Pagan Religion Research Articles

The Myth of Historical Narrative: Margaret Murray's The God of the Witches

An important area of contention that arises when the scholars of today approach the religions of Witchcraft and Paganism concerns the origins of modern Witchcraft and whether any historical continuity exists between contemporary Pagans and the ancient pagan religions of Europe.

The De-Paganization of Daphnis and Chloe in the Christian West

The De-Paganization of Daphnis and Chloe in the Christian West Mary Cozad Daphnis and Chloe is a late Hellenistic pastoral romance, in all probability dating from the late second or early third century of the Christian era.1 Its author was one Longus, probably a resident of the island of Lesbos, as the surname was fairly common there.2 Otherwise, we only know that he was a highly-skilled rhetorician of the Second Sophistic, based on a reading of the romance itself. Daphnis and Chloe tells the story of two abandoned infants, each raised by different families on the island of Lesbos. They herd their flocks together, and as their physical attraction for each other grows, they try to discover the mysteries of sex, unsuccessfully, despite a general sex ed instruction by the elderly cowherd Philetas, who had been ordered by Eros himself to teach them, and a more specific "hands-on" initiation of Daphnis by the former prostitute Lykanion. Eventually, through a series of events that occur during a visit by the estate's master, they learn the identity of their respective true parents by means of the recognition tokens which had been abandoned with them. Daphnis's true father is the master himself, and Chloe's another wealthy inhabitant of Mytelene, the principal city of Lesbos. The two are restored to their families, and they marry, but choose to remain in the country as masters of the rural estate on which Daphnis had lived as a peasant-slave.3 Symmetrically structured around the seasons, the tale includes such highlights as Daphnis's fall into a wolf pit and rescue by Chloe; the cowherd Dorcon's disguising himself as a wolf to try to abduct Chloe, but suffering injuries at the jaws of the children's dogs; the elderly peasant Philetas's discourse on Eros; two abductions—Daphnis's by pirates/cattle rustlers, and Chloe's by invaders from a neighboring city; Daphnis's sexual initiation by the aforementioned Lykanion; a grape harvest, a winter birdhunting; and the attempted procurement of Daphnis as a "boy-toy" by the parasite Gnathon, who, once Daphnis's true identity is known, redeems himself by rescuing Chloe from an abduction by one of her other suitors. [End Page 83] What most distinguishes Daphnis and Chloe from other works of Greco-Roman antiquity is its portrayal of what we today call pagan religion. The heart, and dare I say, soul, of Daphnis and Chloe is the feeling that the principal characters are under the loving protection of benevolent divinities: three Nymphs, the woodland deity Pan, with whom the Nymphs are in close alliance, and Eros, the life force of the universe, of whom the other divinities may be merely manifestations. Chalk,4 in fact, has seen Daphnis and Chloe as a mystical text exalting Eros, if, I would note, mysticism can be fun. The gods appear in the form both of epiphanies to wide-awake characters and in prophetic dreams—sometimes to characters who have been temporarily put to sleep for the very purpose of receiving the counsel of a god. Especially interesting is the portrayal of Pan. He displays his customary lust and cruelty in the last two of the recounted myths in this story,5 naively (and comically) criticized by Chloe, when she asks Daphnis to swear to the sincerity of his love by his goats, not Pan, who is not trustworthy in matters of the heart. In the main narrative, however, Pan is never anything but fiercely and benevolently protective toward Chloe and the young pair. In other words, the gods of Daphnis and Chloe are not the nasty pagan deities of Homer and Virgil,6 subsequently ironized by Ovid,7 but nature-deities, ever favorable to humankind, love, procreation, and the fertility of the earth, livestock, and humanity. At the hands of Daphnis and Chloe's sixteenth-century humanist translators/ adapters, they may become something different—or disappear altogether. Such differences are present in the work of four sixteenth-century authors, first with regard to the portrayal of pagan religion and the gods themselves, and secondarily, with respect to social attitudes affected by religion—at least in the Christian...

Pole semantyczne choroby w De civitate Dei Augustyna z Hippony

In this paper I try to analyze the lexemes belonging to the semantic field of dis ease in the apologetic treatise “De Civitate Dei” of Augustine of Hippo. This treaty was written in order to deal with pagan religion and to present the concept of the two states: the divine and the earthly. To accomplish this aim, Augustine first builds the opposition “we – the Christians” and “they – the pagans”, and employs vocabulary from six different semantic fields: epistemic ( veritas , errores , imperiti , falsi ), quantitative ( unus , multi , turba ), moral ( humiles , superbi , eversio probitatis , impii , impietas ), verba dicendi ( adversus Deum mururare ), civitas ( custos , rector , idonei cives , inimici ), and disease ( morbus , medicus , medicina ). In this article I briefly present the first five fields, and in more detail the semantic field of disease, which, like the field civitas , was applied by the Bishop of Hippo in a metaphorical presentation of the pagan religion.

