This chapter considers the Latin West, with Hilary of Poitiers, Ambrose of Milan, Jerome of Stridon, Chromatius of Aquileia, Augustine of Hippo, and Faltonia Betitia Proba as examples of a non-systematic Christian approach to the concept of dignity. Latin authors are scrutinized in regard to their descriptions of human axiology and use of dignitas, specifically dignitas hominis and dignitas Christiana. I identify a trend to transform the ancient tradition of writing calls inspired by the Delphic maxim,
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This Chapter focuses on the five main representatives of the fourth- and early-fifth-century AD Latin West: Hilary of Poitiers (d. 367), Ambrose of Milan (d. 397), Chromatius of Aquileia (d. c. 407), Jerome of Stridon (d. 419), and Augustine of Hippo (d. 430). I will discuss their approaches in chronological order based on their birth dates, although all these thinkers were contemporaries. This analysis will start with the writers who did not implement dignitas as an anthropological category in their axiological deliberations and gradually move on to the ones who did so with an increasing degree of frequency and regular usage of the concept. This ordering matches the aforementioned chronological one. Included in this discussion is an identification of the tradition of formulating axiological appeal to know human dignity. This Chapter also offers a description of the early Christian tendency to challenge the Roman social axiological order and propose the appropriation of dignitas Romana to refer to hierarchy built on the criterion of merit (dignitas Christiana), rather than on circumstantial conditions such as birth or wealth. In doing so, the early Christians clearly follow the Hellenistic schools.
I begin the investigation with the examination of a writer who committed himself only marginally to anthropological topics, and who consequently did not have much chance to implement dignitas in an anthropological sense: Hilary of Poitiers. When he did, nevertheless, mention the idea of human worth, Hilary used alternative Latin terminology, not dignitas hominis. Second, we will consider an author who, likewise, barely used the notion of dignity (dignitas) in anthropologically relevant contexts at all, instead primarily employing dignitas in a social sense (dignitas Romana), but who comprehended and deliberated the idea of human value and succumbed to the use of alternative terminology or periphrastic expressions to describe the human axiological status: Ambrose of Milan. We will then briefly consider one example of a writer who used dignitas and dignatio to indicate dignitas Romana, but reinterpreting the term so as to question worldly social hierarchies: Chromatius of Aquileia. Next, we will move on to a thinker who (around the year 397) employed, discussed, and demanded that dignitas hominis be observed, even though he did so in only one work of his: Jerome of Stridon. We will conclude by studying a figure who both debated human dignity and used dignitas with an anthropological meaning (dignitas naturae and dignitas humana) in his major works written in the last decade of the fourth and at the beginning of the fifth century, but did so in a non-systematic manner, often interchangeably with expressions employing positive adjectives to describe human axiological status: Augustine of Hippo. At the end of the chapter, we will break from the chronological structure to reference a group of female Christian intellectuals, and in particular Faltonia Betitia Proba’s Cento (written around 360), to reconstruct the late ancient female view on human axiology. This provides additional evidence of the proposed idea that fourth-century Christian anthropology did not systematically implement the category of human dignity.
This order, both chronological and systematic, is designed to demonstrate the increasing tendency to implement the anthropological meaning of dignitas in the Golden Age of patristic literature, with a substantial watershed in the propagation of the concept of human dignity occurring in the fifth century. In order to clearly show the momentum behind the popularization of dignitas in its anthropological meaning in the fifth century, it is best to start by illustrating the void in which dignitas was not a leading anthropological-axiological category, but one of a number of similar expressions descriptive of human value, and one in which the social meaning of a rank or status (dignitas Romana) prevailed.
This observation allows us to pose a question: since when, or perhaps, since which author, did dignitas become popularized in the European Latin tradition in the anthropological-axiological sense that we are used to today? One possible answer remains to be shown at the end of this Chapter and in the next. First, let us consider the linguistic choices relating to human axiology made by major Christian Latin authors of the fourth and early fifth century.
3.1 Hilary of Poitiers
This Chapter, opening the presentation of the Latin conceptions of human dignity in the Golden Age of patristic literature, fittingly starts with the mention of a thinker often called the “Athanasius of the West.” As we shall see, many Latin thinkers remained highly influenced by their eastern Greek contemporaries, including in their conceptualizations of human axiology. Hilary’s short reflection on universal human nobilitas (nobility) and honor (honor) is perhaps the most evident example.
As we know, Athanasius of Alexandria repeated the golden rule of patristic soteriology (“God became human, so that a human being could become divine”) and proposed its axiological version, which we called “the dignitarian formula”. It stated that God’s kindness (
In his most popular work, De Trinitate, Hilary discusses Christ’s incarnation, which leads him to repeat Athanasius’s dignitarian formula twice in the context of God’s birth (not the crucifixion, as was originally done by Athanasius). In his vivid description of the nativity scene, Hilary invokes the image of the Holy Mary carrying the crying newborn baby, with kings arriving to see the infant child, animals surrounding the cradle, and angels proclaiming the arrival of the Savior, as well as the work of the Holy Spirit leading up to Mary’s pregnancy. Yet Hilary also follows Gregory of Nazianzus in describing the nativity scene in terms of paradoxes of incarnation, among which he lists the two dignitarian formulas. The list opens by recalling that He, who sustains all things, is born and starts to be; that He, at whose voice archangels tremble, is heard wailing in the cradle; He, who is incomprehensible and unseen, is seen, etc. Hilary will demonstrate how divine dignity was preserved in the human context, yet at this point he states the obvious: God had nothing to gain by incarnation, which is why it was done for humankind’s benefit only. He therefore rhetorically asks: Quid tandem dignum a nobis tantae dignationis adfectui rependetur?1 (“At last, with what worthy thing will we repay for the feeling of such great honour?”) In this context, the two dignitarian formulas, expressive of our gain due to incarnation, are uttered: Humilitas eius nostra nobilitas est, contumelia eius honor noster est2 (“His humiliation is our nobility, his mistreatment is our honor”). These lines suggest that God’s humiliation and mistreatment, manifested in a defenseless child wailing in a cradle, translate into human nobility and honor, because the vulnerable human nature is shared by one before time and the maker of the universe. Read in this context, the formulas are a reference to Christ’s birth, rather than the Way of the Cross and Crucifixion, the original context in which Athanasius placed his formula. Nonetheless, the point of Christ’s incarnation is the mission of resurrection that leads through the Cross, which is why Hilary’s and Athanasius’s views are reconcilable.
