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The document discusses the evolution of patristic exegesis, highlighting the complexities of early Christian biblical interpretation beyond the traditional dichotomy of Alexandrine allegory and Antiochene literalism. It examines the rhetorical techniques used by Origen and Eustathius in their debate on 1 Samuel 28, suggesting that the perceived divide between literal and allegorical readings is a product of rhetorical training rather than a strict methodological separation. Recent scholarship emphasizes the diverse reading strategies employed by early Christian interpreters, reflecting their engagement with Greco-Roman rhetorical arts.

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0% found this document useful (0 votes)
15 views33 pages

Retrieve (29) 1

The document discusses the evolution of patristic exegesis, highlighting the complexities of early Christian biblical interpretation beyond the traditional dichotomy of Alexandrine allegory and Antiochene literalism. It examines the rhetorical techniques used by Origen and Eustathius in their debate on 1 Samuel 28, suggesting that the perceived divide between literal and allegorical readings is a product of rhetorical training rather than a strict methodological separation. Recent scholarship emphasizes the diverse reading strategies employed by early Christian interpreters, reflecting their engagement with Greco-Roman rhetorical arts.

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Mark Dsouza
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
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Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory: Origen

and Eustathius Put 1 Samuel 28 on Trial


Margaret M. Mitchell / University of Chicago

the changing map of patristic exegesis


The standard textbook diagram of early Christian exegesis as charac-
terized by a basic dichotomy between Alexandrine allegory and An-
tiochene literalism has eroded considerably in the past decades. Earlier
scholars were not unaware that there were problems with an absolutely
neat polarization of exegetical camps,1 but now even a guarded reaffir-
mation of the older consensus model (i.e., one that acknowledged “bor-
der concepts” mediating between the two, such as Antiochene typology
or θεωρα) would find far fewer adherents than two decades ago.2 Re-
cent research has significantly altered the map of patristic exegesis by
emphasizing the broad array of reading strategies employed by early
Christian biblical interpreters and shifted the approach from a system-
atic investigation of biblical interpretation as solely rooted in philo-

1
See, e.g., Robert M. Grant, The Letter and the Spirit (London: SPCK Press, 1957), 105: “the
difference between Alexandria and Antioch can be exaggerated. . . . In practice, as contrasted
with theory, the two kinds of exegesis come together.”
2
Important voices in this conversation include Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the
Formation of Christian Culture (Peabody, MA: Hendrikson, 2002); Elizabeth A. Clark, Reading
Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1999); David Dawson, Allegorical Readers and Cultural Revision in Ancient Alexandria (Berke-
ley: University of California Press, 1992); John David Dawson, Christian Figural Reading and
the Fashioning of Identity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002). Instead of two neat
categories, Young proposes five kinds of literal reading, eight types of allegory (rhetorical,
parabolic, prophetic, moral, natural/psychological, philosophical, theological, and figurative),
and four subsets of types; Clark identifies eleven “modes of reading” used by an array of
patristic exegetes to support their own readings either promoting or denigrating Christian
monasticism. I have argued that a further complication of the literal/allegorical dichotomy
may be found in the Antiochene Chrysostom’s personification and characterization of the
apostle Paul, who functions as both historical personage and figural representation of con-
temporary religious ideals, by metonymy, metaphor, and synecdoche; see The Heavenly Trumpet:
John Chrysostom and the Art of Pauline Interpretation (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox,
2001), originally published as vol. 40 of the series Hermeneutische Untersuchungen zur
Theologie (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000).
䉷 2005 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved.
0022-4189/2005/8503-0003$10.00

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Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

sophical or theological hermeneutics to concentrated attention on the


extent to which exegetical work was a tool for enacting particular ec-
clesiastical, theological, and social agendas. A key underpinning of
these advances has been an appreciation of the thorough immersion
of early Christian writers (despite their own disclaimers) in Greco-Ro-
man rhetorical arts, which requires the reconsideration of many earlier
historical certainties.3

the source of the literal/allegorical dichotomy


I suggest that this is a good moment to look at, not simply past, the
traditional view, for it did not arise from nowhere. I seek to demon-
strate here, through an examination of the rhetorical techniques at
work in the remarkable exegetical debate between Origen and Eusta-
thius of Antioch on the “Medium of Endor” passage in 1 Samuel 28,
that the neat dichotomy between “literal” and “allegorical” interpre-
tation so valuably problematized by recent scholarship was not simply
a modern scholarly construct stemming from our need for neat cate-
gories.4 Rather, it was, less consciously than realized, perhaps, a re-
instantiation of the antithetical cast in which such interpretations were
themselves presented by patristic authors, even as these same authors’
exegetical practice in many ways contradicts or violates the methodo-
logical exclusivity which they vehemently defend in any single case.5

3
See, e.g., Averil Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire: The Development of Christian
Discourse, Sather Classical Lectures 55 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991); Peter
Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity: Towards a Christian Empire (Madison: University
of Wisconsin Press, 1992); further literature in n. 6 below.
4
References to the text of Origen, De engastrimytho (homilia in Librum Regnorum 5), are given
by paragraph and line numbers according to the edition of Pierre and Marie-Thérèse Nautin,
Origène: Homélies sur Samuel, Sources chrétiennes 328 (Paris: Cerf, 1986), with page numbers
in the Nautin edition given in brackets, and to Eustathius, De engastrimytho, by paragraph and
section, with the corresponding page and line number from the edition of Manlio Simonetti,
Origene Eustazio, Gregorio di Nissa, La Maga di Endor, Biblioteca patristica (Florence: Nardini,
1989), as checked against the more recent critical edition edited by José H. Declerck, De
engastrimytho, contra Origenem , CCSG 51 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002). The translations are mine,
in collaboration with Rowan A. Greer, in preparation for a forthcoming translation of these
texts to appear in the Texts from the Greco-Roman World series, edited by John T. Fitzgerald.
5
A precise analogy may be found in the old view that early Christian authors stood apart
from the larger “pagan” rhetorical culture, based on Christian authors’ apologetic disavowal
of rhetorical skill for themselves or their scriptures. That this rhetorical topos (one found
precisely in the rhetorical tradition being ostensibly attacked) cannot be accepted as historical
fact has been convincingly demonstrated by Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire,
Brown, Power and Persuasion, and a host of studies on individual authors. On John Chrysostom,
e.g., see Robert L. Wilken, John Chrysostom and the Jews: Rhetoric and Reality in the Late 4th
Century, The Transformation of the Classical Heritage 4 (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1983); Margaret M. Mitchell, “Reading Rhetoric with Patristic Exegetes: John Chrysos-
tom on Galatians,” in Antiquity and Humanity: Essays on Ancient Religion and Philosophy Presented

415
The Journal of Religion

And, I hope to demonstrate, they inherited that rhetorical move—of


dichototomizing the treatment of written sources in such a way—from
the paideia of the rhetorical schools,6 which, it is important to empha-
size, was designed not to create schools of readers (either literal or
allegorical), but to train rhetoricians who could argue for the meaning
of a text that a given situation required, by means of a set of standard
topoi for either case.7 Hence the construction of a hard and fast dis-
tinction between a literal and a figurative reading of a text is itself a
rhetorical act moored in rhetorical training,8 which generates the par-
adox that the appeal for a single, clear meaning from either direction
belies the textual ambiguity that gave rise to the exegetical disputes in
the first place.9
In the rhetorical τ έχναι (handbooks), the treatment of textual her-
meneutics comes under forensic cases, where documents are among
“inartificial proofs” ( τεχνοι vs. ντεχνοι πστει) serving as evidence,
alongside witnesses.10 Aristotle in the Rhetoric supplied a concise list of

to Hans Dieter Betz on His 70th Birthday, ed. Adela Yarbro Collins and Margaret M. Mitchell
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 333–56, Heavenly Trumpet, 241–45, 278–91.
6
For the broad influence of rhetorical education on early Christian practice, see Robert
M. Grant, The Earliest Lives of Jesus (New York: Harper, 1961); Christoph Schäublin, Untersu-
chungen zu Methode und Herkunft der antiochenischen Exegese, Theophania 23 (Köln: Peter Han-
stein, 1974); Bernhard Neuschäfer, Origenes als Philologe, Schweizerische Beiträge zur Alter-
tumswissenschaft 18/1–2 (Basel: Reinhardt, 1987); and Frances M. Young, “The Rhetorical
Schools and Their Influence on Patristic Exegesis,” in The Making of Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour
of Henry Chadwick, ed. Rowan Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989),
182–99. One should not, however, overstate the distinctiveness or complete separation be-
tween rhetorical and philosophical schools; see Young’s own caution on this point (169) and
her inclusion of Origen among those who “were the heirs of both traditions.”
7
See, e.g., Cicero De inv. 2.41.121.
8
It may be useful at this point to recall the well-known debate going back at least to the
influential articles of Tate in the 1920s and 1930s, over whether Stoic allegorists of the Homeric
epics did so “defensively” or “offensively”; see J. Tate, “The Beginnings of Greek Allegory,”
Classical Review 41 (1927): 214–15, “Cornutus and the Poets,” Classical Quarterly 23 (1929):
41–45, and “On the History of Allegorism,” Classical Quarterly 24 (1930): 1–10; more recent
discussion in, e.g., A. A. Long, “Stoic Readings of Homer,” in Homer’s Ancient Readers: The
Hermeneutics of Greek Epic’s Earliest Exegetes, ed. Robert Lamberton and John J. Keaney (Prince-
ton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992), 41–66. Whatever the merits of either option (surely
a chicken or egg case!), this formulation clearly assumes that ancient moments of allegorical
interpretation were based in a rhetorical purpose and enscripted in rhetorical forms. The
reason the dichotomy does not work there either is that rhetorical training of course included
both strategies, to be used when the occasion warranted.
9
Aphthonius, a fourth-century teacher of rhetoric, said that both arguments of refutation
and of confirmation are to be constructed only for matters that are “not very clear” (Prog.
5 [Rabe, 10, lines 11–12]). Hermogenes had said it is impossible to do either for “things
which are utterly false” (Prog. 5 [Rabe, 11, line 4]). Quintilian remarks that philosophers
recognize the ambiguity in all texts (nullum videatur esse verbum quod non plura significet [Inst.
7.9.1]); the rhetorician will, however, insist that his interpretation (whether literal or figu-
rative) is self-evidently true (see the wry comments of Sextus Empiricus, Math. 2.63–71).
10
The direct relevance of this background in rhetorical theory to our text is shown in the
way in which Eustathius chides Origen for making his case against his opponents τεχνα

416
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

topoi to be used, depending upon whether  γεγραµµέ νο (“what stands


written”), normally in regard to νόµοι (“laws”), is ναντο . . . τ 
πργµατι (“contrary to the case at hand”), µφβολο (“ambiguous”),
or πρὸ τὸ πρα γµα (“for our case”).11 The set of basic commonplaces
recommended by Aristotle would equip an orator with arguments to
use in any of these three situations to bring forward written evidence
of whatever sort appeared best to support his particular suit. Hence, if
the literal sense of the text seems contrary to one’s case, then one
should argue either that the judge’s role is to uphold the law in a more
general way in the promotion of justice rather than remaining strictly
bound by the wording of a single law, or one should seek to demon-
strate that the problematic law either contradicts another law that has
been approved, or even contradicts itself.12 In the opposite instance,
where an orator finds that the precise wording of the text actually
supports his case, then he should insist that it is not the judge’s role
to alter what is written, but to abide by it, for “to seek to be wiser than
the laws is what is expressly forbidden in the most esteemed laws.”13
The tradition of grammatical and rhetorical education was remark-
ably stable from the Hellenistic down into the Roman imperial period
and through late antiquity.14 A fuller treatment of the same types of
commonplaces seen in Aristotle is found in the rhetorical handbook
of the young Cicero, who discusses the subject of controversiae quae in
scripto versantur (“controversies which turn on texts”).15 Cicero’s long
discussion of the various ways a rhetorician was trained to deal with
written evidence—under the categories of ambiguity, letter and mean-
ing/intent, contrary laws, analogy, and definition—provides more than
ample demonstration that literary criticism in the rhetorical schools
was not intended to inculcate any single brand of philosophical her-
meneutics, but rather to equip one to argue for or against “the letter”
δὲ µα λλον η" τέχν δο␬ω  ν νασ␬ευζειν αυ#τὸ προσετθει (“supposing he would refute it
artlessly rather than by the ars rhetorica”; 4.10 [108]). Furthermore, Eustathius himself quotes
the traditions of the rhetorical handbooks (α$ ρ% ητορι␬αὶ τεχνογραφαι) in his treatment of
µυ
θο (myth) in 27.2 [198], as we shall see.
11
Aristotle Rhet. 1.15.1–12.
12
Ibid. 1.15.9.
13
Ibid. 1.15.12.
14
Robert A. Kaster, Guardians of Language: The Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988); George A. Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric and Its
Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times (Chapel Hill: University of North
Carolina Press, 1980), esp. 86–107; evidence for late antiquity is especially to be found in the
Progymnasmata, some of which were recently translated by George A. Kennedy, Progymnasmata:
Greek Textbooks of Prose Composition and Rhetoric, Writings from the Greco-Roman World 10
(Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003); the Greek texts may be found in L. Spengel,
Rhetores Graeci, 3 vols. (Leipzig: Teubner, 1854–56), and other individual Teubner volumes
(cited below).
15
Cicero De inv. 2.39.115ff.