Das Bild des Kynikers Diogenes in griechischen, syrischen und arabischen Texten

Abstract Several ancient texts treat Diogenes’ life, or at least central aspects of it. The present article gives a survey of some of the most important passages dealing with the question for which purposes Diogenes was used in these texts: In the Sale of Diogenes and in Epistle 7 he serves as a Cynic role model. Cercidas venerates him in a funeral poem as a celestial dog, and Dion of Prusa uses him for a political statement. Furthermore, for Maximos of Tyre Diogenes symbolizes the Golden Age, while Lucian depicts him as a deterrent philosopher whose teaching has no value for human life. For emperor Julian the Cynic finally is a true representative of the old pagan religion. Some biographical data are only preserved in the oriental tradition. They originate from Greek sources, i.e. they were part of the introductions to the philosophy of Aristotle which were read in the late antique universities like Athens or Alexandria. From this we may infer that the life and teaching of Diogenes itself was part of the late antique curricula, a fact, for which the Greek tradition gives no evidence.

Saint Fabiola in Fiction, in History, in Portraiture

TO SAY THAT FABIOLA IS A MINOR SAINT may well be an overstatement. For most English-speaking persons, she is completely unknown and unheard of. The Oxford Dictionary of Saints, purportedly the standard one-volume work in the field of hagiography, does not include her among its 1,500 entries because that work presents only English saints. It first includes those of English origin who died abroad and those of foreign origin who died in England. Second, it lists saints in whose honor churches have been dedicated, who have been commemorated in place-names, or who are venerated in the calendars of the Sarum Rite, the Book of Common Prayer, and the Roman Church as revised in 1969. Third, it names saints whose biographies are important to understanding more fully the lives of other saints. Fabiola meets none of these requirements. After lying in historical disregard for centuries, however, Fabiola entered public awareness with the publication in 1854 of Cardinal Nicholas Patrick Wiseman's novel Fabiola. The semi-historical fiction is set in pagan Rome in the years following A.D. 302 during which Maximian ruled as emperor. Maximian was a barbarian of the lowest extraction, endowed with little more than brute strength. He had no sense of justice or feeling of humanity and had never ceased to oppress, persecute, and slay whoever stood in his way. This tyrant struck terror into the hearts of all who beheld him--all, that is, but the Christians. This fact alone would have made him hate even the name Christian, but joined to his naturally unrestrained vileness, it further dictated that all Christians should be hunted with unrelenting savageness and perseverance until there was a complete extermination, a wholesale butchery of the believers--from their leaders to the most lowly of persons. Fabiola's heritage differed markedly from Maximian's barbarianism. Her father Fabius had amassed great wealth that left her wanting nothing and fostered her immense self-indulgence. She was proud, haughty, and irritable, exacting humble homage from all who approached her. At the same time, she had been afforded excellent teachers to hone a superior intellect, and she read much, particularly in what are called profound books, and so was knowledgeable about the pagan philosophers and the sensual Epicureanism fashionable in Rome at the time. Her intellectual curiosity, however, did not prompt her to investigate the Christianity that she had despised for its apparent lowness and vulgarity. Her Christian cousin Agnes, just before she died, characterized Fabiola's early anti-Christian prejudices: abhorred us as followers of the most ridiculous superstitions, as perpetrators of the most odious abominations. You despised us as being unintellectual, uneducated, unphilosophical, and unreasonable. ... The Christian name was only an object of hatred in your generous mind. (1) As for the pagan religion with its gods, its fables, and its idolatry, Fabiola also intellectually scorned it although practically she followed it. Because of Maximian's eradication edict, Christians practiced their faith in secret, giving no public indication of their being followers of the Faith. Still, for those in daily contact with them, their calmness of demeanor, sweetness of tone in discourse, quickness to smile, and cheerful eagerness to do work betrayed a character that was immediately recognizable even though exasperatingly unexplainable. And for Fabiola the three persons who most noticeably demonstrated these qualities were Syra, her slave; Agnes, her cousin; and Sebastian, captain of the praetorian guards. Syra's calm assurance and unabashed honesty at first drew Fabiola's ire, even to the point of her severely gashing Syra's arm with the stiletto that she kept at hand to punish or vent anger on her slaves. Agnes, who had witnessed this entire scene, asked to buy the slave girl. Fabiola reluctantly agreed, but when Agnes presented the idea to Syra she asked to remain with Fabiola to have more opportunity to convert her to Christianity. …

Orphism and Christianity in Late Antiquity (review)