The egalitarianism of Hilary’s dignitarian formulas, both referring to the “we” of humanity, is a necessary consequence of the universal message of incarnation—a point he confirms explicitly.3 By tying the notion of “our” nobility and honor to the description of Christ’s birth, Hilary introduced a universal and egalitarian scope of reference regarding these notions to all of humanity.
As we will see below, Hilary also made use of the social sense of dignitas in order to refer to dignitas Christiana, which will be examined alongside similar points in the discussion of Ambrose’s ideas on the matter, some of the most developed among the Latin Church Fathers. In his discussion of human axiology, resulting from Christ’s sacrificial incarnation, Hilary found alternative names expressive of human worth; namely, nobilitas and honor.
3.2 Ambrose of Milan
Ambrose of Milan was born in either 337 or 339 as a Roman aristocrat. His writings are an example of the non-universal use of the term dignitas, and of alternative ways of describing common human greatness. Although a curiously distanced opinion about Ambrose was expressed in his day by Jerome of Stridon (in De viris illustribus),4 Ambrose was certainly counted among the “illustrious” of his time, and was seen as a crucial Christian authority. In the ages to come, he would be listed as one of the four intellectual pillars of the Church by the Venerable Bede, and counted among the first four great Latin Fathers, next to Jerome himself, Augustine of Hippo, and Gregory the Great.5 His popularity was certainly increased by Augustine of Hippo’s account of the Bishop of Milan’s role in Augustine’s Christian development. Confessiones testifies not only to Ambrose’s intellectual authority, but also to his charismatic personality and rhetorical talent, best demonstrated through the bishop’s influence over the Roman emperor, Theodosius, who, following the massacre of Thessalonica, he forced into a public display of remorse and acts of penitence.6
3.2.1 Axiological Themes and Terminology in Ambrose’s Writings
Ambrose’s major work Hexaemeron, a commentary on the six days of creation, largely based on both Basil the Great’s Hexaemeron as well as Basil’s other writings (in particular, Homilia in illud: Attende tibi ipsi), employs the Latin dignitas in the sociological sense of an office (dignitas Romana).7 The homilies were spoken to the public during the Holy Week of a year somewhere between 384 and 390.8 Interestingly, the text does not employ dignitas in the anthropological context pertaining to human nature where it could appear, such as in the discussion of human greatness present in the commentary on the sixth day of creation.9 Instead, Ambrose selects a different linguistic palette. This use of dignitas is mirrored in other writings, specifically De officiis ministrorum.
Except for a singular sentence in De Cain et Abel, utilizing the phrase dignitas condicionis humanae (dignity of a human condition) to praise one particular man, Moses, Ambrose did not use dignitas when discussing human axiology. The attribution of “dignity” to the human condition was, nevertheless, apparently viable for Ambrose, for in De Cain et Abel he stated that by earning the title of “a god,” Moses surpassed “the dignity of his human condition.”10 This is consistent with the wide range of possible applications of dignitas taken to mean nobility or honor and conceptually echoes the Greek ideas of human deification. Additionally, and unsurprisingly, Ambrose’s texts feature many classical uses of dignitas Romana, such as in the characteristic phrasings ordo dignitatis11 or gradus dignitatis.12
As a Roman aristocrat, Ambrose was well-acquainted with Greek, sometimes quoting its original forms or commenting on its translations, something that is rare among the Latin Fathers. Interestingly, he discussed the Greek word
His commentary to Psalm 118 offers, additionally, an observation concerning the kinds of dignities understood as offices (dignitates Romanae), which introduces the novel idea of specifically Christian kinds of ranks, dignitates Christianae. This comprises a distinctive example of an ancient commentary to the dignity-related terminology where the term is still employed in the classical meaning of an office. Various other texts also mention dignitas Christiana15 and one discusses female dignity specifically. We will discuss them laid out against other patristic ideas about dignitas Christiana.
Most importantly, Ambrose’s Hexaemeron stresses the privileged character of the human creature and their superior ontological perfection, and thus, undoubtedly, treats the topic of human axiology. According to the Bishop of Milan, the human creature is bestowed with incomparable gifts by the Creator; in particular, the soul, a gift unrivalled by anything else in the world and having nothing in common with the rest of creation (sola nihil habet commune cum ceteris).16 At times, Ambrose calls the soul “precious” (pretiosa),17 at times “beautiful” or “elegant” (decora),18 and at times, evidently following The First Letter to the Corinthians and Irenaeus of Lyon’s Adversus haereses, he calls it “the glory of God” (gloria Dei).19 These remarks draw a sharp distinction between the human creature and the rest of creation, and lead to calling the human being a “wreath” (corona) of creation, more than once.20 Such description provides evidence not only of a personalist distinction, but also an anthropocentric finalism. This classical view coexists in Ambrose’s writings with the recognition of human responsibility for the world and the creatures living in it. Ambrose argues that animals will serve human beings all the better, the more attention humans pay to the animals’ needs.21
Ambrose’s Hexaemeron includes, moreover, many passages pertaining to self-knowledge, inspired by the ancient maxim,
Finally, Ambrose at times appeals for the value of the human body to be recognized, to which he pays a great deal of attention. We will investigate this as well, for despite being among the theologians who identify the human soul as the foundation of human iconicity, Ambrose praises human embodiment and ascribes special value to it.