417
The Journal of Religion

as required in a given case.16 The topoi given for each side (those ar-
guing for or against the literal meaning, whom Cicero characterizes as
qui scriptum defendet17 versus contra scriptum qui dicet18) include also stock
ways of characterizing the flaws of the opposing argument. For in-
stance, if a text is ambiguous, one should show how the text should
have been written if our opponent’s reading of it were true,19 just as
one should argue for one’s own reading on the basis of what the same
writer has stated both in the full extent of the document in question
and in any of his other writings.20 A good sense of this forensic ap-
proach to written documents may be attained from the following ex-
tended passage from Cicero’s handbook:
An advocate who will defend the letter [qui scriptum defendet] will be able to
use all of the following topics [loci] most of the time, and the greater part of
them on every occasion; first, high praise of the writer, and a common topic
[locus communis] that the judges should regard nothing except what is written;
and this may be made more emphatic if some statutory document is offered,
i.e., either a whole law or some part of it; after that one may use the most
effective argument, a comparison of the action and purpose of the opponents
with the letter of the law [facti aut intentionis adversariorum cum ipso scripto con-
tentione], showing what was written, what was done, what the judge has sworn
to do. And it will be well to vary this topic in many ways, first expressing wonder
in his own mind as to what can possibly be said on the other side, then turning
to the judge’s duty and asking what more he can think it necessary to hear or
expect. Then one may bring in the opponent himself like a witness [tum ipsum
adversarium quasi in testis loco producendo], that is ask him whether he denies
that the law is so written, or denies that he has acted contrary to it or en-
deavored so to do [hoc est interrogandum utrum scriptum neget esse eo modo, an ab
se contra factum esse aut contra contendi neget], and offer to stop speaking if he
dares deny either. But if he denies neither statement and still continues to
dispute, say that there is no reason why any one should think that he will ever
see a more shameless man [nihil esse quo hominem impudentiorem quisquam se
visurum arbitretur].21

16
Sextus Empiricus makes just this point in arguing against the rhetoricians: “That rhetoric
is against the laws is manifestly clear even in the things proposed in their malartful ‘arts of
rhetoric’ handbooks [ν ται  ␬α␬οτέ χνοι τέ χναι]. For at one time they advise one to attend
to the text and the statements of the lawgiver [τ  ␬αὶ ται  φωναι  του
 ητ  νοµοθέτου]—as
clear and in need of no interpretation [ω %  σαφέ σι ␬αὶ µηδεµια
  ξηγσεω δεοµέναι]—and
at another time they turn around and advise one not to follow either the text or the statements
[προσέχειν µήτε τ  ρ%ητ µήτε ται  φωναι ] but the intention of the lawgiver [λλὰ τ 
διανοα ␬ατα␬ολουθει ν]; Math. 2.36–37 (my translation).
17
Or qui pro scripto dicet; De inv. 2.46.135.
18
De inv. 2.47.138.
19
De inv. 2.41.120.
20
De inv. 2.40.117.
21
De inv. 2.43.125–26; translation by H. M. Hubbell, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 1949).

418
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

Cicero’s De inventione was a compilation of Greek traditions and


extant Latin rhetorical training manuals and lecture notes for the use
of a Roman elite in the waning years of the Republic. But the distance
from Cicero’s courtroom techniques to the debate between Origen
and Eustathius in the eastern Empire in the third and fourth centu-
ries CE is actually not so great. Indeed, the bridge between the two
can be pinpointed exactly in the paideia of the secondary educational
system in the late antique East, in which students were taught to bring
just these types of forensic, “cross-examinational” tactics to bear on
narratives and their interpreters. In practicing the forms of
νασ␬ ευή (“refutation”) and ␬ατασ ␬ευή (“confirmation”),22 pupils
were given a standard assignment of either defending or repudiating
the historical veracity of the mythic tale (διήγηµα) of Daphne being
pursued by Apollo. 23 Like Origen and Eustathius, 24 they concern
themselves especially with the topics ( ␬εφλαια) of what is possible
(δ'νατον),25 clear (σαφέ),26 logical (␬όλουθον),27 and credible

22
Nicolaus of Myra (late fifth century CE) says that νασ␬ευή (“refutation”) and
␬ατασ␬ευή (“confirmation”) are most closely related to τὸ δι␬ανι␬όν (“forensic/courtroom
rhetoric”; Felten, 33, lines 14–15). On these as standard rhetorical forms taught in school
see, e.g., Hermogenes Prog. 5 (Rabe, 11) and throughout the Progymnasmata (more refer-
ences follow in the notes below). Origen speaks of his intent as ␬ατασ␬ευζειν in 8.2 [198],
and Eustathius of his opponent engaging in both νασ␬ευζειν (4.10 [108]) and
␬ατασ␬ευζειν (21.11 [174]), and, even more often, with the synonymous rhetorical term—
as demonstrated by the definition given in Hermogenes Prog. 5 (Rabe, 11, line 3:
␬ατασ␬ευή δὲ τουναντον βεβαωσι)—βεβαιου ν (“substantiation”; 4.7 [106]; 16.7 [158]; 21.3
[172]; 26.9 [198]). He uses it once of his own purpose (7.4 [116]). Origen’s use these
techniques on gospel narratives was demonstrated by Grant, Earliest Lives of Jesus, 77–79; cf.
38–49.
23
There are various versions of the myth, most famously found in Ovid Met. 1.452–567.
That it was a standard topic is demonstrated by its place among the Progymnasmata of Libanius
(among the narrationes; Prog. 17 [Foerster, 8.44–45]) and especially the testimony of Nicolaus:
ο%ι ον νασ␬ευζειν (µι ν πρό␬ειται τὸ περὶ τη   Dφνη, ε)τουν διήγηµα (Prog. [Felten, 31,
lines 9–11]; translated by Kennedy, Progymnasmata, 145, as “For example, we are assigned to
refute the story of Daphne, thus to refute a narrative”). The fullest treatments are found in
Aphthonius Prog. 5–6 (Rabe, 10–16).
24
On Origen’s employment of these tests, see Neuschäfer, Origenes als Philologe 1.243.
25
To cite just two examples, Origen argues that the narrative must be true because it would
not be possible for a demon (rather than God or the Holy Spirit) to know the future of the
Israelite kingdom (5.6–17 [184–86]). In reply, Eustathius argues for the impossibility that the
belly-myther could even bring up the soul of a mouse or flea, let alone that of a holy prophet
(3.3 [100]).
26
Eustathius complains that Origen is not able to see τὸ σαφέ  (“what is clear”) in the
narrative (7.4 [116]). In turn the Antiochene announced at the outset of his treatise that his
own goal was to set the two interpretations side by side and “to clarify the clear meaning”
(τρανω  σαι τὸ σαφέ; 1.4 [96]). See also 12.5 [140–42]; 22.7 [178]; 23.4–5 [180].
27
Literally, “what follows.” Origen characterizes his opponents’ insistence that Samuel was
not really brought up by the woman as founded upon this rhetorical appeal: %Ορα  τε τ
␬ολουθει τ  Sαµουὴλ ν +δου (“Do you see what follows if Samuel were in Hades?”; 4.26
[178]). On the other side, see especially the combination of appeals in Eustathius’s charge

419
The Journal of Religion

(πθανον),28 and make heavy employment of the criterion of self-con-


tradiction (τὸ νντιον, τὸ µαχόµενον)29 within the narrative itself and
in regard to the opposing interpreter’s claims about it.30 Quite likely
Eustathius (trained at Antioch, where the garden of Daphne was a local
theme park to the myth) would in his earlier education have cut his
teeth on this very example, as might have Origen.31 Would they have
learned something from that assignment that would affect their later
debate about the historicity of a biblical narrative that involved similiar
dynamics of female agency and the reliability of the divine to play by
its own rules?32

against Origen for failing to meet this standard of proof: ου# δ αυ # τὸ σαφὲ  ξ αυ#τη
  $στορη
 σαι
τη  ␬ολουθα (“Yet even here he did not follow the narrative meaning clearly on its logical
sequence”; 22.7 [178]). Eustathius claims that his own reading meets this criterion; see 8.6
[118]: “then, does it not follow logically from the the very letter of the narrative [␬ολο'θω
␬ τη   αυ#τη
  του
 γρµµατο $στορα] that this case is just like the former?”; also 16.1 [156];
cf. 10.5 [128]; 14.4 [150].
28
Origen’s opponent finds the text “incredible” because the madwoman is not to be be-
lieved: Oυ# πιστε'ω τ  γγαστριµ'θ (3.2–3 [176]). Origen for his part fears that if this passage
is found to be false, then it will lead to more general πιστα (2.29 [176]). As we shall see
below, much of Eustathius’s treatise concerns the credibility of the different witnesses. In
particular he also takes up the issue of persuasiveness and trustworthiness of myths as a class
of literature 26.10–29.4 [198–204].
29
Nicolaus says this tactic, τὸ ␬αλο'µενον µαχό µενον (“that which is called ‘warring with
oneself’”), is γωνιστι␬ώτατον (“most worthy of a contest”); it is used when “we prove that
our opponent is speaking against himself and talks in a contradictory manner [ο , που του
τον
, σπερ ντιλέγοντα αυ# του
ω  ␬αὶ ναντω δε␬νυµεν λέ γοντα]” (Prog. 6 [Felten, 32, lines
 -αυτ
11–14]).
30
For this list, see Hermogenes Prog. 5 (Rabe, 11, lines 8–20). The opposite pleas are made
in an argument of ␬ατασ␬ευή (confirmation).
31
Origen alludes to this interpretive procedure, employing the appropriate technical vo-
cabulary, in his debates about the Greek myths and the gospels with Celsus and “the Jew.”
  πολογα, λε␬τέ ον ο
See, e.g., c. Cels. 1.42.1–5: Pρὶ ν ρξώ µεθα τη , τι σχεδὸ ν πα
 σαν $στοραν,
␬.ν ληθὴ # , βο'λεσθαι ␬ατασ␬ευζειν ω% γεγενηµέ νην ␬αὶ ␬αταληπτι␬ὴ ν ποιη σαι περὶ
αυ#τη   φαντασαν τω  ν σφόδρα στὶ χαλεπωττων ␬αὶ ν νοι δ'νατον (“Before we begin
the defence, we must say that an attempt to substantiate almost any story as historical fact,
even if it is true, and to produce complete certainty about it, is one of the most difficult tasks
and in some cases is impossible”; trans. Henry Chadwick, Origen. contra Celsum [Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1953], 39). Grant, Letter and Spirit, 102, finds in this passage clear
demonstration of “the Greek rhetorical origin of [Origen’s] negative method.”
32
There are some very suggestive parallels that I can only name here: like 1 Samuel 28,
the Daphne-Apollo myth involves a woman of questionable provenance who has an illicit
encounter with a male figure that results in prophetic activity of debatable source and gen-
uineness. Both narratives involve boundary crossings between earth and the subterranean
realm, and between the human and the supernatural, and dark hints of improper divine
conduct. Perhaps most importantly, the history of interpretation of both narratives was fa-
mously disputatious, focused on whether either incident actually happened as narrated, par-
ticularly in view of its implications (one way or another) for the attributes and capacities of
the gods, on the one hand, and the hermeneutics of textual appropriation, on the other.
Some suggestive points of contact between the MT and the LXX versions of 1 Samuel 28
and traditions about the Delphic Pythia (both as instances of necromantic prophesy “in the

