3
The Life of Symeon Stylites the Younger, the saint’s vast hagiographic biography, must lie at the heart of any study of Symeon’s cult. It is in many respects a remarkable text, and much the best known of the works originating at the ‘Wonderful Mountain’, although still arguably understudied in comparison with other comparable saints’ Lives. There have been a small number of excellent studies looking at the Life as a whole;1 it has also been examined from various specific angles, including the intersection between the stylite’s lifestyle and the liturgy, the presentation and significance of wounds in stylites’ biographies, the mobility of stylites, and ‘holy anorexia’.2 Certain basic problems about the text’s dating, compositional process, and authorship remain, however, unresolved.3
In addition, broader questions about the significance and interpretation of the Life deserve further attention. The text has a distinctive perspective, in geographical, political, and religious terms; it is not, however, as fiercely pro-Chalcedonian as has sometimes been claimed. Symeon’s hagiographer seems preoccupied not with doctrine, but with various local challenges to the saint’s authority from both within and outside his monastery. He describes serious opposition to the stylite among his own disciples, but in problematic terms which again raise concerns about the methodological challenges of handling hagiography. He also indicates that Symeon faced wide-ranging scepticism, and aroused hostility among some sections of secular Antiochene society. As argued in the previous chapter, the sermon collection attributed to Symeon suggests that the saint used aggressive and potentially divisive rhetoric but provides no means of assessing its social relevance. The Life places this rhetoric into context. It shows that Symeon and his supporters were forced to use various, sometimes conflicting, tactics to defend the saint from accusations of failure in the aftermath of the disasters that struck Antioch in his lifetime. The hagiographer combines apologetic strategies, such as the use of biblical typologies, to explain why Symeon could not prevent crises, with more aggressive polemical attacks on groups whom he makes scapegoats for the disasters, most notably the wealthy classes of Antioch. These disasters raised questions about the role of the holy man and about theodicy itself.
Before these themes can be analysed in detail, it is necessary to provide a brief description of the contents and structure of the Life. As Fergus Millar has noted, it is the longest saint’s Life that has survived from before the Arab conquests, with over 250 chapters.4 In its broad outlines, it shares the common structure of many saints’ Lives: it begins with the marriage of Symeon’s parents, his conception and birth, and continues to describe, first, his childhood, then, intermittently, key events in his life and in Antioch, before ending with his death. Between these descriptions of events comes a vast array of miracle stories, which are so numerous that it has been claimed that the text should be viewed as a miracle collection rather than as a true saint’s Life.5 This view is not entirely persuasive; given one basic distinction between a saint’s Life and a miracle collection—that the former recounts the lifetime of the saint and the latter deals with the miracles of a (usually long-)dead saint—it seems preferable to continue to describe Symeon’s hagiography as a saint’s Life, but to note that the same tendencies that contributed to the proliferation of miracle collections in the late sixth and early seventh centuries also affected contemporary saints’ Lives, so that the boundary between the two genres is permeable.6 Nonetheless, the volume of miracle stories in the text is exceptional and worthy of note.
Although the basic framework of the Life is chronological, beginning with Symeon’s conception and ending with his death, it is not fully chronologically structured. While most of the datable events in the Life are in broadly the correct temporal order, some are out of place, and the miracle stories are sometimes grouped in thematic ‘clusters’ rather than by any possible chronology.7 The text has various other oddities: one sequence of miracles appears twice in the text in slightly different forms,8 while the monk Angoulas, a major opponent of Symeon’s, first appears in chapter 123, but is presented again as if for the first time in chapter 168.9 Another distinctive feature is the shift in narrative voice from chapter 71 onwards: while all the previous chapters have been recounted entirely in the third person, from 71 the narrator frequently, though far from consistently, speaks of ‘us’ and ‘we’, apparently in reference to the monks of Symeon’s monastery.10 All these features must be borne in mind as we move on to consider the dating and authorship of the text.
The external evidence for the dating of the Life of Symeon is limited but important. Van den Ven in his introduction to his edition of the text describes its nine extant manuscripts, the earliest of which date from the late ninth century.11 The Life is certainly earlier, however, as it had already been translated into Syriac in the early ninth century (827–8).12 Other derivative forms of the Life survive—a Georgian translation, and several Greek metaphrastic and abbreviated versions of the text—but are of little help in establishing its original dating.13 An Arabic version of the Life is also attested, but no longer appears to be extant.14 Much more relevant are two eighth-century citations of the Life: it is quoted in the Acts of the Second Council of Nicaea (787) and in the third discourse of John of Damascus on images, probably dating from the first half of the eighth century.15 This evidence thus situates the composition of the Life within, at the latest, 150 years of the saint’s death. The only other piece of external evidence that might suggest a significantly earlier date for the Life is the statement by John of Damascus that it was written by Arkadios, archbishop of Cyprus. Arkadios was bishop of Cyprus in the first half of the seventh century and played an important role in the controversy over monoenergism; he also seems to have commissioned Leontios of Neapolis to write Lives of the Cypriot saints Spyridon and John the Almsgiver.16
The attribution of the text to Arkadios has, however, met with scepticism, in part because it is found in no other reference to, or manuscript of, the Life (no other witness names the text’s author). Hippolyte Delehaye and, following him, Van den Ven, both found the attribution highly implausible on primarily chronological grounds: both believe the claim of the author of the Life that he was an eyewitness to Symeon’s prediction of the death of Ephraim of Antioch in 545.17 In their view, even if Arkadios had been a young monk in Symeon’s monastery in 545, this would still mean that he had had an active monastic/ecclesiastical career of approximately ninety years, and must have died aged well over one hundred, which is highly improbable. This argument is not entirely conclusive: even if we accept that the author of chapter 71 had genuinely witnessed the events of 545, it is possible that the final ‘author’ of the Life as a whole was drawing on earlier written sources (a possibility that will be discussed shortly), and therefore could himself have joined the monastery later.18 Arkadios could thus have acted as the final redactor of the Life even if he only joined the monastery in the late sixth century. Nonetheless, his authorship of the Life is unlikely, given the unreliability of its sole attester: John of Damascus also, for example, attributes John Moschos’s Spiritual Meadow to the latter’s friend Sophronios of Jerusalem.19 The case that Arkadios wrote the Life certainly is not strong enough to allow a secure dating of the text to the sixth or seventh centuries; external evidence can therefore take us no further than a terminus ante quem of c.750.
The internal evidence of the Life has, therefore, formed the basis for most arguments about the text’s dating. As mentioned above, several passages of the Life imply that their author was present at many of the events in Symeon’s monastery from 545 onwards, which, if true, would mean that the text must have been written within a few decades of the saint’s death. While these claims are not necessarily reliable (and become less relevant in any case if the final author’s use of written sources is accepted as a possibility), it is very plausible that the text was written fairly soon after Symeon’s death, by a monk of his monastery. The author is very interested in the monastery and its internal workings, and, in particular, in an outbreak of trouble which happened in the monastery shortly after Symeon’s death. The hagiographer reports that Symeon, towards the end of his life, predicted that Angoulas (the supposedly insubordinate monk mentioned above) would, after the saint’s death, become ‘a traitor and a Judas to this place’; that ‘his blasphemies’ would be talked about ‘almost everywhere’; and that he would be the ‘cause of scandal’ to many souls.20 The hagiographer then notes, crucially, ‘this in fact happened not long after [Symeon’s] death’.21 No details are provided of what form this ‘scandal’ took, but it must provide an important context for the writing of the Life; it is difficult to see why the author would be so interested in Angoulas were he not a monk of the monastery who had some experience of the conflict after Symeon’s death.
It is unlikely that we can determine the date of the text with any more precision than this. Vincent Déroche has argued that the Life can be dated to the reign of Phokas (602–10) because of a strange gap at the end of the text: it describes no events that can be dated between the accession of Tiberius in 578 and Symeon’s death in 592. In particular, Déroche suggests that the author’s failure to refer to Phokas’s deposed and murdered predecessor Maurice, and his close associate Gregory, patriarch of Antioch (even though a contemporary author, Evagrios Scholastikos, presents Symeon as having friendly relations with both figures, and even though the Life does describe the saint’s interactions with earlier patriarchs and emperors), arises from the virtual damnatio memoriae that Maurice was subjected to by his usurper.22 This argument is tempting, but not conclusive, particularly given that the author is equally silent on the reign of Tiberius.23 It could also be noted that both Gregory and Maurice were very unpopular in some circles during their lifetimes, so that even if the author did deliberately refuse to mention them, this does not necessarily presuppose a date after 602.24 Again, we can say little more than that the author was almost certainly a monk of the saint’s monastery, writing within a few decades of his death.
Should we, however, be speaking of the text’s ‘author’ at all? While Delehaye and Van den Ven conceived of the text as having a single author who used only limited written sources (perhaps including his own notes taken contemporaneously with the events described), Déroche has challenged this view, arguing, on the basis of the text’s repetitions and other inconsistencies discussed above, that the final author acted as a compiler, who drew on various pre-existing sources, but failed to synthesize them convincingly.25 Boero and Kuper suggest that the Life ‘constitutes a heterogeneous bricolage of different views, shifting emphases, and incongruities’.26 As argued above, the author does seem to have used at least one written source, namely, a record of Symeon’s sermons.27 Beyond this, it is difficult to identify any particular sources used, but it is certainly not unlikely that, for example, he could have incorporated earlier records of miraculous cures into the later Life. There is no reason, however, to think that this compositional process took place later than the late sixth or early seventh century; nor, as we have seen, does Déroche argue this.
A much more radical argument about the editing of the Life has, however, been made by Paul Speck, as part of his wide-ranging thesis about all pre-iconoclastic sources that refer to the veneration of icons. Speck’s general argument, that the cult of images emerged at earliest in the late seventh century, and that any references to icons in earlier texts must be interpolations, has been strongly and persuasively challenged.28 I will focus here only on his theories about the Life of Symeon.29 He argues that the Life was systematically edited in various stages (and that the resultant strata of the text can be identified and analysed), and that insertions were made into the work at least as late as the ninth century.30 His argument has been followed, somewhat more cautiously, by Leslie Brubaker, although rather than making claims about the composition of the entire text, she focuses on the two chapters, 119 and 158, which contain stories of miracle-working icons, suggesting that one and quite possibly both are late interpolations.31 Yet neither the broad case, that the Life of Symeon was comprehensively edited in various stages, nor the specific case, that chapters 119 and 158 are late interpolations, is compelling. Speck adduces a host of examples to support his theory about the editing of the Life (in particular, he seeks to show that every reference to the saint’s miracle-working dust is a later addition), which cannot all be analysed in detail here. In general, however, his arguments rest on some problematic assumptions and methodological approaches.
First, he frequently claims that he can discern what the original core of a particular story must have been, and thus how it has been edited, on very insecure grounds. Chapter 130 recounts that an Iberian priest visited Symeon, took some of his hairs as a eulogia (blessing), returned to Iberia, built a shrine near his village, made a cross, and shut the hairs inside it. The relic then cured many visitors, whereupon the Devil incited some local priests to denounce the first priest to their bishop as a magician. The bishop barred the priest from the liturgy and confiscated his possessions until, struck down by a sudden illness, he repented, went to the priest, was cured, and restored him to his former position. Speck claims that the beginning of this story was re-written by a later editor to play down tensions between Symeon’s ascetic authority and the church’s ecclesial power: he states that originally the priest must have taken Symeon’s hairs to a church and tried to have them worshipped there, but was rejected and cast out, and it was only then that he built a separate shrine. The later editor also, in Speck’s view, invented the detail about the priest putting the hairs inside a cross, to play down the novelty of revering hair.32 This is clearly pure speculation. Speck also dismisses two stories as later additions to the text on the ground that they are too silly to be original; he repeatedly claims that awkward turns of phrase or slight inconsistencies are signs of later emendation, without considering the possibility that the original author might well not have been in full control of his material.33 He has strong views about the forms that miracle stories ought to take: so, for example, if one account contains several miracles of different types, even if they happen to the same supplicants, he claims that this is a sign of later editing.34 He does not justify these assertions and there is little reason to accept his view that the text has undergone reworkings in many stages.
Even his and Brubaker’s arguments that the two chapters dealing with miracle-working icons are late interpolations are not entirely convincing. Chapter 118 recounts the story of a woman whom Symeon healed of demon possession and infertility; in gratitude, the woman set up a picture of the saint in her house, which then performed many miracles, including healing a haemorrhaging woman.35 Speck claims that the original story must have been the initial healing of the woman, and that the icon and healing miracles were probably added in at least two subsequent stages.36 Again, however, this argument rests on the unsupported view that miracle stories should only contain one miracle, whereas in fact multi-miracle stories are relatively common both in the Life and in other hagiographies.37 Speck claims that the addition of the icon story to this chapter probably dates from, at earliest, the late eighth or early ninth century, on the grounds that it uses the term ‘ὁμοίωσις’ in a sense that only develops at this late date: the haemorrhaging woman, when going to the icon to be healed, said to herself, ‘If I only look upon his likeness/depiction [ὁμοίωσιν] I will be cured’.38 In Lampe’s Patristic Greek Lexicon, however, two citations are given for ὁμοίωσις in the sense of ‘likeness, portrait’: one from the early eighth century, but the other from a source dated by Schwartz to before Heraclius’s Persian conquests, the anonymous Narratio de rebus Persicis.39 Brubaker follows Speck’s arguments and adds the point that although this passage is quoted in the 787 Nicene Acts, it was not by the earlier John of Damascus; her implication is that it did not exist in early eighth-century versions of the Life.40 This is at best suggestive, but not conclusive, since we cannot be sure that John would have excerpted every single icon story known to him. Brubaker could, perhaps, have supported her argument by noting that the story which John of Damascus does quote from the Life, although called chapter 158 in the Acts of the Council of Nicaea and in the Life’s manuscripts, is referred to as miracle 132 by John.41 This might seem to suggest that John possessed a shorter version of the Life than that which has been transmitted to us; yet it is also possible that the numbering of the Life’s chapters had not yet been standardized. Overall, while it cannot be ruled out that Chapter 118 was a later addition to the Life, this is not a certainty.
The case of chapter 158 is equally problematic. The story recounts that an artisan of Antioch, after being cured by the saint, set up an icon in thanks outside his workshop. Some ‘unbelievers’, however, grew angry at the icon and wanted to take it down; they asked a soldier to climb the ladder to the icon and destroy it, but when he got on the ladder he was thrown down by a miraculous power; this happened a further two times. Speck argues that this account is based upon a popular iconophile tale of the ninth century, reported in, among other texts, the Chronicle of Theophanes the Confessor and the Life of Stephen the Younger.42 In this well-known story, Leo III arranged for the icon of Christ over the Chalke gate in Constantinople to be removed, but when his agent (or agents—the details vary in different accounts) went to remove it, some pious members of the city’s population attacked and killed him. In the Life of Stephen the Younger, it is specified that the people, in this case women, pushed the emperor’s guard off a ladder before killing him. Yet while there are clearly some parallels between the account in the Life of Symeon and those from the eighth century (in both cases the icon is in a public place, and its attackers are pushed off ladders) there are also significant differences: in the Life of Symeon, the focus is on the miraculous powers of the icon, and the refutation of unbelieving critics of the saint, whereas in the iconophile accounts, no miracle takes place; rather the focus is on the bravery of those who attacked the iconoclast guards and on the wickedness of Leo III. Even if the two stories are linked, the Life of Symeon chapter does not have to be secondary to the Chalke stories; indeed, Brubaker herself notes that the story in the Life of Symeon appears to predate the stories about the Chalke gate, since it was reported by John of Damascus in the early eighth century, whereas the Chalke stories emerged c.800.43 There is thus no evidence that chapter 158 is a late interpolation into the Life.
In general, then, although the possibility cannot be ruled out that the Life had an unstable textual history, this has certainly not been proven. There is no evidence that it was systematically edited and interpolated as suggested by Speck. The most plausible hypothesis remains that the text was composed, much as it survives today, in the late sixth or early seventh centuries, by a monk from Symeon’s monastery, drawing on at least one and quite possibly several written sources (which may explain the presence of duplications in the work). With this in mind, it is time to analyse the contents of the Life, to investigate both the hagiographer’s strategies and priorities in writing and, as far as possible, the position of the holy man himself. It has often been argued that doctrinal conflict was a key driving force behind the creation of Symeon the Younger’s Life, and indeed his cult more generally. Yet it is far from clear that Symeon’s hagiographer was preoccupied with doctrinal polemic. Rather, his primary motivation may have been very different: to provide an extended counterargument to criticisms made of the saint’s powers in the context of the disasters that affected Antioch in the sixth century.
The Hagiographer’s Worldview
In order to contextualize the hagiographer’s presentation of Symeon’s career, it is necessary to examine, briefly, his broader perspectives on the world, in terms of places, politics, and religion. The topography of the Life has recently been analysed by Fergus Millar.44 He shows that the reach of Symeon’s cult, at least according to his hagiographer, was concentrated in particular regions: he received visitors from the coast of Syria and the Orontes Valley, from coastal Asia Minor and Cappadocia, and from the Caucasus, and had some links with Constantinople. In contrast, very little is said about other Syrian cities or regions further south such as Palestine. By far the most important sources of support for the saint were the villages near his monastery, and Antioch and its environs. Not only does Symeon receive innumerable visitors from Antioch, but several of his miracles take place in the city, and various areas of it are described in some detail.45 Indeed, Antioch plays such a prominent role in the Life that the stylite has been used as an example of the urbanization of ‘popular’ holy men, even though he never set foot in Antioch after leaving it as a young child.46 As we will see, events in Antioch, and in particular the natural and military disasters suffered by the city, play a crucial role in the text;47 in contrast, important events elsewhere in the empire are rarely mentioned.48 The hagiographer thus has a strong local focus, despite claiming an international range for Symeon’s cult.
The political position of the Life is complex, and in some respects perhaps surprising. The most important ‘political’ figures in the text are the patriarchs of Antioch and Constantinople, and the emperors. Symeon lived at a time of great controversy in both patriarchates. In Constantinople, patriarch Eutychios was deposed in 565, to be replaced by John Scholastikos, before being reinstated upon the latter’s death in 577; in Antioch, Anastasios was deposed in 570, replaced by Gregory, and reinstated after his replacement’s death in 592.49 Rivalry between the two Constantinopolitan patriarchs Eutychios and John seems to have been bitter, and debates continued about the legitimacy of John’s patriarchate even after his death and Eutychios’s reinstatement.50 The Life of Symeon presents John as an associate of the stylite’s: Symeon predicted to John that he would be made patriarch when he sought the saint’s advice about whether to accept ordination to the priesthood, and also told John that Justin would succeed Justinian, a prediction which John repeated to Justin, thereby cementing his friendship with the future emperor.51
Nonetheless, Symeon’s hagiographer was not keen to take sides in the sometimes bitter quarrels surrounding the legitimacy of the two patriarchs. Even though Eutychios seems to have been a controversial figure, Symeon’s hagiographer’s sole reference to him, in the context of his deposition, is far from hostile: he states that ‘some pretext was contrived, and Eutychios the most holy patriarch was deposed from the apostolic throne of the imperial city’.52 This is hardly a strongly partisan line to take, given that it was only this devised pretext which enabled John Scholastikos to be appointed (although the hagiographer does emphasize that the choice of John was divinely inspired). Tension may have existed between John Scholastikos and Anastasios of Antioch, yet the Life is very favourable to Anastasios.53 On the whole then, while the hagiographer presents a favourable picture of John Scholastikos, he steers clear of controversy. As discussed above, he is entirely silent on the divisive patriarchate of Gregory, although it is unclear whether this was because of Gregory’s unpopularity or for unrelated reasons. Nevertheless, this silence certainly helps his apparent goal of avoiding taking any strong position on the conflicts in church politics of the later sixth century.
There is, however, one striking exception to this general tendency towards neutrality: the Life presents a very negative portrait of Domninos, patriarch of Antioch from 545–59.54 The hagiographer claims that Symeon had a vision foretelling that Domninos’s predecessor Ephraim (who is greatly praised by the hagiographer) was going to die and that this would be damaging for Antioch; he also heard a voice saying ‘Who knows where the one who is coming is from?’.55 After Ephraim’s death, the meaning of this vision became clear: Domninos, who was hegumen of an alms-house in Thrace, went to Justinian to discuss some business related to the alms-house; Justinian, upon seeing him, declared that he was the new patriarch of Antioch, ‘without anything having been said about him by way of introduction’.56 Domninos was then sent to Antioch as patriarch, where his first move was to attempt to expel the paupers who congregated by the city gate. The paupers sought Symeon’s help against the bishop’s repression, whereupon the stylite declared that God had heard their prayer and would cause Domninos to fall ill, ‘so that he learns by trial to feel that compassion which he was not taught through nature’.57 Soon the bishop fell so ill that he could no longer walk, and had to be carried everywhere; because of this he was widely scorned.