We will recapitulate Ambrose’s imperatives to know oneself and one’s value first, move on to the bishop’s views on the human soul, and conclude with remarks concerning the value of the human body, as well as remarks concerning dignitas Christiana.
3.2.2 “Know Thyself” Maxim Transformed into “Know Thy Dignity”
Axiological appeals to know one’s value developed in the fourth century AD from the ancient tradition of interpreting and formulating phrases relating to the inscription
The most significant philosophical interpretation of the maxim
Among the listed texts, Plato’s Alcibiades Major is the most significant source for the Church Fathers, for the distinction drawn in that dialogue and a metaphor employed there are used by Basil in Homilia in illud: Attende tibi ipsi, and by Ambrose in Hexaemeron. The distinction in question is that between who I am and what is mine (we recapitulated Basil’s version of this distinction in Chapter Two on the Greek East), while the metaphor is that of an eye which cannot look at itself directly and can only see itself when looking in a mirror, symbolizing the soul’s need to reflect God in order to know oneself.30
Ancient Roman tradition was as interested in the maxim
Lucian of Samosata in his Dialogi mortuorum had his protagonist sing,
Philosophers of the Roman Empire developed complex interpretations of the maxim of self-knowledge, in which there were two dominant schools, the Stoic and the Neoplatonist. Epictetus, a Stoic, understood the maxim to suggest a practical message of care for oneself,
Ambrose remained strongly influenced not only by the Greek maxim and its Roman reception, but also a Jewish standpoint regarding its origins. Philo of Alexandria is the first to present a view that the maxim is present in the Tora, and originates from Moses.37 In fact, the Septuagint used the phrase
Philo’s view was nevertheless shared by Origen, and almost exactly repeated by Clement of Alexandria.40 Origen, however, observed the similarity between
What is interesting for the study of the patristic view of human dignity is that the tradition of repeating and commenting on the appeals to know oneself was vibrant among Christian writers, who transformed it in the fourth century into a new kind of specifically axiological appeal.44 In doing so, paradoxically, they did not part ways with either the original Greek reading (which stresses human limitations) or the Roman understanding of the maxim (emphasizing human finitude), but rather supplemented them with a new message pertaining to human greatness. As we saw in the Greek East, in the writings of Gregory of Nazianzus, the messages of humility and dignity coexisted in Christianity, and complemented one another.
We have already identified the call to know one’s dignity formulated by Basil in his homily on Psalm 48. It was Ambrose who developed the idea of calls to know one’s value by verbalizing not one but a number of such appeals, addressing them to his listeners. Given that Basil’s homily on Psalm 48 is not known to have been popular in the Latin West, it is Ambrose whose influence is likely to have been crucial in popularizing a practice of formulating imperatives to recognize one’s value. Soon after, Jerome of Stridon would follow in Ambrose’s footsteps, and in the fifth century, Leo the Great, Master of Verona, the anonymous author of Dicta Albini, and various authors of the sermons gathered in a collection called Eusebius Gallicanus would do so as well. Later, the Middle Ages would boast over a dozen Christian appeals of this kind.
3.2.3 Ambrose’s Calls to Recognize One’s Greatness
Hexaemeron contains a number of calls to recognize oneself, among which three lines have a specifically axiological character. Many others comment on self-knowledge or describe its conditions. As noted, those remarks differentiate Ambrose’s Hexaemeron from Basil’s, whose comments on
Ambrose’s axiological calls also differ from the Cappadocian Father’s homily on Psalm 48. Firstly, they appeal for people to know themselves, and add a call to know one’s axiological status to the classical “know thyself” message. This is why they belong to the ancient tradition of
Ambrose placed a passage containing three imperatives to know oneself and one’s value, and two appeals to attend to oneself, in the midst of his commentary on Day Six:
Cognosce, ergo te, decora anima; quia imago Dei es. Cognosce te, homo, quia gloria es Dei. Audi quomodo gloria. Propheta dicit: Mirabilis facta est cognitio tua ex me, hoc est: in meo opere tua mirabilior est maiestas, in consilio hominis tua sapientia praedicatur. […] Cognosce ergo te, o homo, quantus sis, et adtende tibi; ne quando laqueis implicatus diaboli fias praeda venantis; ne forte in fauces tetri illius leonis incurras, qui rugit et circuit quaerens quem devoret. Adtende tibi, ut consideres quid in te intret, quid ex te exeat. Non de cibo dico qui absorbetur et egeritur, sed de cogitatione dico, de sermone assero. […] Miles es, hostem diligenter explora; ne tibi nocturnus inrepat; athleta es, manibus adversario propior esto, quam vultu, ne oculum feriat tuum.46
Recognize, therefore, o beautiful soul, yourself, because you are the image of God. Recognize, o human being, yourself, for you are the glory of God. Hear, in what way you are this glory. The Prophet says: “your cognition was created as marvelous out of me, that is, in my work your majesty is more marvelous, in the human council your wisdom is praised.” […] […] Recognize, therefore, o human being, yourself, how great you are, and guard yourself, least you someday, whilst entrapped in the snares by sinning, become prey to the hunting Devil; may you not fall, by accident, into the jaws of that hideous lion, who roars and circles, seeking who to devour. Guard yourself, that you consider what goes inside you and what goes outside. I do not speak of food, which is absorbed and ejected, but of thinking, and I assert from this speech [scil. by Jesus]. […] Be a soldier, watch the enemy diligently, may he not crawl in at night; be an athlete, keep the enemy closer to your arms than to face, lest he strike your eye.