420
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

the text on trial—1 kingdoms 28


This forensic, schoolroom approach to the treatment of written evi-
dence was operative in the highly contentious debate between Origen
and Eustathius on LXX 1 Kingdoms 28.33 We shall see that both exe-
getes employ courtroom language and tactics in their framing of the
exegetical debate and use stereotypical characterizations of “literal”
and “allegorical” readings that were recommended in rhetorical train-
ing, as means of substantiating their own case and denigrating that of
their opponent.
At the outset we need to contextualize this piece of exegetical drama.
In the Masoretic text of 1 Samuel 28, Saul at first punishes and exiles
those in his kingdom who engage in mantic practices, but then im-
mediately thereafter, due to the pressures of war and the complete
silence with which his deity greeted any attempts by Saul to discern
the divine will, the king asks his servants to find him a “woman who
has mastery of necromancy/divination pits”; in Hebrew, cut-,kgc ,at
(1 Sam. 28:7). The crucial step for the history of Christian interpre-
tation of this incident is the LXX translator’s decision to render this
title as ( γγαστρµυθο (the “belly-myther”), a term used, for example,
by Plutarch in reference to the Eurykleis or Pythones.34 The woman
promises to raise up for Saul whomever he asks. He requests Samuel,
then the woman says she sees him and describes him as a “straight man
with a double-cloak,” whereupon Saul declares “it is Samuel.” The ap-
parition thus identified groans and speaks to Saul a prophesy that the
kingdom has been taken from him and given to another (David) and
that he and his sons will die the next day and will be with him (in
Hades). The passage ends with ( γγαστρµυθο preparing a meal to
revive Saul, after which he goes back to the camp and is killed in the
very next battle; the kingdom does fall into the hands of David. This
belly”) were noted in the far-ranging study by I. Trencsényi-Waldapfel, “Die Hexe von Endor
und die griechisch-römische Welt,” Acta orientalia academiae scientiarum Hungaricae 11 (1960):
201–22.
33
The Origen-Eustathius duel had long been taken to represent a clear divide between the
two “schools,” but more recent scholarly treatments, such as those of Frances Young, Biblical
Exegesis, 163–64, and “Rhetorical Schools,” and Joseph W. Trigg, “Eustathius of Antioch’s Attack
on Origen: What Is at Issue in an Ancient Controversy?” Journal of Religion 75 (1995): 219–38,
have rightly noted that in fact and in substance it complicates the traditional divide between
Alexandrine allegory and Antiochene literalism.
34
“For it is entirely simple-minded and childlike to suppose that the God himself, just like
the engastrimythoi (called of old Eurykleis, but now Pythones [γγαστριµ'θου Eυ#ρυ␬λέα
πλαι νυνὶ δὲ P'θωνα προσαγορευοµέ νου]) by entering into the bodies of the prophets,
speaks, using their mouths and voices as his instruments” (De defectu oraculorum 414E). See
also Trencsényi-Waldapfel, “Die Hexe von Endor,” 201–22, who rightly appreciated the res-
onances of the LXX translation with Greek (and Roman) religion.

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biblical text posed many difficulties for both Jewish and Christian in-
terpreters, chiefly because the woman’s action, though prohibited by
Torah itself, uncannily creates a speech-platform for the highly es-
teemed prophet Samuel, and consequently the text raises many larger
issues of the nature of inspired or prophetic speech and its truthful-
ness.35 But the story was also considered by some, as by Justin Martyr
in the first known Christian use of the passage (Dialogus cum Tryphone
105), to provide useful scriptural proof for life after death and
resurrection.
Origen’s homily on this passage was delivered as part of a series of
sermons on 1 Samuel (1 Kingdoms in LXX). Already by that time it had
earned the sobriquet ( $στορα ( διαβόητο ( περὶ τη   γγαστριµ'θου
(“the [in]famous passage about the belly-myther”; 1.15–16 [172]). A
written rebuttal to Origen’s exegesis was composed by Eustathius of
Antioch, sometime in the first half of the fourth century (he died ca.
337, having been a major figure at the Council of Nicea), nearly a
century after Origen delivered his homily in Jerusalem circa 238–42
CE. Eustathius’s treatise was written at the request of one Eutropius,
whom he addressed as “a most distinguished and holy herald of ortho-
doxy” (1.8 [16]). Eutropius had asked for Eustathius to give his opin-
ion about the passage because he “was not satisfied with the things
Origen published on this topic” (1.13 [16]). With sometimes quite
caustic invective, such as ’Qριγένη  πσα ο/όµενο ε/δέ ναι τὰ
γραφ (“Origen, who supposes he knows all the scriptures”; 21.12
[176]; 26.1 [194]), and epithets, such as  ␬οµψό (“the dandyishly
clever”; 3.4 [102]),  µεγαληγόρο (“the boastful”; 20.2 [168]), 
πολ'φηµο ’Qριγένη (“the much famous Origen”), or  πολυ1ι στωρ
’Qριγένη (“the much learned Origen”; 23.2 [180]), Eustathius baldly
accuses Origen of bad motives behind his bad exegesis: blasphemy and
attempting to smuggle necromantic practices into the church (3.4
[102]; 21.1 [170], etc.).36 Each author, as we shall see, engages in ex-
egesis as an γών, a “contest” or “trial” about truth, against a clearly
demarcated opponent across the aisle.37 Both Origen and Eustathius,

35
See K. A. D. Smelik, “The Witch of Endor: 1 Samuel 28 in Rabbinic and Christian Exegesis
till 800 A.D.,” Vigiliae Christianae 33 (1977): 160–79. The text was also a subject of debate
between Jews and Christians, as Mart. Pionii 13.3–14 shows.
36
 ν φησντων
Slandering the one who promotes the opposing interpretation (ε/πει ν τὴ ν τω
διαβολήν) is recommended by Aphthonius (Prog. 5 [Rabe, 10, lines 13–14]). Eustathius denies
at the outset that he is engaging in συ␬οφαντει ν (1.4 [96]).
37
Although without attention to this forensic setting in particular, Dawson has well appre-
ciated the combative nature of early Christian exegesis: “Ancient allegorical compositions and
interpretations constituted fields on which struggles between competing proposals for thought
and action took place”; Allegorical Readers, 2.

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Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

in line with the counsel of Cicero quoted above, bring their opponent
into the “courtroom” and put him on the stand to answer for his faulty
interpretation. Both authors claim that their reading is closer to τὰ
γρµµατα αυ#τ (“the words [or letters] themselves”), but neither in-
terpretation, as we shall see, is precisely as its author wishes to char-
acterize it.

origen’s “literal” interpretation


Origen’s homily opens with his summary of the four pericopes from 1
Samuel (1 Kingdoms) that have just been read aloud in the liturgy.
Then, since he is a visiting preacher, he defers to the presiding bishop
to indicate which of the four he would wish Origen to “investigate”
(ξετζειν).38 The answer comes back: “let the matters concerning the
belly-myther be investigated” (Tὰ περὶ τη   γγαστριµ'θου, φησν,
ξεταζέσθω; 1.24 [174]). Origen begins with a preamble comparing
two hermeneutical axioms. The first is that some stories, taken on the
historical level, do not “touch us,” but others do, since they are “nec-
essary for our hope” (2.2 [174]). The belly-myther narrative is this kind
of text, and, as such, ναγ␬αα λήθεια ␬ατὰ τὸν λόγον (“its truth is
necessary, word for word”; 2.14–15 [174]).39 This is the case, he argues,
even before one gets to the ναγωγή (“elevated sense”), Origen’s com-
mon term for “allegory.”40
Origen’s argument confirming the veracity of the narrative
(␬ατασ␬ευή) is cast primarily as a proof of refutation (λεγχο) of a
prevalent contrary interpretation, which he quotes directly at the out-
set: “Now indeed we do know that some of our brothers face off against
the scripture and say, ‘I don’t believe the belly-myther [ου# πιστε'ω
τ
 γγαστριµ'θ]. The belly-myther says she has seen Samuel, [but]

38
Or, “cross-examine,” as we shall see below.
39
Cicero recommends that one who upholds the literal sense of a text should always say
that this is necessary in matters of the highest importance (lex aut ad res maximas; De inv.
2.46.135). For Cicero these include utilissima, honestissima, and religiosissima.
40
“For we have not yet arrived at the benefits of the ‘elevated sense’ which belong to
everyone who knows how to ‘elevate,’ or to hear what ‘has been elevated’ [by others]”
(πεὶ ου#δέπω φθνοµεν πὶ τὰ τη
  ναγωγη   παντὶ τ " ␬ο'ειν ναγοµένων
 ε/δό τι νγειν η
χρήσιµα; 2.2–4 [174]). With this threefold paronomasia Origen is supplying a significant hint
about his purpose. He is not eschewing the allegorical task altogether in this homily but
rather is signaling that it has not yet arrived. Hence I must disagree with the interpretation
of the Nautins here, on 174 n. 2: “En réalité, l’homélie s’en tiendra jusqu’à la fin au sens
littéral. Ce qui tiendra lieu d’anagogê, ce sont les considérations sur l’utilité de la descente
du Christ et des prophètes en enfer, qui suivront la lecture glosée du text.” We shall see
below that the ναγωγή (“elevated sense”) is not in fact displaced in this homily.

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she lies [ψε'δεται]. Samuel was not elevated; Samuel does not speak’”
(3.1–5 [176]).
Origen sets up the exegetical contest by bringing his opponent into
view via προσωποποι1ι α, whereby he impersonates the rhetorically im-
passioned response the proponent of the ναντο λόγο (“opposing
position”) gives to the idea that Samuel was literally “elevated” by the
woman: “Samuel! Why would he be in Hades? Look at what follows if
Samuel were in Hades: Samuel in Hades? Why not also Abraham and
Isaac and Jacob in Hades? Samuel in Hades? Why not also Moses, the
one yoked with Samuel in the saying, ‘Not even if Moses and Samuel
stood there, I shall not listen to them.’ Samuel in Hades? Why not also
Jeremiah in Hades . . . in Hades [then] also Isaiah; in Hades also
Jeremiah; in Hades all the prophets; in Hades (3.25–35 [178]).”41
Having represented the opposing counsel in this manner, in an ex-
tended rhetorical division (2.15–4.7 [174–180]), Origen’s first argu-
mentative move is to present his listener with an absolute dichotomy
that is worthy of any charge to a jury: “Do these things stand written?
Are they true or are they not true?” (2.28 [176]). Having posited this
pair of alternatives, he then (as the handbooks recommend) lays along-
side each option its interpretive consequence: “On the one hand, to
say they are not true persuades people toward unbelief [πιστα],
which will redound upon the heads of those who say this; but, on the
other hand, to say they are true provides us with a judicial inquiry
[ζήτησι] and question for discussion [παπόρησι]” (2.28–31 [176]).42
Origen argues that since the words are written by the person
(πρόσωπον) of the Holy Spirit, they must be true, and therefore worthy
of trust.43 In this regard he conforms to rhetorical theory, in which the
one who seeks to uphold a literal reading is counseled to begin with
praise of the author44 and provide a strongly implied warning against
contradicting the divine beings who have inspired a text.45 Origen sub-

41
Origen himself characterizes the rhetorical anaphora in this personified speech as bom-
bastic rhetoric (πιθανω   ␬αταβοµβει ν; 4.3–4 [180]). Eustathius recognizes the use of per-
sonification in Origen’s exegesis: τὰ  τω
 ν ντιδοξο'ντων αυ# τ  γνώ µα ␬τιθέ µενο (“he sets
forth the opinions of those who think differently from him”; 16.7 [158]).
42
Eustathius refers to this as συλλογιστι␬  δεινό τητι χρώ µενο (“employing powerful syl-
logistic reason”; 16.9 [158]).
43
“Scripture, in which it is necessary to believe” (( γραφή,  % δει πιστε'ειν; 4.46 [182]).
This is an instance of the interpretive strategy of λ'σι ␬ προσώ που (“solution by appeal to
the speaker”; see Neuschäfer, Origenes als Philologe, 263–76), but one that (anomalously) flattens
all the dramatis personae into the single voice of the author.
44
Aphthonius Prog. 6 (Rabe, 13–14); cf. Cicero De inv. 2.43.125 (scriptoris collaudatio).
45
“The one who speaks against [ντερει ν] the poets seems to me to be speaking against
the Muses themselves. For if the things poets utter come through the intention of the Muses,

424
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

stantiates his appeal to the authority of the divine authorship by what


he insists is a literary-critical principle respected by all who are widely
read:
Whose persona is it who says [τνο πρό σωπό ν στιν τὸ λέ γον], “the woman
said”? Is it, then, the persona of the holy spirit [τὸ πρό σωπον του  2γου
πνε'µατο], by whom the scripture is believed to have been written [ξ ου %
πεπστευται ναγεγρφθαι ( γραφή ], or is it the persona of someone else [η "
πρόσωπον λλου τινό]? For, as those who are familiar with all sorts of writings
know [ω %  )σασιν ␬αὶ ο$ περὶ παντοδαποὺ  γενό µενοι λό γου], the narrative
persona is everywhere the persona of the author [τὸ γὰρ διηγηµατι␬ὸ ν
πρόσωπον πανταχου  στὶ πρόσωπον του
 συγγραφέ ω]. And the author of these
words is believed to be not a human being [συγγραφεὺ  δ’ πὶ το'των τω ν
λόγων πεπστευται ε#ι ναι ου# ␬ νθρωπο] but the author is the holy spirit which
moved the human beings [λλὰ συγγραφεὺ  τὸ πνευ  µα τὸ 3γιον τὸ ␬ινη
 σαν
τοὺ νθρώπου] (4.9–16 [180]).