The account could hardly be more negative, particularly given that, unlike in many stories of punishment miracles, there appears to be no moment of repentance and cure for the bishop. The Life’s later report of Domninos’s death is also inglorious.58 Unfortunately, it is difficult to know why Symeon’s hagiographer had such a hostile attitude towards Domninos. Domninos is in fact a rather enigmatic figure: in contrast to his predecessor Ephraim, and his successors Anastasios and Gregory, he has left little impression, positive or negative, on contemporary sources (of any Christological persuasion), even though he was a participant in important events such as the Second Council of Constantinople of 553.59 The only other negative comment on him is found in the medieval chronicle of Michael the Syrian, in which he is criticized for greediness.60 It is, therefore, very difficult to contextualize the hagiographer’s antagonism towards Domninos: did he arouse widespread hostility in Antioch, despite the silence of other contemporary sources, or was there a particular grievance between the patriarch and Symeon’s monastery?61 Nonetheless, the substance of the criticisms levelled in the Life may be significant: Domninos is attacked, above all, for oppressing the poor. Both Symeon’s sermons and his hagiography display a consistent hostility to Antioch’s wealthy classes: it seems that Symeon may have built his reputation, in part, by presenting himself as an opponent of the rich. If Domninos did, as Michael the Syrian claims, have a reputation for greediness, he could well have become a target for the saint. In any case, the hagiographer’s treatment of Domninos is a striking exception to his generally positive portrayal of the ecclesiastical hierarchy.
His treatment of the emperors of the period is also distinctive. As discussed above, the Life is entirely silent on the reigns of Tiberius and Maurice (apart from mentioning the former’s accession): thus the only two emperors to play a role in the work are Justinian and Justin II. Justinian, despite having been in power for the majority of the period covered by the Life, only appears occasionally, and never as the central figure of a story. The hagiographer’s attitude to him appears cool, at best: as we have just seen, he reports that Justinian chose Domninos as patriarch of Antioch without any justification for this mistaken decision. The two other references in the text to decisions by Justinian are less negative, but in neither case is the emperor himself given much credit. In one, the Spirit of God prompts Justinian to appoint John Scholastikos to replace Eutychios; the point of the story is clearly that John had God’s support—Justinian’s role is of little importance.62 In the other, Symeon predicts that the ‘formidable commander/official’ Amantios would come to Antioch to persecute the city’s pagans after he has a vision of Amantios in ‘the palace of the emperor’ in Constantinople.63 Yet the emperor in question (almost certainly Justinian) is not named, and Amantios is described as a man ‘to whom authority, great and powerful beyond those who had been in power before him, had been given through the Spirit over the eastern empire [emphasis mine]’.64 The initiative to send Amantios to Antioch is thus attributed to God, in response to Symeon’s prayer; no credit is given to Justinian. Thus, while the hagiographer does not explicitly criticize Justinian, his attitude towards him appears distant. He certainly makes no reference to the support apparently given by the emperor to Antioch to help it recover from earthquakes and Persian sack.65
It is tempting to suggest that this coolness towards Justinian may reflect a wider disengagement by many inhabitants of the eastern provinces from the imperial centre, in response to the government’s failure to defend the east from Persian invasions.66 This argument is somewhat weakened, however, by the fact that Symeon’s hagiographer pays rather more attention to Justinian’s successor, Justin II. The stories about Justin are clustered together in the later part of the Life, and move swiftly from Justin’s accession, as predicted by Symeon, to his madness and death.67 Initially the relationship between saint and emperor is very positive: Symeon is said to have been Justin’s intimate confidant, and to have healed his sick daughter. After this, however, everything went wrong: Justin fell ill and Sophia, his wife, was persuaded to entrust his health to a Jewish doctor, the ‘sorcerer’ Timothy.68 Symeon protested against this repeatedly but was ignored, until Justin was struck down with madness by a divine power which proclaimed to him, ‘Be now a [warning] tale for all men, because you didn’t put your hopes in divine assistance, but delivered yourself to the deception of demons’.69 Whereas other authors attributed Justin’s well-documented madness to a range of causes, including the loss of Dara to the Persians, and the emperor’s profligate lifestyle and persecution of the miaphysites, Symeon’s hagiographer blamed his refusal to obey the saint’s commands, thereby refuting any potential accusation that Symeon’s powers of protection had failed the emperor.70
Overall, then, the hagiographer displays a rather unusual attitude to ecclesiastical and imperial politics. In terms of the Church, he avoids taking sides in the well-publicized patriarchal conflicts of the sixth century, but presents a vehement and unparalleled attack on the apparently oppressive Domninos. He seems rather less favourable to emperors, in general, than to patriarchs, but was perhaps forced to explain why Symeon’s relationship with Justin II did not prevent the latter from going mad. His focus throughout is on Antioch and its surroundings, and his attitude to all events is dependent upon the interests of Symeon’s reputation and cult. With this in mind, it is now time to turn to a potentially contentious question: the Christological attitudes of Symeon’s hagiographer and of the saint himself.
Christology
Sixth-century Antioch and its environs were religiously diverse, and often fraught with tensions. Northern Syria was one of the regions of the empire which saw the least consensus over the Christological conflicts that divided Christianity in the period. As we have seen, it is difficult to ascertain what doctrinal position the majority of Antiochenes espoused, and miaphysitism may have been declining in the region by the later sixth century.71 Nonetheless, it is highly likely that the sphere of Symeon the Younger’s influence included territories inhabited by both Chalcedonians and miaphysites, and tensions between the two might be expected to form an important backdrop to the saint’s career. In view of this, one of the most surprising features of Symeon’s Life is its treatment, or rather total neglect, of Christology: the author makes no direct reference to Chalcedonianism or miaphysitism. The only possible allusions to the controversies are implicit: Symeon is urged to accept ordination because of the need for orthodox priests to administer communion in a time of heresies, while elsewhere the hagiographer claims that the stylite had caused many heretics to return to God.72 We only presume that Symeon himself was Chalcedonian because of his apparently friendly relations with known Chalcedonians such as Evagrios Scholastikos, the Antiochene patriarchs Ephraim and Gregory, and the emperor Justin II.73
Nonetheless, many historians who have considered the problem of the Life’s Christology have presumed that it was vigorously Chalcedonian, focusing on another striking feature of the work: the absence of any explicit reference to Symeon’s forebear, Symeon the Elder.74 Thus, it has been argued, the Younger’s Life and cult were a vehemently Chalcedonian counter to the nearby shrine of the Elder at Qalaat Semaan, which was now controlled by miaphysites.75 So, for example, Susan Ashbrook Harvey has claimed that the Life has an ‘aggressively Chalcedonian stance’, Robin Lane Fox that it was ‘essentially the “orthodox” retort to the Monophysites’ annexation of Simeon the Elder’, and Michael Whitby that Symeon was ‘a saint who was promoted…by the Chalcedonian Christians of Antioch in a deliberate attempt to rival the continuing popularity of Symeon the Elder’s monastery at Qalaat Semaan’.76 Such arguments imply that Christological conflicts were the main driving force behind the Life—and indeed, in the last case, behind the saint’s career itself—and that one of its chief ambitions was to focalise Chalcedonian sentiment against their doctrinal rivals.
This is not, however, a convincing reading of the Life. Arguments that the text was vehemently Chalcedonian fail to explain why the author never mentions miaphysites explicitly and does not attack them or their doctrines. It was hardly rare for sixth- and seventh-century hagiography to be openly doctrinally polemical. On the Chalcedonian side, Cyril of Scythopolis and John Moschos stand out as authors who were particularly condemnatory of miaphysites; the latter refers, for example, to ‘the godless heresies which used to flourish and flourish still, and most of all…the heresy of Severus Acephalus and of the pernicious sect of the rest of them’.77 On the anti-Chalcedonian side, John Rufus and John of Ephesus included stinging attacks on Chalcedonians and their doctrines in their hagiographies: John of Ephesus, for example, not only attacks individual Chalcedonians as oppressive persecutors but also shows his heroes presenting Chalcedonian doctrine in polemical terms: ‘instead of the Holy Trinity…these men [Chalcedonians] were secretly introducing a quaternity.’78
The Life of Symeon contains nothing comparable to these criticisms. The only Christological heretic who appears in the text is an Arian Goth, and Symeon’s teachings to him, as Fergus Millar has noted, seem intended to combat not miaphysitism but, in complete contrast, Nestorianism: Symeon taught that ‘the enemies of the son of God are the Jews and those who, like them, deny and do not confess that Christ is the son of God’, as well as those who deny that Mary is the Theotokos.79 This could, perhaps, be viewed as Chalcedonian apologetic, intended to emphasize that Chalcedonians had nothing in common with Nestorians, but it certainly cannot be seen as an aggressively pro-Chalcedonian attack on miaphysitism. On that topic, the hagiographer is entirely silent: he seems purposefully to avoid the kind of anti-miaphysite polemic espoused by some of his contemporaries.
It is more plausible that the Life’s failure to mention miaphysites is less an attempt to oppose them than to conciliate them. This is argued, with differing emphases, by Déroche and Cremonesi: Cremonesi contends that the hagiographer consciously downplayed divisions between Christians in an effort to unite them against a pagan enemy, while Déroche suggests that the hagiographer was in accord with the conciliatory efforts of local orthodox dignitaries such as the patriarchs Anastasios and Gregory.80 ‘Neo-Chalcedonian’ authorities were trying to heal the divisions between Chalcedonians and miaphysites in Antioch in this period.81 Various attempts were made by the emperors to reconcile the parties: thus Justinian patronized churches in the city which may have been intended to appeal to those of all Christological views.82 Late sixth-century patriarchs made calls for Christian unity and an end to conflict over difficult points of doctrine. Thus Gregory urged his congregation to emulate the unquestioning worship of the cherubim and seraphim, and to abandon their internecine conflicts provoked by the Devil.83 Similar arguments are found in the Ecclesiastical History of Gregory’s close associate, and Symeon’s friend, Evagrios Scholastikos, who, like the stylite’s hagiographer, speaks very little of Christological conflict in his own times.84 The silence of the Life on the subject of Christological controversy thus fits well into a broader context of efforts within Antioch to minimize the conflict between Chalcedonians and anti-Chalcedonians.
This may not suffice, however, to explain the problem. The hagiographer may have had a more particular reason for not referring to miaphysites, related to his general concern to encourage as many visitors as possible to Symeon’s shrine: he did not wish to alienate potential clients of the saint’s cult. Recent scholarship has shown that saints’ shrines often attracted Christians of different Christological opinions: Phil Booth, for example, has shown this to be the case of many cults, including that of Cosmas and Damian, and Elizabeth Key Fowden of the shrine of St Sergios at Resafa.85 Even Severos of Antioch, the renowned miaphysite resistance leader, stated that anti-Chalcedonians could pray in martyr shrines run by Chalcedonians, although preferably when there were no Chalcedonians worshipping there: ‘where the bones of holy martyrs have previously been laid, it is right to pray without hesitation, especially when the place is in silence, and the heretics are not unlawfully conducting services or singing inside.’ He supports this view with the observation that Peter the Iberian had himself prayed in several martyr chapels (presumably run by Chalcedonians).86 The Holy Places in Jerusalem were visited by anti-Chalcedonians even when under Chalcedonian control, although some miaphysites did begin to criticize this practice.87 Admittedly, there might seem to be a difference between shrines relating to Christ and the early martyrs—who had died long before Christological differences had crystallized and were thus of unquestionable orthodoxy—and those of living or recently deceased saints like Symeon, whose own opinions could have divided his potential clients. But by veiling Symeon’s own views, his hagiographer could aspire to make him as neutral a saint as the early martyrs, in order to achieve the confessional plurality of their shrines.
It was not, in any case, only the shrines of long-deceased martyrs which attracted miaphysites to worship with Chalcedonians: even ordinary church services sometimes attracted a mixed clientele.88 This should not be as surprising as it may initially appear. There is considerable evidence that Chalcedonians and miaphysites were not in practice as hostile to each other as the more polemical writings of some members on both sides might suggest. The pronouncements of the early sixth-century anti-Chalcedonian bishop John of Tella are revealing: he urges the ‘orthodox’ to avoid various forms of interaction with the ‘heretics’, including, for example, receiving alms from them. His rejection of these practices suggests that they were common at the time. Even he, however, concedes that it is acceptable for members of the different sects to greet each other warmly, and that Chalcedonian burial rites are preferable to no burial rites.89 The early sixth-century Life of Peter the Iberian, although in general stridently anti-Chalcedonian, describes its hero, the miaphysite bishop Peter, as being friends with the Chalcedonian bishop of Orthosias, who even provided shelter for him after he was driven out of another town by a more hostile Chalcedonian prelate.90 If bishops from rival parties could be friends, this must have been widespread among the general population. Jack Tannous has recently explored the many kinds of interactions that continued to take place between Christians of different confessions into the eighth and ninth centuries; he has also emphasized that individuals’ ‘confessional’ loyalties could be much less important in many contexts than other ties, such as family, occupation, and location.91 This evidence of a degree of respect and interaction between Chalcedonians and anti-Chalcedonians confirms the impression that many were willing to worship together.
It is thus quite possible that Symeon’s shrine had and may even have welcomed a multi-confessional clientele: indeed, there are suggestions in the Life that not all the beneficiaries of Symeon’s miracles were Chalcedonians. He cures a man from Persia (very few Persian Christians were Chalcedonian—and of course many Persians were not Christian at all), two pagans, and, significantly, receives a visit from eight Armenians.92 Most Armenians did not accept Chalcedon; and even if these pilgrims were not anti-Chalcedonians, the fact that the hagiographer makes no reference to their doctrinal position suggests that this was not a key consideration for Symeon’s shrine.93 Notably, none of these supplicants are said to have been converted by Symeon; the holy man even tells the pagans that God ‘approves of moral and just intentions on the part of both believers and unbelievers’ [emphasis mine].94
Admittedly, the hagiographer does on other occasions describe supplicants converting from paganism before or after being cured, but, since conversion is not presented as a necessary pre-condition for all the stylite’s cures, the hagiographer seems to have been less concerned to promote orthodoxy than to show that Symeon’s gifts extended to all peoples.95 This relatively tolerant attitude towards pagan supplicants does, it is true, seem to stand in sharp contradiction to the vehement hostility towards paganism evidenced elsewhere in the Life. This may be a sign that—as argued below—this anti-pagan hostility serves a particular polemical function within the text, irrespective of the actual position of ‘pagans’ at the cult.96 Certainly, there is no evidence that the cult adopted an exclusionary policy towards Christians of different doctrinal beliefs.
Symeon himself may have abstained from making doctrinal pronouncements: none of the sermons attributed to him refer to Christological divisions, while the themes identified in Chapter 2 as the keystones of his preaching, including asceticism and the renunciation of wealth, crossed doctrinal boundaries. One important fragment of evidence does, however, paint a rather different picture. Sebastian Brock has published excerpts from a rare surviving monoenergist, monothelite florilegium in Syriac.97 This contains several quotations in support of monoenergist doctrine attributed to sixth-century figures, including Justinian I and Symeon’s friend Anastasios I of Antioch. One short quote in the collection is attributed to Symeon ‘of the Wonderful Mountain’, that is, Symeon the Younger himself.98 It is apparently from a memra addressed to Barlaha the general, and contains specific doctrinal polemic, stating, for instance, that people who divide Christ’s operations in two are like lost sheep. Even though this and most of the other texts in the collection are known from no other sources, Brock suggests that they may well be authentic: Chalcedonian monothelite texts are unlikely to have survived, especially in Greek, since dyotheletism later became the accepted orthodoxy.99 It is possible, therefore, that Symeon himself was more interested in theology than the surviving sermon collection and Life suggest. If this was the case, the hagiographer’s silence on Christological matters appears even more purposeful and deliberate; his desire to encourage devotion to the cult took precedence over promoting specific doctrines.
Why, then, if the Life is not actively opposed to the anti-Chalcedonians, does it never mention Symeon the Elder? The explanation that he was ignored because his shrine was under anti-Chalcedonian control is not entirely convincing.100 First, it should be noted that it is not certain that Qalaat Semaan was in fact run by anti-Chalcedonians at the time Symeon the Younger’s hagiographer was writing.101 Even if the shrine was now in the hands of miaphysites, this did not mean that the saint himself could no longer be venerated by Chalcedonians. Joseph Nasrallah has shown that the elder stylite continued to be venerated throughout the medieval period by the Byzantine and Melkite Chalcedonian churches.102 He was certainly revered in the first half of the sixth century even by strongly pro-Chalcedonian hagiographers: Cyril of Scythopolis and Theodore of Petra both refer to the stylite in laudatory terms in their Lives of, respectively, Euthymios and Theodosios.103
Still more suggestively, Symeon the Younger’s friend, Evagrios Scholastikos, talks about Symeon the Elder extensively in his Ecclesiastical History, with no suggestion that his reputation had come into question.104 Indeed, Evagrios had actually visited the stylite’s shrine at Qalaat Semaan. He describes its location, buildings, restrictions placed on female visitors, and the miracles which took place there: he himself saw a bright star several times running around the column during the commemorations in honour of Symeon. Others reported—and Evagrios notes that he saw no reason to disbelieve them—that the saint’s disembodied head had been seen flying around the shrine.105 Ephraim of Antioch, the Chalcedonian patriarch greatly praised by the Younger’s hagiographer, also cited Symeon the Elder as an example of Chalcedonian piety in his efforts to persuade anti-Chalcedonians to rejoin the imperial Church.106 Symeon the Elder had thus not fallen into disfavour among Chalcedonians in this period, and it is therefore unlikely that the Younger’s hagiographer fails to refer to him for reasons related to Christology. In fact, if the Elder was disapproved of by any Christological party, it was among miaphysites: Severos of Antioch was forced to defend himself against anti-Chalcedonian opponents who criticized him for having pronounced a discourse in praise of the stylite.107
It is more probable that Symeon the Younger’s hagiographer does not mention the elder Symeon for the same reason that he does not refer to any other holy ascetics: he did not wish to encourage rival cults, irrespective of doctrinal persuasion.108 The Elder’s shrine was a particular threat because it was so close.109 The hagiographer is equally silent about other potential sources of thaumaturgic power in the Antiochene area, such as the relics of the monk Thomas, whose body had, according to Evagrios Scholastikos, been translated to Antioch during the prelacy of Ephraim, where it successfully ended an outbreak of the plague.110 It may be significant that while John Moschos reports stories about Symeon which show him interacting with other holy monks, such tales are absent from the Life. In particular, it is hardly surprising that the Life does not report Moschos’s story in which Symeon tells a visiting monk that he should have sought help at his own monastery instead:
I am surprised at what toil you have endured, what a journey undertaken, to come to me, a mere sinful man, when you have such great fathers in your own lavra. Go, prostrate yourself before Abba Andrew, asking him to pray for you, and he will heal you at once.111
The author of the Life, eager to encourage as many visitors to Symeon as possible, implies that he should be visited by pilgrims from all regions: he tells us that Symeon assisted supplicants from places as far afield as Cappadocia, Laodicea, Iberia, Isauria, ‘the land of the Ishamelites,’ and, as we have seen, Persia and Armenia.112 Admittedly, on one occasion when an Isaurian visitor asks the saint if his request will be ignored despite his journey across the sea, Symeon replied ‘and who asked you all, man, to cross the sea?’.113 Symeon does ultimately, however, do as he requests, and there is no suggestion that there was any other holy man who could have solved the Isaurian’s problem. We know from John Moschos, Evagrios Scholastikos, John of Ephesus and many others that there was no shortage of sixth-century holy men: Evagrios states ‘at that moment of time there were divinely inspired men and workers of great signs in many parts of the earth’.114
Indeed, there is considerable reason to think not only that there were many holy men at this time, but also that there was widespread contact between them, and that closely linked networks of spirituality were the norm.115 Many saints’ Lives do describe various holy men other than their heroes, and often present their saints as having contact with them. This is particularly true of anti-Chalcedonian hagiography, perhaps because the authors are often less concerned with promoting a particular cult than with showing the legitimacy of the miaphysite cause, an aim which could only be strengthened by suggesting that their anti-Chalcedonian heroes were friends of other unquestionably holy ascetics. Thus the Life of Peter the Iberian contains numerous descriptions of various holy friends of Peter’s, including Melania the Younger and her close associate (and biographer) Gerontios, and the renowned ascetic Isaiah of Scetis.116 So too the Life of Severos of Antioch talks extensively about Peter the Iberian, and other distinguished members of his monastery in Palestine (which Severos himself joined), including its superiors John the Canopite, John of Antioch, and Theodore of Ascalon, and one of its priests, Elisha.117 But the theme is also present in Chalcedonian hagiography: Cyril of Scythopolis’s Lives of Euthymios and Sabas contain, for example, many references to the holy friends of his heroes and to the distinguished religious careers of their associates and disciples.118 John Moschos’s stories about Symeon the Younger, just discussed, seem to confirm this picture of an integrated and often international network of holy people, in which the stylite played his part. The author of the Life of Symeon, however, ignored these ties, keen to present Symeon as a unique source of holiness, in order to encourage visitors, of all doctrines and nationalities, to visit one shrine alone. In this context, it is less surprising than has been thought that he makes no direct reference to Symeon the Elder.
The Life of Symeon the Younger cannot be seen as a polemical intervention into contemporary Christological conflicts. Its author is concerned with promoting not a doctrine, but a cult, and it is this overriding aim which shapes his selection and presentation of events. He avoids referring to currently contested doctrinal issues, instead attacking only heresies such as Arianism and Manicheism which were unacceptable to almost all Christians in the eastern Roman empire. He also avoids referring to any holy men of the past or present who might threaten the supremacy of Symeon the Younger’s reputation and cult. He presents him as a figure of unique holiness and thaumaturgic power, rather than acknowledging, perhaps more realistically, that he was only one of a fairly large and interconnected network of influential holy people. This does not mean, however, that the Life is a text untouched by controversy. In fact, it is a highly polemical work, intended to rebut a range of critics and opponents of the saint and, in particular, to defend his reputation in the face of his failure to prevent the exceptional series of crises that afflicted Antioch and its surroundings during his lifetime.