We will present a comparative analysis of this and Basil’s appeal to recognize one’s value in Chapter Four, contrasting them with one another as well as with the calls by Jerome of Stridon and, most of all, Leo the Great. The comparison will demonstrate that Basil’s passage is closer to Leo’s than to that of Ambrose, whose phrasing is most unlike the other two. At this point, it suffices to note that a tradition of axiological appeals is being originated, since another Christian writer continues in Basil’s footsteps. This itself is a meaningful phenomenon in the history of human dignity.47
Ambrose formulates a call that, as we said, used many adjectives expressive of human axiology (pretiosa anima, decora anima), as well as periphrastic expressions addressed to his listeners and naming human value (quantus sis, gloria Dei es). His reference to imago Dei in the appeal is meaningful, for it presents a different justification for human dignity than in Basil’s call, which references redemption as the factor determining the human being’s highest value. Ambrose pairs a classical call for self-knowledge (cognosce te) with a message and a demand to know one’s greatness (quia imago Dei es, quia gloria Dei es, cognosce te […] quantus sis), as well as a practically-orientated appeal not to enter into the captivity of sin again (adtende tibi). His nosce te ipsum therefore continues the Stoic reading of the maxim as expressive of practical advice regarding care for oneself, but adjusted to the Christian paradigm of thought.48 Ambrose also follows the Alexandrian school in identifying the origins of the call in the Biblical tradition, as containing the message of guarding oneself.
Basil’s homily on the words
Adtende inquit [scil. Scriptura] tibi soli. Aliud enim sumus nos, aliud sunt nostra, alia quae circa nos sunt. Nos sumus, hoc est anima et mens, nostra sunt corporis membra et sensus eius, circa nos autem pecunia est, servi sunt et vitae istius adparatus. Tibi igitur adtende, te ipsum scito, hoc est non quales lacertos habeas, non quantam corporis fortitudinem, non quantas possessiones, quantam potentiam, sed qualem animam ac mentem, unde omnia consilia proficiscuntur, ad quam operum tuorum fructus refertur. […] Illa anima bene picta est, in qua elucet divinae operationis effigies, illa anima bene picta est, in qua est splendor gloriae et paternae imago substantiae. Secundum hanc imaginem, quae refulget, pictura pretiosa est.49
Guard your own self, [scil. the Scripture] states. We are therefore different, what is ours is different, and what is around us is different. We are, that is the soul and the mind are; ours are the parts of the body and their senses, while we are surrounded by the money, slaves and supplies of this life. Guard yourself, then, come to know yourself; that is, not what muscles you have, not what bodily strength, not what possessions, not what power, but what soul and mind you have, from which all council comes forth and to which the fruit of your work is referred. […] Such a soul was well painted, and shines in the image of divine work, and such a soul was well painted in the splendor of glory and the image of paternal nature present. Precious is the painting which reflects according to such an image.
This interpretation of Moses’
Typically for Ambrose, however, in his explanation of guarding one’s image, he uses a metaphor. Suggesting that to guard oneself is to care about the kind of image the soul is to become, Ambrose calls God an artist, and describes two kinds of images, one by the divine artist, imago caelestis, and one by a human artisan, effigies terrestris. If imago Dei depicts the splendor of God’s glory, His paternal nature, and His work, then it is precious and celestial. This celestial image was deposed (deposuit imaginem caelestis) through original sin by Adam, and the earthly picture was obtained (sumpsit terrestris effigiem) instead.50
This interpretation of the original sin demonstrates a dynamic understanding of human iconicity, seen as a characteristic capable of being erased and exchanged for a contrasting form. Such a view will reappear in many medieval theories of the soul, typically inspired by Augustine of Hippo, who himself took it on from Ambrose. Ambrose, on the other hand, adopted it from the Cappadocian writers, who, as we saw, contrasted the image of God with “the earthly image” (
There are other practically-orientated interpretations of the ancient maxim both in Ambrose’s Hexaemeron, and in other works by Ambrose, for example his De officiis ministrorum. The latter work, modelled after Cicero’s De officiis, investigates the connection between decorum and honestas, employing rich axiological vocabulary. Ambrose calls the faculties of the human being, such as the mind and the heart, “the precious possession” (possessio pretiosa) as well as gold (aureum) and silver (argentum), and urges human beings: Custodi interiorem hominem tuum, noli eum quasi vilem neglegere ac fastidire, quia pretiosa possessio est.53 (“Guard your internal human being and do not neglect or disdain them as something worthless because they are a precious possession.”) The opposition vilis—pretiosus (worthless—precious), has clear axiological connotation and serves to illustrate Ambrose’s poetic and often rich descriptions of human worth.
Another passage urging one to guard oneself, because of the value one possesses, reads: Adtende tibi ipsi. Adtende tibi, pauper, quia anima tua pretiosa est.54 (“Guard yourself. Guard yourself, you who are poor, for your soul is precious.”) In a very similar passage Ambrose demands: Adtende ergo tibi pauper, adtende dives; quia et in paupertate, et in divitiis tentamenta sunt.55 (“Therefore guard yourselves, you who are poor; guard yourselves, you who are rich; for both in poverty and in riches, trials await”).
These last remarks are developed in an egalitarian manner expressive of the Biblical principle repeated five times in similar forms in the New Testament:
The early Christians lived by this egalitarian principle through the ages of persecution, which is visible in their practice of calling all people brothers and sisters.58 This often led them to challenge the worldly ranks and hierarchies.
Minucius Felix criticized any pride derived from rank, calling it vanus error hominis et inanis cultus dignitatis59 (“vain human error and worthless veneration of rank”). He argued: omnes homines, sine dilectu aetatis, sexus, dignitatis, rationis et sensus capaces et habiles procreatos nec fortuna nanctos, sed natura insitos esse sapientiam60 (“all humans, regardless of age, sex, and rank were procreated as capable of and apt for reason and understanding; they were not given by fate, but imprinted with wisdom by nature”). He thus appealed: hominem nosse se et circumspicere debere, quid sit, unde sit, quare sit61 (“The human being ought to know and examine themselves, what they are, where they come from, and how they are”). Minucius reached for the Stoic idea of virtue, which—according to him—Christianity exemplified best, and stressed: omnes tamen pari sorte nascimur, sola virtute distinguimur62 (“we are, however, all born of the same rank, we are only distinguished by virtue”). Thus, he stressed, as free, human beings are correctly to be judged by their actions, not their rank (actus hominis, non dignitas iudicatur).63 Even though Minucius expressed the idea of human inborn axiological status, justifying it on the basis of reason and understanding (ratio et sensus), which form a free mind (mens libera),64 nowhere did he name this status dignitas.