Origen here effaces completely other literary approaches to this mat-


ter (which he probably did know, such as in Plato’s Republic bk. 3),46
because he wishes to treat the entire text of 1 Samuel 28 as the words
of the author, whom he identifies with the Holy Spirit. In this way he
seeks an “all or nothing at all” approach to the “truth” or facticity of
the episode, claiming that the entire text is the witness which testifies
to the fact that “Samuel really was brought up.” Origen’s reading con-
tradicts that of his opponents, who, as we have seen, maintained that
the woman lied (ψε'δεται, “perjured herself”) or that she did not “see
Samuel” but instead a petty demon “pretending to be Samuel.” Origen
dismisses such claims with what appears to be a call for a strict literal
reading: “Scripture did not say otherwise” (( γραφὴ ου#␬ λλω ε#ι πεν;
4.42–52 [182–84]). Instead, the text (words of the συγγραφε', the
Holy Spirit) says that “Saul knew that it was Samuel,” so, by an ironic
inverse appeal to the possible, Origen clucks, ου#δεὶ γνω τὸ µὴ ο 4ν
(“no one knows that which doesn’t exist”; 4.41 [182]). He also argues
that a petty demon could not possibly have been responsible for the
words of “Samuel,” because no daimonion would know the divine plan
about the fate of the kingdom of Israel that the apparition foretold
and that came to pass in the demise of the Saulide kingdom.
After this long major section of λεγχο (refutation) of the ναντο
then how could it be that the one who seeks to reproach the poets is not speaking against
the Muses?”; Aphthonius Prog. 6 (Rabe, 14, lines 9–12).
46
The discussion between Socrates and Adeimantus in the Republic (3.6, 392C–394B) of
the distinction between simple narrative and the creation of dialogue set in characters’
mouths, called 2πλη  διή γησι (simple narration) and διή γησι µιµή σεω (narration by imi-
tation), respectively.

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λόγο (the opposing interpretation), Origen engages in an argument


to provide the solutions, which he appropriately terms λ'σει,47 to the
difficulties that attend his own proposition that Samuel is the one who
was raised up and that the words of the scriptural text are true.48 He
presents this as the γών (trial), which his opponent flees from en-
gaging, but which he will readily and bravely undertake.49 Origen’s
method of proof consists in putting his opponent on a fictional witness
stand and asking him a series of questions—τ µεζων, “who is
greater?”50—that will ultimately force the opponent to admit that the
one who is greater than all the prophets and patriarchs is Jesus, who
was in Hades, who went there because the prophets, who predeceased
him, were prophesying his advent both during their lives and afterward
there in Hades.51 That is what Samuel was doing in Hades, and he was
there because, until the advent of Christ and his postmortem trip to
Hades to preach the gospel to the saints confined there, no human
being had access to heaven, to the paradise that was guarded since the
divine verdict in the garden of Eden. Origen concludes that this text,
therefore, is not an “obstacle” (πρόσ␬οµµα) to faith (as the opponent
would have it with his incredulity that Samuel should have been in
Hades) but is rather the repository of 3γιοι λόγοι µεγλοι ␬αὶ
πόρρητοι ο$ περὶ τη   ξόδου (“great and inexpressible holy words
about life after death”).52 Rather than falsifying the faith or the scrip-
ture, this text actually points believers to τὸ περισσόν, “the special ad-
vantage” that believers possess over the prophets and saints who died
before the advent of Christ, namely, access to heaven. The “truth” of

47
For this term in rhetorical theory contemporary to Origen, see, e.g., Anonymous Se-
guerianus 186 (text in Mervin R. Dilts and George A. Kennedy, Two Greek Rhetorical Treatises
from the Roman Empire, Mnemosyne Supplements 168 [Leiden: Brill, 1997], 52), and Nicolaus
Prog. (Felten, 29, lines 12–15).
48
Oυ#␬ στιν ψευδη τὰ ναγεγραµµέ να ␬αὶ ο
, τι Sαµουή λ στιν  ναβεβη␬ώ  (“the things
written to the effect that Samuel is the one who came up are not false” [6.1–2 (186)]).
49
Eustathius returns the topos when charging Origen with cowardice and trying to flee the
trap he has fallen into (26.5 [196]).
50
We have noted that this tactic is recommended by Cicero (De inv. 2.43.125). The forensic
setting of this approach to the interpretive enterprise, even if adopted as a kind of literary
fiction, means that we must take with seriousness Origen’s term γώ ν, here and in 4.60 [184]
and 6.5 [186], as referring to more than a vague “struggle” or “difficulté” (Trigg, “Eustathius
of Antioch’s Attack on Origen,” 226; Nautin, Origène [SC 328], 185), but, rather, a case
requiring proof and adjudication. Such conventional adversarial tactics would seem to argue
against Trigg’s contention that it is only Eustathius who embarks on the exegetical work with
“hostility” (235), in contrast to Origen’s open-mindedness and equanimity. Both are using
the vigorous rhetoric customary in arguments of direct refutation of an opponent’s position.
51
Origen emphasizes that this is the point he is seeking ␬ατασ␬ευσαι (“to confirm”; 8.1
[198]).
52
Compare De principiis 4.2.9 in reference to texts that cannot be taken literally but rather
are deliberate clues from the Holy Spirit to look for a deeper meaning.

426
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

the passage becomes a proof of the “truth” of the Christian hope for
the resurrection of the believer.
Origen’s exegesis of 1 Samuel 28 presents the listener with many
immediate trappings of a “literal” reading of the text: he insists that
one pay attention to the exact wording (␬ατὰ τὸν λόγον) and empha-
sizes that he is reading it according to $στορα (“the historical or nar-
rative sense”), initially, not yet ναγωγή (the “elevated” or “spiritual
meaning”); and his major point is that it really happened—that is,
Samuel was raised—because the text says so. Yet Eustathius, though he
grants that Origen’s reading of this passage stands out as an exception
to his more usual “allegorical” or “tropological” interpretations, does
not consider Origen’s a truly “literal” reading either. He complains
that, “after undertaking the task of allegorizing [λληγορη  σαι] all the
scriptures, without blushing Origen tries only with this passage to un-
derstand it on the literal level, declaring it hypocritically, although he
does not even attend to the body [σώµα] of the text in any sensible
fashion” (21.1 [170–72]). Playing on the courtroom topos of rhetorical
inconsistency in the treatment of texts, Eustathius not only charges his
opponent with such serial crimes as “tropologizing,” “tautologizing,”
and “allegorizing,” but moreover submits that, even when he tries to
read a narrative right, Origen manages to obscure τὸ σαφέ  (“the clear
sense”; 22.7 [178]). Hence Eustathius does not take Origen’s claim to
be giving a “literal interpretation” (␬ατὰ τὸν λόγον) at face value.
Perhaps we would not either, though for different reasons. Much
depends on what one means by the “literal,” but Origen’s reading
seems to exceed the bounds of the exact wording of the text, which
never mentions heaven, or Christ, or contains any promise of afterlife
for believer or anyone else. Obviously, Origen’s eyes as he reads are
not just fixed on the text. His eye is equally set (as we have noted) on
an alternative reading of the text that has him bothered: an interpre-
tation that denies the event happened as described—that the belly-
talker actually “led Samuel up” (νήγαγεν)—maintaining instead that
she lied to deceive demented Saul. And Origen has his gaze above all
securely fastened on “what is necessary for our hope”—that is, the es-
chatological fate of all believers.53 Out of this triangle of concerns (the
text, the “opposing interpretation,” and “the ultimate concern” of “our
hope” and that “faith” not be endangered), Origen argues strenuously

53
Despite many fine observations in his essay, Trigg’s assertion that “it is Origen who does
not allow doctrinal and moral concerns to predetermine an interpretation which the narrative,
by itself, does not suggest” (“Eustathius of Antioch’s Attack on Origen,” 234) seems quite
hard to defend in the face of Origen’s clear intent to demonstrate that the passage does not
provide an obstacle to Christian hope for postmortem survival.

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The Journal of Religion

that what the text describes actually did happen—Samuel was raised
up. But his argument in defense of what seems to be a literal meaning
actually seeks to instantiate a spiritual meaning on the highest mystery
of the faith—the postincarnational promise of postmortem life for all
believers who live morally good lives. Hence, the very insistence on (
$στορα (“the narrative sense”), on the meaning ␬ατὰ τὸν λόγον (“word
for word”), on γραφὴ ( αυ#τή (“the text itself”), on ( διηγηµατι␬ὴ
φωνὴ τη  γραφη   (“the narrative voice of the text”) heard by “listeners
able to hear holy words, magnificent and ineffable, about our depar-
ture from this life” (4.60–61 [184]) paradoxically creates the condi-
tions for a supreme ναγωγή (“elevated sense”) of the text, as the site
of revelation of the eschatological hopes of each Christian. Seen in
this light, and considering the likelihood that the end of the discourse
has been its σ␬οπό (“rhetorical goal”) all along, it appears that the
whole is structured around a deliberate paronomasia between the
ναγωγὴ τη   ψυχη  δι␬αου (“the elevation of the soul of the just
  του
man”) Samuel (6.4 [186]) and the ναγωγή (“the elevated sense,” Or-
igen’s favored term for spiritual or allegorical interpretation)54 made
available by this exegesis for the hearer of Origen’s homily.55 It cer-
tainly seems clear that Origen’s whole defense of Samuel’s having ac-
tually “been led up” (ναχθη  ναι, or “elevated”) from Hades is in ser-
vice of a grand-scheme “other meaning” than the simple narrative
intends—becoming a tale about the fate of all postmortem souls—both
before and after the arrival of Christ. Origen’s emphasis on the
groundedness of this meaning in the history depicted in the text itself
is part of the persuasiveness of the mysterious message he discerns
through his reading and investigation of the text by the critical praxis
of subjecting $στορα (“narrative account”) to ξέ τασι (“cross-exami-
nation”). Origen’s interpretation is a “spiritual reading” wrapped up

54
Grant, Letter and Spirit, 124. For the conjunction of terms elsewhere in Origen’s writings,
see, e.g., Comm. in Jo. 1.26.180: νγειν δὲ ␬αὶ λληγορει ν (“to elevate and to allegorize”);
discussion in Grant, Letter and Spirit, esp. 98–104.
55
See n. 40 above, for a contrary view. The end of the homily itself points to a more
deliberate intention, for it appears to be on the basis of logical inference from the earlier
propositions and conclusions that Origen turns back to the word play at the beginning, which
implicitly promised an eventual turn to the “elevated sense,” at least for “those who know
how to elevate meaning or hear what has been elevated by others” (2.2–4 [174]). Notice that
the capacity to hear and understand lofty things is precisely what is called forth from the
reader who joins the γών in 4.59–61, who is promised both a refutation of the first inter-
pretation, and a clarification of Origen’s own, and that the πλογο states the hermeneutical
axiom that full understanding of this text (νενό ηται) rests on divine revelation given to some,
which is the basis of the ναγωγή , according to 2.7–8 [174]. Eustathius himself replicates a
version of this wordplay in his repudiation of Origen’s allegorical treatment of Lazarus in
John 11 (21.8 [174]; cf. also 22.4 [178]).