Reviewed by: Orphism and Christianity in Late Antiquity David Konstan Miguel Herrero de Jáuregui . Orphism and Christianity in Late Antiquity. Sozomena, 7. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. Pp. xiii, 442. €82.24. ISBN 978-3-11-020633-3. This is a splendid book. Herrero's scholarship is exhaustive, his judgment balanced, the coverage is extensive, and, to top it all off, he writes clearly and elegantly (although the translators of the book, which appeared in Spanish in 2007, are named only in small type in the library catalogue information, I take this opportunity to state that Jennifer Ottman and Daniel Rodríguez have done a magnificent job: the English is perfect, and a pleasure to read). Herrero provides an initial summary of all that is known about Orpheus as a subject of myth and cult, from the Hellenistic period on down. He defends, however provisionally, the use of the label "Orphic," making clear the problems that the blanket term conceals (26). There are, of course, two aspects to Orpheus. On the one hand, he was regarded in antiquity as the author of [End Page 379] cosmogonie poems and eschatological doctrines, which were interpreted by later scholars (e.g., in the Derveni papyrus) and were associated with certain rituals or cultic practices (the number of such writings increased dramatically in the Hellenistic period and thereafter). On the other hand, there were myths about Orpheus, in which he was represented as a singer who could enchant not just human beings but even animals and inanimate nature, and who was famous for having sought to rescue his wife from the underworld and, when he failed to do so and had abandoned all commerce with women, for being torn apart by raving women or Maenads. All this was evidently known in the fifth and fourth centuries BC; Roman poets such as Virgil and Ovid added further details that embellished the core myth. The connection between the literary mythological tradition and the cultic practices is, however, mostly indirect, where it exists at all. Thus, Herrero argues that the cult never really established itself in Rome, where Dionysiac rituals were viewed with suspicion and at times harshly repressed, despite the popularity of Orpheus' story: in a word, "there never was a Roman Orphism" (73). The more mystical aspects of Orphism survived via conflation with Pythagorean doctrines, and the rites were assimilated to the Eleusinian cult, both of which enjoyed a certain popularity at Rome. The literary tradition, however, remained available, and led to constructions of Orphism as one model of pagan religion, both by pagan philosophers, above all the later Platonists (with Porphyry and Iamblichus, "the integration of the Orphic tradition into Neo-Platonist philosophy is total" [91]), and by the Christians, who conceived of paganism as a systematic doctrine analogous to their own which they had to combat by means of theological and other arguments (cf. 103, 127). Herrero meticulously traces the evolution of Christian responses to Orphism, indicating where possible the sources of their polemics (virtually entirely literary), delineating the dependency of later authors on earlier (elaborate stemmata are provided), and evaluating the possibility that some genuine information about Orphic practices or doctrines may have been transmitted. Much of Christian interpretation follows well-worn paths; Herrero remarks that "Lactantius is the only apologist who takes the theogonic material in a different and original direction" (177), by inverting earlier interpretations. After a survey author by author, Herrero analyzes the several strategies employed by the Christian polemicists in dealing with the rival doctrine (e.g., omission, distortion), resulting in what Herrero calls "the Christian recreation of Orphism" (265). It is impossible even to suggest the riches of this fine study, in which the author is equally at home in literary texts, papyrological evidence, and archaeological remains. This is to be expected of a student of Alberto Bernabé (the book originated in a thesis under his direction); but Herrero more than fulfills such expectations, and has written a magisterial work which is essential reading for anyone interested in the evolution of ancient Orphism. David Konstan New York University Copyright © 2011 The Classical Association of the Atlantic States, Inc.

TEMPLES IN LATE ANTIQUE GAUL

Literary sources emphasise the role of Christian iconoclasts and churchbuilders in the demise of Gaul’s pagan temples. But the picture from archaeology is different, since excavated remains suggest that the main story is one of voluntary abandonment from the late 3rd c. A.D. onwards. This may be linked with the military upheavals of the period, but indirectly, due to factors such as financial difficulties and the changing priorities of the elite. Meanwhile, the imperial adoption of Christianity and the beginnings of official hostility towards pagan religion had little impact, because by the time they came into effect, the heyday of pagan sacred architecture in Gaul had passed.

Christian interpretation of classical myths

The function of mythology in early Christianity is usually considered under two points of view. First, the ancient myths are exempla: through the interpretatio christiana they can be read as allegories of Christian ideas (Plato and other philosophers having already offered an allegorical interpretation of mythology). Second, myths offer an accepted language to Christian artists, who have to cope with the representation of new ideas and need the auctoritas of tradition in order to express them. To these two points a third one can be added: classical myths are used in early Christian art also thanks to the similarity between mythological heroes (including those coming from different pagan religions) and biblical figures. Through the use of mythology for its prestige, Christian art gives back to the word myth its original meaning: which is, since its early appearance in Homer, “authoritative speech”. The use of myth therefore conferes to Christianity the strength of such auctoritas.

Earthquakes and the Crises of Faith: Social Transformation in Late Antique Cyprus

The fourth century AD marked a watershed change for the development of Cyprus cultural identity. Transformed by external factors, the Cyprus that emerged by AD 400 is recognizably the forerunner of modern Cyprus. A series of earthquakes during the course of that century caused both the traditional pagan religions and the newly visible and vibrant Christianity to undergo crises of faith. The Cypriot pagan response is to reject the temple cult and turn inward following neo-Platonic teachings before quietly fading away. This is inferred from surviving mosaic floors. The Christian response is expressed in a massive campaign of church construction. The theological framework for this expansion is an understanding of the Providence of God as mercy and judgment inseparably together which forms the foundation for the Cypriot church.