Opposition and Crisis
Recent scholarship has shown, convincingly, that Byzantine society did not accept the claims of holy men and their hagiographers uncritically; rather, saints had to tackle widespread scepticism even among ‘orthodox’ Christian believers.119 Symeon the Younger was no exception; in fact, his Life suggests that the stylite had to face an exceptionally wide range of opponents, including monks within his own monastery, local farmers, clerics, and various other sceptics often denigrated as pagans.120 Many of these problems were shared by other late antique holy men, but Symeon faced even more suspicion and disbelief than most, because of the plight of sixth-century Antioch, which was afflicted by invasion, numerous earthquakes, and plague. His hagiographer was forced to go to considerable lengths in his efforts to justify Symeon’s failure to fulfil his duties as defender of the Christian people. Thus he attempts, not entirely successfully, to deal with difficult problems surrounding theodicy and Symeon’s conflicting loyalties to God and to his supplicants by presenting the saint as fulfilling various, sometimes contradictory, roles drawn from the Old Testament, including those of Abraham and Job. As well as this defensive tack, he also uses more aggressive measures to combat criticisms of the saint, blaming the disasters on wicked members of the local community, stirring up social tensions, and going so far as to support the controversial Justinianic persecutions of ‘pagans’ and other outsiders. The Life can thus be viewed as a multifaceted, and sometimes contradictory, apologia for Symeon’s all too human limitations. By setting the text in the broader context of responses to disasters in the late sixth and early seventh centuries, it may be possible to come to a better understanding of social and religious developments in this period. First, however, it is necessary to analyse in some detail the different kinds of opposition faced by Symeon, and the various ways in which his hagiographer handles them.
Before this analysis can be made, a key methodological problem must be addressed. As discussed in the introduction, the fundamental challenge of studying saints’ cults through hagiography is that of distinguishing between the saint’s own views and actions and those of the hagiographer. It is by now incontestable that hagiographic texts cannot in any sense be read as straightforward, factually accurate reports of the lives of holy men. This one reason why the rare surviving examples of holy men’s own writings are so valuable.121 Does this mean, then, that we cannot learn anything about Symeon the Younger himself from his Life? Not necessarily. Although his hagiographer undoubtedly selects and shapes his account in various distorting ways, he must nonetheless in some instances have been responding to real situations. In particular, it is probable that moments of extreme tension in the Life, which go far beyond literary trope, must reflect real challenges, even if they are described in potentially deceptive ways. As will be argued, many of these accounts display a decidedly apologetic tone, which seems impossible to explain except as a response to genuine controversy and real concerns about maintaining Symeon’s reputation. Again, this is not to say that all accounts of opposition faced by Symeon in the Life should be taken at face value; indeed, at several points in the following discussion the accuracy of the hagiographer’s presentation of events will be explicitly questioned. But it is to suggest that the sense of crisis in the Life cannot be dismissed and must relate to real challenges faced by the saint.
What is more difficult is to ascertain how far the hagiographer’s response to these crises mirrors that of Symeon himself. Some aspects of his response, as discussed below, do find striking parallels in Symeon’s own sermons, which suggests that he may have been continuing the saint’s own policies. Other aspects find no extant parallels, and must therefore be attributed to the hagiographer rather than to the saint (although the possibility that they were derived from Symeon’s own words and thoughts cannot be excluded). The relationship between the two is thus highly complex and must be constantly questioned as we proceed to an analysis of the Life’s presentation of hostility towards the saint.
Symeon and his Monastery
Symeon’s hagiographer claims that his saint had to face considerable opposition from those who should have been most loyal to him: his own monastic disciples. Before examining this conflict in detail, we must consider the fundamental dependence of a stylite on his monks, to show how serious internal challenges to his authority could be. It is a striking feature of Peter Brown’s justly famous article of 1971 that his holy men interact directly with the local lay community: in the article, he refers to no monks apart from the holy men themselves, except when he contrasts Egyptian coenobitic monasticism with independent Syrian ascetics.122 Symeon the Younger’s career shows, however, that holy men and coenobitic monasticism could be inextricably linked. An examination of Symeon’s relations with his monastery shows that stylites could never achieve full separation from the world, because their duties and needs tied them to their monastic followers; their position was dependent on a mutually beneficial relationship with their disciples.123
Symeon’s career was embedded in coenobitic monasticism. He entered the monastery of the stylite John as a boy and never left.124 He appears to have inherited its leadership, although this is not stated explicitly in the text, as he later makes important decisions including arranging for the brotherhood to move to a new site on the ‘Wonderful Mountain’, and subsequently to build a splendid new monastery there.125 It is significant that Symeon stayed in one community for his whole life: his famous predecessors, Symeon the Elder and Daniel, had both, by choice or by expulsion, departed from the monasteries they first joined to undergo a period of solitary struggle before returning to the public view and attracting new disciples.126 This suggests that the account of the Younger’s early career is not entirely formulaic, although the early part of his Life has been viewed as less reliable than later sections.127 It also demonstrates that Whitby is right to stress the diversity of holy men’s careers, as they could be more or less closely linked to particular monastic communities in their lifetime.128 There has been a tendency to perceive a shift over time from more individualistic ascetic practices towards coenobitic monasticism: even Rosemary Morris, who rightly stresses that we cannot trace a simple progression from lavriote to coenobitic monasticism, still suggests that it was not until the middle Byzantine period that stylites began to abandon their ‘traditional withdrawn existence’ for ‘active involvement in the day-to-day affairs of a neighbouring monastery’.129 She points to Paul of Latros, who died in the mid-tenth century, as an example, noting that his stylos was within his monastery.130 Yet Symeon’s Life reveals that this kind of monastically integrated lifestyle already existed in the sixth century.131 We do not know where John and Symeon’s columns were in the lower monastery, but Symeon’s column was in the centre of the new monastery, as its remains show.132
He also took a direct role in the monastery’s management.133 The Life frequently shows him, for instance, refusing to let the monks accept gifts from visitors to the shrine. On one occasion his disciples decided to take some gifts in secret because their donors were distraught that Symeon had declined them; Symeon found out, and rebuked them severely.134 Similarly, one of his monks, Julian, planned to take gold from cured patients until Symeon reprimanded him.135 He forbad the brothers from thinking profane thoughts and reproached them when they disobeyed.136 The holy man also provided grain and water for his monks when they were concerned about shortages and prevented them from enclosing the cistern to keep out visitors.137 He protected the gardens of the lower monastery from a bear and other wild animals.138 He discovered that one of the brothers was embezzling money intended to buy salt for the monastery and exposed him to the other monks.139 Whatever one makes of the miraculous content of all of these episodes, they suggest that he was perceived to have a serious responsibility for the everyday management of the monastery. His position was closely tied to that of his community; his most basic role was that of hegumen.
His position as a stylite made him particularly dependent on his monks. As most stylites would not leave their pillars, they relied on their disciples’ cooperation for practicalities, including, in Symeon’s case, the reception of the monastery’s numerous, often sick, visitors. Such great crowds came to be healed that the saint was forced to bless sticks to give to his disciples to help perform cures. Symeon (or perhaps his hagiographer) was keen, however, to emphasize that this did not mean that the disciples could rival the holy man’s power or perform miracles without him. The Life states that the sticks needed to be touched and blessed by the saint after every three healings, or they would stop working; this was God’s plan to prevent ‘the brothers from being seized by any arrogant ideas’.140 This suggests that it was potentially threatening to the saint’s authority to let others perform miracles on his behalf, but because of his immobility this could not be avoided.
Equally, he required others to perform errands for him: he sent one brother, Anastasios, to convey a message to a lion which had been frightening the community; two others to rescue a monk who had collapsed from thirst; and another to buy salt.141 Archaeological evidence confirms that stylites required at least a few disciples to attend them, belying the notion that they could ever achieve complete isolation from the world. Various sites for which little or no literary evidence survives have been excavated around Antioch which appear to have been the sites of stylites; while most of them do not seem to have received many outside visitors (as they lack the necessary amenities like guesthouses and baptisteries) they do have small facilities for the stylite’s assistants.142
Of course, this was not a one-sided relationship: while Symeon was dependent on his monks for these practicalities, he supplied them with the benefits of his spiritual powers, in the form of both miracles and teaching, which may also have played an important economic role in drawing visitors and potential donors to the shrine.143 The Life focuses strongly on the former of these, but, as mentioned above, many authors of vitae emphasized miracle-working over the other important duties of holy men, in order to promote pilgrimage to their shrines.144 In fact, a comparison of the Life, his sermons, and other contemporary references suggests that Symeon’s essential role was that of ‘teacher’, as Rousseau argues was generally the case for holy men.145 Significantly, the three stories concerning Symeon in John Moschos’s Spiritual Meadow focus less on his miraculous powers than on his advice to nearby monks. One is entirely non-miraculous: Symeon advises Abba Julian how to react to his quarrel with Makarios, archbishop of Jerusalem, instructing him ‘do not withdraw from the monastery, nor should you distance yourself from the holy church’.146 The other two stories do contain miracles, but unlike Symeon’s biographer, who often describes the processes of miracles in vivid detail, Moschos mentions them only in passing, almost as incidental to the main matter of interest, Symeon’s advice.147 On one occasion, Symeon tells a visiting monk who asks him to expel a demon to return to his own lavra and seek help there; the brother is eventually cured by the prayer of Abba Andrew, who attributes the cure to Symeon.148 Another time, Symeon perceives through divine knowledge that a visitor to his shrine is a monk who has abandoned his monastery; the focus of the tale, however, is on his reassurances to the monk that he will be welcomed back if he returns, as he should, to his community: ‘Believe me, child, you do not have to feel disgrace for this. The fathers will receive you with smiling faces and gladness at your return.’149 Symeon’s sermon collection, and the references to preaching in his Life, confirm that moral advice was the ultimate basis of his influence. Much of his preaching seems to be targeted in particular at his monks, extolling the monastic life but also warning against the dangers of disruptive behaviour and yielding to demonic temptations.150 His starkly dualistic rhetoric, and claims to have had personal experience of battles with demons, confirmed his authority as visionary preacher and spiritual guide.
In theory, therefore, the stylite and his monks enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship: the monks attended to the saint’s practical needs and he to their spiritual ones.151 Stylites and coenobitism thus went hand in hand: indeed, Ignace Peña may not have been going too far in stating that ‘une des caractéristiques du mouvement stylite est d’avoir été le promoteur de la vie monastique organisée’.152 Yet Symeon did not gain easy or uncontested authority within his monastery. He faced considerable opposition throughout his career, not only from external sceptics, who will be discussed shortly, but from the very men closest to him. This opposition developed over time: in Symeon’s youth, it mostly manifested itself as jealousy of his lifestyle; later, when he ran the monastery, it related to his management and to factional divisions within the brotherhood.
Symeon’s behaviour, according to the Life, caused troubles within the monastery from his arrival. As a youth, when the elder John was still the superior, Symeon was reprimanded for disturbing the other monks through the extremity of his ascetic practice. John instructed him to stop chanting psalms throughout the night, since he was stopping the brothers from getting any sleep.153 John also twice rebuked him for making inappropriate inquiries, once for asking why the Devil plotted so zealously against the saints, and the second time for enquiring who was worthy to receive the spirit of God as the apostles had.154 Such complaints suggest that his individualistic, independent manner was not deemed appropriate in a coenobitic setting. Indeed, the Life reports that his ascetic lifestyle provoked real hatred among the monks: one, ‘who, when he had seen the child’s way of life, was struck by a diabolic jealousy’, attempted to murder the young Symeon.155 On another occasion, the monks refused John’s command to help Symeon during a storm, saying to each other that he would die, and, ‘moved by the Evil One, they even said the following: “Where is his holiness, and the madness of his ascetic practice?” Let him help and save himself.’156
We should not, however, necessarily trust these reports: they may be drawn from hagiographic convention and in particular from the example of Symeon Stylites the Elder.157 Symeon the Elder’s outstanding asceticism, according to his hagiographers, had caused serious tensions in his first monastery, although all three provide rather different details.158 Theodoret reports that the superiors of the monastery ordered him to leave as they were unable to tolerate his extreme asceticism.159 In the Syriac Life, in contrast, it is the ordinary monks who are jealous of the saint’s prowess and the abbot is much more sympathetic, although eventually forced to expel him.160 In Antonios’s Life it is the regular monks who first turn against Symeon, but the abbot joins them when he is alerted to the extremity of his behaviour.161 The basic point, however, that Symeon’s extreme ascetic practice provoked jealousy and hostility in his monastery, resulting in his expulsion, is shared between the three. These accounts of jealousy about Symeon the Elder’s exceptional prowess may well have inspired the Younger’s hagiographer; certainly, his report that Symeon was rebuked by John for wrapping himself harshly in rope is highly reminiscent of an episode recounted in all three Lives of the Elder.162 The details of early opposition to Symeon are not, therefore, necessarily entirely reliable. Nonetheless, we should not be too ready to disregard the entire theme as merely trope. Tropes often reflect reality.163 It is certainly not inherently implausible that Symeon’s harsh way of life could have prompted envy or hostility; it may well have been genuinely uncomfortable for a rigorous ascetic to be incorporated into a monastery.164
This impression becomes still stronger when we look at reports of conflict once Symeon had become hegumen, conflicts which the hagiographer associates with his management of the monastery. As we have seen, he depicts the monks repeatedly challenging Symeon’s refusal to accept gifts from visitors; they also often appear concerned about provisioning the monastery. An incident concerning the supply of water for all the visitors and builders at the new shrine is both typical and revealing: we are told that ‘the disciples of the saint were worried where to provide water from to meet the needs of so many helpers’.165 The problem of the provision of water was Symeon’s responsibility not only because he was hegumen, but because it was the result of his decision to move up the mountain: ‘for the source of the waters was at the foot of the mountain at a considerable distance.’166 This reveals one way in which the pursuit of Symeon’s ascetic struggle could have inconvenienced the monastery as a whole; it is not, therefore, implausible that his administration could have provoked unease.
Certainly, concerns about provisioning the monastery are presented as important to the biggest internal challenger of Symeon’s authority, who has already been mentioned several times: the monk Angoulas.167 Angoulas appears at various points in the text as a sceptic and opponent of Symeon’s: on one occasion he doubts the efficacy of one of Symeon’s cures.168 The most extended description of Angoulas’s troublesome behaviour, however, involves another dispute about monastic funding. The Life reports that Satan inspired Angoulas:
And he stirred up the brotherhood against the holy servant of God. And the brothers rose up against him, against his great charity, saying, ‘Who can subsist like this? And where does this happen to those seeking healing? Not in the holy city, nor in the monasteries, nor in the Lord’s houses [churches].’169
They stated that in all these other places supplicants brought their own food and left a gift. After Symeon rebuked them, saying that as monks they had to be charitable and support the crowds, ‘Angoulas spoke very harsh words to the saint, saying that he would not do any such thing’.170 This passage is highly significant: it presents the entire brotherhood in opposition to Symeon because of his atypical and impractical management of monastic affairs, led by a figure who was prepared to deny his authority. This suggests that the role of stylite was not so authoritative or popular that he could easily command respect, and that individual asceticism was indeed difficult to fit into a coenobium.
Can we, however, trust the hagiographer’s report of these disturbances? Déroche has argued that the author is highly partial and invents Symeon’s ire against Angoulas because of factional divisions which erupted in the monastery after Symeon’s death.171 He focuses particularly on the passage in the Life in which Symeon predicts that Angoulas ‘will become a traitor and a Judas to this place; and such events will occur here through him, that his blasphemies will be talked about almost everywhere. Alas for his soul; for how many souls it will become a cause of scandal!’;172 the hagiographer continues to say that this indeed came true shortly after Symeon’s death.173 Déroche is certainly right to be wary of this prophecy and to suggest that a Life written by one of Angoulas’s followers would have been very different. Nonetheless, his argument that it is not possible that Angoulas had quarrelled with Symeon during the holy man’s life is not entirely compelling. He claims that had the monk been so disobedient to his superior, he would either have been expelled or rebuked before all the other brothers, but that this did not take place.174 But expulsion was not a common form of punishment in all monastic communities: it seems, for example, to have been rare in the Pachomian federation.175 A hegumen might be reluctant to expel a disobedient brother either on religious grounds (forgiveness is an important monastic virtue) or on more practical ones: as we have seen, Symeon was dependent upon the support of his disciples and therefore could not necessarily autocratically expel a dissenting monk, particularly if he had numerous sympathizers among the brotherhood.176
In addition, Déroche appears to be mistaken to say that Symeon could not have rebuked Angoulas publicly because the Life would have said so. It is true that the saint’s prophecy about future strife was made to only two other brothers; yet during the debate about accepting gifts, Angoulas was indeed reprimanded before the community:
Making the sign of the cross, [Symeon] said to Angoulas, ‘The demon/Devil speaking through you is easily spotted; alas for your soul, because you have become his instrument.’ Then he said to the rest of the brothers, ‘Behold, like the Lord I say to you: “Give the crowds something to eat.”’177
On another occasion, moreover, the Devil tells Symeon in a vision that he will begin his attack on the monastery ‘through Angoulas, the one who always obeys me’; Symeon reports this to the brothers, only for Angoulas to retort rudely.178 The argument that the hagiographer must have invented Symeon’s conflict with Angoulas is not, therefore, compelling, although this remains a possibility.
Irrespective of whether the hagiographer exaggerates Angoulas’s involvement, Symeon did face serious opposition among his monks. The debate about the receiving of gifts is not the only allusion in the Life to widespread hostility to the saint. In subsequent chapters, the hagiographer makes other, rather cryptic, references to resistance to Symeon among the brotherhood. In one crucial but complicated passage, which will be discussed in more detail below, the Devil successfully requests permission from God to test Symeon, declaring, ‘I will enter into his disciples and turn them savage, into a species of men-demons’.179 He later addresses the saint himself, threatening, ‘even if I cannot do anything against you yourself…I will nonetheless stir up tribulations for you on the part of men that you will not be able to endure; I will agitate the brotherhood around you, and make them rear up their necks, to torment your soul’ [emphasis mine].180 This is far from typical hagiographic cliché, and does suggest that there was a serious movement of opposition to the saint from within the monastery.
Funding the Monastery
Did this conflict really relate to the question of whether the monks should accept gifts from supplicants and pilgrims? This is difficult to answer and raises wider questions about the economic foundation of the monastery. There have been few comprehensive studies of the economic bases of early Syrian monasteries, although more has been done for Egypt and Palestine.181 Hagiography is notoriously problematic as a source for economic history, both because hagiographers were uninterested in a realistic appraisal of the subject, and because money and wealth were highly ideologically charged topics. We thus cannot necessarily take at face value Symeon’s hagiographer’s depiction of the financial workings of the monastery.
The hagiographer presents Symeon as being vehemently opposed to money and to economic transactions. This is shown not only by his repeated insistence that pilgrims should not bring gifts to thank him, but also by his unusual reply to a stone-cutter who asked for his help in regaining his stolen salary: ‘the Son of God did not send me to settle questions about money, but to heal those who are sick.’182 In this last instance, he does then help the man to find his money, but it is interesting to note that miracles relating to lost money, although popular in much late antique hagiography, are very rare in the Life.183 Strikingly, the same hostility to money is reflected in the Life of Martha: Symeon states that he was initially reluctant to engage in any building projects, only becoming reconciled to the idea once God had promised that no money would have to be involved.184 Both the Life of Symeon and the Life of Martha claim that the substantial construction works carried out on the ‘Wonderful Mountain’ were the product of voluntary work by pilgrims (many of them from Isauria) who had been cured and wanted to thank the saint.185
But is this picture of a radically money-spurning hegumen, who refused to accept gifts (apart from labour hours and construction materials for building) plausible? If a monastery was not to accept gifts, it could only provide for itself and its guests through its monks’ own labour. Symeon’s monastery does, like other monasteries associated with stylites, seem to have engaged in agriculture.186 The Life contains several references to cultivated gardens and fields attached to the lower monastery.187 The reference to conflict with leaders of nearby villages ‘because of the pasturings [?: νομὰς] of the Wonderful Mountain’ may also reflect agricultural activity.188 The monks appear to have performed at least some of the farm labour themselves.189 The monks thus provided for some of their own needs, and it is not impossible to believe that before Symeon’s rise to prominence, their monastery, under John, could have been largely self-sufficient, if their buildings (which do not survive) were modest and self-built.190
Yet comparative evidence would suggest that, at least by the time of the move to the ‘Wonderful Mountain’ and the building of a new monastic complex, Symeon’s monastery must have relied upon gifts as well as agricultural income. The new monastery was relatively lavish: Djobadze notes the ‘high quality’ of some of its mosaic decoration and the use of ‘imported’ coloured marbles.191 There is near complete consensus among archaeologists, papyrologists, and literary historians that gifts and patronage were essential to monastic economies, especially in the case of large, luxuriously decorated establishments which provided considerable amount of charitable support to the poor and to pilgrims.192 Different monasteries relied on different sources of patronage. Emperors, of course, were important patrons of some monasteries, as is often attested in hagiography.193 But emperors did not patronize all monasteries equally, and it is unlikely that Symeon the Younger benefited seriously from this source.194 Unfortunately, there is no certain evidence for the date of the building of the monastery, but the internal evidence from the Life suggests that the first main building stage took place during the period from roughly 541 to 551, during the reign of Justinian.195 It is unlikely that this emperor contributed to the constructions given his decidedly cool portrayal by the hagiographer.196
Ayşe Henry in an important recent study has emphasized that different phases of building at the site may have been sponsored by different patrons, and suggests that the second period of building work on the site, in the 560s, may have received support from Constantinople.197 Donations by emperors after Justinian cannot be ruled out (and one intriguing reference in the Life to Symeon sending three monks to Constantinople ‘on some business concerning the good of souls’ might suggest an attempt to find imperial or senatorial patronage), but there is no positive evidence for them.198 Wealthy nobles were a key source of patronage for monasteries throughout the empire, and their generous donations are, again, often commemorated by hagiographers.199 Yet, as will be argued below, the Life of Symeon betrays such an unusually hostile attitude to the local nobility, an attitude which may derive from the saint’s own views, that it is difficult to envision strong ties connecting the monastery to members of the Antiochene secular elites. Unlike most saints’ Lives of the period, it contains no stories praising nobles who gave gifts to the saint, and it is very difficult to read it as a patronage-seeking document. Even if the Life does not reflect the real situation in Symeon’s lifetime, it seems that by the time the hagiographer was writing, seeking noble patronage was not a priority.