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Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

in a “literal procedure,” which is completely determined by the pre-


supposition that a text in which are things “necessary for our hope”
(i.e., in the resurrection) must be “true” in a literal sense (ναγ␬αα
λήθεια ␬ατὰ τὸν λόγον; 2.14–15 [174]). The appeal to the literal, in
other words, is itself a rhetorical move that, in the way presented,
greatly constricts the interpretive options for his hearers and funnels
them toward his particular spiritual interpretation.56 And that is its in-
tention. By facing up to the γών (“trial”) he depicted his opponents
as seeking to evade, Origen seeks to turn this text from hostile witness
to favorable testimony for his chosen thesis and his ultimate catechet-
ical goal. But was Eustathius’s reading, an “opposing interpretation”
that also claims to be “literal” (i.e., focused on τὸ τη
  $στορα γρµµα,
“the very letter of the narrative”) any closer to actualizing that claim?

eustathius’s “brief” against origen


As introduced above, Eustathius writes at the bidding of Eutropius to
give his judgment about Origen’s exegesis of the passage that is said
to have swayed many, owing to that scholar’s reputation.57 This leads
Eustathius immediately to a comparative method, based on the syllo-
gistic reasoning that, if there are two opposite interpretations of a pas-
sage, the refutation of one constitutes definitive proof for the other.
Therefore, so that I might not seem to be introducing a forensic suit on my
own behalf [5ν’ ου # ν µὴ δόξαιµι ␬ατ’ µαυτὸ ν γω  να δι␬ανι␬ὸ ν ε/σγειν], I
consider it not unsuitable to yoke together his entire interpretation with my
explanation of the text [συζευ  ξαι τὴ ν ξή γησιν αυ# του
 τ
 δε του
 γρµµατο
υ%παγορα], and through each to make evident the clear sense. This may keep
some from supposing that we are making false accusations [συ␬οφαντει ν]
against people anywhere who have been persuaded to hold Origen’s opinions;
nor will they suppose that the opinions of each side are equally contestable
[µφήριστοι]. For it is possible to carry out the investigation by a side-by-side
comparison [␬ τη   παραλλή λου συγ␬ρσεω ντεξετζειν] of how both sides
stand in their opinions, and for scholars to choose the better opinion from

56
Differently Trigg: “Origen is at ease with indeterminacy. . . . For Origen biblical inter-
pretation is an ongoing struggle in which there may, indeed, be definitive progress . . . but
there is no final, definitive outcome” (“Eustathius of Antioch’s Attack on Origen,” 235). But
the entire discourse points to the security of a single, indisputable outcome about “the things
necessary for our hope.” The term ναγ␬αα (“necessary”) would seem to be the opposite
of the hermeneutical freedom Trigg celebrates in Origen here (235).
57
Aphthonius Prog. 6 (Rabe, 13, line 25) gives advice for how when one is refuting an
argument confirmed by an opponent the first step is to praise their fame. Eustathius mocks
Origen’s reputation elsewhere in the treatise, too (as at 23.3 [180] and 24.1 [184]; see also
25.1 [188]; 26.8 [196], and the epithets quoted in the text above).

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the two. Indeed no competitive race horse is judged approved, however well
gaited, when it runs by itself—not even if it is exceptionally nimble and shows
moves as though on wings. This is true also of any athlete who can run the
swiftest in the stadium and of anyone else—the supple wrestler and the pan-
cratiast or “all-in” contestant who fights the roughest, or the one who “beats
the air” with vain motions. But on the contrary, the contests unite them in
close quarters to stand against their opponents [λλὰ συσταδὸ ν 2ρµόττει τὰ
µαχόµενα τοι  ναντοι ντιστατει ν], so that the superior of the two may be
determined (1.4–7 [94–96]).

This prooimion shows how much Eustathius and Origen hold in com-
mon. They both agree on the fundamental, agonistic terms of debate.
Exegesis is, or at least involves, an γών.58 The text is to be subjected to
a cross-examination (ξέτασι). This term is a metaphor for athletic con-
tests, of course, but also refers to disputes in rhetorical skill and, perhaps
even more often, lawsuits.59 Later in the treatise Eustathius will charac-
terize Origen’s exegesis as styled for the courtroom: “the dogmatician
Origen, speaking with the skill of a trial lawyer [δι␬ανι␬  δεινότητι
διαλεγόµενο], cited this very passage.” That early Christians should
60

use such courtroom language to refer to their exegetical practices re-


flects their indebtedness to the larger oratorical culture of the Greco-
Roman world, which was thoroughly competitive and combative.61
Moreover, along with the term γών (“trial”) comes a necessarily di-
chotomous, antithetical hermeneutic. In a trial, texts are treated as
witnesses whose testimony either works for one’s side or against it. The
task of both defenders and prosecutors is to convince the judge or jury

58
Indeed, Eustathius even uses the full technical term for a forensic suit: γὼν δι␬ανι␬ό
(1.4 [94]).
59
H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, and H. S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon, 1968),
19, s.v. γών, III.3. See, e.g., the repeated use of cognates of γών in Nicolaus of Myra’s
discussion of νασ␬ευή and ␬ατασ␬ευή (Prog. 6 [Felten, 29–35]).
60
4.10 [108]. Eustathius’s treatise is filled with abundant forensic language. See, e.g., the
uses of α/τα (“charge”; 26.5 [196]), γ␬ληµατι␬ὴ δ␬η (“accusatory lawsuit”; 26.6 [196]),
γ␬λήµατα/γ␬αλει ν (“accusations/accuse”; 11.14 [138]; 12.1 [140]), ␬ατηγορα (“accusa-
tion”; 11.17 [140]), πολογει σθαι (“make a self-defense”; 26.3, 8 [194, 198]), λεγχο/
(δι)λέγχεσθαι (“conviction/convict”; 7.3 [114]; 9.4 [122]; 9.10 [124]; 24.5 [184]; 2.2 [98];
9.14 [126]; 10.3 [126]; 12.3 [140]; 13.3 [144]; 14.6 [150]; 15.7 [156]; 25.8 [192]; 26.3 [194];
26.5 [196]; 27.3 [198]), µρτυ/µαρτυρα/µαρτυρει ν (“witness/testimony/testify”; 10.4
[128]; 18.3 [164]; 18.6 [166]; 23.4 [180]; 25.11 [194]; 2.9 [100]; 9.1 [120]; 10.6 [128]; 11.6
[134]; 13.10 [148]; 25.8 [192]; 26.1 [194]; 26.9 [198]), (συν)µολογει ν (“confess”; 12.2 [140];
12.3 [140]; 14.6 [150]), ψηφοφορα/(πι)ψηφζεσθαι (“decree/verdict/render a verdict”; 10.4
[128]; 26.9 [198]; 9.10 [124]; 10.6 [128]; 16.3 [156]; 25.2 [190]; 25.3 [190]; 24.5 [190]; 25.8
[192]), νθυπενε␬τέ ον (“countersuit”; 16.10 [158]); δι␬- cognates in the treatise are too
numerous to catalog. What argues for the forensic cast to these terms (which may be debated
in some of these cases) is the way they are used in conjuction with one another (and the
overall preponderance of such language is surely striking).
61
As particularly well articulated by Brown, Power and Persuasion.

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Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

that truth is on their side, falsehood on that of their opponent; equiv-


ocation is not possible. The readers of these exegetical arguments in
each case are asked to “render a verdict” (ψηφζειν) about the options
presented, by picking the best one (11.5 [96]).62
What is essential to the forensic treatment of texts is that they are
on a par with witnesses; indeed, in a real sense they are witnesses that
are to be scrutinzed for their truthfulness or mendacity.63 Like Origen,
Eustathius sets out “to look at the letter of the narrative” (τὸ τη 
$στορα γρµµα θεωρει ν; 2.1 [96]). But in his hands this quest leads
to the clear conclusion that Origen’s so-called literal reading actually
promotes the exact “opposite” of the words of the text.64 This turna-
bout comes back around, then, to precisely the charge Origen himself
had laid against his opponents: “though he makes this attempt from
reputable motives, he says the very opposite of what has been written”
(πὸ νδόξων µὲν πιχειρει , ναντα δὲ λέγει τοι  γεγραµµέ νοι; 4.6–7
[180]). The rhetorical handbooks gave stock advice for examining wit-
nesses; a comprehensive statement, with characteristic vocabulary, can
be found in the Rhetorica ad Alexandrum, which is usually attributed to
Anaximenes:
Testimony [µαρτυρα] is the confession [µολογα] of a willing conscience. It
is necessary that what the witness says be either convincing [πιθανό ν] or un-
convincing [πθανον], or ambiguous [µφβολον] in credibility [πρὸ  πστιν];
likewise also the witness is either credible [πιστό ], incredible [ πιστο] or
ambiguous [µφδοξο]. . . . When the witness is suspect it is necessary to
point out that neither for some favor nor for revenge nor for gain might such
a man as this give lies in his testimony [τὰ ψευδη  µαρτυρει ν]. And it is nec-
essary to instruct [the jury] that it is not advantageous to offer a lie when
testifying, for the benefits [ω # φέ λειαι] are meager, a harsh penalty accrues if
one is convicted, and the laws call for the one who is found out to have done
it to suffer loss, not only financially, but also in terms of reputation [ε/ δόξαν]
and lack of credibility [ε/ πισταν]. That is how we shall make our witnesses
credible. But when we are arguing against a testimony [ντιλέ γοντε

62
The word literally means “to cast one’s vote.” See, e.g., the stern warning Eustathius gives
his readers against the perils of casting a vote that would contradict the divine testimony in
10.6 [128]; see also 16.3 [156]; 25.3 [190], discussing the side that scripture “weighs in on”
with its vote (ντιδοξου  φο),
 σιν -αυται  α$ θει αι γραφα; ται  δὲ πολλαι  ( µα µχεται ψη
and other countervotes in 25.4 [190] (␬αταψηφζεσθαι); 25.8 [192].
63
See Aristotle Rhet. 1.15 who considers both νό µοι (“laws”) and µρτυρε (“witnesses”) as
forms of πστει τεχνοι (“inartificial proofs”). This rhetorical background to assessing the
truth of written records is illuminating for our third- and fourth-century exegetical γών
(“trial”) about the γγαστρµυθο (“belly-myther”), where what is precisely at stake is the
reliability of vocalized words. Quintilian includes under the category testimonia both reports
in texts and those of live witnesses (Ea dicuntur aut per tabulas aut a praesentibus; Inst. 5.7.1),
the connection being of course that texts are often depositions of oral testimony.
64
See 4.5 [106], quoted in the text below.

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µαρτυρα], it is necessary to slander [διαβλλειν] the character of the witness


as a wicked person, or to cross-examine his testimony [τὸ µαρτυρο'µενον
ξετζειν] if it happens to be unconvincing [πθανον], or even to speak
against both at the same time, bringing together the most damning evidence
against our opponents [ο$ νντιοι] into one presentation. (Rhet. Alex. 15
[1431b])

In the main body of Eustathius’s treatise he engages in a vigorous


cross-examination of the series of witnesses involved in the case of the
belly-myther, with the main purpose of discrediting them thoroughly
and exposing any contradictions in or among their testimonies.65 The
commonplaces recommended by Anaximenes will all come into play,
as we shall see. Eustathius begins, as even rhetorical handbooks rec-
ommend, by calling a surprise witness—his opposing counsel, Origen.66

Origen as Witness
Just as Origen had used personification to enter the testimony of those
championing the interpretation of 1 Samuel 28 that he sought to over-
turn, Eustathius summons his opponent as a witness,67 setting against
him the words of Jesus in John 8:44, to the effect that the devil is a
liar: “What do you say now, Origen [τ τονυν φή , ω
# #Qργενε]? For it
is necessary to question you [νγ␬η γὰρ ρέσθαι σε]. Is it not the case
that these things which the savior said (John 8:44) are true, or will you
in reply say something that contradicts [του#ναντον] him” (4.3 [104])?68

65
As the treatise Ad Herennium says, those who uphold and those who denigrate witnesses
both focus on the common topics of (1) the auctoritas and vita of the witnesses as crucial to
their credibility and (2) the constantia or inconstantia testimoniorum (2.6.9). These two tactics
(together with a third for demolishing testimony—that what the witness said could not possibly
have happened or, if it did, the witness in question could not have seen it) are to be used
ad improbationem et ad interrogationem.
66
See Cicero De inv. 2.43.126, quoted above.
67
In the prooimion, Eustathius had explained the reason for this method: he would first
lay out very clearly Origen’s own ξήγησι so that he would not be accused of συ␬οφαντει ν
(“prosecuting vexatiously,” or “bringing false accusations”; see Liddell-Scott-Jones, Greek-English
Lexicon, s.v. συ␬οφαντει ν). Hence he plans to let Origen speak for—and hang—himself.
68
Cicero recommends this strategy: “first expressing wonder in his own mind as to what
can possibly be said on the other side [quidnam contra dici possit]. . . . Then one may bring
in the opponent himself like a witness [tum ipsum adversarium quasi in testis loco producendo],
that is ask him whether he denies that the law is so written, or denies that he has acted
contrary to it or endeavored to do so [hoc est interrogandum utrum scriptum neget esse eo modo,
an ab se contra factum esse aut contra contendi neget]. . . . But if he denies neither statement
and still continues to dispute, say that there is no reason why any one should think that he
will ever see a more shameless man [Si neutrum neget et contra tamen dicat: nihil esse quo hominem
impudentiorem quisquam se visurum arbitretur]” (De inv. 2.43.125–26). Compare Eustathius’s
outrage that Origen is so shameless that “without blushing” (ου# ␬ ρυθρι6 ) he dares to attribute
the words of a madwoman to the Holy Spirit (3.5 [102]).