The Revelation of the Veiled in Toni Morrison's Paradise: The Whirling Dervishes in the Harem of the Convent

Muslim women's perspective on liberatory Islamic orality (or empowerment via the oral traditions within Islam) is vastly accentuated in Fatema Mernissi's and Leila Ahmed's examinations of the harem structure. These harem narratives celebrate Sufism, Islamic theosophy that foregrounds orality and invites constant search toward divine discovery and liberation from human limitations. Recalling these narratives, Morrison's Paradise (1997) emerges as harem narrative that culls the liberatory Sufi rituals crystallized by Jalalu 'ddin Rumi, his lineage of the Mevlevi Order, and other Sufi mystics such as Mansur al-Hallaj and Muhyiddin ibn 'Arabi. Paradise celebrates Sufism as paradigmatic vision for female resistance, empowerment, and liberation. Religious contextualization of female regeneration in Paradise's scholarship does allude to any Islamic presence in the narrative's transformation rituals. Megan Sweeney argues that the Convent women's ritual explicitly trop[es] on the biblical themes of crucifixion, redemption, and resurrection (47). Echoing Sweeney, Ana Maria Fraile-Marcos reads Consolata's death as precipitator of her transformation into Christ figure (28). Critics such as Ingrid G. Daemmrich and Katrine Dalsgard identify other religious and mystic epistemologies in the Convent women's healing rite. Daemmrich contends that the Convent women's strategies to create their transient paradise are portrayed as intuitive, experimental, even mystical (225), and Dalsgard discerns quality in Piedade's tableau and perceives Consolata as a kind of high priestess who conducts ritual of almost sacramental proportions (244). Other critical interpretations accentuate the hybridity of religious associations in Consolata's healing rite. J. Brooks Bouson claims that Consolata avoids the dualisms of normative Christianity by embracing Candomble, native Afro-Brazilian religion that combines Catholicism with African spirit worship (238). Fraile-Marcos discerns reconciliation in [Consolata's] own person of the pagan religion she perceives in her gift and the Christian doctrine, both Catholic and Puritan, depleted of its patriarchal conditioning (27), and Nada Elia also accentuates Consolata's religious hybridity (Trances 144). Consistent with Fraile-Marcos's and Elia's arguments, Channette Romero posits that Consolata speaks to multiple deities and combines the Catholic precepts of service and love with the African American womanist traditions of root working and conjuring (417). No one, however, has situated Morrison's novel in an Islamic context that cultivates female empowerment. Excavating link between Islam and female liberation opens up the crucial role orality has played historically in women's liberatory spirituality and Sufism. The original impulse of Sufism is classically believed to be oral, for it has opened with the example of Muhammad and the revelation of the Qur'an (Helminski 3). Historical records and cultural studies of Sufi orders, especially the Qadiriyya, Kubrawiyya, Suhrawardiyya, Naqshbandiyya, Shadhiliyya, and Tijaniyya, acknowledge their main influence in the spread of Islam and its harmonious incorporation of oral rituals in Africa. Eric Charry identifies Sufism as the predominant form of Islam in various West African countries; it embraces African traditions because it not only allows music, but puts it to great use (556). Chronicles of the early days of the Islamic community reveal that women participated equally with men in the development of this newly emerging spiritual community. Muslim women's contribution has only sustained the spirituality and orality of Islam but also shaped its early mystic aspects. Leslie Wines observes that since its inception, Sufism had had its share of women saints, practitioners, and adepts, such as Rabi'a al-Adawiyya of Basra and Mtumwa bint 'Ali of Malawi, who initiated both men and women into the [Qadiriyya] order (64, 463-64). …

Photography and the Religious Encounter: Ambiguity and Aesthetics in Missionary Representations of the Luba of South East Belgian Congo

William F. P. Burton's career straddled several worlds that seemed at odds with each other. As a first-generation Pentecostal he pioneered, with James Salter, the Congo Evangelistic Mission (CEM) at Mwanza, Belgian Congo in 1915. The CEM became a paradigm for future Pentecostal Faith Mission work in Africa, thanks to Burton's propagandist writings that were published in at least thirty European and North American missionary periodicals. His extensive publications, some twenty-eight books, excluding tracts and articles in mission journals, reveal that the CEM was a missionary movement animated by a relentless proselytism, divine healing, exorcism, and the destruction of so-called “fetishes.” The CEM's Christocentric message required the new believer to make a public confession of sin and reject practices relating to ancestor religion, possession cults, divination, and witchcraft. It was a deeply iconoclastic form of Protestantism that maintained a strong distinction between an “advanced” Christian religion, mediated by the Bible, and an idolatrous primitive pagan religion. Burton's Pentecostalism had many of its own primitive urges, harkening back to an age where miraculous signs and wonders were the stuff of daily life, dreams and visions constituted normative authority, and the Bible was immune to higher criticism. But his vision also embraced social modernization and he preached the virtues of schooling and western styles of clothing, architecture, and agriculture. It was this combination of primitive and pragmatic tendencies that shaped the CEM's tense relations with the Belgian colonial state.

