gibbon the final reckoning with the Graeco-Roman religious tradition took place by the removal of the altar of Victory from the Senate house under Gratian and the subsequent imperial legislation under Theodosius I. The latter incited an empire-wide attack by Christian fanatics on temples, statues and other objects of worship, resulting, for example, in the famous destruction of the Serapeum at Alexandria in 391/92 ce. The success of this systematic campaign aimed at the ‘fall of Paganism’ was so complete, says Gibbon, that by 423 Theodosius’ grandson (Theodosius II) hardly noticed that there were any traces of the old religion left.2

The Lateran Basilica hosted three pivotal papal liturgies of the Roman ecclesiastical calendar – Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and the Easter Vigil.Due to their importance and infrequency, these feasts are well described in medieval sources.These celebrations, which commemorated the death and resurrection of Jesus, featured unique and dramatic observances such as the blessing and distribution of palms, the blessing of new oils, the washing of feet, the lighting of the new paschal candle, the chanting of fitting Biblical texts, and the baptism of infants.The action of the liturgy made use not only of the church, but also of the atrium and the baptistery of the Lateran.Although worship is sometimes characterized as having become ossified in the Middle Ages, the clergy did in fact allow modification and even experimentation in their liturgies.Perhaps the greatest single change came in the rite of reconciliation of penitents on Maundy Thursday, which once had the pope interceding for the people of the city for forgiveness of their sins; this allowed them to rejoin the faithful in taking the Eucharist at Mass.However, starting in the thirteenth century, the pope took the opportunity to excommunicate sinners to exclude them from the Eucharist.

Monastic sources warn of the distractions and even dangers of maintaining familial attachments once in the monastery. Affective bonds between children and parents prove to be some of the most contested relationships in the communities. These bonds are further complicated by being intertwined with economic ties and social bonds. Regulating emotions was an important element of the asceticism practiced at the White Monastery (led by Shenoute and then Besa), Jerome's and Paula's monasteries, and Cassian's monastery.These authors and ascetic leaders urged monks male and female to discipline their emotions toward their relatives and redirect their affect in what they deemed to be more appropriate direction, such as positive affect for their monastic family and reverence for God. They also used these familial bonds as points of leverage, appealing to emotions between family members to manipulate and influence others. Thisdiscourse is gendered, with ideal emotional states reflecting ideals of masculinity and femininity held by the authors. Additionally, these emotional ideals are influenced by classical philosophy (especially Stoicism) and shaped through biblical interpretation.

This chapter seeks to advance interpretation of two major building complexes unearthed beneath the Lateran Basilica.The earliest structural evidence exposed is interpreted part of an Augustan age suburban villa, likely a single property positioned between the via Tusculana and via Asinaria. The first, residential part of this complex can only be partially seen below the structures of the Castra Nova Equitum Singularium and the so-called ߢTrapezoidal Buildingߣ. These residential quarters lay to the west in the direction of the main road (via Tusculana) and shared its alignment. The eastern half of the complex was less lavishly appointed; it was structured around a pillared courtyard (lying below the point where the principia of the Castra Nova was subsequently built), oriented along a suburban roadway and probably in close proximity to the pars rustica of the villa. The second part of the paper offers a hypothesis for the Trapezoidal Building itself and argues that it might have served as the valetudinarium (hospital) of the Castra Nova.