Who is left? The patronage of monasteries by leading churchmen was not unknown, if perhaps less common than lay patronage; some bishops even founded monasteries.200 Given Symeon’s apparently good relations with several prominent bishops, this could have been a source of revenue, although again there is no evidence for it in the sources.201 Henry has made an interesting argument based largely on contextual factors that Ephraim, patriarch from 527 to 545, supported the beginning of the first phase of the building project.202 Ephraim is certainly depicted in very positive terms in the Life, and Henry argues that his need to rebuild and to promote Antiochene Christianity after the disaster of the Persian sack of 540 provides a plausible context for the building of the new monastic church complex. Yet she herself acknowledges that Ephraim is very unlikely to have patronised the building work directly, since this is neither mentioned in the Life nor commemorated in any surviving inscription from the site. Her interpretation would necessitate that the building work had begun before 545, the year of Ephraim’s death; it certainly is very unlikely to have received Antiochene patriarchal support between 545 and 559, during the patriarchate of Domninos, since this patriarch was so vehemently excoriated by Symeon’s hagiographer.203
The only remaining source of donations would seem to be the regular stream of pilgrims and supplicants who visited Symeon’s shrine.204 If these supplicants are envisaged as being primarily of low or medium income, a considerable number of visitors would be required to pay for, for example, the building projects on the mountain. But Symeon’s Life does claim that the saint did receive a vast quantity of visitors, and the archaeological evidence of the pilgrim tokens from the shrine may support this.205 It is, perhaps, not impossible to envision a monastery that subsisted primarily from large numbers of relatively small gifts by ordinary supplicants.
This does, however, call into question the hagiographer’s claims about Symeon’s refusal to accept gifts. Two interpretative possibilities are possible. The first would be to accept much of what the hagiographer does say, including his claims that the building of the monastery was made possible by the donation of materials and manpower by healed supplicants. If Symeon really did refuse to accept more gifts than this, it might well have provoked hostility among his monks, who could have seen that this was an unrealistic economic strategy. Yet it ultimately seems more plausible that this conflict over the acceptance of gifts was largely staged by the hagiographer. It is relatively common in hagiography for saints to be presented as free sources of spiritual help, even if rare for this to be insisted on so vehemently as in the Life of Symeon. As Déroche suggests, however, this is often little more than a rhetorical platitude.206 In this case, therefore, it is likely that the hagiographer is treating a real conflict between Symeon and his monks, but veiling its causes, by attributing it to a factor which show the saint in an unambiguously positive light: his superabundant charity. The true circumstances which involved the monks becoming ‘men-demons’ may therefore be lost to us. Symeon’s career thus shows both that a stylite could be fully integrated into a coenobitic monastery, and that this was liable to cause serious difficulties and tensions.
External Opposition
The tensions within his monastery were far from the only conflict in Symeon’s career. He seems to have experienced hostility from a diverse range of groups outside his monastery, on varying grounds. Like many other holy men and churchmen, he provoked economic resentment as the new monastery encroached on locals’ pastures.207 Thus the Life tells us that ‘the Devil began…to stir up the leaders of the surrounding towns over pasturing [?] on the Wonderful Mountain on which the monastery of the blessed man was situated’.208 This economic conflict with the local farmers is not, however, a main theme of the Life. More common are instances of tension between Symeon and various members of the local clergy.209 Thomas, a priest from the village of Paradeisos, was ‘seized by a diabolic jealousy’ and anathematized Symeon.210 Similarly, an unnamed priest from the village of Kassa became very envious when he heard about Symeon’s miracles, criticized him, and finally, under the influence of a devil, anathematized the saint.211 Both, unsurprisingly, were immediately afflicted by divine punishments, as were the deacon Epiphanios, from a village called Euthalion near Antioch, and John, a deacon of the Holy Church of God in Antioch, both of whom spoke abusively about the saint, the latter to the point of writing to him ‘a letter full of many insults and blasphemous words’.212 Two other stories may be suggestive of similar tensions. In one, a Georgian priest who starts, in his own country, a miracle-working shrine with a lock of Symeon’s hair, excites the envy of his local priests because ‘crowds were going to that place and giving offerings’; the priests denounce him to their bishop as a magician; the bishop then imposes sanctions on him until the bishop himself falls ill and repents.213 Finally, in a rather different story, Symeon exposes John, a priest and oikonomos (steward) from the Church of Apamea, who has come to visit him, as a wicked idolater.214
It is difficult to know what to make of these stories. Apart from the last-mentioned case (in which the priest is not in fact openly hostile to Symeon), the accounts are suggestive of the well-documented resentment felt by some non-monastic clergymen towards holy men, on the grounds that the latter’s charismatic authority was drawing away influence, power, and wealth from them.215 The account set in Iberia certainly explicitly states that it was economic considerations (as well as the work of the Devil) that provoked the envy of the Georgian priests. The stories about the local priests from near Symeon’s monastery are less direct, but the repeated references to jealousy may suggest that similar factors were at play. This is certainly the reading of Philippe Escolan, who posits a seriously hostile relationship between Symeon and the clergy, although his argument rests in part on an apparent misinterpretation of chapter 224 of the Life.216 It is very plausible that rivalry could have existed between Symeon and other local priests.
This is not to say that the stylite lived in tension with the entire Church; in fact, the text provides considerable evidence of integration between the two.217 Not only does the hagiographer emphasize Symeon’s close relationship with several bishops of Antioch, Seleucia, and Constantinople, but, as Susan Ashbrook Harvey has shown brilliantly, his focus on liturgy serves to show Symeon’s integration into the Church: ‘ultimately, liturgy transfigured the ascetic body of the stylite into the ecclesial body of the church.’218 The picture given by the Life is thus complex: on the one hand, it seems to reflect the growing closeness of the monastic and ecclesiastical worlds by the sixth century, as monasteries came increasingly under episcopal control while, at the same time, the Church was ever more influenced by ascetic and monastic ideals; on the other, it suggests that this process had not caused rivalries to disappear, at least at a local level.219 Indeed, if the stylite did enjoy a strong relationship with Antiochene bishops, this could have heightened tensions between him and lower-level clerics, as the latter saw Symeon’s popularity threatening their standing not only among the wider population but also with their own ecclesiastical superiors.
Most of the criticisms levelled at Symeon in the Life do not relate to any identifiable rivalries, but rather seem to reflect a widespread religious scepticism, largely among Christians, about his claims to holiness. In particular, his ability to perform miracles is frequently doubted: one man from Daphne was reluctant to take his daughter to Symeon to be cured, as he was ‘held by a profound incredulity’; a bald man, Babylas, initially refused to use a eulogia given to him by Symeon to grow his hair, ‘not believing this to be possible’; and the ‘masters’ of a priest who had experienced many of Symeon’s miracles mocked them.220 Other opponents accepted that miracles took place but denied that they were divine: a Cilician brick-maker asked a potential supplicant of the saint, ‘Why do you delude yourselves, going to an imposter who makes it his business to do that kind of thing to people through magic tricks?’.221 Antony Kaldellis has argued persuasively that these kinds of doubts and queries, which are fairly common in hagiography, do not simply represent generic clichés; rather, they must be a response to real scepticism among the broader Christian society (even if the particular incidents are not literally true).222 Indeed, it is demonstrably true that ordinary Christian believers sometimes struggled to accept holy men’s claims to miracle-working powers, often in the face of their failures to perform.223
Yet Symeon faced far greater doubts and hostility than many holy men, because of the devastations suffered by northern Syria in the sixth century. The significance of the disasters to Symeon’s reputation is shown by the careful attention paid to them in the Life: even if the proportion of the text dealing with them directly is relatively small, the accounts constitute some of the text’s most elaborate chapters.224 The hagiographer combines precise detail about the scope and effects of the disasters with highly emotive and religiously charged language reminiscent of apocalyptic literature. This combination is illustrated, for example, by chapters 104–7 of the Life, which probably deal with the severe series of earthquakes of late 557.225 The hagiographer narrates in detail Symeon’s predictions of the disaster and his efforts to negotiate with God to mitigate its results, his composition of three troparia for his monks and visitors to chant, his mother’s fear, and the series of earthquakes itself. The account has apocalyptic and eschatological overtones throughout.226 Thus the narrative of events is frequently interrupted by Symeon’s visions: he sees, for example, the heavens open (with a phrase recalling the book of Revelation), the heavenly powers in two ranks with bowed heads, and above them a throne, raised in the air with no supports, and Christ sitting on it, full of anger.227 Later, he sees an aerial boat containing ‘angels of wrath’, which is steered by the Holy Spirit against the coast.228 He predicts to his brethren that if they cannot appease God’s anger, ‘stone will not remain on stone’, recalling Jesus’s words in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark about the destruction of the Temple, which lead into his discourse about the end times.229 Yet despite these apocalyptic overtones, the hagiographer takes care to describe the extent of the earthquake with some precision. Thus he narrates, of the first quake:
The next day, at about the tenth hour, the whole earth was shaken by a great earthquake, the like of which none among the many past generations could remember, and cities and villages of the coast fell down, as in the vision he [Symeon] had seen…. But in the northern region, from Laodicea to Antioch, everything remained upright; only certain towers in the wall and church walls were broken, but there was no collapse, as the saint predicted, and the region from Tyre to Jerusalem too, as well as the southern region, was preserved equally, just as had appeared to Symeon in his vision.230
Subsequently, Symeon foresees that another quake will strike parts of Constantinople and its surroundings; the hagiographer is equally precise about the results of this, recounting that it caused much destruction in Constantinople, Nicomedia, Rhegium, parts of Nicaea, and other towns in Illyria.231 It is important to bear this element of precision in mind, because it suggests that the hagiographer is not exaggerating the scale of the crises he recounts for any special purpose (for example, for didactic reasons, to stress the need for the people to repent). Rather, as the previously quoted passages make clear, far from overplaying the effects of the earthquake, Symeon’s hagiographer stresses their limitations, in order to show that Symeon’s prayers had some moderating influence. The true scale of the disasters posed, in fact, a severe problem for both hagiographer and saint, as it called into question the efficacy of Symeon’s intercessory powers.
Theodicy and the Problem of Intercession
The Life reveals that the catastrophes afflicting Antioch and its surroundings led to challenges to Christian belief and in particular to Christian theodicy.232 Thus, for instance, it tells us that Evagrios Scholastikos entertained blasphemous thoughts when the plague killed his own children but spared those of a pagan neighbour, a story confirmed by Evagrios himself.233 More generally, the Life reports that there were some ‘impious men of the city of Antioch’ who denied mortal sin, the Last Judgement, and the final resurrection, and some of whom, significantly, ‘judged that the movement of the stars was the cause of the earthquakes which were happening’.234 Here, deviant explanations of the earthquakes are linked to doubts concerning Symeon’s miracles: these impious men, hearing about the saint’s miracles, challenged him in debate.235 Another episode conveys the impression still more strongly that the saint’s hagiographer felt divergent explanations of the earthquakes to be a direct threat to Symeon’s authority: Symeon foresees an earthquake and prays for pardon from the Saviour, but the earthquake strikes nonetheless, whereupon ‘some of those who are pagans and waste their labour in the deceit that is astrology said that the city would certainly be destroyed’.236 The stylite, however, proved them wrong: praying again, he managed to stop the earthquake and proclaimed, ‘It is ended, the futile error of the calculators who brashly claim to know the will of God by guessing at events’.237 The hagiographer thus portrays the saint as claiming the end of the earthquake as proof of his interpretation of events, and of his intercessory powers, against rivals who implicitly or explicitly denied his authority and relevance.
The threat posed by such disasters to Symeon’s authority is further shown by the confused, and sometimes unorthodox, ways in which the hagiographer attempts to justify the saint’s failure to prevent the devastation. In particular, the Life’s presentation of Symeon’s conversations with God is highly revealing: in times of crisis, the two frequently come into conflict. Déroche has noted examples from various hagiographies of the author presenting his saint as being unwilling to follow God’s will: for instance, (the deceased) Demetrios of Thessalonike refused to leave his city to plague, although ordered to do so by angels; Symeon the Younger rebuked the heavenly saints for failing to answer his prayer to resurrect his disciple Konon. Déroche is surely right to see behind this the problem of reconciling the saint’s role as obedient performer of divine commands with his equally important role as intercessor for his supplicants; yet his argument is less convincing in trying to associate this dilemma with a specific form of hagiography, miracle-collections, on the grounds that their compilers struggled to unify accounts from different sources.238 It is more probable that the real difficulty was a more basic one, applicable to any hagiographer: how to reconcile high expectations of a holy man with a sometimes disappointing reality. Thus, instances of tension between Symeon and God proliferate in the context of the earthquakes and plagues affecting Antioch, suggesting that the hagiographer is attempting, with limited success, to explain Symeon’s inability to prevent the disasters. Normally, Symeon is presented as a direct channel and ‘vessel’ of God’s will: the elder John states that ‘he is a great and venerable vessel of God’s choice’, and John the Baptist tells Martha that she must guard him carefully ‘as a holy vessel’, a phrase which recurs when the brothers carry him to his new pillar.239
In times of crisis, however, the link between Symeon and God is much less direct. On one occasion, God ignores Symeon’s prayer: Symeon asked God if he would spare Antioch from a Persian attack, ‘and there was no explanation from the Lord, because the anger of his wrath was full’.240 At other times, God or his messengers question Symeon’s attempts to intercede: once when Symeon prays for relief from plague, God replies that the people’s sins are manifold, and asks why Symeon is upset, since he loves them no more than God himself does.241 On another occasion, Symeon is distraught at the destruction he has foreseen, and a troop of angels ask him, ‘What are you so concerned about? Who will tell the Antiochenes this? They speak hostilely about you, and do you fight on their behalf?’.242 The hagiographer thus attempts to move responsibility for the disasters from Symeon to divine will and the Antiochenes’ sins, by showing that he has made great efforts to intercede and change God’s mind.
Yet this is no simple solution to his difficulty, as it fails to deal with the problem of why good people fall victim to disasters. The hagiographer thus has to face a doubly challenging situation: not only does he have to prove that Symeon’s loyalty to his supplicants is unwavering, and effective, but he also has to handle the thorny question of theodicy. In short: he cannot show Symeon accepting God’s apparently indiscriminate punishment of the Antiochenes (as this would be to betray his dependants), but equally he cannot, while remaining in orthodoxy, suggest that God was acting wrongly. In his efforts to handle these competing pressures, the hagiographer tries to portray Symeon as following in the footsteps of Old Testament figures of unquestionable orthodoxy: Abraham and Job. But the extremity of the situation in Antioch forces him to make subtle changes to his models, which have profound consequences for the question of theodicy and the role of the holy man.
When describing the devastating earthquakes of 557, the hagiographer draws on the Old Testament story of Abraham interceding for Sodom. In the biblical passage (Genesis 18:16–33) God decides that he will not conceal his plans from Abraham, and tells the patriarch that he will destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if what he has heard about their sinfulness is true. Abraham, however, questions him, asking if he will really destroy Sodom if he discovers that there are even fifty righteous people there, and suggesting that this would be immoral: ‘By no means will you do anything like this thing, to slay the righteous with the impious, and the righteous will be like the impious! By no means! Shall not you, the one who judges all the earth, do what is just?’243 God promises that if he finds fifty righteous people he will not destroy the city; Abraham then haggles, lowering the number of the just required to save Sodom first to forty-five, then to forty, then thirty, then twenty, and finally to ten; God agrees that he will not destroy the city in any of these situations. In the event, God does destroy the city, after saving the righteous Lot and his daughters. Even this biblical narrative in its original form posed challenges to early Christian commentators: either Abraham was right to intervene, and God was in danger of acting unjustly (which would, of course, be very problematic theologically), or the patriarch’s protestation was unnecessary, which would somewhat undermine Abraham’s own authority. John Chrysostom, in his forty-second homily on Genesis, opts for the latter option, without entirely solving the problem:
So when the angels went off to Sodom, as I remarked before, the patriarch stood before the Lord. ‘Abraham approached him’, the text goes on, ‘and said, “Surely you won’t destroy the righteous along with the impious, so that the righteous will be as the impious?”’ O, what bold speech on the just man’s part—or, rather, his great compassion of spirit, stupefied as he was by the intoxication of sympathy and not knowing what he was saying. To show that he made this plea in great fear and trembling, Sacred Scripture says, ‘Abraham approached him and said, “Surely you won’t destroy the righteous along with the impious?”’ What are you doing, blessed patriarch? Does the Lord require entreaty from you not to do this? No, let us not think that. You see, he doesn’t say it to the Lord as if he were about to do it; instead, since he wasn’t bold enough to speak directly on his nephew’s [i.e. Lot’s] behalf, he made a general entreaty for everyone out of a desire to save his life along with theirs and rescue them along with him.244
Chrysostom explains away Abraham’s words (which he clearly found somewhat problematic), telling his audience that he was ‘stupefied by the intoxication of sympathy and didn’t know what he was saying’: he was so worried about his nephew Lot that he made a quite unnecessary plea to God. The preacher makes it clear that God would never have destroyed the righteous with the ungodly: ‘Does the Lord require entreaty from you not to do this?’. His interpretation of the passage is, therefore, dependent on the claim that God did not destroy anyone just in his punishment; he saved the virtuous Lot, and only condemned the other, sinful, men of Sodom. He thus manages to avoid any suggestion that God could act unjustly, even if at the price of suggesting that Abraham was not entirely in control of himself.
What we find in the Life of Symeon is more startling. At the beginning of his account of the earthquake of 557, the hagiographer tells us that God ‘looked and saw the whole earth corrupted…. And he did not hide anything from his servant’; this last phrase recalls God’s decision in Genesis 18:17 not to conceal his intentions from Abraham.245 Symeon then receives various warnings of the destruction that was going to take place before having a vision of Christ seated on an aerial throne. Symeon finds himself in front of the throne, and says to Christ:
Hear me Lord, the God of me your servant, and have mercy and don’t carry out the word of your anger, but be reconciled through your love for mankind. On the first Friday when you ordered that Antioch be overthrown, were there not thirty righteous men in her, and didn’t you destroy them with the impious? But don’t now act on that basis; you who judge the whole earth, don’t destroy the righteous with the impious.246
This passage is clearly based upon the Genesis passage just discussed and indeed has strong verbal parallels with it.247 Yet whereas Abraham’s speech is entirely directed towards the future, urging God not to destroy the righteous with the impious—and John Chrysostom is therefore able to defend God by stating that, of course, he would never act in this unjust way—Symeon, according to his hagiographer, told Christ that he had already destroyed the righteous with the impious, on a previous occasion when Antioch had been overthrown; he simply asks him not to repeat this distressing action.248 The hagiographer thus comes very close to making Symeon reproach God for having behaved immorally in the past, a reproach charged with potentially subversive implications. This is not to suggest that the hagiographer was consciously trying to imply that God had acted unjustly; this is most unlikely. Rather, the extremities of the situation in Antioch, and the almost impossible task of having to balance Symeon’s duty to the Antiochenes with his loyalty to God, forced him into this awkward and in some ways destabilizing parallel with Abraham. Although the hagiographer tries to claim this episode as a triumph for Symeon, as he successfully persuaded God to spare Antioch from the earthquake’s worst effects and it caused greater destruction elsewhere, his presentation of events implicitly acknowledges that Symeon is unable to prevent the earthquake fully and had previously failed to prevent Antioch from being ‘overthrown’, thus exposing the vulnerability of the saint’s problematic position as mediator.