428 AD: An Ordinary Year at the End of the Roman Empire (review)

Reviewed by: 428 AD: An Ordinary Year at the End of the Roman Empire John Aloisi Giusto Traina . 428 AD: An Ordinary Year at the End of the Roman Empire. Translated by Allan Cameron Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009 Pp. xix + 203. $24.95. Originally published in Italian (2007) and recently translated into English, this book by Giusto Traina provides a fascinating look at a single year during the [End Page 468] closing decades of the Roman Empire. The concept of focusing on a single year is not uncommon for years marked by major events. But Traina's approach is unusual for a year in late antiquity and for one when the most significant political event to occur was the fall of the kingdom of Armenia. However, by focusing on a relatively obscure year Traina has managed to write a book that provides a helpful glimpse of "ordinary" life near the end of the Roman Empire. Traina begins the book by discussing the end of the Armenian dynasty. He notes that by removing Artashes from the throne the Persians were hoping to draw the region away from Christianity and back toward Zoroastrianism. The fall of the kingdom also had a psychological impact on the region. Although the Roman Empire was still militarily superior to the Persians, the empire was unable to prevent the fall of the kingdom, and this blemished the empire's already flagging reputation. Chapters Two and Three examine the roles played by early fifth-century bishops, monks, and Saracens and the relationships between major eastern cities such as Antioch, Alexandria, and Constantinople. Traina spends a fair amount of space tracing Nestorius's journey on the Pilgrims' Road from Antioch to the eastern capital. The value of this narrative lies in the opportunity it provides for discussing the various cities along the eastern Mediterranean that Nestorius passed through on his journey of almost eight hundred Roman miles. Chapter Four focuses on the city of Constantinople and its newly installed bishop, Nestorius. In the early fifth century, Constantinople was growing rapidly both in size and prestige. As Traina points out, although the head of the city's diocese did not yet hold the title of patriarch or archbishop, "everyone knew that this episcopal throne had the same importance as Saint Peter's in the West" (27). Constantinople was quickly establishing itself as the leading Christian center of the eastern empire. Yet Nestorius's position as the de facto head of the Christian East was far from secure. Within a year of his election, Nestorius's theology was under serious attack. And just a few years later he would be deposed at the Council of Ephesus. Chapters Five and Six discuss the gradual decline of Rome and the rise of Ravenna as an important center of power in the Western Empire. In 428, Rome was still a vital symbol of the empire, but political power had largely shifted to Ravenna in the West and Constantinople in the East. Traina also points out that, although the church fathers of the period often used triumphal language when speaking about the spread of the Christian faith, paganism was still alive and well in the empire. In Chapters Seven and Eight Traina sees traces of a proto-medieval viewpoint developing among critics of the empire such as Salvian of Marseille, even as the Vandals were preparing to invade northern Africa. He notes that Christian authors during late antiquity and the middle ages frequently, but incorrectly, portrayed the Vandals as exceptionally destructive. Traina suggests that the Vandals were no more violent or "barbarian" than most contemporary groups in the region. In the remaining chapters Traina completes his sweeping counterclockwise tour of the Mediterranean by discussing events and people connected to Egypt, Jerusalem, and Persia. In 428, Cyril of Alexandria stood strongly opposed to [End Page 469] heretics, Jews, and pagans alike. But while Christianity had made enormous progress in Egypt, pagan religions had not disappeared along the Nile Valley. In many places, paganism had simply gone underground. Throughout the main text, Traina resists the temptation to interpret every event in light of where it was heading. But in the epilogue he helpfully ties together...

Escrituras de la modernidad. Los jesuitas entre cultura retórica y cultura científica (review)

Reviewed by: Escrituras de la modernidad. Los jesuitas entre cultura retórica y cultura científica Jeffrey Klaiber S.J. Escrituras de la modernidad. Los jesuitas entre cultura retórica y cultura científica. Edited by Perla Chinchilla and Antonella Romano. (Mexico, D.F.: Universidad Iberoamericana. 2008. Pp. 379. $25.00 paperback. ISBN 978-6-074-17030-6.) Marshall McLuhan’s dictum,“The medium is the message,”would seem to apply especially to sixteenth-and seventeenth-century Jesuits, who did not hesitate to use all the media of their time, and even to create some new ones, to convey their message. As such, they stood out as forerunners of modern communication. The two editors, historians Perla Chinchilla (Iberoamericana University) and Antonella Romano (European University, Institute of Florence), and eleven other specialists analyze the different genre that presuppression Jesuits used to communicate: chronicles, catechisms, written sermons, biographies, scholarly manuals, legal briefs, and visual images. Norma Durán and Alfonso Mendiola study the chronicles of José de Acosta, which on the surface appear to be simple descriptions of the New World Indians and the evangelization process. But, as both authors argue, these are not mere value-free chronicles. Rather, Acosta subtly establishes new norms for determining what is true religion. By so doing, he implies that the real [End Page 402] evangelization of America began with the Jesuits who, unlike the noncritical mendicant orders who went before, understood the essential nature of the struggle between Christianity and the New World pagan religions. In another essay, Antonio Rubial compares the hagiographies of several holy women in New Spain, all written by Jesuits. The biographies fit the mold of that particular literary genre but, like Acosta’s chronicles, there is a message underlying all these pious stories: These women were holy because they were obedient (and in particular, obedient to their Jesuit confessors). In another context, the Jesuits in China wrote many catechisms. But, as Gianni Criveller points out, Ricci and his successors did not merely reproduce the Roman catechism: They wrote introductions to Christianity intentionally adapted to the mentality of their Chinese readers. In this sense, they were really not “catechisms,” but sophisticated theologies of inculturation, written long before that concept was formally thought up in the twentieth century. Back in Europe the Jesuits were known as great preachers. But, as Fernando Bouza points out, they also used the printing press to preserve and disseminate their message in numerous summaries of sermons and in what might be called guidebooks for preachers. In the same line, Bernadette Majorana studies the sermons and instructions by Jesuits for writing sermons for rural missions. She notes that emphasis was placed on adapting the sermon to the rudes ac pueri—that is, the rural folk in Italy. But these were not watereddown sermons for the ignorant. Rather, the instructions call for greater creativity to communicate in a more difficult milieu. Perla Chinchilla takes on the topic of preaching in post-Tridentine Europe: how to effectively communicate divine truths without offending the new orthodoxy. Jesuit preachers built upon St. Ignatius’s “composition of place” in the Spiritual Exercises to “amplify” details, thus turning sermons into masterpieces of Baroque imagery. But if overdone, as Chinchilla observes, sacred oratory could degenerate into empty rhetoric. Antonella Romano looks at another literary genre: the textbooks and manuals that the Jesuits wrote to accompany their classes in their schools and universities. Through these classroom aids classical culture was widely disseminated throughout New Spain. But were the Jesuits always “modern?” Carlos Alberto Moura Ribeiro Zeron and Rafael Ruiz González analyze the curious case of an anonymous Jesuit who used all the arms of the Scholastic method to argue in favor of lifting the excommunication that weighed over the slave raiders in seventeenth-century São Paulo. But the Jesuits were not just masters of the written word; they also understood the importance of images, so much so that one of the authors, Ralph Dekoninck, argues that they cultivated a “science of the image” and even developed a “rhetoric of the image,” inspired very much by St. Ignatius himself who sought to “spiritualize all things.” In China, as Elisabetta Corsi points out, the Jesuits made...