Lactantius also upbraided the practice of respecting rank, compared to which there is, according to him, “nothing uglier, nothing more arrogant, nothing further from the course of wisdom” (quo nihil foedius, nihil adrogantius, nihil a sapientiae ratione submotius).65 Instead, he proposed—arguably for the first time in Latin literature—thinking of gradus dignitatis Deo iudice (the level of dignity in God’s judgement), thus formulating a novel meaning, dignitas Christiana.66 This idea expressed an already existent notion of virtue as perceived by God, though interpreted by the standards of Christian ethics. Despite being novel and much more inclusive than dignitas Romana, this idea of gradus dignitatis is not yet an inherent, nor unconditional idea of a universal dignity of all humans, since it refers to an acquired excellence, one closer to the idea of virtue. The very idea of gradus suggests that this approach to dignitas is hierarchal.
Cyprian of Carthage, another early-third-century Christian apologist, expressed a view suggesting that the characteristic of nobility is more applicable to Christian confessors than to the worldly ranks of birth. Describing the nobility and glory of a group of prosecuted martyrs as greater than that of Roman patricians, he asked: quanto maioris laudis et honoris est fieri in caelesti praedicatione generosum?67 (“how much greater are the glory and honor of becoming noble by celestial proclamation?”). He compared this heavenly nobility (generosi) to the worldly nobility of birth inasmuch as it is passed on to offspring: Ita aequaliter apud eos recurrit et commeat divina dignatio ut et illorum coronam dignitas subolis inlustret et huius gloriam sublimitas generis inluminet68 (“Equally among them runs and remains divine reputation so that the dignity of offspring illuminates the martyr’s crown and the sublimity of the martyr’s kind brightens the offspring’s glory”). Even though the remark is limited to a particular family of confessors, Cyprian appropriated the meaning of dignitas Romana in order to point to a different, Christian kind of hierarchy before God.
Still in the third century, the notion of dignity was also related to Christian martyrs by Novatian when corresponding with Cyprian.69 Later, in the fourth century, the idea of the dignity of martyrdom (dignitas martyrii) is to be found in Lucifer of Cagliari’s writings, who quotes the biblical line “what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?”70 Significant figures such as Hilary of Poitiers and Philastrius, the Bishop of Brescia, also discussed Christian dignity, albeit from the eschatological perspective of the diverse dignities of the saved. Philastrius stressed that these dignities would vary due to the faith and works of particular people—hence, the saved would not live according to one kind of dignity (non in uno modo dignitatis)71 —and the opinion of Ambriosiaster was similar.72 Hilary pointed to the dignity of those who will forever sit at the God’s throne (dignitas eorum qui in saeculum super sedem sessuri sunt),73 and likewise differentiated kinds among them.74 Even though the new axiological order proposed by these early Christians introduces hierarchies, these are distinct from the one of the social order of dignitas Romana, and are based on the criterion of human choice, not circumstantial factors such as birth, wealth, or sex, which were favored by the Roman social order. In fact, Hilary himself proposed the rule expressive of this new approach when he wrote about the heritage of faith (hereditas fidei) among Christians and Old Testament figures: Dignitas igitur originis in operum consistit exemplis (“Dignity of the origin consists in the examples of actions”),75 not in the succession of blood or unity of flesh. Thus, the dignity of the origin, i.e., a nobility of particular people who once acted well, passes on a legacy of faith (hereditas fidei) to the later generations, who themselves maintain it by their own actions, whereas the succession of blood or bodily composition (successio carnis) is empty of such a legacy. This view would also be expressed in regard to the so-called “ecclesiastical dignities” by Jerome of Stridon, who reformulated a well-known Roman saying, barba non facit philosophum, that is, “the beard does not make a philosopher”, into a Christian motto that would later be included in canon law: non facit ecclesiastica dignitas Christianum76 (“ecclesiastical office does not make a Christian”). Concluding these remarks on dignitas Christiana, let us add that Augustine of Hippo discussed the dignity of martyrs and made it a point that in the kingdom of God there would be “no deformation in them [scil. resulting from suffering they endured], only their dignity” (Non enim deformitas in eis, sed dignitas erit).77 This thought would be appreciated and upheld in the late patristic period; for instance, by Julian of Toledo.78
Additionally, since Christianity—largely recruiting from the lower social classes—assumed that all people are equal in God’s eyes, the hierarchy of sanctity it proposed is built on this principle of equality, modifying it as to the outcome of human choices, not circumstantial factors. In De agone christiano, Augustine explicitly affirmed a view regarding an egalitarian and inclusive approach to human beings, which embraced the idea of common human vocation. The bishop of Hippo stressed that each human being is included in the hope of eternal life (ad spem vitae aeternae commota est), specifying that this extends to every man and woman (et masculi et feminae) of all ages (omnis aetas) and all worldly ranks (omnis huius saeculi dignitas).79 This was particularly important for the debates over the doctrine of predestination (which was eventually dismissed). Augustine’s late writings on grace, De gratia et libero arbitrio and De correptione et gratia, evoked many debates, because the latter, for example, makes reference to the number of the predestined.80 Regardless of the debate over the implications of Augustine’s account of grace, he certainly counts among the theoreticians to question divisions based on social standing. In time, the challenging of the Roman hierarchal axiological order and egalitarianism of mainstream Christianity would advance one step further and accommodate calling the universal human value dignitas.