Yet earthquakes in nearby cities were not the biggest challenge faced by Symeon. While the Life certainly does suggest that he was deemed to have a responsibility to protect neighbouring areas, the centre of his authority and therefore of his protective sphere was his own monastery. A passage in the Life of Martha shows clearly that Symeon’s powers were supposed to keep his monks safe, unless they acted sinfully: one of the monks fell ill after extinguishing the lamp on Martha’s tomb, ‘and so since the grace given to the holy man did not allow anything bad to befall any of them unless one of his commands was disobeyed, the brother naturally asked what he had done wrong’.249 His powers were thus particularly vulnerable to scepticism and criticism if his monastery was afflicted by disaster.
This seems to have happened, during his lifetime, in the form of an outbreak of the plague. Antony Kaldellis has shown that sixth-century writers, in the absence of a shared, coherent, and emotionally satisfying theological explanation for disasters, often wrote about outbreaks of plague in confused and contradictory ways.250 He does not consider Symeon the Younger’s Life, except in relation to Evagrios’s response to his children’s death, yet the text certainly confirms his thesis.251 The hagiographer, striving to justify how Symeon’s own disciples could fall victim to the plague, develops an elaborate account modelled on the book of Job, according to which the outbreak of the plague is part of Satan’s plan, with God’s permission, to test Symeon. Yet even though this approach might seem to have the potential to deal with the problem in a sophisticated and satisfying manner, again we see that the hagiographer’s concerns to defend the saint at all costs lead him to make alterations to his biblical model and into inconsistencies.
Job was an icon and role model for many early Christian monks, viewed as the perfect example of how to endure suffering with patience.252 Job is thus frequently cited in hagiography, particularly in reference to ailments endured by holy men: to take but a few examples, Theodore of Sykeon ‘was thought to be a new Job because of his great suffering’; John the Almsgiver was described as a new Job after his wealth was lost at sea (but later replaced twofold); Symeon Stylites the Elder is repeatedly compared to Job, as, for example, when Satan apparently received permission from God to smite the stylite with a worm-filled infection in his foot.253 Yet these comparisons are, by and large, brief and relatively straightforward: they are used to show how the saints in question endured personal misfortunes. The account in the Life of Symeon the Younger is much longer, more complex, and more morally problematic, as the saint experiences illness not in his own body, but in those of his dependent disciples. In order to demonstrate the complexities and problems of the hagiographer’s narration, it is necessary to summarize the relevant section of the Life.254
It begins immediately after the account of the brothers’ uprising against Symeon led by Angoulas, discussed above. Symeon summons his monks and tells them to endure the tests they have to face; he then reads and explains the book of Job to them. He reports that Satan has acquired a power against them and against young children, but that he himself has gained the power to resist him, and he narrates a vision he had seen of the Devil outside the gates of heaven. The hagiographer then recounts a conversation between the Devil and God: the Devil is ordered by God to attack children and good men, whereupon he retorts that he will start with Symeon. God refuses, saying that He protects Symeon; the Devil is angered, saying that it is easy for Symeon to be pious since God has always favoured him. He then asks Him to let him excite disobedient men against Symeon and to turn his disciples into men-demons.255 God gives him permission, ‘to reveal the steadfastness of His servant all the more through such a trial’.256 The Holy Spirit reassures Symeon that God had not given Satan power against the stylite himself, but that He ‘had given permission to this alone, that he should wrestle with him by putting his brethren to the test’.257 After this, we are told, Satan swoops down to Symeon’s column and threatens him, telling him that he will make the people and his disciples cause him intolerable troubles. Symeon drives Satan away. While leaving, the Devil touches Symeon’s beard and all the hairs fall out, but the saint prays to God, who makes the beard reappear.
At this point, the narrative becomes confused.258 The hagiographer refers, very briefly, to disturbances caused by the Devil, recounting that he stirred up trouble among the brothers, hardened the hearts of the people who came to the monastery, and made the leaders of neighbouring towns angry with the saint, but that all this was to no avail, because pagans and barbarians and heretics all converted to God, and:
the masses too, whose hearts had been hardened for a little while, returned again to their former conviction. From then on the brothers’ thoughts also calmed down after their previous disturbance, and the leaders of the surrounding towns desisted from their untimely unrest and were very peacefully and lovingly disposed towards the saint as before.259
This would seem to be the fulfilment of Satan’s pact with God, yet, at this point, after peace has apparently been restored, the hagiographer narrates, ‘after this drew near the time of trials which the Devil had sought and received from the Lord, to smite first children and good men and to wrestle with the servant of God through the brethren’.260 The Devil spreads his wings over the northeastern part of Antioch and causes great lamentation there among children and many men. This appears to be a euphemistic way of referring to the plague, given that later passages make it clear the discussion refers to an illness.261 Supplicants from Antioch, and Symeon’s mother Martha, beg him to protect Antioch; at dawn on Sunday Symeon prays to God and sees himself in a vision over the affected part of the city, ‘and although he completed his prayer for that place, he did not receive authority to pray for the whole city’; the hagiographer thus has to acknowlege limitations on the saint’s capacities.262 The Devil then moved to the southern part of the city and caused further great grieving there. On the next Saturday (the intervening week is passed over swiftly) Martha again urges Symeon to pray for the bane/plague (πληγήν) to be removed. On Sunday Symeon sees himself in the southwest of Antioch, from where the Devil is trying to attack the whole town. Symeon prevents him from doing this but the Devil retorts that he will target his monks instead. Soon the Devil attempts to attack the monastery; Symeon resists, and the Devil is ordered by God to leave, for the moment, and strike a different region.
On Sunday, however, Symeon calls the brothers together and tells them that the trials are imminent, urging them to resist evil. The Devil tells Symeon that he will strike the first blow against ‘the one who always obeys me, Angoulas’; Symeon reports this to the brothers; Angoulas retorts rudely and immediately falls severely ill.263 After this, we are told, ‘in the same way, almost in one moment, the destroyer rushed against all the brothers, and all were struck with the same death-bringing sickness; some of the more negligent among them even died’.264 Then one of the monks, Konon, ‘whom the saint loved greatly for his zealousness’, dies of the same illness; Symeon, distraught at this, calls upon God and the heavenly powers to resurrect him.265 When he is initially unsuccessful in his requests, he appears to grow angry with his heavenly intercessors (including Mary, John the Baptist, and the angels and archangels), asking if they have forgotten their love for him and saying that if Konon is not resurrected all his efforts have been in vain. The brothers present become terrified, seeing heaven looking angered.266 Symeon prays again, and finally the Lord appears to him (in a vision laden with apocalyptic overtones); He inquires into the situation and resurrects Konon.267 The account ends with a statement that these troubles happened to the brothers because of their failure to obey Symeon properly, despite his efforts to encourage the weaker monks to act better.
The general tenor of the account is somewhat incoherent and contradictory, both on a structural and narratological level and on an interpretative one. In terms of the shape of the narrative, it is far from clear what the relationship is supposed to be between the two different sets of Satanic attacks which are described: the first being when Satan makes the monks, visitors, and neighbours of the saint hostile to Symeon (which the hagiographer refers to very briefly, providing no explanation or detail of this hostility), and the second, recounted in much more detail, when he smites both Antioch and the monastery with plague. As narrated, the two episodes seem to follow on from each other chronologically, with little to no link between them. But the introductory part of this section, when Satan negotiates with God to gain power against Symeon, does not speak of him making two separate attacks on the saint, but of one. This introductory section undoubtedly refers to the plague, as it speaks of Satan being sent against children, who are later named as among the primary victims of the plague in Antioch.268 Yet it also speaks of the Devil turning Symeon’s monks into men-demons, which must be a reference to the outbreak of widespread hostility to the saint.269 Two interpretations are possible. Either the hagiographer is conflating two separate episodes of trouble faced by Symeon, and tries to deal with them both through the typology of Job, or in fact the scepticism targeted at the saint and the outbreak of the plague are linked. By this latter reading, the brief reference at the end of chapter 125 to the outbreak of hostility to the saint and its swift conclusion might in fact anticipate and summarise the subsequent more extensive narrative about the spread of the illness itself; the outbreak of plague could have caused this widespread scepticism and criticism.
Still more fundamentally, the narrative is also confused at an interpretative level. On the one hand, the hagiographer uses the typology of Job to explain the events. This is signalled quite explicitly, since Symeon reads the book of Job to his monks to prepare them for the crisis. When he recounts his vision of Satan to the monks, he states that it was ‘just as what was read to you in the book of Job signified’.270 The conversation described between Satan and God, in which the former gains the power to test Symeon through other men, is closely modelled on the opening passages of the book of Job, in which God gives Satan the permission to test Job to prove that he is a truly pious servant of God, but denies him, initially, power to afflict Job himself.271 The hagiographer somewhat adapts the story of Job, since in the Bible, when Satan’s attacks on Job’s animals, servants, and children fail, he does then gain permission from God to afflict Job directly with sickness, although not with death.272 This second stage of trials does not happen to Symeon; the hagiographer’s focus remains on the sufferings of the brethren and the Antiochenes. At one level, this use of the story of Job is a very effective way of justifying the outbreak of plague at Symeon’s monastery, as it suggests that far from being the fault of the saint or his monks, it is in fact a product of Symeon’s great virtue: the Devil yearns to prove that the apparently perfect man can be shaken from piety by distress. The hostility of the brothers is presented as a product, not a cause, of the Devil’s attacks: ‘I will enter into his disciples and turn them savage, into a species of men-demons.’273 This explanatory schema could even explain why good monks such as Konon could fall victim to the plague, since the illness was a byproduct of Satan’s hostility to Symeon rather than the result of sinfulness.
Yet at the same time there is a decidedly different interpretative current running through the hagiographer’s narrative, one that presents the troubles as the punishment for the monks’ disobedience to the saint, and suggests that the plague served to reform and improve the monastery, in part by removing the most wicked of its monks. The news that Satan was about to strike the monastery is said to have induced a change of heart among the monks: ‘and behold the monastery, weeping and repenting, was whitened and grew young again.’274 The idea of the regeneration of the sinful monastery emerges still more clearly through the hagiographer’s use of a horticultural image: the saint, he reports, positioned the brethren before him ‘like a very extended vine, its branches waving in fruits of justice. And since the time had come to prune the vine, so that it would bear more fruit and they would become truly his disciples’, he told them that the tests were imminent.275 This image implies the monastery was being purged, violently, of damaging and disruptive elements. The pre-existence of sinfulness among the brethren is referred to explicitly when the plague actually strikes the monastery: not only does Satan first attack the wicked Angoulas but, as mentioned above, the hagiographer claims that some of the ‘more negligent’ brothers died from the illness. This is evidently a return to the concept of disease as punishment for sin, even though the hagiographer immediately goes on to describe the impressively zealous monk Konon falling ill with the same sickness. The clearest expression of this interpretative scheme comes in the final lines of the account: ‘All this happened to the brothers because of their negligence and contempt which they displayed for the commands of the just man [Symeon], who tried to support those who were left remaining not to be careless any longer, but rather to obey his words enthusiastically.’276
This explanatory approach is incompatible with the Job typology outlined above: in the one, the plague is the product of Satan’s God-sanctioned testing of the virtuous Symeon and his monks; in the other, in contrast, it is created by the same monks’ sinfulness. The hagiographer thus responds inconsistently and rather incoherently to what was, perhaps, the biggest challenge of Symeon’s career. Constrained by events, he has to admit limitations on the saint’s capacities—thus he notes that Symeon did not obtain the power to protect the entirety of Antioch from the plague—but tries to deploy various competing explanatory arguments to show, first and foremost, that the stylite himself could not be blamed for what had taken place. Indeed, the only common strand between his two interpretative systems is that, in both, the guilt is placed firmly elsewhere: in the Job-typology, on Satan and his envy of Symeon, and in the punishment-for-sins model, on the disobedience of the monks. For the hagiographer, needing to counteract the scepticism faced by the holy man in the light of these disasters, the pressure to absolve him of all blame was a much higher priority than forming an internally consistent interpretation of what had taken place.
Scapegoats: The Pagan Rich
Symeon’s hagiographer thus uses a variety of biblical typologies and interpretative strategies in his attempts to explain why Antioch and its neighbouring regions faced disaster despite the supplications of the saint. But these defensive and exculpatory measures were not the only tactic employed by the hagiographer in the face of growing scepticism induced by crisis. He also seems—quite possibly following in the footsteps of the saint himself—to have adopted a more aggressive approach, employing strong, potentially divisive rhetoric to separate and condemn the impious in society whose behaviour had supposedly provoked most of the disasters. In particular, the frequent references to paganism (sometimes paired with other forms of heterodoxy such as astrology and Manicheism) in the Life are highly significant. Pagans appear in varying contexts, most commonly as supplicants at Symeon’s shrine; as secret pagans whom Symeon exposes; and, as we have seen, as those who advanced alternative, non-Christian, explanations for the disasters.277 Once paganism is explicitly blamed for crisis: thus when Symeon discovers that God is planning to let the Persians sack Antioch, and prays to ask him to change his mind, God retorts:
Lo, the cry of its inhabitants has risen to me, and the time is at hand for its retribution for the lawless acts which they perform, setting up a table and libations and sacrifices to the demons, using the Fortune [Tyche] of the city as a pretext and thereby provoking my jealousy. Because of this I will give them over to a witless race.278
The hagiographer here makes supposed idolaters in Antioch the scapegoats for the Persian invasion; their pagan activities, although apparently intended to protect the city, have irremediably angered God.
What, however, should we make of these references to paganism? Déroche argues that they do not show that paganism had survived well into the sixth century; instead ‘pagan’ in the Life means only a Christian who was superstitious, or sceptical about Symeon.279 He may go too far in rejecting the idea of sixth-century Byzantine paganism: as discussed in Chapter 1, pagans are certainly referred to in a wide range of sources from this period, and sometimes, as Peter Bell notes, in ways which suggest that ‘their existence is taken completely for granted’.280 Thus, while it is unlikely that we will ever be able to prove how common paganism really was at this time, there is no reason to dismiss out of hand the idea that Symeon and his hagiographer might have encountered ‘real’ pagans in and around sixth-century Antioch. Nonetheless, as has been seen, it is clear that references to ‘pagans’ could be used to fulfil a range of polemical and political purposes which were not necessarily related to the realities of pagan survivals. In particular, imperially sponsored purges of ‘pagans’ seem to have targeted dissident or potentially dissident members of traditional elites, who had a strong cultural connection to the classical past and were thus vulnerable to such charges.
Accusations of ‘paganism’ thus often had implications that were not only religious but social and political. It is particularly important to bear in mind this social dimension of allegations of paganism when examining the Life of Symeon, for here too we find an association drawn between pagans and the wealthy. The Life is, in general, unusually hostile to the Antiochene upper classes. As noted above, it was not uncommon for hagiographers, particularly those writing in the fifth century, to include stories which portray their heroes as defenders of the poor from the cruel behaviour of the rich.281 Most of these stories, however, are offset by others in which virtuous nobles who show their devotion to the holy man (usually by giving him gifts and patronage) are treated by him with respect, often benefiting from his miraculous powers.282 Their purpose thus appears didactic: to encourage the wealthy to emulate the examples of the virtuous nobles, in order to receive the same rewards. Symeon’s Life stands out, as it contains almost no episodes which depict the local secular elites in a positive light (although there are a small number of neutral/positive references to nobles in Constantinople).283 Several stories describe scepticism about Symeon and his powers on the part of notables from Antioch and its surroundings, including an unnamed magistrianos, the ‘masters’ (δεσπόται) of a priest from the village of Basileia, and Anastasios, a scholastikos and friend of two illoustrioi, Asterios and Thomas Veredaronas.284 Anastasios’s association with secular elite culture is signified by the fact that Symeon’s messenger finds him when he has just bathed and is sitting ‘in one of the notable spots of the city, in the so-called Diphotos, near the winter bath’; he also subsequently dies in ‘the public portico’.285 Babylas, a man from a village near Antioch, whom Symeon cures of baldness, is interrogated about his cure by ‘many of the most important men of the city and their followers who had previously mocked him contemptuously’.286
Most strikingly, the Life suggests that many of the notables of Antioch were secret pagans. Symeon exposes the demon-worship of an individual noble: we are told that ‘one of the notables of the aforementioned city of Antioch’ came to take communion during a celebration at the monastery but was rebuffed by Symeon, who eventually turned to him and exposed his hidden wickedness, accusing him of constantly blaspheming Christ and threatening him that a demon would hang him in the air until he confessed his sins.287 The notable, in terror, ‘started recounting his lawless actions, his blasphemies towards God, the numerous sacrifices which he offered in secret to the demons, and other abominable things which we judge best to pass over in silence, to spare the ears of simple people’.288 This crypto-pagan does not appear as an isolated example but as characteristic of a wider trend among the Antiochene nobility. This is made clear during the most explicitly political part of the Life, that conveying Symeon’s support for the imperial agent Amantios. After ‘some of the unbelievers’, who wanted to insult Symeon ‘because he had often exposed the false belief and error of those practising paganism among them’, tried to destroy an icon of him, the saint asked God to send a man to expose the impious.289 Importantly, in this imprecation he links the idolatry of the sceptics to their wealth, asking God to send His agent ‘to make an example of all the beliefs that they hold because they put their faith not in you, but in their great wealth. This is why their reason has been corrupted into practises of idolatry, the fact that they considered gold to be their God.’290
Symeon then related a vision to his monks: ‘a formidable commander/official will come and expose the impiety and low practices of the atheists.’291 Within a few month this officer, Amantios, came to Antioch, employing such harsh tactics that ‘even those whose way of life was blameless feared his coming’.292 Amantios, upon investigating Antioch, ‘found most of the leading men of the city and many of its inhabitants possessed by Hellenism [i.e. paganism] and Manichaeism and astrology and automatism and other ill-omened heresies’ [emphasis mine].293 The Life continues to describe the diverse punishments, including, significantly, heavy fines, which Amantios inflicted on the heretics: ‘their wealth was used up in numerous fines.’294 The account is laced with strong religious symbolism: Symeon saw Amantios in a vision with the river Jordan following him, the paradise of God, and a wild beast paraded in procession, representing the discovery of the truth and the punishment and mockery of the idolaters;295 he later saw, in a vision of the tribunal, stars emerging from the darkness of night.296 The hagiographer thus portrays Amantios as an instrument of God’s will, and the fulfilment of Symeon’s prayer for the chastisement of the heretics.
Amantios, however, may have been a controversial figure, and was certainly associated with controversial policies. The chronicle of John Malalas contains the only other known contemporary reference to him, describing him, as governor of the east, punishing those involved in the Samaritan revolt of 555/6: ‘he hanged some, beheaded others or cut off their right hands, and confiscated others’ property. There was great fear in the city of Caesarea and the eastern regions.’297 It is possible that his purge in Antioch, attested only in the Life of Symeon, may have followed on from his actions in Palestine.298 As discussed above, although Symeon’s hagiographer claims that the sole target of the purge was heterodoxy, the reality may well have been more complex: the Life also refers to Symeon saving from execution a δημότης (common man/factional partisan) imprisoned by Amantios who had caused ‘many disturbances during popular/factional [δημοτικαῖς] disorders’.299 Whether this refers simply to popular unrest, or more specifically to conflict between the circus factions, it certainly suggests that the targets of the purge may have been guilty of social and political as much as religious crimes. In any case, the descriptions of Amantios’s confiscations of property in Malalas, and of his imposition of fines in the Life of Symeon, recall hostile accounts of Justinian’s purges by authors including Prokopios and Evagrios Scholastikos, who claimed that the accusations of heterodoxy and misdemeanours were invented to enable the emperor to accumulate as much wealth as possible; thus for instance Evagrios wrote ‘many, indeed innumerable, men of substantial property [Justinian] deprived of all their possessions, painting on excuses without excuse’.300
All this suggests that persecutions like that described in Symeon’s Life were highly controversial, and that by supporting one of their leaders, Amantios, Symeon’s hagiographer was aligning himself with a particular political faction. Yet, as we have seen, he does not always favour Justinian, and indeed downplays his role in the appointment of Amantios.301 He does not seem, therefore, to be straightforwardly promoting imperial propaganda; instead, he thought that supporting Amantios’s persecutions lay in Symeon’s best interests. Just as Justinian may have launched persecutions to deflect the idea that earthquakes and defeat in war were a punishment for a wicked emperor, so too Symeon is shown supporting his efforts, as well as launching his own, smaller scale, persecutions by punishing sceptics, to deflect attention from his own impotence to the impieties of others.302
There is a strong social dynamic to this scapegoating in the Life of Symeon. The hagiographer emphasized that the wealthy elites of Antioch were disproportionately represented among the pagans detected by Amantios; he even claimed that it was the worship of gold that led to their idolatry. This may, in part, reflect reality; as noted above, purges elsewhere in the empire seem to have targeted the rich. Yet, given the other indications already discussed of the hagiographer’s hostility towards the upper echelons of local society, it is almost certain that he consciously emphasized the guilt of the rich. Crucially, this does not seem to be an innovation by the hagiographer, but rather to reflect the saint’s own rhetoric, since Symeon himself in his sermons evinces considerable hostility towards the wealthy and draws a very similar connection to that found in the Life between riches and paganism.303 Why, then, do Symeon and his hagiographer target the rich in this way? It is quite possible that, as mentioned above, the lifestyles of the Antiochene notables made them vulnerable to such attacks: continuities from pre-Christian culture in art, education, and lifestyle could easily be perceived and condemned as ‘pagan’.304 Some of Symeon’s comments in his sermons certainly suggest that this was the case, as when he addresses a hypothetical rich man, telling him that his luxurious lifestyle made him like a pagan ‘even if you are called a Christian’.305 This is a strong statement, effectively narrowing the boundaries of Christianity to include only those who met the saint’s very high standards. Such comments support Robin Lane Fox’s argument that the holy man tended to function less as a ‘mediator’ than as a ‘commander’, insisting on strict rules; in Symeon’s case his rhetoric became even more stark due to the serious problems facing him.306
Chiara Cremonesi has argued that the hagiographer’s claims that in his youth Symeon refused to drink from his mother’s left breast, or even her right when she had been eating sacrifical meat, was part of a broader rhetoric of separation, asserting an unbreachable divide between pagan and Christian in order to unite Christians together in a time of difficulty.307 Her argument about the imagery of the rejected breast is powerful, but it seems likely that the rhetoric was intended not to unite all Christians, but to condemn and ostracize Symeon’s critics, and thereby defend the saint himself. In the face of adversity, the stylite adopted an aggressive and divisive strategy that attempted to impose strict binary definitions on an Antiochene society which was in practice more culturally, religiously, and socially fluid. The saint and his defenders may also have exploited pre-existing social friction. As discussed in Chapter 1, Antioch in this period shared with many other cities in the ancient world the potential for conflict between its wealthy and poorer classes, conflict which was sometimes submerged but often came to the fore in times of crisis.308 By playing on such tensions by trying to condemn Antioch’s wealthy elite as unbelievers who were responsible for the disasters which were afflicting the city, the stylite’s supporters could hope to unite the rest of society behind the saint, to shore up his support, and to deflect attention from the failings of his own intercessory powers. They used a harsh, black and white rhetoric, to scapegoat certain ‘heterodox’ elements in society for disasters that affected almost everybody. In a sense, they seem to have been playing out in microcosm in Antioch what Justinian was enacting throughout the empire, without necessarily being conscious or approving of the wider imperial programme. Far from acting to unify society, therefore, the saint appears as a divisive and politicized figure, fighting for his reputation in a climate of uncertainty.