Dimensionen der Rationalität. Religion im Verhältnis zu Kunst, Wissenschaft und Philosophie

The paper suggests a concept of reality as a phenomenon of willing. This enables it to not only encompass science, which is restricted to objective external verification, but also art and religion, which empathically understand the inner aspect of things as intentional activity and authentic forms of reason or rationality. From this point an analysis of the basic tenets of Schelling's later philosophy provides the history of religion as a history of rationality, beginning from Fall of Man via the pagan religions with their various gods and humanity-destroying sacrifices to the redemption by Jesus Christ, which for the first time enabled free perception, uncompromised by the fear of gods. All historical forms of philosophy, that may be realized through human thought, thus appear as preludes to a perfect understanding that can only be realized eschatologically, and which is considered by Plato, Thomas and Schelling as a limiting idea. This article then turns to Hegel's hybrid resistance to this understanding in his argument for an internally realizable philosophy, and his absurd claim that this is realized in his own philosophy.

MAGIC AND SYNCRETIC RELIGIOUS CULTURE IN THE EAST

This paper presents a general introduction to magic and syncretic religious culture in the Eastern Roman empire in Late Antiquity. Examples of magical rituals, texts and the materials used in the rites are presented. Imperial edicts against pagan religions and magic rituals in the 4th and early 5th c. changed the scene, and practising pagans were forced to perform these rituals in private. Neoplatonists in Athens emphasised the importance of magic and ancient rites, as vehicles for contact with the gods. In Attica, the extensive use of cave sanctuaries in Late Antiquity can possibly be connected with the activities of the Neoplatonists and with religious syncretism.

Spirit and Covenant Renewal: A Theologoumenon of Paul's Opponents in 2 Corinthians

(ProQuest: ... denotes non-US-ASCII text omitted.) The reconstruction of the position of the missionary rivals whose legitimacy Paul attempts to undermine in 2 Corinthians has proven to be a difficult task. Since the time of Ferdinand Christian Baur, scholars have proposed various, often conflicting reconstructions. In 1990, Jerry L. Sumney proposed some salutary methodological guidelines for this project and offered his own minimalist reconstruction.1 The material that Sumney used in his reconstruction of the position of Paul's missionary rivals was gleaned solely from the text of 2 Corinthians. There remain, however, substantial comparative data from early Jewish and Christian texts that have not yet been examined in connection with this problem. These comparative data, I argue, suggest an alternative to Sumney's view of the role played by the spirit in the preaching of Paul's missionary rivals in 2 Corinthians. To contextualize this argument, let us briefly examine Jerry Sumney's methodological dicta, the reasons that he had for proposing them, and the minimalist sketch of Paul's Corinthian missionary opponents that he proposed. Sumney's delineation of a methodology for establishing the characteristics of the preaching of Paul's missionary opponents in 2 Corinthians was formulated in response to what he perceived as an undue variety in the types of characteristics that previous scholars had imputed to those missionaries. In the interest of time, I men- tion only three of the more influential theories here.2 In the late 1800s, Baur saw Paul's missionary rivals in 2 Corinthians as representatives of a single, unified movement that opposed Paul's law-free mission: that of Petrine Christianity.3 In 1964, Dieter Georgi proposed a novel solution to the problem of Paul's opposition in Corinth.4 Georgi argued that Paul's missionary rivals presented themselves as ..., Greco-Roman divine men such as Apollonius of Tyana, who possessed superhuman traits including preternatural wisdom and the ability to work miracles. C. K. Barrett presented Paul's rivals as Christian Jews who received their authority from the Jerusalem church, although they misrepresented the principals James and Cephas there by "adopting . . . the ecstatic accompaniments of pagan religion" such as visionary experience and glossolalia.5 It was in response to this variety of reconstructions that Sumney proposed methodological principles that should be followed when approaching the subject of Paul's Corinthian rivals.6 In brief, Sumney creates a taxonomy of the kinds of statements that allow us to extract information about Paul's rivals, including explicit statements, allusions, and major themes addressed in 2 Corinthians. Against the influential thesis of Baur, Sumney is keen to point out the methodological flaw in assuming that the opponents in one letter (e.g., Galatians) must be identified with Paul's opponents in another. Sumney recognizes the potential value of comparative sources to provide background data within which to contextualize discussions of Paul's opponents. He rejects the use of sources that postdate Paul's letters and states that contemporary sources should be used to provide comparative data.7 He does not address the issue of whether earlier sources, which might have influenced later developments, may be used. He does, however, indicate the potential value of tracing the historical trajectory of a particular theme for understanding Paul's opponents: "If we know about the beginning and some later point [of a historical or thematic trajectory], we may be able to speak of intervening developments."8 Contextualization is necessary for historical reconstruction: "We can evaluate the information that we have about a particular situation only when we know something about its historical context, that is, we must know something about the broad context to understand a particular episode."9 Sumney, however, does little in Identifying Paul's Opponents to provide such contextualizing information. …