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Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

Without an apparent hint of self-irony (for bringing a witness back


from the dead to testify against necromancy!), Eustathius rehearses
Origen’s claim that the words in the text had to be true because their
author was the Holy Spirit, and then he turns to the jury of his readers,
wags his head and says,

Does Origen then not understand how contradictory to the interpretation of


the narrative [ναντα . . . τ  διηγή µατο ␬δοχ
 του  ] his view appears? In-
deed, those who have spent more time becoming conversant with a wide range
of literature [ο$ παντοοι σχολαιό τερον µιλή σαντε λό γοι] know better that
the narrative discourse of the author [( διηγηµατι␬ὴ του  συγγραφέ ω µιλα]
has set out these things which the belly-myther appeared to do or say to Saul
who seeks a divinatory word. Of course the writer [ συγγραφε'], because he
was telling her story and putting down her words in a style appropriate to her
[τοὺ λόγου αυ#τη   πὶ λέ ξεω ␬τιθέ µενο], said, “And the woman said, ‘whom
shall I elevate for you?’” Who is so simpleminded as to pretend not to under-
stand that these are not the statements of the writer, but of the woman who
was acting under demonic influence [αυ  συγγραφέ ω ου# ␬ ε/σὶ ν α$
% ται µὲ ν του
φωνα, τη   δὲ δαιµονώση ε/σὶ γυναι␬ό ]. Even her name brings this to the
forefront [η %  ␬αὶ του4νοµα πρου 4ταξεν]. (4.5–7 [106])

The cross-examination of Origen proceeds apace from there, with


Eustathius either quoting Origen’s actual words from his homily (φησ,
“he says”) and showing their inconsistency with the text,69 or, by per-
sonification, conjuring up what Origen might say to his insistent, sear-
ing questions ()σω ρει , “perhaps you will say . . .”), declaring that
he has trapped his opponent (2λισ␬όµενο ευ#πετω  )70 in his own var-
71
ious statements and their logical implications. There are, conse-
quently, only two possible motives a “jury” can allow: either Origen is
prevaricating, deliberately perjuring himself by saying what he knows
is not true,72 or he is sadly deluded, revealing himself to be a man

69
“The very facts of the case [αυ#τὰ τὰ πργµατα] fight against your words, Origen!”
(µχετα σου τοι  λόγοι, ’Qργενε; 5.5 [110]).
70
6.1 [110]; 22.5 [178], etc. Compare Quint. Inst. 5.7.11 on how the goal of cross-exami-
nation is to lead the witness into a trap (inducuntur in laqueos), just as when coaching one’s
own witness a lawyer is to make sure they do not contradict themselves (ut . . . constent sibi).
71
“Do you see to what great absurdity [τοπα] the proposition that you teach has led?”
(4.4 [104]).
72
“He appears either to do this foolishly because of a poor education [µαθα], or to be
boldly engaging in malevolence” (26.1 [194]). It is most striking, and surely no coincidence,
that Eusthathius depicts Origen and the devil (acting through the demon) in precisely the
same way. Both are “hypocrites” (of Origen, see 4.7 [106]; 6.7 [112]; 15.6 [150]; 16.5 [156];
21.1 [170]; 23.3 [180]; of the devil, 11.1 [132]; 12.1 [140]; and esp. 12.8 [142]), “liars” (of
Origen, see, e.g., 21.10 [174]; 26.8–9 [198]; of the devil, e.g., 14.6 [150]), and “blasphemers”
(of Origen: 3.5 [102]; 17.3 [162]; of the devil, 14.6 [150]).

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embarrassingly lacking in literary acumen.73 Eustathius hopes to de-


molish this legendarily wise witness so utterly as to leave him in the
guise of “an old crone,”74 an ironic doppelgänger for the despicable
woman whose word he has dared to ascribe to the Holy Spirit. Eus-
tathius even goes so far as to claim that his exegetical opponent Origen
is actually serving as “counsel for lawless divination.”75 Having called
Origen as his first witness, Eustathius retains him in the courtroom but
then turns to the witnesses inside the biblical text which Origen, “their
lawyer,” had brought forward in support of his “literal” reading.

Cross-Examination of the Textual Witnesses


Having demolished Origen’s foundational claim that the text speaks
with a unified voice representing a single witness, Eusthathius differ-
entiates three discrete µρτυρε (“witnesses”) in the pericope, who cor-
respond to the three πρόσωπα, the dramatis personae of the text—
Saul, the woman, and the apparition “Samuel”—none of whom is to
be identified with the Holy Spirit. Indeed, in Eustathius’s eyes, to co-
alesce or confuse such characters with the Holy Spirit is to commit
shameless blasphemy. Then he looks carefully at what the text says and,
as had Origen before him, what it does not say.76 Applying a forensic

73
Quintilian recognizes the same two options—fraud or ignorance (Inst. 5.1.2). Not sur-
prisingly, Origen had postulated these same two options for his opponents (4.5–6 [180]).
74
The lexical play is very clear in the Greek—both the woman of Endor and Origen are
“old crones” worthy of ridicule, not credibility. She is αυ , τη γραυ
 , (“this old crone”; 3.3 [100])
or ( δαιµονω  σα γραυ  (“the demon-colluding old crone”; 29.1 [204]), though the LXX text
in fact said nothing about her age. Origen ταυτολογει γραωδω   (“says the same thing over
and over like an old crone”; 17.2 [160]); when treating the narrative of Job, instead of praising
the saint’s ethical demeanor and urging imitation, instead, he devotes his attention, like some
old crone (γραωδω  ), to silly allegorization of the names of Job’s daughters (21.7 [174]). At
one point Eustathius exclaims, “He seems to me to speak in no less a mentally deranged
fashion than she!” (20.4 [170]). One other calumny Eustathius heaps on the two in common
is ␬ουφολογα (“air-headed speech”; see 7.6 [116]; 17.6 [162]; 22.5 [178], of Origen, and
25.11 [194], of the belly-myther). Among the methods Hermogenes recommends for dis-
crediting an opposing witness is to engage in slander (διαβλλειν) by saying that “they are
not worthy of belief because of age” (διὰ τὸ µὴ ε#ι ναι δι’ (λι␬αν ξιοπστου), presumably
because they are too old (or perhaps as well too young; Stat. 3 [Rabe, 45, lines 17–20]).
75
τη
  θεµτου µαντεα υ% ποθή µων (5.6 [110]); cf. the ironic depiction of ο$ γγαστρµυθοι
in 25.1 [190] as γαθω  ν υ%ποθήµονε ργων (“counselors of good deeds”). This seems of a
piece with Anaximenes’s advice, quoted above, to point out that witnesses are motivated by
their friendship with the opposition (in this case, the demons!—we shall return to this point
below).
76
Origen’s own strategy, of quoting the words of the text, and then proposing how the text
would have been written if his opponents’ interpretation were true (“it should have said, ‘the
woman thought that it was Samuel’”) employs this stock rhetorical technique, recommended
by Cicero De inv. 2.41.120.

434
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

suspicion to the account of the story as narrated, Eustathius points out


that the “event” is not directly narrated77 but rather is mediated through
the woman’s description of what she “saw,” and Saul’s inferences that
identified the apparition as Samuel—not on the basis of his own eye-
witness but of his interpretation of her (questionable) words. Having
made this separation of words and event, and of the three voices
(πρόσωπα), Eustathius systematically treats, and discredits, each of these
“witnesses” in turn, before the eyes of the jury of his own readers.78

Saul
Proceeding like a prosecutor facing an opposing witness, Eustathius
first points out that the king, in going to the γγαστρµυθο in the first
place, was not only breaking his own judicial order banishing these
practices from his kingdom but indeed violating the very law of God
(Num. 23:23). Hence, Eustathius asks, using the language of a court-
room contest of conflicting testimony, Who is more to be believed
(ξιόπιστο/φερέγγυο)—God, who thrust words into the mouth even
of Balaam, and who entrusted Moses with the task of penning the
words of prohibition (“there are to be no auguries in Jacob; no divi-
nation in Israel”),79 or Saul, “a witness [µρτυ] who had himself in a
most unholy way tried to make use of these practices” (2.9 [100])?80
Moreover, Eustathius insists, Saul is actually not even a witness, for the
text itself indicates that he did not see anything81 but relied on the
woman’s words. Since hearsay evidence is inadmissible, Saul can be
dispensed with as a purported witness.82

77
Ad Her. 2.6.9 recommends that in cross-examination one should demonstrate that the
witness on the stand could not have known what happened.
78
For a comparable treatment of a textual character as a witness, see, e.g., Aphthonius’s
sample νασ␬ευή, in which he contests the mythic claim that Daphne was the child of Ladon
and Earth by questioning, τνα του  γέ νου χουσα πστιν (“what proof does she have of her
ancestry?”; Prog. 5 [Rabe, 11.16–17]).
79
See Young, Biblical Exegesis, 21–28; and Neuschäfer, Origenes als Philologe, 1.276–85, on
Origen’s application to scripture of the schoolroom method of ,Οµηρον ξ %Οµήρου
σαφηνζειν (“clarifying Homer from Homer”; e.g., De principiis 1.2).
80
It is customary, of course, to discredit witnesses on the grounds of their bad moral conduct
(see, e.g., Quintilian Inst. 5.7.26).
81
“Saul, since he was out of his mind, ‘knew’ from what he had heard [ξ ω % ν ␬ή␬οεν]
that this was Samuel himself” (3.9 [104]); “would not Saul have seen him [ου# ␬ ρα -όρα␬εν
αυ#τὸν  Sαο'λ] rather than, as though struck with blindness, have wished to learn from
someone else what sort of man he was?” (6.5 [112]).
82
“In the case of hearsay evidence, it will be urged that those who produce such evidence
are not really witnesses, but are merely reporting the words of unsworn persons” (ut de
auditionibus, non enim ipsos esse testes sed iniuratorum adferre voces; Quint. Inst. 5.7.5).

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The Woman
The discrediting of the testimony of ( γγαστρµυθο (“the belly-
myther”) spans the whole of Eustathius’s lengthy treatise. As we have
seen, she is evaluated first according to a nontextually supported as-
sumption that the mantic arts are the work of  δαµων (“the demon,”
or “the devil”) or some δαιµόνιον (“petty demon”). Indeed, both Or-
igen and Eusebius state this repeatedly as though self-evident, although
neither term appears in the LXX of 1 Kingdoms 28—one clear indi-
cation of the “literal” limits of both interpretations.83 Initially Eustath-
ius flirts with a rhetorical question of which of the two witnesses his
reader should grant credence—Saul or the boasting demon.84 But then
he sets up his real comparison, between the words of Jesus (a readily
available witness who requires no special summons) to the effect that
the devil is a liar (John 8:44), and the words of a demon, and brings
Origen back to life to pronounce a judgment that actually redounds
upon himself. 85 Hence the demonstration of the unreliability of the
testimony of both Saul and the woman is made in terms of guilt by
association—Saul is δαιµονιζόµενο (“demon-possessed”), and the
woman is δαιµονω  σα (“in collusion with demons”; 7.2 [114]). Hence
the conclusion that “the knowledge of the demon-possessed man is
only worth as much as the proclamation of the woman who served the
words up to him.”86
But can these words, part of holy scripture, be completely invali-
dated? Eustathius will later argue that the sacred author of the entire
Bible (one single writer, for him) consistently and throughout prohib-
its necromantic activity and pronounces those involved in it accursed.87