Conclusion
The Life of Symeon Stylites the Younger shows the importance of situating hagiography in its precise historical context. It is a complicated text, containing unexpected silences and unusual interpretations, which can only be understood against the background of sixth-century Antiochene history and society. It has a complex attitude towards important figures of the period, passing over some in silence, treating emperors with reserve, while adopting a generally positive attitude towards local bishops, with the exception of Domninos. It is not, contrary to some earlier interpretations, preoccupied with the ongoing struggle between Chalcedonians and miaphysite factions. Rather, it seems concerned with local Antiochene events and with defending Symeon’s reputation from critics.
In particular, the invasion, earthquakes, and outbreaks of plague experienced by the city and its neighbourhood necessitated a response from the saint’s supporters. The disasters damaged Symeon’s claims to be able to mediate between man and God, provoked increased scepticism and hostility towards the saint, and thereby drove his hagiographer, perhaps following in the stylite’s own footsteps, into aggressive and potentially divisive rhetoric and politics. The author of the Life, torn between presenting Symeon as the direct vessel of God’s will, and as a bold and powerful defender of his supplicants, is forced into conflicting and sometimes uncomfortable explanations of events. As well as drawing on complex biblical typologies, the hagiographer also provides scapegoats for disasters, targeting the supposedly pagan upper classes of Antioch, and going so far as to support the controversial Justinianic persecutions.
One more feature of the text may also serve an apologetic purpose: its unusual length and the vast quantity of miracle stories related within it. Miracle stories could serve an apologetic function: thus Robert Doran has argued that the non-chronological version of the Syriac Life of Symeon Stylites the Elder, preserved in a manuscript at the Vatican, was structured, purposefully, so that the vast majority of the miracles are related before the hagiographer deals directly with the controversial question of Symeon’s ascent onto a column.309 This structure, Doran suggests, is intended to ensure that the reader has accepted Symeon’s holiness before he is confronted with his novel form of asceticism: ‘the very order of the account is thus perhaps also an apology for stylitism.’310 The Life of Symeon Stylites the Younger is not structured in this way, but its accumulation of miracle stories may serve a similar function. By embedding his accounts of the most controversial events of the stylite’s career within extremely lengthy records of his miracles, the hagiographer almost overwhelms the reader with proofs of his saint’s sanctity: the stories of his failures, however dramatic, are vastly outnumbered. The Life of Symeon the Younger contains perhaps more miracles than any other late antique saint’s life; this may be because its hero had to contend with more challenges than almost any other major saint. Unfortunately, we do not have the sources to assess the efficacy of the hagiographer’s approach to dealing with these challenges. There is, however, an important text, probably dating from fairly shortly after the Life of Symeon, which does give some insight into how the saint’s cult continued to evolve: the Life of Martha.
1 Déroche 1996 (and see also Déroche 2004); Millar 2014. Van den Ven’s introduction to his edition of the Life also remains essential. Some important discussion of the Life is included in Henry 2015, although this study is primarily focused on the archaeological evidence from the shrine.
2 On the liturgy: Harvey 1998, esp. pp. 534–9. On wounds: Cremonesi 2011; Cremonesi 2008 discusses references to sacrificial meat, and to paganism more generally, in the Life. On mobility: Frank 2019. On ‘holy anorexia’: Caseau-Chevallier 2003; her attempts, essentially, to psychoanalyse Symeon do not seem to me convincing, as they rely on an overly literal interpretation of the Life and a downplaying of the specifically Christian significance of Symeon’s ascesis.
3 For a recent discussion of the text, see Boero and Kuper 2020, pp. 396–401.
4 Millar 2014, p. 286.
5 Déroche 1996, p. 70; Dal Santo 2012, pp. 196–7; Efthymiadis 2014b, pp. 117–18.
6 On the relationship between the two genres, see below pp. 209–16.
7 See Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 124*–9*; Millar 2014, pp. 285–6; Déroche 1996, pp. 68–71 (Déroche 2004, p. 373, gives a somewhat more positive view of the Life’s chronology).
8 The miracles in chapters 80–4 (pp. 68–9) and 86–9 (p. 70) are repeated, sometimes with more details (such as the names of the supplicants), in chapters 241–8 (pp. 216–19): see Van den Ven 1962–70, I, p. 130* n. 1; II, p. 86 n. 3, p. 241 n. 3; Chitty 1964, p. 181. Déroche has attempted to identify other examples of repetition of chapters or sequences of chapters but these are less certain (Déroche 1996, pp. 68–9).
9 Van den Ven 1962–70, I, p. 130* n. 1; Chitty 1964, p. 180. On Angoulas and his role in the Life, see Déroche 1996, pp. 74–5, and below pp. 141–3, 159.
10 See Delehaye 1923, pp. lxiii–lxiv; Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 102*–3*; Déroche 1996, pp. 71–2; Millar 2014, p. 283.
11 Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 12*–30*.
12 The only manuscript of this Syriac version of the Life dates from the tenth century, but it refers to the translation being made in the year 1139 of the Greeks, i.e. ad 827–8. Unfortunately, the Syriac translation of the Life is unpublished, and I have not been able to consult the manuscript (which is among the Sinai ‘New Finds’) in full. I have, however, seen images of the first few pages of the manuscript, which were very kindly shared with me by Vevian Zaki; from these, the translation appears faithful to the Greek Life (with a few small linguistic changes; for instance, where in his youth the Greek Life merely refers to the saint as ‘Symeon’, the Syriac translation consistently refers to him as Mar, i.e. Saint, Symeon). The manuscript is described (although mistakenly identified as a translation of Theodoret of Cyrrhus’s work on Symeon the Elder), and its opening and closing lines are published, in Philothée du Sinaï 2008, pp. 320–2, 593. See the corrections and notes of Géhin 2009, pp. 75–6, 86.
13 Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 34*–67*.
14 Nasrallah 1972b.
15 Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 32*–3*. See also Van den Ven 1955–7. The early eighth-century dating for John’s third discourse on images has been challenged—most notably by Paul Speck—but remains dominant; see e.g. Louth 2002, p. 208, where a date in the 740s is suggested.
16 On Arkadios’s commissioning of Leontios, see Festugière and Rydén 1974, pp. 2–3.
17 Life of Symeon 71 (pp. 60–2). See Delehaye 1923, pp. lxiii–lxiv; Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 101*–2*.
18 Of course, not all claims by hagiographers to have witnessed their saint’s miracles can be trusted, as Delehaye himself acknowledges; he does, however, regard Symeon’s hagiographer’s claim as plausible.
19 John of Damascus, ‘On Images’ I.64 (p. 165), III.13 (p. 124).
20 προδότης καὶ Ἰούδας τοῦ τόπου τούτου; αἱ βλασφημίαι αὐτοῦ; σχεδὸν ἐν παντὶ τόπῳ; αἰτία σκανδάλου: Life of Symeon 240 (p. 216).
21 ἥτις καὶ γέγονε μετ’ οὐ πολὺ τῆς κοιμήσεως αὐτοῦ: ibid.
22 Déroche 1996, pp. 73–4.
23 Millar 2014, p. 283.
24 On Maurice, see e.g. Whitby 1988, pp. 18–19, 24–5; on Gregory, see Lee 2007, pp. 99–106. Whitby 1998, p. 331, suggests that Symeon’s hagiographer does not mention Gregory because ‘the Life was composed under the restored Patriarch Anastasius, when there may have been no incentive to invent a close friendship’—but provides no evidence for this dating of the Life.
25 Delehaye 1923, pp. lxii–iii;Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 103*–4*; Déroche 1996, pp. 66–73. Millar is sceptical of the latter argument: Millar 2014, pp. 283–4.
26 Boero and Kuper 2020, p. 390. They also suggest that the Life ‘does not have a unified narrative arc or a single literary theme’. While I agree that the Life displays narrative complexities, I do think that certain prominent themes recur across the Life, most notably the apologetic which I discuss below.
27 See above Chapter 2, esp. pp. 70–2.
28 See e.g. Dal Santo 2011c.
29 Expressed in Speck 1991, pp. 165–210.
30 Ibid. pp. 165–6, 189–91, and passim.
31 Brubaker 1998, pp. 1244–8. See also Brubaker and Haldon 2011, pp. 57–8.
32 Speck 1991, pp. 167–9.
33 Ibid. pp. 175, 181.
34 See e.g. ibid. p. 177.
35 Life of Symeon 118 (pp. 96–8).
36 Speck 1991, pp. 188–9.
37 For other examples in the Life of Symeon, see e.g. 43 (pp. 41–2), 101 (pp. 78–9), 137 (pp. 128–9), 195 (pp. 172–3), 213 (p. 182), 230 (pp. 203–4), 231 (pp. 204–8).
38 Life of Symeon 118 (p. 96).
39 Lampe 1961, p. 956; Schwartz in Pauly-Wissowa, Ia (1894), col. 2791.
40 Brubaker 1998, pp. 1246–7.
41 Van den Ven, 1962–70, I, p. 32*.
42 Theophanes, AM 6218 (p. 405); Stephen the Deacon, Life of Stephen the Younger 10 (pp. 100–1).
43 Brubaker 1998, pp. 1245–6.
44 Millar 2014, pp. 284, 287–9.
45 For his miracles in Antioch, see e.g. Life of Symeon 126 (pp. 112–13), 158 (pp. 139–41), 163 (p. 145), 224 (pp. 194–6).
46 Thus Saradi 1995, p. 88; cf. also Saradi 2006, pp. 108–9. Although Symeon never returns to Antioch after ascending his column, he does see the city in many visions (and sometimes sees himself in the city): see e.g. Life of Symeon 57 (pp. 150–2), 104 (pp. 81–4), 127 (pp. 113–14), 160 (pp. 141–3), 162 (p. 144), 204 (pp. 177–8).
47 See below pp. 123, 151–3, 158, 162–6.
48 The main exceptions are an earthquake in 557 in Constantinople and neighbouring cities (Life of Symeon 106 [pp. 86–7]) and Justin II’s descent into madness (ibid. 208–11 [pp. 179–81]).
49 On the conflict over the patriarchate in Constantinople, see Van den Ven 1965; A. M. Cameron 1988, pp. 233–41; on the changing patriarchs in Antioch, see Allen 1981, pp. 214–17. The relationship between Anastasios and Gregory seems to have been much less acrimonious than that of John and Eutychios (cf. ibid. 30).
50 A. M. Cameron 1988, pp. 233–41.
51 Life of Symeon 202–3 (pp. 176–7).
52 προφάσεώς τινος κινηθείσης, ἐξεβλήθη τοῦ ἀποστολικοῦ θρόνου τῆς βασιλευούσης πόλεως Εὐτύχιος ὁ ἁγιώτατος πατριάρχης: ibid. 205 (p. 178). On Eutychios, see A. M. Cameron 1988.
53 Theophanes claims that one reason for Anastasios’s deposition was that he had objected to John’s choice of bishop for Alexandria: Theophanes, AM 6062 (p. 243); see Allen 1981, pp. 214–17. For the attitude of Symeon’s hagiographer, see Life of Symeon 204 (pp. 177–8).
54 Ibid. 71–2 (pp. 60–3).
55 Ὁ ἐρχόμενος τίς οἶδε πόθεν ἐστίν; ibid. 71 (p. 61).
56 μηδεμιᾶς ἐμφάσεως προλαληθείσης περὶ αὐτοῦ: ibid. 72 (p. 62).
57 ἵνα γνῷ διὰ τῆς πείρας συμπάσχειν, ὅπερ διὰ τῆς φύσεως οὐκ ἐδιδάχθη: ibid. 72 (pp. 62–3).
58 Ibid. 204 (pp. 177–8).
59 John of Ephesus, when listing the sixth-century patriarchs of Antioch, describes Domninos as ܪܗܘܡܝܐ
(which can mean Latin, Greek, or soldier), but unfortunately the latter part of this sentence is lost, making his opinion of the bishop unclear: John of Ephesus, Ecclesiastical History 1.41 (p. 50). For Domninos’s participation at the Second Council of Constantinople, see Eustratios Presbyter, Life of Eutychios (p. 29 line 811); Acts of the Second Council of Constantinople, ACO 1st series, 4.1 (1971), pp. 3, 7, 18, 24, 220–1.
60 Michael the Syrian, Chronicle (IV, pp. 322–3); see Van den Ven 1962–70, II, p. 79 n. 1.
61 Belgin-Henry has suggested that Domninos may have withdrawn the previous patriarch Ephraim’s support for the building of the monastery on the ‘Wonderful Mountain’ (see Henry 2015, pp. 88–9; Belgin-Henry 2019, p. 65).
62 Life of Symeon 205 (p. 178).
63 Φοβερὸς ἄρχων: ibid. 160 (p. 143); ἐν τῷ παλατίῳ τοῦ βασιλέως: ibid. 160 (p. 142).
64 ᾧ ἐδίδοτο ἐξουσία διὰ τοῦ πνεύματος τῆς ἀρχῆς τῆς Ἑῴας μεγάλη καὶ δυνατὴ ὑπὲρ τοὺς ἔμπροσθεν αὐτοῦ ἄρξαντας: ibid.
65 On Justinian’s support for the reconstruction of Antioch, see Prokopios, On Buildings 2.10.2–25 (pp. 76–80); Foss 1997, p. 193; Brasse 2010.
66 As discussed by Meier 2003, e.g. pp. 313ff.
67 Life of Symeon 203 (p. 177), 206–11 (pp. 178–81).
68 Hostile depictions of Jews are common in late antique and Byzantine hagiography, as in much Byzantine literature: for an introductory discussion of Byzantine anti-Jewish polemic, with further bibliography, see Déroche 2011.
69 Ἔσο τέως ὧδε διήγημα πάντων ἀνθρώπων, ἀνθ’ ὧν οὐκ ἤλπισας ἐπὶ τὴν τοῦ Θεοῦ βοήθειαν, ἀλλ’ ἐξέδωκας ἑαυτὸν τῇ τῶν δαιμόνων πλάνῃ: Life of Symeon 210 (p. 180).
70 Evagrios Scholastikos 5.11 (p. 207); John of Ephesus, Ecclesiastical History 3.2 (pp. 121–3).
71 See above pp. 48–53.
72 Life of Symeon 132 (p. 132); Déroche 1996, p. 76. Life of Symeon 125 (p. 112).
73 Van den Ven 1962–70, I, p. 168*.
74 But on possible echoes of the Lives of Symeon the Elder in the text, see Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 132*–4*, 171*–7*. Van den Ven argues, persuasively, that the number of direct borrowings that can be traced between the texts is very limited, pointing out that some similarities between the works might result from their shared reliance on a pre-existing repertoire of hagiographic stories, rather than on direct interdependence.
75 Peeters 1950, pp. 134–6; Van den Ven, 1962–70, I, p. 97* and, more cautiously, pp. 171*–7*; Van den Ven 1965, p. 351; Lafontaine-Dosogne 1967, p. 195; Whitby 1987, p. 315; Hester 1990, p. 329; Lane Fox 1997, p. 209; Harvey 1998, p. 535 n. 47; Sodini 2010, pp. 319–21. Cf. also (although expressed rather less strongly), A. M. Cameron 2014, p. 8; Binggeli 2009, p. 437.
76 Harvey 1998, p. 535 n. 47; Lane Fox 1997, p. 209; Whitby 1987, p. 315. Whitby does, however, note in the introduction to his translation of Evagrios’s Ecclesiastical History that Symeon ‘is not presented by his biographer as having to pay attention to a Monophysite “problem” at his station close to Antioch’ (Whitby 2000, p. xlv).
77 John Moschos, Spiritual Meadow (col. 3105, trans. p. 191).
78 John is particularly hostile to Ephraim of Antioch, describing him as ‘Ephraim the persecutor’ and ‘the impious Ephraim’: John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 35 (II, ed. and trans. p. 621); for the attack on Chalcedonian doctrine, see ibid. 5 (I, ed. and trans. p. 99).
79 οἱ ἐχθροὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ Θεοῦ οἱ Ἰουδαῖοί εἰσι καὶ οἱ κατ’ αὐτοὺς ἀρνούμενοι καὶ μὴ ὁμολογοῦντες τὸν Χριστὸν υἱὸν εἶναι τοῦ Θεοῦ: Life of Symeon 226 (pp. 197–8, quote at 198). See Millar 2014, pp. 289–91. On Byzantine anti-Semitism, see Déroche 2011.
80 Déroche 1996, p. 76; Cremonesi 2008, p. 263.
81 See Allen 1981, pp. 21–44; Whitby 2000, pp. xxxvii–xlvii.
82 Mayer 2009, pp. 362–66.
83 See above p. 53.
84 See especially Evagrios Scholastikos 2.5 (pp. 52–3), where Evagrios also claims that Christological conflict was caused by the Devil, with Whitby 2000, pp. xxxvii–xlvii and Ginter 2001.
85 Booth 2011, pp. 117–28; Booth 2014, p. 54; Fowden 1999, pp. 156–7. Cf. also Perrone 1998, pp. 71–92; Caseau-Chevallier 2009, pp. 380–1.
86 Severos, Letters 4.9 (I.II, p. 305; trans. II.II, p. 271).
87 See Horn 2006, pp. 321–30; cf. also Kofsky 1997, pp. 216–19.
88 See John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 5 (I, p. 102). John is, however, careful to emphasize that the miaphysites who came to hear the service in the Chalcedonian church did not take communion there. This practice was not uncontroversial: Severos of Antioch condemned the habit of some anti-Chalcedonians of going to hear prayers in Chalcedonian churches, and sometimes even of watching the Eucharist (although he made an exception if the anti-Chalcedonian in question happened to be a great man of state and was obliged to attend the church with the emperor): Severos, Letters 4.10 (I.II, 306–9).
89 John of Tella, Canons, esp. 24–9 (pp. 78–84).
90 John Rufus, Life of Peter the Iberian 141 (pp. 208–10).
91 Tannous 2018, esp. pp. 92–110.
92 For the healing of a Persian, see Life of Symeon 73 (p. 63); for pagans, ibid. 184 (p. 163); for Armenians, ibid. 237 (p. 213).
93 The ecclesiastical situation in Armenia was complicated; for an introduction, see e.g. Thompson 2000, pp. 669–75; Greenwood 2012, pp. 119–26.
94 προαίρεσιν εὐγνώμονα καὶ ὀρθὴν ἀποδέχεται ἐπί τε πιστῶν καὶ ἀπίστων: Life of Symeon 184 (p. 163).
95 Ibid. 141, 143 (pp. 130–1).
96 See below pp. 162–7.
97 Brock 1985. For discussion see also Booth 2014, pp. 192–4; Tannous 2014.
98 Brock 1985, pp. 42–3.
99 Ibid. 44; see also Tannous 2014, pp. 40–1.
100 Henry 2015 (esp. p. 228) has, through a study of the archaeological evidence, convincingly argued against the view that Symeon the Younger’s monastery was a copy of, or purposeful Chalcedonian rival to, Symeon the Elder’s.
101 See Whitby 2000, pp. xlii–iii—he argues that it is possible that Qalaat Semaan was only taken over by the miaphysites at the time of the Arab conquest of the region. Joseph Nasrallah has argued that while the monasteries of Teleda and Telneshe—both closely associated with Symeon the Elder—had become miaphysite early in the sixth century, there is no evidence that Qalaat Semaan itself was no longer Chalcedonian: Nasrallah 1971, esp. pp. 358–64.