Moreover, Hilary, Ambrose, Jerome and Augustine, who all discussed dignitas Christiana, also referred to the universal dignity of humankind. It is therefore evident that the discussion of specifically Christian dignity did not contradict the idea of universal human value, the egalitarianism of which is assumed in the New Testament.81 Nor did dignitas Christiana replace dignitas Romana. The Christian authors simply challenged the Roman axiology and proposed an alternative one, the very idea of which helped to broaden the application of dignitas outside of the socially relevant idea of rank, and in this way contributed to the usage of this term in new contexts, particularly in the context of universal human value.
Ambrose expressed the egalitarian message contradicting
Ambrose is, in fact, the one to have passed on to us the celebrated quotation of Saint Lawrence of Rome, who famously called the poor “the treasures of the Church.”86 The Bishop of Milan described how, after capturing and killing Pope Sixtus II, the Roman emperor demanded that all the treasures of the Church be gathered and passed on to the Roman treasury. As a pope’s deacon, Lawrence was given three days to accomplish the task, and in this time he gathered all the goods and gave them away to the poor, whom he also asked to come together upon the emperor’s arrival on the third day. On that occasion, having been ordered to show all the Church’s treasures, Lawrence pointed at the gathered crowed and said: Hi sunt thesauri Ecclesiae (“They are the treasures of the Church”). He was subsequently martyred on August 10, 258. The remark, Hi sunt thesauri Ecclesiae, grew into a legend, and Lawrence became known as the patron of the poor.
The story, including Lawrence’s words as relayed by Ambrose verbatim, demonstrates the exemplary Christian approach to the poor, whom Jesus identifies with in the Gospels. Even if Lawrence’s exact historical gesture was not as spectacular, the fact that this history was transmitted in this way illustrates the early Christian efforts to redefine the traditional Roman axiological order in a way inclusive of social outcasts. Below, we shall say more about this and the related topic of Latin Christian stances regarding slavery, after completing the list of Ambrose’s calls to know one’s greatness.
Let us move on with the recapitulation of Ambrose’s calls to know oneself and one’s greatness. Both the Cappadocian Fathers’ commentaries on the concept of imago Dei and the Roman interpretation of
Nonne tu ipse est cinis? Respice in sepulcra hominum, et vide quid ex te nisi cinis et ossa remanebunt, hoc est, ex corpore tuo: respice, inquam, et dic mihi, quis ibi dives, quis pauper sis?88
Are you yourself not dust? Look in the graves of men and see what will remain of you if not dust and ashes, this is from your body; look, I say, and tell me, who is rich and poor?
Finally, when discussing the frailty of flowers, Ambrose developed a comparison between their structure and that of human creatures. Commenting on human self-knowledge, he metaphorically depicted it as a sweet pollen tube residing amidst petals. By identifying self-knowledge in the human conscience, he introduced a new aspect to the “know thyself” recommendations. He wrote: In te ipso suavitas tuae gratiae est, ex te pullulat, in te manet, intus tibi inest, in te ipso quaerenda iocunditas tuae est conscientiae.89 (“In you yourself is the sweetness of your grace, out of you it grows, in you it remains, within you it is, in you yourself is the charm of your conscience, which you must search.”) This poetic fragment demonstrates a reinterpretation of self-knowledge, understood as an internal discernment between good and evil: the conscience. “Know thyself” is here interpreted as advice to discover one’s conscience.
Apart from formulating various calls for self-knowledge, Ambrose also developed a viewpoint regarding the conditions for self-knowledge. As he stated, non possumus plenius nos cognoscere, nisi prius quae sit omnium natura animantium cognoverimus90 (“we cannot know ourselves more fully, if we do not firstly learn the nature of all livings things”). He affirmed the anthropological vision which takes animal nature to be an integral element of human nature, and dedicated substantial parts of Hexaemeron to the discussion of various living forms. According to his view, all these descriptions of the animal world instruct humans regarding their own nature.
The remarks concerning knowing oneself, scattered all over Hexaemeron, demonstrate that Ambrose was syncretic in his interpretation of the ancient Delphic maxim. By developing a conception of self-knowledge that integrates Greek, Stoic, Old Testament and specifically Christian elements, the Latin Father showed both erudition and originality. Paradoxically, his conception is based on a thorough knowledge of the classical tradition, but brings the current elements into a new whole.
Ambrose knew classical Greek and Roman cultural codes, inclusive of nosce te ipsum maxims, and adjusted them to the axiological context. He read “know thyself” as meaning “know the beauty of the image of God”, “know your greatness”, “guard yourself against evil”, “know, especially if you are of a socially inferior position, about the equality of all human creatures”, “know the animal world of which you are a part”, and “know the sweetness of your conscience”. As such, Ambrose was an original re-interpreter of a tradition, a truly syncretic thinker who managed to turn the ancient Delphic maxim into an inscription that could well be inscribed at the forefront of the Church. After all, as a Roman citizen he knew very well that most of the churches standing on the Forum Romanum were built over the remains of pagan temples.
3.2.4 Value of the Human Soul. Anima Pretiosa
Ambrose presented his views on the soul in two chapters of the last book of Hexaemeron. Following the Scriptures, the Latin Father affirmed that Christ is the icon of God (imago Dei),91 while all other human creatures are made in the image and likeness of God (ad imaginem et similitudinem Dei).92 He remained consistent in using the expression “in the image” only in reference to human creatures.93 His stance can be counted among opinions expressive of indirect human iconicity, mediated by the perfect iconicity of the Son of God, a view that would soon be challenged by Ambrose’s own follower, Augustine of Hippo.
