Ambrose of Milan’s pastoral project of ‘building up the faith’ (adstruere fidem), evident in his preaching, is exemplified best in his hymns. Relating this project to his suspicions about dialectic, I argue that the hymns aim less to ‘destroy’ through analysis than to ‘construct’ through compelling imagery and a programme of sensitisation. By comparing the presentation of Christ’s miracles in his Expositio on Luke and in his hymn for the Epiphany, ‘Illuminans Altissimus’, I show how Ambrose renders abstract, narrative, and conceptual claims by means of personal, concrete, and actualising exempla that present his congregation with objects for ‘real assent’ (in the words of John Henry Newman). Such an approach distinguishes Ambrose’s hymns from the verse compositions of his Latin-speaking contemporaries, Hilary of Poitiers and Augustine of Hippo.

This chapter compares the epistemological assumptions of late-antique Prolegomena to Philosophy with those of the Didaskaliai of Dorotheus of Gaza, a sixth-century ascetic teacher. It focuses on the epistemic role of godlikeness, the claim that the goal of philosophy, understood in terms of either Neoplatonism or the monastic life, is to become like God. In both Neoplatonism and in Dorotheus’ teaching, the concept of godlikeness orders knowledge and promotes ways of knowing developed in order to bridge the gap between the politico-ethical and the spiritual, the practical and the theoretical. Comparing Dorotheus’ teachings with the Introductions to Philosophy identifies substantial shared epistemic assumptions. A key difference between the schemes is generated by the epistemic role of humility in Dorotheus’ account.

Cyprian of Carthage is the most fulsome and direct user of sacrificial language in relation to Christian worship and organisation up to his own time, even though his community experienced persecution under the emperor Decius via a decree of universal sacrifice. Cyprian’s De lapsis and his Letter 63 both use common knowledge about sacrificial ritual shared between Jews, Christians, and other Romans to make more specific points in controversies over reconciliation of apostates and use of wine in the Eucharist. Cyprian’s use of shared assumptions about ritual helps reveal shared ancient understandings about sacrifice, centred not on altruism or violence but on gift. His formulations also reflect how he, like Decius, was seeking to use older ideas of tradition and communal solidarity in the service of new challenges.

The ignominious death of Jesus on the cross was the starting point of the history of Christians. It could have meant the end of the followers of Christ, especially because soon the body of Jesus also disappeared. However, the Christians succeeded in interpreting the events for themselves by speaking of the resurrection of Christ and cultivating the expectation of his return (parousia). Such ideas seem strange to modern observers, but they were apparently convincing for enough contemporaries that the followers of Christ survived. However, they were continually dependent on words, because relics were initially lacking and only memories could help spread faith in Jesus.

Chapter 1 introduces the Iohannis and sets the book in its intellectual context. It discusses the particular difficulties associated with the epic and the different approaches scholars have adopted to it. It argues that the poem cannot be read as an extended panegyric and suggests that the poet was motivated to address the perceived shortcomings of imperial rule, rather than simply to celebrate recent military victories. The chapter provides a survey of the chapters to follow and closes with a detailed summary of the narrative of the Iohannis itself.

The aim of the book is to show, from a historian’s point of view, how strange the early Christians must have seemed to their contemporaries and what difficulties they faced in living their faith in a non-Christian world. In doing so, it will become clear that Christians chose a huge variety of paths and that there was no linear progression toward later forms of Christianity. Therefore, the seemingly familiar early Christians are strange even to modern observers. In order to make clear their diversity and strangeness, I do not follow chronological order, but treat the subject matter according to different topics, in four main chapters. The first illustrates the difficulties for Christians to position themselves between Jews and pagans, the second the dispute over forms of authority within the Christian group, the third the challenges of everyday life for Christians, the fourth the relationship to the political system up to Constantine the Great, who turned to Christianity. In addition, I discuss the methodological and theoretical issues involved.

This chapter examines the poems of Juvencus, Prudentius, and Ausonius, not primarily as specimens of a late-antique aesthetics, but as instruments for the propagation of religious knowledge and the consolidation of Christian hegemony through the appropriation of pagan tools of art. The poems will be considered both as vehicles of acculturation and as objects of culture in their own right, expressing and fostering a new sense of moral and political ascendancy. It will be argued that where Juvencus appropriates the hexameter form and tropes and images from classical epic, Prudentius seems to invent new forms with the purpose of superseding classical culture and adapting its imagery to a Christian world-view. In Ausonius, Christian imagery is subliminal, betokening his own certitude that the victory of the church is unassailable; it will be argued that in his crucifixion of Cupid, subliminal use of Christian images hastens the dissolution of the pagan sensibility from within.