102 Ibid. pp. 347–58.
103 Cyril of Scythopolis, Life of Euthymios (pp. 47–8); Theodore of Petra, Life of Theodosios (pp. 9–12).
104 Evagrios Scholastikos, 1.13–4 (pp. 20–5).
105 Ibid. 1.14 (pp. 23–5).
106 See Photios, Bibliotheca (IV, pp. 123, 142, 174). Ephraim refers to writings by Symeon defending Chalcedon; Evagrios Scholastikos also quotes a letter apparently written by the stylite in defence of the synod (Evagrios Scholastikos, 2.10 [pp. 61–2]).
107 Severos of Antioch, Letters, 5.II (I.II, pp. 376–80).
108 The only other ascetics mentioned in the Life of Symeon are Symeon’s spiritual father, John (who is not, however, described as a prophet or miracle worker), and one other, rather unsuccessful, recluse: for the (limited) asceticism of the former, see esp. Life of Symeon 11 (p. 11), 17 (p. 14); for the latter, ibid. 169 (pp. 151–2).
109 See Introduction, Figure 0.1 (above p. 3).
110 Evagrios Scholastikos, 4.35 (p. 185). The myth of Thomas was certainly known at Symeon’s monastery as it is referred to in the Life of Martha 24 (p. 271). Peeters tried to draw a connection between Martha and a popular story about Thomas’s burial (Peeters 1927), but Van den Ven has shown this to be highly implausible (Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 78*–84*).
111 John Moschos, Spiritual Meadow 117 (col. 2981; trans. pp. 96–7).
112 Cappadocia: Life of Symeon 43 (p. 41), 168 (p. 150), 191 (p. 169); Laodicea: ibid. 150 (p. 135), 169 (p. 151); Iberia: ibid. 103 (pp. 80–1), 253 (p. 220); Isauria: ibid. 227 (p. 198), 228 (p. 200), 192 (p. 170); Arabia: ibid. 201 (p. 176).
113 καὶ τίς ὑμᾶς ἐκάλεσεν, ἄνθρωπε, διαπερᾶσαι τὴν θάλασσαν; ibid. 192 (p. 170).
114 Evagrios Scholastikos, 4.33 (p. 182; trans. p. 237).
115 On spiritual networks—though focusing on links within monastic communities—see Hevelone-Harper 2005, p. 6. For an argument that despite official attempts to limit monastic mobility, contacts between monasteries persisted and even intensified in the fifth and sixth centuries, see Fauchon-Claudon 2019.
116 For Melania, see John Rufus, Life of Peter the Iberian 39–41 (pp. 52–8), 44 (p. 60); for Gerontios, ibid. 44–8 (pp. 60–4); for Isaiah, ibid. 138–9 (pp. 200–4), 167–9 (pp. 242–6).
117 Life of Severos of Antioch (pp. 219–23, 224–7).
118 See e.g. Cyril of Scythopolis, Life of Euthymios (pp. 11–12, 14–15, 16, 25–7, 35, 50–1, 55–6, 68); see also Flusin 1983, pp. 152–4.
119 See in particular Dal Santo 2011a and 2012, esp. pp. 149–236; Sarris 2011c; Kaldellis 2014b. The extent of Christian scepticism about miracles was earlier highlighted by Dagron 1992.
120 Cf. Van den Ven, 1962–70, I, pp. 163*–4*.
121 See above pp. 7, 55–6.
122 Brown 1971, pp. 82–3.
123 Cf. Peña, Castellana, and Fernandez 1975, pp. 76–7.
124 Life of Symeon 11 (p. 11).
125 Ibid. 65–7 (pp. 56–8).
126 For Symeon the Elder, see Theodoret of Cyrrhus, History of the Monks of Syria 26.5–12 (II, pp. 166–90); Antonios, Life of Symeon 6–12 (pp. 24–36); for Daniel, Life of Daniel 9 (pp. 9–10), and 21–6 (pp. 21–7).
127 Van den Ven 1962–70, I, p. 105*.
128 Whitby 1987, esp. p. 316.
129 Morris 1995, p. 33.
130 Ibid. p. 61.
131 On the adoption of stylitism by monks, see Boero 2015b, pp. 308–401; Menze 2015, esp. pp. 221–4.
132 See above Introduction, Figures 0.2, 0.3 (pp. 4, 11).
133 Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 165*–7*.
134 Life of Symeon 56 (pp. 49–50).
135 Ibid. 93 (p. 73).
136 Ibid. 174 (p. 155).
137 Ibid. 122–3 (pp. 100–6), 97–8 (pp. 75–6), 100 (pp. 77–8).
138 Ibid. 176 (pp. 155–6).
139 Ibid. 175 (p. 155).
140 τὸ…κατασχεθῆναι τοὺς ἀδελφοὺς ἐπάρσεως λογισμῷ: ibid. 50 (p. 46).
141 Ibid. 68 (pp. 58–9), 170 (p. 152), 175 (p. 155).
142 Peña, Castellana, and Fernandez 1975, pp. 76–7; Callot and Gatier 2004, p. 584.
143 For discussion of the funding model of the cult, see below pp. 143–7.
144 For the Life’s focus on miracles, see Van den Ven 1962–70, I, p. 181*; on hagiographers’ predominant focus on miracles, Rapp 1999, p. 65 and above p. 55.
145 Rousseau 1999b.
146 John Moschos, Spiritual Meadow 96 (cols 2953–6, trans. p. 77).
147 For examples of detailed accounts of miracles, see Life of Symeon 138 (p. 129), 231 (pp. 204–8), 249 (p. 219).
148 John Moschos, Spiritual Meadow 117 (col. 2981).
149 Ibid. 118 (col. 2981, trans. pp. 97–8).
150 See above pp. 83–90.
151 Peña, Castellana, and Fernandez 1975, pp. 76–7; Binggeli 2009, pp. 429–31.
152 Peña, Castellana, and Fernandez 1975, p. 76.
153 Life of Symeon 17 (p. 14).
154 Ibid. 22 (p. 18), 32 (pp. 31–2).
155 ὃς ἑωρακὼς τὴν τοῦ παιδίου διαγωγὴν φθόνῳ βάλλεται διαβολικῷ: ibid. 14 (pp. 12–13).
156 ἔλεγον δὲ καὶ ταῦτα ἐκ τοῦ πονηροῦ κινούμενοι· “Ποῦ ἐστιν ἡ ἁγιωσύνη αὐτοῦ καὶ τῆς ἀσκήσεως ἡ μανία; Βοηθησάτω καὶ σωσάτω αὐτόν”: ibid. 23 (p. 19).
157 Harvey 1998, pp. 535–6 n. 47.
158 See Boero 2015b, pp. 92–105.
159 Theodoret of Cyrrhus, History of the Monks of Syria 26.5 (II, pp. 166–70).
160 Syriac Life of Symeon (pp. 520–5).
161 Antonios, Life of Symeon 6–8 (pp. 24–30).
162 Theodoret of Cyrrhus, History of the Monks of Syria 26.5 (pp. 166–70); Syriac Life of Symeon (p. 522); Antonios, Life of Symeon 5 (p. 24) 8 (pp. 28–30); Life of Symeon 26 (pp. 23–3); Van den Ven 162–70, I, p. 171*.
163 Morris 1995, p. 77.
164 Whitby 1987, p. 313.
165 οἱ δὲ μαθηταὶ τοῦ ἁγίου ἐμερίμνουν πόθεν ὕδωρ κομίσαι πρὸς τὴν χρείαν τῆς τοιαύτης ὑπουργίας: Life of Symeon 97 (p. 75).
166 ἦν γὰρ ἡ πηγὴ τῶν ὑδάτων παρὰ τὰς ῥίζας τοῦ ὄρους ἐκ πολλῶν διαστημάτων: ibid. 97 (p. 75).
167 See above pp. 116–17. See also Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 164–5.
168 Life of Symeon 168 (pp. 150–1).
169 καὶ ἐκταράττει τὴν ἀδελφότητα κατὰ τοῦ ἁγίου δούλου τοῦ Θεοῦ. Καὶ ἐπανίστανται οἱ ἀδελφοὶ αὐτῷ ἐπὶ τῇ πολλῇ ἐλεημοσύνῃ αὐτοῦ λέγοντες· ‘Τίς ὑποστήσεται οὕτως; Ποῦ δὲ ταῦτα γίνεται εἰς τοὺς δεομένους ἰάσεως; οὐδὲ ἐν τῇ ἁγίᾳ πόλει, οὐδὲ ἐν τοῖς μοναστηρίοις, οὐδὲ ἐν τοῖς κυριακοῖς οἴκοις’: ibid. 123 (p. 103).
170 Ἀγγουλὰς ἔλεγε τῷ ἁγίῳ τραχυτέρους λόγους, φάσκων μὴ ποιεῖν τι τοιοῦτον: ibid. 123 (p. 104).
171 Déroche 1996, p. 75.
172 γενήσεται προδότης καὶ Ἰούδας τοῦ τόπου τούτου· καὶ τοιαῦτα γενήσονται ἐνταῦθα δι’ αὐτοῦ, ἵνα σχεδὸν ἐν παντὶ τόπῳ λαληθῶσιν αἱ βλασφημίαι αὐτοῦ. Οὐαὶ δὲ τῇ ψυχῇ αὐτοῦ· πόσων ψυχῶν γίνεται αἰτία σκανδάλου: Life of Symeon 240 (p. 216).
173 Ibid. 240 (p. 216).
174 Déroche 1996, p. 75.
175 Rousseau 1999a, pp. 96–8. Pachomios is depicted refusing to expel disobedient brothers in his Bohairic Life 102 (pp. 128–9). In comparison, Shenoute seems to have used expulsion much more readily in his monastic federation (although this may have met with opposition): Schroeder 2007, pp. 75–82.
176 For forgiveness as a monastic virtue, see e.g. Burton-Christie 1993, pp. 275–6.
177 ποιήσας τὴν ἐν Χριστῷ σφραγῖδα εἶπε πρὸς τὸν Ἀγγουλάν· ‘Ὁ μὲν λαλῶν διὰ σοῦ δαίμων εὔδηλός ἐστιν· ὀυαὶ δὲ τῇ ψυχῇ σου, ὅτι γέγονας αὐτῷ ὄργανον.’ Εἶτα λέγει τοῖς λοιποῖς ἀδελφοῖς· ‘Ἰδοὺ ὡς ὁ Κύριος ὑμῖν λέγω· “Δότε φαγεῖν τοῖς ὄχλοις”’: Life of Symeon 123 (p. 104). Cf. Matthew 14:16.
178 ἀπὸ τοῦ ὑπακούοντός μου ἀεὶ Ἀγγουλὰ: Life of Symeon 128 (p. 116).
179 εἰσελεύσομαι εἰς τοὺς μαθητὰς αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐκθηριώσω αὐτοὺς ἐν γένει δαιμόνων καὶ ἀνθρώπων: Life of Symeon 124 (p. 110). For further discussion see below pp. 156–61.
180 εἰ γὰρ μηδὲν ἰσχύσω κατὰ σοῦ…ἀλλὰ ἀναστήσω σοι τοσαύτας θλίψεις ἐκ τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἃς οὐ μὴ δυνηθῇς βαστάσαι, καὶ τὴν περὶ σὲ δὲ ταράξας ἀδελφότητα ποιήσω τραχηλιάσαι, ὥστε στενοχωρηθῆναί σου τὴν ψυχήν: ibid. 125 (pp. 110–11).
181 There is some discussion of the economies of Syrian monasteries in e.g. Vööbus 1960, pp. 159–6; Escolan 1999, pp. 183–225. On Egypt, see e.g. Wipszycka 2009, pp. 471–565. On Palestine, see e.g. Hirschfield 1992.
182 οὐ γὰρ ἀπέστειλέ με ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ Θεοῦ δίκας χρημάτων ἐλέγξαι, ἀλλ’ ἰάσασθαι τοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας: Life of Symeon 180 (p. 160). For Symeon’s refusal to accept gifts from pilgrims, see above pp. 137, 140–1.
183 The only examples occur in Life of Symeon 180–1 (pp. 159–61). In 179 (pp. 158–9) a woman asks Symeon to help avenge a theft, but he discerns miraculously that she was lying about the crime.
184 Life of Martha 64 (pp. 306–7).
185 Life of Symeon 96 (pp. 74–5), 110–11 (pp. 89–90), 172–3 (pp. 154–5), 192 (pp. 170–1), 228 (pp. 200–1); Life of Martha 47 (pp. 288–9), 49 (pp. 290–1). These claims have been accepted by various archaeologists working on Symeon’s cult site (Lafontaine-Dosogne 1967, pp. 84–5; Djobadze 1986, p. 58; cf. also Schachner 2010, p. 361), but, to my knowledge, this is based purely on the hagiographic sources. On the Isaurian builders, see C. Mango 1966.
186 Schachner 2010, pp. 363–5.
187 That is, the monastery of Symeon’s predecessor John, in which Symeon too had lived before moving up to the ‘Wonderful Mountain’, whereupon he appointed an older monk as guardian of the lower monastery: Life of Symeon 66 (p. 57). For its fields and gardens, see ibid. 176 (p. 155), 182 (p. 161), 178 (p. 157).
188 Ibid. 125 (p. 112).
189 Ibid. 174 (p. 155) refers to the brothers ‘doing work/a task in the lower convent [ποιούντων αὐτῶν ἔργον ἐν τῇ κατωτέρᾳ μονῇ]’. This challenges Escolan’s contention that Syrian monks very rarely worked, subsisting almost entirely from alms (although he is correct to note that Syrian saints’ lives do not emphasize the value of work to the same extent as many Egyptian hagiographers): Escolan 1999, pp. 183–201.
190 In his useful survey article, Brenk notes the variety in possible economic models for monasteries, suggesting that some smaller monasteries could perhaps have subsisted largely from agriculture: Brenk 2004. Some modest and apparently largely self-sufficient monasteries on the Sinai peninsula are described by Dahari 2000, esp. pp. 157–8, 163, 167—although even here it is possible that he has underestimated the significance of gifts to the monks.
191 Djobadze 1986, pp. 77, 80, 96.
192 See e.g. the conclusion to Brenk 2004, p. 472.
193 See e.g. Life of Daniel 38 (p. 35), 44 (pp. 41–2), 54 (p. 53), 57–8 (pp. 55–7), 92 (pp. 86–7); Cyril of Scythopolis, Life of Sabas (pp. 143, 175–9); George of Sykeon, Life of Theodore of Sykeon 54 (pp. 46–7), 82 (pp. 69–79).
194 On Justinian’s variable patronage, see Hatlie 2007, pp. 46ff.
195 If, at least, we can trust the chronology of the Life, which states that Symeon moved to the top of the ‘Wonderful Mountain’ aged twenty and lived there on a rock for ten years as the new monastery was built before moving onto his final column: as he seems to have been born in c.521, this would suggest the monastery was largely finished in 551. See Life of Symeon 112–13 (pp. 90–3), 258 (p. 223), with Van den Ven 1962–70, I, pp. 124*–30*.
196 See above pp. 124–5.
197 Henry 2015, pp. 89–96.
198 Διά τινας ψυχωφελεῖς χρείας: Life of Symeon 232 (p. 208).
199 See e.g. Kallinikos, Life of Hypatios 12.12–13 (pp. 118–20), 15.9 (p. 126), 51.7 (p. 290); Life of Daniel 29–30 (pp. 29–30), 36 (p. 34), 94 (p. 88); George of Sykeon, Life of Theodore of Sykeon 120 (pp. 96–7).
200 See e.g. Vööbus 1960, p. 161.
201 Life of Symeon 25 (pp. 21–2), 34 (p. 33), 71 (pp. 60–2), 134 (pp. 126–7), 202 (pp. 176–7), 204 (pp. 177–8), 206 (p. 178).
202 Henry 2015, pp. 83–7; Belgin-Henry 2019.
203 Henry suggests that some lower-quality work at the site could have been produced during this period after the removal of patriarchal patronage: Henry 2015, esp. p. 89; Belgin-Henry 2019, pp. 65–6.
204 Boero and Kuper 2020, p. 388, argue that the hagiographer successfully ‘model[ed] manual labour at the cult site as a form of thanksgiving’.
205 On Symeon’s pilgrim tokens, see esp. Lafontaine-Dosogne 1967, pp. 140–58, 169–96; Vikan 1984, pp. 67–74; Volbach 1996.
206 Déroche 2006.
207 Brown 1995, pp. 62–4; Sarris 2011c.
208 ἤρξατο ὁ διάβολος…τοὺς ἡγουμένους τῶν κύκλῳ πόλεων κινεῖν διὰ τὰς νομὰς τοῦ ὄρους τοῦ Θαυμαστοῦ ἐν ᾧ ἡ μονὴ ἵδρυται τοῦ μακαρίου: Life of Symeon 125 (p. 112).
209 Cf. Van den Ven 1962–70, I, p. 164*.
210 φθόνῳ διαβολικῷ φερόμενος: Life of Symeon 116 (p. 95).
211 Ibid. 239 (pp. 214–15).
212 ἐπιστολὴν…πολλῶν ὕβρεων πεπληρωμένην καὶ βλασφήμων λόγων: ibid. 225 (p. 196). For Epiphanios, see ibid. 195 (pp. 172–3); for John, ibid. 225 (pp. 196–7).
213 ὡς τῶν ὄχλων ἐν τῷ τόπῳ ἐκείνῳ συνερχομένων καὶ τὰς καρποφορίας προσφερόντων: ibid. 130 (pp. 122–3).
214 Ibid. 223 (pp. 193–4).
215 See e.g. Escolan 1999; Caner 2002; Rapp 2005, pp. 108–11.
216 Escolan 1999, pp. 307–9. He claims that Anastasios, an Antiochene scholastikos who was extremely rude about Symeon, was treated less harshly by the saint than the aforementioned clergy who criticized him. In fact, Anastasios dropped dead in a public portico in Antioch after receiving an angry message from the saint (Life of Symeon 224 [pp. 194–6]); this was actually more severe than the punishments suffered by any of the clerics (one of the guilty clergymen, Thomas, did die, but only after repenting and being forgiven by Symeon: ibid. 116 [p. 95]).
217 I have been unable to consult Wipszycka 2021 by the time of submitting this manuscript, but her study will offer important new insights into the relationship between holy men and the ecclesiastical hierarchy; one section deals with Symeon the Younger.
218 See esp. Life of Symeon 25 (pp. 21–2), 34 (p. 33), 71 (pp. 60–2), 134 (pp. 126–7), 204 (pp. 177–8), 202–3 (pp. 176–7), 205 (p. 178); Harvey 1998, p. 538. See also, for an argument that the architecture at the ‘Wonderful Mountain’ gave Symeon a special place in the liturgy, Belgin-Henry 2018.
219 On the increasing institutionalization of monasticism (a process in which the Council of Chalcedon represented a watershed), see e.g. Dagron 1970, p. 276; Caner 2002, esp. pp. 235–47. The process of monastic institutionalisation continued in the sixth century: see e.g. on Justinian’s actions Hatlie 2007, esp. pp. 45–57. On the uptake of ascetic ideals in ecclesiastical and episcopal circles, see esp. Sterk 2004, passim.
220 ἀπιστίᾳ πολλῇ κατεχόμενος: Life of Symeon 193 (p. 171); μὴ πιστεύσας…εἶναι τοῦτο δυνατόν: ibid. 194 (p. 172); 231 (p. 208).
221 τί πλανᾶσθε πρὸς ἄνδρα ἀπερχόμενοι ἐπιθέτην καὶ διὰ φαρμακίας τὰ τοιαῦτα ποιεῖν εἰς τοὺς ἀνθρώπους ἐπιτηδεύοντα: ibid. 234 (p. 211).
222 Kaldellis 2014b, esp. p. 462. On Christian scepticism and hostility towards holy men, see also Dagron 1992; Dal Santo 2011a and 2012, esp. pp. 149–236; Sarris 2011c.
223 This is evident not only from hagiography, but also from genres such as letters which could target scepticism still more directly: see e.g. below pp. 221–2, on the letters of Barsanouphios and John of Gaza.
224 See esp. Life of Symeon 78 (pp. 66–8), 104–7 (pp. 81–8) (on earthquakes); 57–64 (pp. 50–6) (on the Persian invasion of 540); 69–70 (pp. 59–60), 124–9 (pp. 106–22) (on the plague).
225 The hagiographer describes one of the earthquakes as devastating Rhegium, near Constantinople; an earthquake damaging Rhegium is attested by Agathias in 557: Agathias, Histories 5.3.9 (p. 167). See Pétridès 1902, pp. 272–3.
226 See Van den Ven 1962–70, II, p. 104 n. 3.
227 εἶδε τοὺς οὐρανοὺς ἀνεῳγότας; Life of Symeon 104 (pp. 82–3, quote at p. 82); Revelation 19:11: εἶδον τὸν οὐρανὸν ἠνεῳγμένον.
228 ἄγγελοι ὀργῆς: Life of Symeon 104 (p. 83).
229 οὐ καταλειφθήσεται λίθος ἐπὶ λίθον: ibid. 104 (p. 82); compare Matthew 24:2/Mark 13:2: οὐ μὴ ἀφεθῇ ὧδε λίθος ἐπὶ λίθον ὃς οὐ καταλυθήσεται.