Retorica pagana e cristianesimo orientale: la traduzione siriaca dell’orazione Περὶ φιλίας di Temistio

No certain knowledge is available regarding the production and reception of the Syriac version of the Themistian oration On Friendship. It is nevertheless possible to obtain some information from a linguistic and stylistic comparison of the two texts and even more from a study of changes made by the translator to the original text. Such an analysis has revealed the intention of censuring material explicitly tied to pagan religion and a style of life extraneous to Christianity whereas other references to classical Greek culture and literature underwent only generic revision and no Christian distortions of the text are present. On the whole, the translation denotes a greater interest in the rhetorical aspects of the text than in the contents which seem to have been altered only to the point of making them acceptable and understandable in a different cultural and religious context.

Teenage Witches: Magical Youth and the Search for the Self

A popular new image of Witches has arisen in recent years, due largely to movies like The Craft, Practical Magic, and Simply Irresistible and television shows such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Charmed . Here, young sexy Witches use magic and Witchcraft to gain control over their lives and fight evil. Then there is the depiction in the Harry Potter books: Witchcraft is a gift that unenlightened Muggles (everyday people) lack. In both types of portrayals, being a Witch is akin to being a superhero. At the other end of the spectrum, wary adults assume that Witches engage in evil practices that are misguided at best and dangerous at worst. Yet, as Helen A. Berger and Douglas Ezzy show in this in-depth look into the lives of teenage Witches, the reality of their practices, beliefs, values, and motivations is very different from the sensational depictions we see in popular culture. Drawing on extensive research across three countries-the United States, England, and Australia-and interviews with young people from diverse backgrounds, what they find are highly spiritual and self-reflective young men and women attempting to make sense of a postmodern world via a religion that celebrates the earth and emphasizes self-development. The authors trace the development of Neo-Paganism (an umbrella term used to distinguish earth-based religions from the pagan religions of ancient cultures) from its start in England during the 1940s, through its growing popularity in the decades that followed, up through its contemporary presence on the Internet. Though dispersed and disorganized, Neo-Pagan communities, virtual and real, are shown to be an important part of religious identity particularly for those seeking affirmation during the difficult years between childhood and adulthood.

The End of Sacrifice: Religious Transformations in Late Antiquity. By Guy G. Stroumsa