This chapter investigates Boethius’ approach to the division of the sciences and his understanding of their relationship to philosophy as a whole. The questions are raised as to whether certain differences in approach discernible in texts spanning roughly two decades indicate development in his thinking, and whether his formal articulation of a quadrivium of mathematical sciences as subsidiary branches of philosophy implies or is intended to leave room for a trivium of linguistic arts. Finally, brief consideration is given to Cassiodorus’ understanding of the seven liberal arts vis-à-vis the Boethian taxonomy of philosophy, and its implications for instructional practice at Vivarium.

In this study, Jeremy L. Williams interrogates the book of Acts in an effort to understand how early Christian texts provide glimpses of the legal processes by which Roman officials and militarized police criminalized, prosecuted, and incarcerated people in the first and second centuries CE. Williams investigates how individuals and groups have been, and still are, prosecuted for specious reasons – because of stories and myths written against them, perceptions of alterity that render them subhuman or nonhuman, the collision of officials, and financial incentives that foster injustices, among them. Through analysis of criminalization in Acts, he demonstrates how critical race theory, Black studies, and feminist rhetorical scholarship enable a reconstruction of ancient understandings of crime, judicial institutions, militarized police, punishment, and sociopolitical processes that criminalize. Williams’ study highlights how the criminalization of Jesus’ followers as depicted in Acts enables connections with contemporary movements. It also presents the ancient text as a critique against the shortcomings of some contemporary understandings of justice and human rights.

Chapter 5 examines Corippus’ accounts of military activity, his battle narratives and his use of violent imagery. The first part of this chapter discusses the likely sequence of John’s campaigns in 546, 547 and 548. Certain conclusions are drawn regarding the size of John’s army, its constitution and the strategic goals he followed, as well as Moorish fighting practices in the same period.The second part of the chapter considers the long battle accounts within the Iohannis, and the political function they may have had. Stylized combat sequences were a very common feature of Greek and Latin epic, and Corippus added new and visceral imagery to the poetic repertoire. Violent imagery of battle was a display of poetic virtuosity, but also a means to address the ambiguities of ‘Moorish’ identity and political fealty. Battle clarified loyalties – and hence identities – in a manner that was not otherwise possible. Violent imagery accentuated this process, essentially transforming the ‘good’ Moors into heroes, (and so comparable to their Roman allies), and the ‘bad’ into abject and dismembered body parts. If the Iohannis was intended to reconstitute the body politic in North Africa, it frequently did so in an unusually literal manner.

The tripartite division of Mosaic philosophy into ethics, physics, and epoptics, mentioned in Stromateis 1.28.176, corresponds to Clement’s project of Christian philosophy, as outlined and partly pursued in that treatise. Clement integrates this division, obviously inspired by a Platonist model, into a larger programme of Christian education, adumbrated in the Paedagogus, whose first, pre-doctrinal part is practical. By doing so, he creates, within the context of the church and—arguably—its catechetic school in Alexandria, a coherent and powerful alternative to other similar programmes on the religio-intellectual market of his time.

The Iohannis remains something of a puzzle. Corippus’ motivations in composing the work, the degree to which he manipulated his knowledge of the recent past to meet his own literary ends and the innumerable details of the poem’s Latin all resist straightforward elucidation. But an appreciation of the delicate political position of Justinianic North Africa at the time of its composition is crucial to appreciating the historical importance of the poem and casts a great deal of light upon the text that survives to us. This in turn allows us to consider the Iohannis as a meaningful source on the early history of imperial rule in the region, and not simply as a repository of discrete points of historical or ethnographic information, or indeed as a thoughtless regurgitation of imperial ‘propaganda’. Repeated political and military convulsions had destabilized the Byzantine occupation almost from its outset, and had left a profound mark upon the economy and society of Africa.1 This pattern can only have been exacerbated by the plague of 543 and (perhaps) by the poor harvests which had struck other parts of the Mediterranean world following the cold snap of 536.

Irenaeus made a significant contribution to epistemology, psychology, and asceticism in late antiquity by establishing the first fully developed Christian framework for ascetic training that has come down to us. Irenaeus innovated in epistemology and psychology to direct the daily, embodied ascetic practices that enabled human beings to make progress towards union with God. Irenaeus developed an empirical epistemology from his physics of creation ex nihilo that focused ascetic training on structuring embodied perceptions in order to develop the ability to accurately discern the truth and to reliably choose the good. He produced a holistic psychology from his physics of embodiment that focused on training the soul to grasp the truth, have virtuous emotions, choose righteous actions, and follow the desires of the Spirit. Irenaeus taught that practising the ascetic disciplines of vigilant attention, meletē, and egkrateia every day was essential for structuring perception to grasp the essence of phenomena ‘as they are’, unveiling the true value of faith, righteousness, and union with God as the highest human good, and living an embodied life capable of enjoying the good without end.