Ambrose recapitulated Basil’s remarks concerning the biblical plural form used in Genesis 26: “Let us make …” in his Hexaemeron. Both the Fathers take the plural form to indicate the Trinitarian council of the divine persons when the human creature was being made.94 Ambrose supplemented this view with an exegetic argument: since “the soul” is used in biblical language as a name for the entire human being, we are justified in interchanging the expressions “soul” and “human being”, so as to read Genesis 26 to mean that “God created the human soul in His image and likeness”.95 In effect, it is the soul, not the body, that is the foundation of special human value, for one is mortal, the other eternal (caro mortalis, diuturna anima).96 Ambrose had other arguments at hand: “the image is alike God. God is invisible, therefore the image is invisible as well” (Qualis ergo Deus, talis et imago. Invisibilis Deus, etiam imago invisibilis).97 His views on the soul are therefore fully consistent with those of Basil.
Regarding the soul, we should add that by stating that an image can be deposed (deponere), Ambrose expressed a dynamic view of human iconicity. The criterion determining this change of the soul’s image is sin, while the indicator increasing the image’s beauty is called “following God’s works, grace and paternal nature.” These criteria allow us to identify a functional conception of similarity to the archetype. Regarding iconicity, Ambrose disqualified the conception of human direct Trinitarian iconicity based on an exegetic argumentation. We can thus identify a conception of the indirect iconicity and the functional and dynamic similarity to the archetype in Ambrose’s writings, a traditional view for the Greek Eastern patristic thinkers Ambrose so admired.
3.2.5 Value of Human Body. Corpus Praestantius
Following Basil, Ambrose paid a great deal of attention to various living creatures, describing their activities and drawing spiritual advice from their function or structure. He assumed we cannot “fully know ourselves, if we do not firstly learn the nature of all livings things.” He did not, however, develop a purely biological analysis of the created world, but rather used the biological observations to draw spiritual and moralistic conclusions for his listeners. Observing the horizontal posture of animals, for example, he advised his listeners not to bend down like cattle, although not in their bodies but in desire, thereby succumbing to passions (Cave, o homo, pecorum more curvari, cave in alvum te non tam corpore quam cupiditate deflectas.)98 This allowed him to formulate a rhetorical question of axiological relevance: Cur inlecebris corporalibus deditus ipsum te inhonoras, dum ventri atque eius passionibus servis?99 (“Why do you dishonor yourself by surrendering to corporal lust, while a slave of the stomach and your passions?”) Such remarks, drawn from observations of animal life, make up a definitive proportion of the ninth homily, which is modelled after Basil’s extensive commentary on the animal kingdom.100 Even though the Latin Father remained interested in human corporality, he fully agreed with the Cappadocian Fathers’ view in identifying human iconicity within the soul alone.101
Ambrose conceived of the human body an image of the world (instar mundi), which illustrates the popularity of microcosmic analogies in late ancient anthropologies.102 His perspective stresses the fundamental character of a microcosmic analogy: Ac primum omnium cognoscamus humani corporis fabricam instar esse mundi103 (“First of all, let us recognize that the fabric of the human body is an image of the world”).
Ambrose’s theory of microcosm drew the analogy to the parts of cosmos (the sky, planets, stairs etc.) rather than to Galen’s four elements (air, water, fire, earth). He compared, for example, the human head to the sky towering over the world, two eyes to the sun and moon illuminating the world, human hair to treetops protecting the precious fruit growing on the branches, and so on.
Although there was criticism of the microcosmic theories among the Cappadocian Fathers, and in particular by Gregory of Nyssa, Ambrose did not abandon the ancient idea. As we remember, Gregory stated in the sixteenth chapter of his De opificio hominis that being the microcosm is the property of animals and bugs such a mouse and a mosquito, and as such it is not expressive of unique human value. Ambrose, however, followed Basil and Gregory himself in stressing the human body’s distinction, while ignoring Gregory’s objection to the term “microcosm,” possibly because De opificio hominis presents a rather limited understanding of this notion as a combination of four elements.104
The Latin Hexaemeron stresses that the human body is more excellent in honor and grace than that of all other beings (praestantius ceteris decore et gratia).105 Ambrose explained his awe for human corporeality with detailed descriptions. He presented the top of the head, for example, as sweet and pleasing (suavis et gratus), as are locks of human hair.106 As an object carved by the divine Artisan, the human body should not, therefore, be improved by human efforts—for, the bishop asks rhetorically, which inferior artisans could rival the Creator? Interestingly, Ambrose thus advises women not to wear make-up, and all human beings in general not to enter into competition with God by reshaping their bodies on their own.
Ambrose’s admiration for human corporality is a repeated theme, also affirmed; for instance, in De officiis ministrorum, where Ambrose describes humanity’s beautiful appearance (optima species) and the fine composition of human body parts (bona membrorum compositione), as well as the received decency of redemption (decorum redemptionis humanae).107 It is worth adding that Ambrose never used dignitas in relation to human body, even though it carries an aesthetic meaning defined by Cicero in his De officiis, and was once used in this sense by Tertullian (dignitas carnis).108
Despite observing the excellence of the human body, and in a way very much in accordance with the views of the Cappadocian Fathers, Ambrose openly rejected the idea that human iconicity could pertain to the body, which is less fit in many ways than an animal’s body.109 This is why he formulated the memento mori message we discussed above: the human body will turn into ashes. Contemplating this fact helps human beings to remain humble.
3.2.6 The Beauty of Human Life
Although axiology traditionally focuses on the ontology of a human being, it is not without relevance that in his De officiis ministrorum, modelled after Cicero’s De officiis, Ambrose discussed the beauty, grace, respectability, distinction, decency, propriety, etc., of human life. His remarks intertwine the normative problem of how human life ought to be led with the descriptive topic of the beauty or ugliness of life itself. None of these include the use of dignitas hominis, but instead display a variety of Latin axiologically-tinted concepts familiar in ancient ethics: pulchritudo, decorum, decus, honestas, valetudo, venustas.110 They are all related to human life. The example of Ambrose’s De officiis ministrorum is particularly significant for the understanding of the historical inspirations behind the popularization of dignitas hominis as an anthropological category; specifically, Cicero’s influence. We address these issues shortly in the section dedicated to Jerome and extensively in Chapter Six, but we can already indicate that Cicero’s De officiis did not inspire Ambrose to use the category dignitas hominis in his text.