230 Τῇ δὲ ἑξῆς περὶ ὥραν δεκάτην τῆς ἡμέρας ἐσείσθη πᾶσα ἡ γῆ σεισμῷ μεγάλῳ, οἷον οὐδὲ αἱ παρελθοῦσαι πολλαὶ γενεαὶ ἀπεμνημόνευον γενέσθαι, καὶ ἔπεσαν πόλεις καὶ χῶραι τῆς παράλου κατὰ τὴν ὀφθεῖσαν αὐτῷ θεωρίαν…. Ἀπὸ μέντοι Λαοδικείας κατὰ Ἀντιόχειαν ἐπὶ τὸ βόρειον κλίτος ἔστησαν πάντα, μόνον πύργων τινῶν τοῦ τείχους καὶ τοίχων τῶν ἐκκλησιῶν διαρραγέντων· πτῶσις δὲ οὐ γέγονε κατὰ τὸν λόγον τοῦ ἁγίου, καὶ τὰ ἀπὸ Τύρου δὲ ἐπὶ τὰ Ἱεροσόλυμα καὶ τὸ μεσημβρινὸν κλίτος διεφυλάχθη ὡσαύτως κατὰ τὸ εἶδος τῆς θεωρίας αὐτοῦ: Life of Symeon 105 (p. 85).
231 Ibid. 106 (pp. 85–7). The reference to ‘Illyria’ here is, however, difficult to explain: the province of Illyria/Illyricum was in the western Balkans, whereas the particular towns cited are all to the east of Constantinople.
232 On the ideological effects of the disasters in Antioch, see Meier 2003, esp. pp. 313–19 (on the Persian sack) and pp. 345–57 (on the fire and earthquakes of 526–8). On the effects of the sixth-century disasters across the empire on faith in holy men, see ibid. esp. pp. 354–5, 415–21, 543–5, 554–6; Dal Santo 2011a, esp. p. 133, 2012, pp. 323–4. On responses to earthquakes, see Dagron 1981, pp. 87–103.
233 Life of Symeon 233 (pp. 210–11); Evagrios Scholastikos, 6.23 (p. 239).
234 ἀσεβεῖς ἄνδρες τῆς πόλεως Ἀντιοχείας: Life of Symeon 157 (p. 138); τὴν τῶν ἄστρων κίνησιν αἰτίαν ἐδόξαζον γίνεσθαι τῶν συμβαινόντων σεισμῶν: ibid. 157 (p. 138).
235 Ibid. 157 (pp. 138–9).
236 ἔλεγόν τινες τῶν ἑλληνιζόντων καὶ ἐν τῇ τῆς ἀστρολογίας πλάνῃ ματαιοπονούντων ὅτι πάντως ἀπόλλυται ἡ πόλις: ibid. 78 (p. 67).
237 πέπαυται γὰρ ἡ τῶν ψηφιστῶν περίεργος πλάνη στοχασμῷ τῶν συμβαινόντων βουλὴν Θεοῦ γινώσκειν ἀπαυθαδιαζομένων: ibid. 78 (p. 67).
238 Déroche 2000, pp. 145–55.
239 μέγα καὶ τίμιον σκεῦος ἐκλογῆς τοῦ Θεοῦ ἐστιν: Life of Symeon 36 (p. 36); ὡς σκεῦος ἅγιον: ibid. 3 (p. 5), 113 (p. 93).
240 καὶ οὐκ ἦν δήλωσις παρὰ Κυρίου, ὅτι ἡ ὀργὴ τοῦ θυμοῦ αὐτοῦ πλήρης: ibid. 57 (p. 51).
241 Ibid. 69 (pp. 59–60).
242 τί ὅτι μέλει σοι οὕτως; Τίς ἐρεῖ ταῦτα τοῖς Ἀντιοχεῦσιν; Αὐτοὶ λέγουσιν ἐναντία περὶ σοῦ καὶ σὺ ἀγωνίζῃ ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν; ibid. 104 (p. 82).
243 Genesis 18:25 (Translation: R. J. V. Hiebert, for NETS; I have made minor changes to the translation).
244 Οἱ μὲν οὖν ἄγγελοι, καθάπερ ἔφθην εἰπὼν, ἀπῆλθον εἰς τὰ Σόδομα∙ ὁ δὲ πατριάρχης εἰστήκει ἐναντίον Κυρίου. Καὶ ἐγγίσας, φησὶν, Ἀβραὰμ εἶπε∙ Μὴ συναπολέσῃς δίκαιον μετὰ ἀσεβοῦς, καὶ ἔσται ὁ δίκαιος ὡς ὁ ἀσεβής; Ὤ τῆς τοῦ δικαίου παῤῥησίας, μᾶλλον δὲ, ὢ ψυχῆς συμπάθεια∙ ὅπως τῇ τῆς συμπαθείας μέθῃ καρωθεὶς οὐδὲ ὅ λέγει συνίησι. Καὶ δεικνύουσα ἡ Θεία Γραφὴ, ὅτι μετὰ φόβου πολλοῦ καὶ τρόμου τὴν ἱκεσίαν ποιεῖται, φησίν∙ Ἐγγίσας Ἀβραὰμ εἶπε∙ Μὴ συναπολέσῃς δίκαιον μετὰ ἀσεβοῦς; Tί ποιεῖς, ὦ μακάριε πατριάρχα; Τῆς παρὰ σοῦ δεῖται παρακλήσεως ὁ Δεσπότης, ὥστε μὴ τοῦτο ποιῆσαι; Ἀλλὰ μὴ τοῦτο νοήσωμεν∙ οὐδὲ γὰρ ὡς τοῦ Δεσπότου τοῦτο ποιεῖν μέλλοντος λέγει, ἀλλ’ ἐπειδὴ ἐξ εὐθείας διὰ τὸν ἀδελφιδοῦν εἰπεῖν οὐκ ἐθάῤῥει, κοινὴν ὑπὲρ ἁπάντων ποιεῖται τὴν ἱκεσίαν, βουλόμενος μετὰ τῶν ἄλλων καὶ τοῦτον διασῶσαι, καὶ μετὰ τούτου καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ἐξαρπάσαι: John Chrysostom, 42nd Homily on Genesis 4 (col. 390, trans. pp. 426–7 [I have made minor changes to the translation]).
245 Κατὰ τὸν καιρὸν ἐκεῖνον ἐπέβλεψε ὁ Κύριος καὶ εἶδε πᾶσαν τὴν γῆν κατεφθαρμένην…καὶ οὐκ ἀπέκρυψεν οὐδὲν ἀπὸ τοῦ δούλου αὐτοῦ: Life of Symeon 104 (p. 81); compare Gen. 18:17: ὁ δὲ Κύριος εἶπεν· οὐ μὴ κρύψω ἐγὼ ἀπὸ Αβραὰμ τοῦ παιδός μου, ἃ ἐγὼ ποιῶ. Cf. also Life of Symeon 57 (p. 51, lines 22–3).
246 Ἄκουσόν μου, Κύριε ὁ Θεός μου τοῦ δούλου σου, καὶ σπλαγχνίσθητι καὶ μὴ ποιήσῃς κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμα τῆς ὀργῆς σου, ἀλλὰ τῇ σῇ φιλανθρωπίᾳ διαλλάγηθι. Ἐν τῇ πρώτῃ παρασκευῇ ὅτε ἐκέλευσας στραφῆναι Ἀντιόχειαν, οὐκ ἦσαν ἐν αὐτῇ τριάκοντα δίκαιοι καὶ ἀπώλεσας αὐτοὺς μετὰ τῶν ἀσεβῶν; ἀλλὰ νῦν μὴ ποιήσῃς κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμα τοῦτο· ὁ κρίνων πᾶσαν τὴν γῆν, μὴ ἀπολέσῃς δίκαιον μετὰ ἀσεβοῦς: ibid. 104 (p. 83).
247 e.g. compare the Life’s ‘μὴ ἀπολέσῃς δίκαιον μετὰ ἀσεβοῦς’ to Genesis 18:23, ‘Μὴ συναπολέσῃς δίκαιον μετὰ ἀσεβοῦς’.
248 It is not clear to which of the previous catastrophes recounted in the Life this refers.
249 Ἐπειδὴ οὖν ἡ δεδωρημένη τῷ ἁγίῳ χάρις ἐκτὸς παραβάσεως ἐντολῆς αὐτοῦ οὐδὲν συνεχώρει κακὸν ἐπελθεῖν τινι αὐτῶν, εἰκότως ἠρώτα ὁ ἀδελφὸς τί ἔτυχεν ἡμαρτηκώς: Life of Martha 43 (p. 285).
250 Kaldellis 2007b, pp. 1–19. For the more general difficulties faced by early Christian theologians in responding coherently to disasters, see Young 1973, pp. 113–16.
251 Kaldellis 2007b, pp. 12–13; for Evagrios, see above p. 151; Life of Symeon 233 (pp. 210–11); Evagrios Scholastikos, 6.23 (p. 239).
252 See Caseau-Chevallier 2005, pp. 93–5; Brakke 2006, pp. 45–7.
253 νέος Ιὼβ ἐνομίζετο εἶναι διὰ τὴν τοιαύτην ἀλγηδόνα: George of Sykeon, Life of Theodore of Sykeon 20 (p. 17); Leontios of Neapolis, Life of John the Almsgiver 28–9 (pp. 380–1); Syriac Life of Symeon (p. 577); Antonios, Life of Symeon 7 (p. 26), 17–18 (pp. 42–6).
254 Life of Symeon 124–9 (pp. 106–22).
255 See above p. 143.
256 πρὸς τὸ δοκιμώτερον διὰ τοῦ τοιούτου πειρασμοῦ φανῆναι τὸν αὐτοῦ θεράποντα: Life of Symeon 124 (p. 110).
257 τοῦτο δὲ μόνον συνεχώρησεν, ὥστε παλαῖσαι αὐτὸν μετ’ αὐτοῦ διὰ τοῦ πειρασμοῦ τῶν ἀδελφῶν αὐτοῦ: ibid. 124 (p. 110).
258 Cf. Van den Ven 1962–70, II, p. 136 n. 126.
259 οἱ πρὸς μικρὸν σκληρυνθέντες λαοὶ πρὸς τὴν προτέραν αὖθις πληροφορίαν ἐπανήρχοντο. Ἐγαληνίουν δὲ λοιπὸν καὶ οἱ τῶν ἀδελφῶν λογισμοὶ ἐκ τῆς προγενομένης αὐτοῖς ταραχῆς, καὶ οἱ ἡγούμενοι δὲ τῶν κύκλῳ πόλεων παυσάμενοι τῆς ἀκαίρου κινήσεως εἰρήνην πολλὴν καὶ ἀγάπην εἶχον πρὸς τὸν ἅγιον καθὰ καὶ πρότερον: Life of Symeon 125 (p. 112).
260 Μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ἤγγικεν ὁ καιρὸς τῶν πειρασμῶν οὓς ἐξῃτήσατο ὁ διάβολος παρὰ τοῦ Κυρίου καὶ ἔλαβεν, ὥστε πατάξαι πρῶτον τὰ παιδία καὶ τοὺς καλοὺς τῶν ἀνθρώπων καὶ παλαῖσαι ἐν τοῖς ἀδελφοῖς μετὰ τοῦ δούλου τοῦ Θεοῦ: ibid. 126 (p. 112).
261 On the hagiographer’s ‘metaphorical’ terminology for the plague, see Stathakopoulos 2004, p. 308.
262 ἐπιτελέσας τὴν εὐχὴν ὑπὲρ τοῦ τόπου ἐκείνου οὐκ ἔλαβεν ἐξουσίαν δεηθῆναι ὑπὲρ πάσης τῆς πόλεως: Life of Symeon 126 (p. 113).
263 τοῦ ὑπακούοντός μου ἀεὶ Ἀγγουλά: ibid. 128 (p. 116).
264 Ὡσαύτως δὲ ἐν μιᾷ σχεδὸν ὥρᾳ κατὰ πάντων τῶν ἀδελφῶν ὥρμησεν ὁ ὀλοθρεύων, καὶ πάντες τῷ ὁμοίῳ κατεσχέθησαν πάθει θανατηφόρῳ· ἐξ ὧν τινες τῶν ἀμελεστέρων καὶ ἐτελεύτησαν: ibid. 128 (p. 116).
265 ὃν πάνυ ἠγάπα ὁ ἅγιος ὡς πάνυ σπουδαῖον: ibid. 129 (p. 116).
266 Ibid. 129 (p. 118).
267 On this important episode, see Déroche 2000, pp. 153–4; Meier 2003, pp. 416–17, and below pp. 205–6.
268 Life of Symeon 124, lines 59, 78–9 (pp. 108–9); 126, lines 3, 9–10 (pp. 112–13).
269 Ibid. 124, lines 106–7 (p. 110).
270 ὥσπερ τὰ ἐν τῷ Ἰὼβ προαναγνωσθέντα ὑμῖν ἐσήμανεν: ibid. 124 (p. 108).
271 Job 1:6–12.
272 Job 2:1–6.
273 εἰσελεύσομαι εἰς τοὺς μαθητὰς αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐκθηριώσω αὐτοὺς ἐν γένει δαιμόνων καὶ ἀνθρώπων: Life of Symeon 124 (p. 110).
274 ἰδοὺ ἡ μονὴ κλαίουσα καὶ μετανοοῦσα καὶ ἐλευκαίνετο καὶ ἐνέαζεν: Life of Symeon 127 (p. 114).
275 ὡς ἄμπελον ἐκτεταμένην σφόδρα καὶ κομῶσαν τοῖς κλάδοις ἐν καρποῖς δικαιοσύνης. Καὶ ἐπειδὴ παρέστη ὁ καιρὸς τῆς καθαιρέσεως τῆς ἀμπέλου, ἵνα καρπὸν πλείονα ἐνέγκῃ καὶ ἀληθῶς γένωνται αὐτοῦ μαθηταί: ibid. 127 (p. 115).
276 Ταῦτα δὲ πάντα συνέβαινε τοῖς ἀδελφοῖς διὰ τὴν ὀλιγωρίαν αὐτῶν καὶ καταφρόνησιν ἣν ἐπεδείκνυντο περὶ τὰς ἐντολὰς τοῦ δικαίου ὑποστηρίζοντος τοὺς ὑπολειφθέντας μηκέτι ἀμελεῖν, ἀλλὰ προθύμως ὑπακούειν τῶν λεγομένων ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ: ibid. 129 (p. 122).
277 Pagan supplicants at Symeon’s shrine: ibid. 141 (pp. 130–1), 143 (p. 131), 188 (pp. 166–7). Secret pagans exposed: ibid. 221 (pp. 190–2), 223 (pp. 193–4). Heterodox explanations for disasters: ibid. 78 (pp. 66–8), 157 (pp. 138–9).
278 Ἰδοὺ ἡ κραυγὴ τῶν κατοικούντων ἐν αὐτῇ ἀνέβη ἐνώπιόν μου καὶ καιρὸς ἀνταποδόσεως αὐτῆς ἐπέστη διὰ τὰς ἀνομίας ἃς πράττουσιν, τιθέντες τράπεζαν καὶ σπονδὰς καὶ θυσίαν τοῖς δαιμονίοις, προφάσει τύχης τῆς πόλεως καὶ παραζηλοῦντές με ἐπὶ τούτοις· διὰ τοῦτο παραδώσω αὐτοὺς ἔθνει ἀσυνέτῳ: ibid. 57 (p. 50). The hagiographer invokes another biblical model here, recalling the words of God reported by Moses in his song: Deuteronomy 32:21.
279 Déroche 1996, pp. 76–8. His argument is reacting against Van den Ven’s literal understanding of the references to pagans in the Life: see Van den Ven 1962–70, I, p. 163*.
280 Bell 2013, p. 240. See above pp. 38–9.
281 See above p. 109; for some examples see Kallinikos, Life of Hypatios 21 (pp. 134–40), 44.8–19 (pp. 262–4); Syriac Life of Symeon (pp. 581–3, 585–8); Life of Alexander Akoimetos 34 (pp. 684–5), 39 (pp. 688–9); Life of Marcellus Akoimetos 32 (pp. 314–16).
282 The relatively short fifth-/early sixth-century Life of Alexander Akoimetos stands out as another Life which contains few positive stories about the rich.
283 Life of Symeon 151 (pp. 135–6), 232 (pp. 208–10).
284 Ibid. 144 (pp. 131–2), 231 (p. 208), 224 (pp. 194–6). Two scholastikoi (lawyers) do appear in the work who are presented positively—John and Evagrios. Both, however, were closely associated with the Church: John subsequently became patriarch of Constantinople, while Evagrios worked for the patriarch Gregory. For Symeon’s hagiographer, their allegiance to the Church seems to exempt them from his general hostility to the local elites.
285 ἔν τινι τῶν ἐπισήμων τόπων τῆς πόλεως ἐν τῇ λεγομένῃ Διφώτῳ πλησίον τοῦ χειμερινοῦ δημοσίου: ibid. 224 (p. 195); τὸν δημόσιον ἔμβολον: ibid. 224 (p. 196).
286 πολλοὶ τῶν πρώτων τῆς πόλεως καὶ οἱ σὺν αὐτοῖς τὸ πρότερον ἐν ἐξουδενώσει διαγελῶντες αὐτόν: ibid. 197 (p. 175).
287 Ἀνήρ τις τῶν ἐπισήμων τῆς εἰρημένης Ἀντιοχέων πόλεως: ibid. 221 (p. 190).
288 ἀρξάμενος ἀφηγεῖτο τὰς ἀνόμους αὐτοῦ πράξεις καὶ τὰς εἰς Θεὸν βλασφημίας καὶ πολλὰς θυσίας ἃς κρυπτῶς ἐπετέλει τοῖς δαίμοσιν, καὶ ἕτερά τινα μυσαρά, ἅπερ σιωπῇ παραδραμεῖν καλὸν εἶναι νενομίκαμεν, φειδόμενοι τῆς τῶν ἁπλουστέρων ἀκοῆς: ibid. 221 (p. 191).
289 τινες τῶν ἀπίστων…ὡς πολλάκις ἐλέγξαντα τὴν κακοπιστίαν καὶ πλάνην τῶν ἐν αὐτοῖς ἑλληνιζόντων: ibid. 158 (p. 140).
290 παραδειγματίζοντα πάντα ἅπερ αὐτοὶ φρονοῦσι μὴ ἠλπικότες ἐπὶ σοί, ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ τῷ πλήθει τοῦ πλούτου αὐτῶν, ὅθεν καὶ διεφθάρη τὰ νοήματα αὐτῶν ἐν ἐπιτηδεύμασιν εἰδωλολατρείας, τὸν χρυσὸν θεὸν αὐτῶν ὑπάρχειν ἡγουμένων: ibid. 160 (p. 142).
291 φοβερὸς ἄρχων ἐλεύσεται καὶ τὰς ἀσεβείας καὶ φαυλοπραγίας τῶν ἀθέων διελέγξει: ibid. 160 (p. 143).
292 καὶ τοὺς ἐν ἀμέμπτῳ πολιτείᾳ δεδιέναι τὴν παρουσίαν αὐτοῦ: ibid. 161 (p. 143).
293 ηὗρε τοὺς πλείους τῶν πρώτων τῆς πόλεως καὶ πολλοῦς τῶν κατοικούντων αὐτὴν ἑλληνισμῷ καὶ μανιχαϊσμῷ και ἀστρολογίαις καὶ αὐτοματισμῷ καὶ ἄλλαις δυσωνύμοις αἱρέσεσι κατεχομένους: ibid. 161 (p. 144).
294 ὁ πλοῦτος αὐτῶν ἐν πολλαῖς ζημίαις κατηναλώθη: ibid. 161 (p. 144).
295 Ibid. 160 (pp. 142–3).
296 Ibid. 164 (pp. 145–6).
297 John Malalas 18.119 (p. 417, trans. pp. 294–5).
298 See PLRE 3a, ‘Amantius 2’, pp. 52–4.
299 στάσεις…πολλὰς ἐν ταῖς δημοτικαῖς ταραχαῖς: Life of Symeon 164 (p. 146).
300 Evagrios Scholastikos 4.30 (p. 179, trans. p. 232). For this theme in Prokopios, see e.g. Secret History 6.20 (p. 41), 8.9 (p. 51), 8.31 (p. 55), 11 (pp. 70–7), 12.1–13 (pp. 77–9), 13.2 (p. 84), 13.4–8 (p. 85), 13.22 (p. 87), 19.1–12 (pp. 120–2). On the possible social/political context for these complaints, see Sarris 2006, esp. pp. 200–27.
301 See above pp. 124–5.
302 For the idea that Justinian’s wickedness caused the eastern empire’s disasters, see Prokopios, Secret History 18.36–45 (pp. 118–19). The troubles caused to Justinian’s authority by disasters, and his attempts to rebut these, are a major theme throughout Meier 2003. For Symeon’s punishment of sceptics, see Life of Symeon 224–5 (pp. 194–7).
303 See above pp. 98–110.
304 See above pp. 38–9, 43–5.
305 εἰ γὰρ καὶ χριστιανὸς εἶ λεγόμενος: sermon 8.10 (p. 35).
306 Lane Fox 1997, p. 213.
307 Cremonesi 2008, pp. 255–64.
308 See above pp. 33–8.
309 Doran 1984.
310 Ibid. p. 47.