trans. By Emanuel, Susan . Pp. xviii, 136 , Chicago/London , The University of Chicago Press , 2009 , £22.50/$32.00. This book consists of expanded versions of four lectures given at the Collège de France in 2004 together with a paper on the transformation of the self in Late Antiquity. Strousma subscribes to a variant of Gilbert Murray and E. R. Dodds' thesis of a ‘failure of nerve’ based on increasing insecurity as ethnic and cultural identities collapsed as Hellenistic society moved into the Empire, and people looked to religion, redefined from a sacrificial quid pro quo reinforcing the civic collectivity to the search for a personal ‘salvation’ understood as union with the ‘One’, to take its place and fill the vacuum. In general, it was a step down, not a step up, but the fall of the Jewish Temple in 70 CE is an under-appreciated catalyst that made Rabbinic Judaism the laboratory for this revolutionary transformation in society as a whole. The Jews were forced to give up sacrifices and to reconfigure their religion, based now on study, prayer, fasting and charity; they functioned as forerunner and precedent for the change that Christianity would bring about when it became the official religion of the Empire, and animal sacrifices were interdicted to all religions in the late fourth century. Strouma dismisses René Girard's thesis of the ‘triangle of desire’, but the data he presents reinforces a view of Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity as mirror images of one another, both persecuted minorities, both subscribing to ‘bloodless sacrifices’, and rivals disputing the correct interpretation of the Jewish scriptures, with the ‘prize’ consisting in seizing the title of ‘true Israel’. Strousma underplays the extent (which Yuval among others has demonstrated) to which early Rabbinic Judaism, and the Mishnah in particular, developed not autonomously but with an eye constantly on developments in Christian theology and practice. The larger thesis, almost unspoken, is that Jewish exclusivism and monotheism prompted a love/hate reaction by Hellenistic society. Their exclusivism together with their rebelliousness made them unacceptable to the civic religion of the Romans; but then Hellenistic Jews themselves were exasperated and embarrassed by these traits, evidenced by the appearance of Greek first names, the occasional apostasy, and the planting of Hellenistic ‘diaspora’ synagogues even within Palestine before the fall of the Temple. Strousma acknowledges that pagan religion and Stoic-Platonic philosophy were functioning with an implicit monotheism that showed an openness and appreciation for this feature. All of society was pushing in this direction. In fact, one could claim that, after having ‘lost’ the war of independence in 70 CE, Judaism ‘conquered’ the Roman Empire ‘without firing a shot’ through the acceptance of its non-exclusive, non-legalistic offspring and variant, Christianity. This is a more adequate account for this transformation than a ‘failure of nerve’; this way, each side got what it wanted. Strousma fails to express exactly what constituted the difference of Christianity (and to a lesser extent, Judaism) from pagan religion. He speaks of ‘truth’ (in contrast to ‘myth’), but it is more precisely its insistence on historical-theological truth (as opposed to ‘philosophical’ truth) in claims about its founder that distinguished Christianity from the ‘myths’ of the pagan religions. Indeed, it was this disturbing insistence on the penetration of the divine into the physico-historical world in the incarnation and resurrection of Jesus that for the first time made society conscious by contrast of its ‘myths’as myths, with connotations of anthropomorphism and poetic fancy that punctured their serene security with suggestions of inferiority and inadequacy. The first natural response was outrage. Christian witness through martyrdom (or ascesis in monasticism) was a not inappropriate response to this claim from the human side. Strousma frustrates the reader by doing less than full justice to data he himself presents.

Expanding Religious Studies: The Obsolences of the Sacred/Secular Framework for Pagan, Earthen, and Indigenous Religion. Part 2: Rethinking the Concept of ‘Religion’ and ‘Maturi’ as a New Scheme

The present article discusses indigenous views concerning religion as part of a contemporary trend that wishes to expand understanding of religious phenomena and be more inclusive of nature worship and Pagan orientations that are otherwise excluded when the sacred is strictly dichotomized from the secular, the profane or the ordinary. Although there are phenomena that are classified academically as ‘religion’, our initial question asks whether an appropriate framework is actually established by the concept. This question is vitally pertinent for the study of nature worship and contemporary Western forms of Paganism as bona fide religious expressions. On the legal front alone, new religious movements often face huge hurdles when it comes to gaining recognition, legitimacy, and their benefits. The academic study of spiritual orientations that counter the already established world religions is part of this expanding arena of potential debate and innovation. In the preceding paper (Part 1) we suggested a new schema of i (yi) and ke (ké) in mutual conversion as a substitution for the ‘sacred secular’ polarity that many authors regard as fundamental to the very concept of religion. In Part 1, however, we assumed the concept of religion as a known premise. The present paper represents an attempt to reconsider the concept and its application range through situations in which the word ‘religion’ is actually used—hopefully to develop a more flexible usage that is more inclusive of traditional, vernacular, and emerging religio-spiritual practices. 
 
 The i-ke principle previously presented was not proposed as a framework for these phenomena but simply to show the methodological inadequacy involved with any a priori assumption concerning universal concepts. Inevitably, humanity’s cultural limitations and divisions make any refined and intelligent concept partial and prejudiced. Ethnocentrism can result when efforts to be objective and universal employ limited notions. Despite the irony involved, a better method might be located through the reverse exploitation: applying indigenous concepts that are already themselves understood as partial and prejudiced to wider areas and diverse traditions while remaining aware of their limitations and unfairness.
 
 Cultural bias does not necessarily or inevitably indicate inadequate public and academic considerations. Indeed, researchers might profitably recognize a dependence upon their own traditions as long as they do not insist upon the superiority and universality of their culture. The application of indigenous concepts need not be restricted to their host cultural regions. For example, interpreting ‘religious’ events in India with European cultural concepts, or those of Japan with African ones, are to be encouraged if exclusiveness or dogmatism are avoided and restricting conditions of indigenous nature are not forgotten. Such a methodology affords the possibility of effectively comparing multiple types of culture. When researchers survey the world from their own cultural perspectives while permitting and encouraging others operating in different traditions to do the same, plural interpretations and explanations of the same phenomenon are likely to emerge. Along with Paul Feyerabend there is no reason to grant unique authority to any inviolate presiding criteria.1 Encompassing a range of different theoretical positions for purposes of comparison is the foundation for a true respect of the diversity of cultural traditions. The proposal of the ‘i-ke mutuality’ is intended to provide an example of indigenous and pluralistic methodology. In the present paper, we attempt a similar analysis concerning the usage of religion as a word or concept.