83
The grand assumption of Eusthathius’s argument, which is presented as requiring no
proof, is, “For there can be no doubt that a demon does not bring up anyone’s soul” (ου#
γὰρ στιν µφισβητει ν ο,τι δαµων ου#␬ νγει ψυχὴν ου#δενό; 4.8 [106]).
84
“If it is necessary to believe either Saul, who was possessed by the demon [E/ δὲ δει
πιστε'ειν η " τ
 δαιµονιζοµέ ν Sαοὺ λ], . . . or a demon who boasted and promised to summon
even the souls of the righteous from hell, let us judge for ourselves [␬ρνωµεν παρ’ -αυτοι]”
(4.1 [104]).
85
4.3 [104]. The extent to which this entire argument—pitting the credibility of one witness
against another—is well rooted in ancient forensic techniques can be readily seen by juxta-
posing it with this excerpt from Hermogenes Stat. 3.19 (Rabe, 45, lines 9–20): “Then he will
not merely question the witnesses [παιτή σει τοὺ  µρτυρα], but discredit [διαβαλει ] them
to the effect that one should not believe [µὴ δει πιστε'ειν] ‘a slave who is by nature an enemy
to his masters’ . . . and one should also pit witnesses against witnesses [ντιτιθέ ναι τοι 
µρτυσι τοὺ µρτυρα], as to which are more worthy of belief [πότεροι µα  λλον
ξιοπιστότεροι], and cross-examine them [ντεξετζειν], as Demosthenes did against Konon.”
86
7.3 [114]: ( γρ τοι του  δαιµονιζοµέ νου γνω  ␬ηρ'γµατο τ'γχανεν ␬ενη
 σι ξα του
  ␬αὶ τοὺ λόγου αυ#τ
τη  δια␬ονο'ση (see also, e.g., 4.1, 7 [104, 106]).
87
That set of proofs, in chaps. 24–26, involves the invocation of such scriptural “witnesses”
[µαρτυραι] as Deut. 18:9–12, Lev. 20:27, and Isa. 8:19–21 (introduced as µρτυ λλο

436
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

Here he wishes to emphasize that one of the methods that holy author
used to encode this consistent attitude is to customarily include words
and narratives about evil people who give false testimonies, but always
signal to the reader their untrustworthiness by the titles with which
they are first introduced (such as the prophets of Baal, who are said
to “prophesy” in their contest with Elijah on Carmel, or Pharaoh’s ma-
gicians, who are described as acting “in like manner” to Aaron’s and
Moses’s divinely produced plagues on Egypt).88 Since the divine author
gave this woman the moniker ( γγαστρµυθο (“the belly-myther”),
readers are supposed to know from the get-go—by both this clue and
by their own readerly savoir faire—that her words are not to be
trusted.89 “Even her name brings this to the forefront” (4.7 [106]).
Because the scriptural author gave this crone a name that contains
the word µυ θο (“myth”), Eustathius will later argue (27–30 [198–206]),
all readers in their right minds should know that she is completely
unreliable. Indeed, through further scrutiny of the woman’s testimony,
Eustathius seeks to demonstrate that even on their own terms the
words the woman employs can be shown to be logically untenable. For
example, if Origen would like to claim that the reason Saul had to ask
her to describe what she saw was because Samuel did not arise as a
body but as a soul (ψυχή), Eustathius can entrap him by asking about
the clothing she said Samuel had worn. “For I do not think you would
say wittily and facetiously that the cloak had remained in the grave so
many years until that very day, so that the prophet’s soul could wear
it and not somehow go walking around naked!” (6.7 [112]). If so, Eus-
tathius submits, then Origen would have to admit the woman’s words
are not even literally true but that the insignias she speaks of were
meant to invoke not the reality, but rather the idea, of “priesthood.”

ξιοφανή [“another illustrious witness”] in 25.8 [192]), which categorically forbid mantic
practices (the fact that these texts in the LXX include the term γγαστρµυθο makes this
point especially impressive). Eustathius complains that Origen deliberately avoids calling these
witnesses, even though he knows them, but instead brings in irrelevant ones (26.1 [194]).
Then, like any courtroom lawyer, Eustathius asks the jury of his readers to choose between
these two sets of witnesses, because one or the other must be committing perjury. Hence
they must either invalidate the words of holy scripture, or τὰ τη   γγαστριµ'θου ρ%ήµατα
%  7ωλα ␬αὶ ψευδη
διαβαλει ν ω  (“discredit the words of the belly-myther as worthless and false”;
25.3 [190]). The answer to this question is predetermined by the assumption that scripture
does not self-contradict. But, Eustathius goes on, even if it did in this one instance, the majority
witnesses should win the day; ται  δὲ πολλαι  ( µα µχεται ψη  φο; ε/ δ’ ρα ␬αὶ µχη τ
στιν, πι␬ρατου  σιν α$ πολλα (“Does the single judgment conflict with the many? Well, then,
if there is any contradiction, the passages in the majority prevail”; 25.3 [190]).
88
On the topos that one should interpret a text in relation to its author’s consistent way of
writing, see, e.g., Cicero De inv. 2.40.117.
89
He writes, somewhat snidely, that the “narrative voice” writes ω %  πρὸ ε/δότα περὶ
δαιµονώση µιλω  ν (“as though speaking to people who know what to expect from a demon-
colluding woman”; 4.8 [106]).

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Hence the γγαστρµυθο is the definitively untrustworthy witness,


for she “says things other than what are” (6.9 [114]). This definition
of her speech—7τερα γὰρ λεγεν παρὰ τὰ ο 4ντα—is extended to make
very clear that Eustathius by his literal reading of the text (αυ#τὸ τὸ
τη  $στορα γρµµα)90 has tarred her (and Origen, whom he has cas-
tigated as being her promoter)91 with the worst of exegetical crimes—
τὰ τω  ν ο#νόµατα παραφ έρουσα ␬αὶ τὰ νοητὰ διαδει␬ν'ουσα
 ν α/σθητω
πργµατα (“allegedly offering the names of perceptible things, but
through them showing conceptual realities”; 6.9 [114]). Eustathius’s
charge is unmistakable—the woman is an allegorist! And in a court of
law, allegory (thus defined) equals perjury.
This earlier, hinted slur against allegorical exegesis will be developed
further in the treatise, when Eustathius overtly excoriates Origen’s
more usual allegorical practice on other biblical passages.92 There it is
revealed that, like Origen’s ironic inclusio on the ναγωγή (“elevated
sense”), Eustathius’s treatise also is united in a singular, cleverly exe-
cuted hermeneutical goal. Under the guise of contesting Origen’s un-
acceptably literal interpretation of a single passage, Eustathius bril-
liantly executes a sharp denunciation of Origenic allegorical method
as being in collusion with such a “belly-mythologist.” Eustathius cites
Origen’s exegesis of the Eden narrative in Genesis, which he had
treated under the category of µθοι, arguing that it is not about
α/σθητὰ ξ'λα (“perceptible trees”).93 Shocked at this, Eustathius ex-
claims the bitter irony,

in allegorizing them he does not shudder to call “myths” what God is said to
have created and the most trustworthy [πιστό τατο] servant of God, Moses,
wrote. But, on the contrary, the very things “the myth concocted in the belly”
[ µυ
θο ν γαστρὶ πλαττό µενο] obscurely suggests are those that Origen con-
firms [βεβαιοι ] by dogmatic fiat, demonstrating them true. So, commending
the words of the “belly-myther” as having been spoken through the holy spirit,
he considers them worthy of remaining as unshaken testimony, attributing
them to scripture since they appear there. But the very disclosures of God
given through Moses he perverts the sense of, calling them “myths,” not judg-

90
2.1 [96]; “the very letter of the narrative.”
91
See esp. 3.4 [102] where Eustathius charges Origen with wishing to fill the church with
“instruments of idolatry and inventions of necromancy” (and n. 105 below).
92
See esp. chaps. 21–22.
93
In no extant text does Origen call the Genesis 2–3 narrative a µυ  θο, a term he, like
Eustathius, most often uses with derision (e.g., Comm. in Joh. 13.17; c. Cels. 1.4.11; 1.37.34).
This reference may be lost, or perhaps Eustathius’s accusation is based upon what he takes
to be the implication of Origen’s allegorical method, rather than his actual recourse to the
term.

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Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

ing it right to stick to the literal interpretation [τ  γρµµατο ␬δοχ


 του  ].
(21.3–4 [172])

So, the paradoxical implication is that in holding to an interpreta-


tion of 1 Samuel 28 “by the letter,” Origen winds up even here (or
perhaps especially here!) a spokesman for allegorical interpretation,
the mode of interpretive myth-making that Eustathius categorically re-
jects, because Origen literalizes the words of a woman “belly-myther”
as though they were divine, literal truth. He does what she does, she
does what he does: pull words out of the air to say that what isn’t there
actually is. “For she says things other than are the case, using the names
of sensible things [τὰ τω ν α/σθητω ν] and pointing out spiritual mean-
ings [τὰ νοητὰ πργµατα].”94
Using a standard ancient exegetical technique that was itself not far
from allegorization,95 Eustathius etymologizes the word γγαστρµυθο
to make his point.

But not even her compound name convinces Origen of what sort of bearing
she had. For if the “engastri-mythos” is interpreted by derivation to indicate that
“a myth [mythos] is fabricated in the belly [en gastri],” and if the composition
of the myth is given shape, sheltered persuasively within they belly, then the
name does not broadcast the truth, but the exact opposite—a lie! Indeed,
those who are conversant with various forms of literary reference know much
better to what genre myth belongs. Even if Origen had introduced Greek man-
tic activity inadvertently, because he was seriously ill with the fever of super-
stition, nevertheless, I do not think I should beg off from giving at this point
a brief refutation [λέ γξαι] of his stupidity, since it is necessary. For the rhe-
torical handbooks [α$ ρ% ητορι␬αὶ τεχνογραφαι] clearly show that “a myth is a
fabrication composed with persuasive attraction with an eye to some matter of
vital importance and utility.”96 Doubtless, they say, it has been called a “fabri-
cation” [plasma] as derived from the verb “having been fabricated” [peplasthai];
this is universally acknowledged. For it would no longer be considered a myth
if it had truly happened. And if the myth-making is the composition of an
improvised fabrication, it stands convicted of being in fact far from the truth;
although it is bereft of any real event, it fashions a likeness in speech of matters
of fact. For it seems to use specious arguments to show that what does not

94
6.9 [114], translation from G. W. H. Lampe, Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon,
1961), 917, s.v. νοητό, II.E.2.
95
For the common technique of etymologizing, see esp. the treatise on Greek theology by
Cornutus and valuable discussion in Glenn W. Most, “Cornutus and Stoic Allegoresis: A
Preliminary Report,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, vol. 2, pt. 36, vol. 3 (Berlin:
De Gruyter, 1989), 2014–65; Long, “Stoic Readings of Homer.” On etymology as the topos
πὸ του ο#νόµατο (“from the name”) as applied to proper names, see Aristotle Rhet. 2.23.29.
96
Compare Theon Prog. 1 (L. Spengel, Rhetores graeci [Leipzig: Teubner, 1854]) 2:59, lines
21–22): “A myth is a false account that portrays the truth” (ο%ι ον ο , τι µυ
 θό στι λόγο
ψευδὴ ε/␬ονζων λήθειαν).

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The Journal of Religion

exist does exist, and it introduces in narrative form a fabricated copy.


(26.10–27.3 [198])

This charge against mythic speech leads Eustathius to summon a


surprise expert witness: no less an authority than Plato, who banished
the poets from his republic, describing the epic poems of Homer and
Hesiod as works that “declare false myths” (µ'θου ποφανει ψευδει ),
despite their psychagogical role in education (παιδεα) and their sheer
beauty in style and in thought (␬αλλιλεξα, ευ#γλωττα). Consequently,
by an argument a maiore ad minus (from Homer to hag), the words of
the demon-colluding old crone should be interpreted as µυθοποι1ι αι
ψευδει (“false acts of myth-making”), as the very name γγαστρµυθο
quite clearly indicates (29.1 [204]). Indeed, even Greek school kids
are taught the meaning of ο#νοµατοποι1ι α (onomatopoeia);97 surely the
savvy, experienced reader would be alerted at once to be suspicious of
any words from her! Hence the woman is completely repudiated from
being any credible witness to the events she supposedly attests, and,
along with her, Origen is implicated for his allegorism that mirrors her
own technique—collusion with the demonic that leads people to say
they see things that are not there.

“Samuel”
One “witness” is left in 1 Kingdoms 28: the voice of “Samuel.” This is
an equally complicated matter, for Eustathius must deal with the fact—
crucial to Origen’s interpretation—that the apparition proclaims some
prophesies that actually do come true within the larger biblical nar-
rative. This was the basis for Origen’s argument that it must really have
been Samuel who was raised, since no daimonion would know about the
future God had in store for the kingdom of Israel. Eustathius discredits
the testimony of this phantasmal “witness” in a very clever fashion.98
First, he points out that not all of the things reportedly said by the
apparition actually came true. Those that were, he argues, such as the
fact that God had torn the kingdom from the hand of Saul and given
it to David, were true, not because they were the words of the demon,
but because the daimonion had plagiarized them from Samuel’s words

97
Compare Cicero De inv. 2.47.139: the one who argues against someone else’s literal
rendering should say that the text has been written such that the educated judiciary can fully
understand it (quod intellegeret quales viri res iudicaturi essent). That is why the author did not
have to spell everything out in composing the text. Even a child can read the simple words
(quod quivis puer facere posset), but the document in question was written for those capable of
higher understanding.
98
On the use of “supernatural evidence” in a court case, see Quint. Inst. 5.7.36.

440
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

earlier in 1 Samuel 15 (back when the real prophet lived; 12.1–9


[140–44]). In this way the daimonion who engaged in προσωποποιει -
σθαι (personifying Samuel) could have said things that were true—
they just weren’t his own (12.8 [142]). Having thus dispensed with the
theological (and forensic) problem of a daimonion telling true proph-
ecies about the divine dispensation, Eustathius looks at the other
things the daimonion said that he did not get by plagiarizing Samuel
(i.e., those that do not appear earlier in the narrative in 1 Samuel 15
as the words of the real Samuel). Most of those matters, Eusthathius
notes, in fact did not come to pass as the daimonion said—such as that
Saul would die on “the next day” and his son Jonathan would die with
him.99 The remaining item said by the daimonion that he could not
have cribbed from Samuel did come true, Eustathius admits—namely,
that Saul would be µετ’ µου  (with him—i.e., in Hades). But Eustathius
has a most ingenious way of pinning his opponent by this apparent
counterevidence: the phantom’s words in that case were an act of pro-
leptic plagiarism of the words Jesus would direct to the good thief in
Luke’s gospel (23:43; see 14.6 [150]). In that context, because of the
identity of the προσώπον, it meant being “with Jesus” in heaven. Fur-
thermore, the plagiarizing daimonion, in adopting Jesus’s exact words,
actually betrays his own identity, because Saul is clearly destined for
Hades, where he will be “with the devil,” not with Christ. Hence the
daimonion’s testimony, submitted to detailed cross-examination, fails to
pass scruntiny but is discredited as either botched and hence inaccu-
rate prophecy or sheer plagiarism that betrays the true demonic iden-
tity of the word thief.
Dividing what Origen sought to coalesce—the words of the text,
which he parcels out to three different personae—Eustathius neverthe-
less still applies the same forensic criterion to each in succession: are
they true or not true? From this same “lie-detector” hermeneutic of
the courtroom, Eustathius has sought to demolish each in turn as a
liar—Saul, the belly-myther, “Samuel”—and along with them his exe-
getical opponent Origen, who was so badly mistaken in regarding each
as part of one seamless voice of divine truth, the Holy Spirit the author
of all scripture. Eustathius’s reading is “literal” in that it claims for
itself a more “true” rendering of the text by looking at what is actually
there, not what is not there, but it is nonetheless in some sense the
supremely figurative reading, given that Eustathius’s ultimate purpose
in his interpretation of this narrative is not to uncover the “facts” about

99
12.10–13.10 [144–48]. Saul died two days after (1 Kingdoms 28:20–25); Saul died with
three sons (1 Kingdoms 31:2).

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the Endor event but rather to reject Origenic allegorism through a


creative conceit of convicting Origen of the crime of the belly-myther
of Endor—conjuring words and ideas from thin air.

conclusions
The purpose of the present essay has been to propose that the standard
map dividing patristic interpretation into two exclusive camps—the lit-
eral and the allegorial—had its origins in the way early Christian in-
terpreters rhetorically presented their own readings. I have argued that
this way of approaching biblical interpretation—as an γών leading to
a judgment that a text is either true or false—emerged quite naturally
from the rhetorical education shared by the literate elite in late an-
tiquity, which was, after all, the essential tool kit drawn upon by early
Christian interpreters. Those trained in that rhetorical culture recog-
nized that textual evidence may, in one case or another, be hostile or
friendly, depending upon whether one takes a literal or more figurative
approach to the text in question. They also knew that there were stan-
dard ways an orator was expected to defend the literal sense against
its detractors or to uphold a sense beyond that of the literal. This
rhetorical framing of the interpretive act as a tug of war with the text
from opposing sides situates textual hermeneutics within a mislead-
ingly, since deliberately simplistic, dualism, as one seeks the high
ground for oneself and the lowest for one’s opponent, even as in some
sense both tilt toward the middle.100
Both Origen and Eustathius defend their interpretation of the tale
of the γγαστρµυθο by attempting to show that the contrary reading
is based upon a pernicious and disastrous hermeneutic that would lead
to absurd consequences. Eustathius has particular potency on this
point because he seeks to revile and refute both Origen’s “hyperliter-
alism” (as he characterizes it) in reading this story and his more cus-
tomary allegorical method. Origen incipiently claims that his oppo-
nents are in effect changing the words of the text (“facing off against
scripture”), since they are seeing things that are not there (such as
that the woman saw a daimonion pretending to be Samuel), and, even
more broadly, that once one allows that anything in scripture lies, then
the truth of the whole is open to question. The rhetoric of literal versus
less strict interpretations of textual evidence always, therefore, involves

100
Dawson critiques Daniel Boyarin for continally working with a “binary opposition” be-
tween literal and allegorical, body and spirit, which he contends is “formulated from a post-
structuralist and postmodernist point of view,” but (Dawson counters) is actually “distinctively
modernist” (Christian Figural Reading, 48). However, as we can see, it is also clearly ancient.

442
Patristic Rhetoric on Allegory

broad statements about textual hermeneutics in general, because each


interpretive act becomes precedent (or at least potential precedent)
for all others, even as it is defended by appeals to existing precedent.
However, it must be pointed out, for both interpreters the argument
by appeal to the consequences of this reading is not necessarily an
absolute or thoroughly systematic commitment to that one way of read-
ing, but it is also a rhetorical convention, prescripted by the hand-
books, for dealing with a specific interpretation of a given text that
one finds troubling by calling on the slippery slope of consequences.
This is, therefore, a commonplace argument that can be used either
for an interpretation that is to the letter, or for one that calls for a
moderation of the literal sense by appeal to another consideration,
such as the intent of the author.101 That conventions of reading in-
grained in the educational system are the backbone of these ap-
proaches is revealed by the “urbanity topos”102 used by both authors, in
which they state that “people who have actually had a lot of experience
reading texts know . . .” With such insults hurled across the aisle (or
the years!) one reader castigates the other for fumbling naively with
the written evidence and, in so doing, exposes himself as a literary
bumpkin who by such gross ignorance has (seemingly) disqualified
himself from the company and conversation of educated men.103 This
frequently used line of invective boldly insists that, if the opponent
were really well trained in literary studies, he would agree with the
speaker. Hence, so the commonplace goes, either he must be merely
prevaricating in propounding an interpretation he knows to be pat-
ently false, or he is actually not qualified to register an opinion in the
first place.
Origen and Eustathius, as we have seen, articulate the exegetical
stakes as absolute: true or false, right or wrong, literal or allegorical,
with (theoretically and rhetorically) no grey area.104 This is especially
because their methods are overtly apologetic—aggressively so—em-
bracing the language and procedures of the courtroom, proceeding by
standard forms of proof and refutation (␬ατασ␬ευή and νασ␬ευή)

101
See, e.g., Cicero De inv. 2.45.130–34.
102
I use this phrase to refer to barbs against others and implicit claims for oneself as being
well educated and well read.
103
See the rich collection of material on the social dimensions of proper socialization into
the literary culture in Kaster, Guardians of Language, esp. 15–31, on how “the oldest article
of faith in the literary culture” is the view that “we are then as superior to the uneducated
as they are to cattle” (17, in reference to Diomedes Grammatici latini 1.299.18ff.).
104
Well appreciated by Trigg: “In significant ways Origen and Eustathius are closer to each
other in their assumptions about biblical interpretation than either of them is to modern
critical scholars” (“Eustathius of Antioch’s Attack on Origen,” 233).

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and (ubiquitously) invective. Their exegetical work does not just move
from theoretical commitment to exegesis, but the invocation of the
right theory for the interpretation on offer is part of the very practice
of exegesis and the rhetorical presentation of it; there may be procliv-
ities toward more literal or more allegorical readings, but not absolute
fidelity.
In this case, the Alexandrine and the Antiochene alike comfortably
adopt a self-conscious and direct prosecutorial approach to the per-
iocope about the woman-mantic at Endor that employs the stylistic and
substantive strategies of this agonistic approach to texts as witnesses.105
But under this rhetoric of a simple choice—yes or no, true or false,
literal or allegorical—each author is actually engaged in an argument
of much more complex, nuanced, and clever proportions. And for
both of them the case at hand is in some ways the pretext for larger
hermeneutical and theological issues that they wish to press much
more broadly, if not absolutely. Origen’s homily is united in its paro-
nomastic concern for ναγωγή (“elevation”), by which wordplay he
cleverly seeks to hijack the literal meaning of 1 Kingdoms 28 in service
of an ultimately spiritual and revelatory meaning conveyed—that is, to
those who can attend to τὰ γόµενα (“the elevated meanings brought
forth”). It is also an overt attempt to preserve the authority of scripture
against those who “face off against” (ντιβλέπειν) one narrative and
hence call into question the truth of the whole, which was written by
the Holy Spirit (2.29; 3.1–3 [176]). In the same way, Aphthonius ad-
vises one who wishes to uphold the factuality of the Apollo-Daphne
myth to say that those who doubt it are speaking against (ντερει ν)
the poets, and, in turn, repudiating the divine Muses (and Apollo) who
inspired them.106
Eustathius’s treatise, rather than containing an almost parenthetical,
knee-jerk swipe at Origen’s allegorizing (even though its ostensible tar-
get was a rare instance of Origenic “literal” interpretation), can be
understood as a quite deliberate, focused, and thoroughly clever at-
tempt to tar Origen with guilt by association in the very crime of the
γγαστρµυθο whose testimony Eustathius believes Origen blasphe-
mously upholds over that of the Holy Spirit, author of scripture. Like
the belly-myther with whom Eustathius allies him, Origen is guilty—

105
Eustathius is afraid that Christians may be induced by Origen’s exegesis of this story to
engage in mantic practices (3.4 [102]; 26.9 [198]) and an undue credulity about “myths”
that are lies coming from the devil (26.1–30.6 [194–206]). Origen is worried that if doubt is
cast on the veracity of this text, then believers may be dissuaded from the faith (2.29 [176]).
Interestingly, their pastoral goals are not that divergent.
106
Aphthonius Prog. 6 (Rabe, 14, lines 9–12), quoted in n. 45 above.

444
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whether professedly upholding the literal or his more usual “allegori-


cal” interpretations—of “saying what is not,” of ignoring the divine
givens in scripture which he replaces with his own silly and old-wom-
anish myths. He becomes, for Eustathius, one who traffics in the same
kinds of verbal malfeasance as the devil himself.107 Though cast in the
form of a truly “literal” reading of the passage, Eustathius has ironically
read 1 Samuel 28 as an allegory about Origen and his exegesis, just as
schoolmasters had used the Daphne-Apollo narrative to encapsulate
the essential hermeneutical dynamics of all the myths the poets tell
about the gods.108 If this connection is more than an interesting but
independent parallel (as the conjuction of Eustathius and the rheto-
rician Aphthonius in Antioch, with its famous Daphne, might suggest),
then perhaps we have a clue to why the γγαστρµυθο of 1 Kingdoms
28, of all possible biblical narratives, received this kind of attention
among Christian exegetes.109 Perhaps it was their Daphne myth.

107
“Engaging in ‘tautology’ by rhetorical artifice he pretends that he is speaking prophet-
ically” (πιθαν  δὲ τεχνοποια ταυτολογω  ν υ% πε␬ρνατο δὴ προφητι␬ω
  µιλειν; 12.8 [142]).
This charge against the devil is a resounding echo of what Eustathius uses for Origen, including
the accusation of using rhetorical craft, the act of ταυτολογει ν, and hypocrisy (see esp. 17.2
[160], and further discussion on hypocrisy above in n. 72).
108
Surely Eustathius could (and really does!) predicate of Origen what he says of the devil:
ο#ι δεν ρα τὰ γεγραµµέ να ␬α␬οµαθω   (“he knows the scriptures, but is badly trained”; 23.8
[182]). That the entire treatise had Origenic allegory in mind is broadly hinted at in the
prooimion, which introduces the problem that people have been induced by Origen’s fame
to “attend to words rather than to things, as they should” (τοι  ο#νόµασι µα  λλον, λλ’ ου#
τοι  πργµασι προσέχοντε ω %  δέον; 1.3 [94]).
109
It was an $στορα διαβό ητο (“[in]famous story”) already by the time of Origen (1
[172.15]), for whom “disbelief” in it was thought to run the danger of ε/ πισταν προτρέπει
(“persuading toward disbelief”) more comprehensively (2 [176.29]).

445

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