One chapter of Ambrose’s De officiis ministrorum analyses the meaning of decency (decorum) and identifies the general decency (decorum generale) in human life led according to the demands of morality such as universal righteousness (honestas universalis) and particular decency (decorum speciale) in acts of preeminent virtue (virtus praeeminens).111 Decent and beautiful life is further defined, in rather Stoic terms, by living according to nature (secundum naturam vivere) and contrasted with the ugly life which is seen as violating nature (turpe est quod sit contra naturam).112 Ambrose additionally develops the idea of harmony of life by showing the interconnection between what is righteous and the qualities of well-being, distinction, grace or beauty (honestas velut bona valetudo est […], decus autem venustas et pulchritudo).113 This description of human life has clear axiological connotations and demonstrates the classical idea of explaining the ethical through the esthetic. Ambrose is hence a great example of verbalizing the idea of the value of human life through classical Roman categories such as decorum, honestas, valetudo and pulchritudo. Among these, dignitas plays a marginal role.
3.2.7 Dignitas Christiana. Habet et Christianus Dignitatem Suam
Having discussed Ambrose’s axiology of the human being and human life, which make little use of the category of human dignity, we can now turn to show how the Latin Father used dignitas. There is one passage in Ambrose’s homilies on Psalm 118 which offers a unique ancient commentary on the noun dignitas. This provides evidence that, for a Roman citizen in the fourth century, dignitas primarily carried the social meaning of rank or office, which we call dignitas Romana. Ambrose elaborates on this meaning, adjusting it to the reality of Christians and identifying specifically Christian nobilities. As he wrote, habet et Christianus dignitatem suam, qui tanto imperatori militat114 (“[…] a Christian who fights for so great a ruler also has their own dignity”).
The passage, which starts with a reference to Greek
The first of such ranks pertains to the servants, or those who assist in the Church (administrantes): firstly apostles, secondly prophets, and thirdly teachers. The second type of dignities are found among the regular members of the Church (privati), specifically those who follow the tenets of piety, justice, sobriety, chastity, and obedience (pietas, iustitia, sobrietas, castimonia, disciplina). The third type of dignitaries are the dignitaries of prayer (dignitates orationis), who ask for the sake of others and whose prayer enters the kingdom of God. The practice of intercession resembles the practice of worldly dignitaries pleading for those who do not belong to the court themselves.116
This interesting comparison builds on the classical meaning of dignitas as a rank or office, which is visible in the characteristic expression ordo dignitatis, hierarchy of rank. By adjusting the notion to the reality of Christian faith (ordo fidei), Ambrose alters it to fit the message of the Gospel. He names dignitaries other than the clergy, and creates a hierarchy based on the criterion of virtue, recruited from the regular faithful. This passage illustrates not only the classical use of dignitas in late antiquity, but also a tactic for proclaiming the Gospel: making full use of the potential of current reality by adjusting it to the Christian message. Instead of revolutionizing or condemning Roman social practices, like Lactantius, Ambrose puts them to creative use, making his message relatable and yet new.
3.2.8 Conclusions
In none of these passages, including those pertaining to human superiority over creation, does Ambrose employ the anthropological meaning of dignitas. In fact, the entire Hexaemeron only uses the word in the chapter dedicated to the primitive state, employing the social sense of dignitas as office.117 His neglect of the anthropological sense of the word is apparent in the most axiologically relevant passages of Hexaemeron and De officiis ministrorum, in which he urges human beings to recognize their own greatness. Even though Ambrose only uses the classical meaning relating to social positions (dignitas Romana), he openly contradicts the value of axiological hierarchies built on the criterion of worldly honors. Such a criterion is based on factors circumstantial to human choices, whereas the hierarchy Ambrose of Milan proposed is based on human free effort in being good people.
Ambrose’s use of dignitas allows us to formulate argumentum ex silentio, suggesting that in the fourth century the anthropological sense of dignitas was not predominant, nor did dignitas function as a common anthropological category of human axiological status. This demonstrates that a change was about to take place in European culture, which eventually favored dignitas as an anthropological-axiological category.
As I will argue, the watershed occurred in the fifth century. Ambrose’s (but also Hilary of Poitiers’) writing helps us to identify the period in which anthropology lacked clear axiological terminology, but his role in the history of human dignity is not merely that. As a Roman aristocrat fluent in Greek, Ambrose was a keen reader of Basil of Caesarea, whose call to know one’s dignity he reproduced a number of times in an original manner. The rhetorically compelling form of an imperative applied to human axiology thus became a tradition which was to be practiced throughout the centuries to come.
Ambrose also offered a repetition of the Cappadocian view of the soul taken to be the self and the image of God, as well as the Eastern praise of the human body, an image of the world. On top of that, he altered the ancient social idea of rank (dignitates Romanae) to fit a conception of Christian ranks (dignitates Christianae) by describing not the idea of the hierarchies of clergy, but a spiritual order among the faithful, achieving greater levels of sanctity.
3.3 Chromatius of Aquileia
Chromatius, a Bishop of Aquileia, is a unique figure in the history of the Golden Age of the Patristic Era due to his exceptional role in relation to the most significant Christian writers of that time, whom he urged to produce substantial works and translations, sometimes aiding them financially in their efforts. He significantly influenced the lives and works of Ambrose of Milan, Jerome of Stridon, Rufinus of Aquileia, Augustine of Hippo, and John Chrysostom, all protagonists of the history of human dignity. Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History was translated into Latin in 401 by Rufinus on Chromatius’ request (which why it is dedicated to him), as were a number of Jerome’s translations, some with Chromatius’ financial help. Chromatius shared the translation tactics used by Jerome, and defended the monk against accusations concerning his unholy interest in the Hebrew language, which why it is justified to say we owe the completion of Vulgate partially to Chromatius. Rufinus’ translation of Origen’s homilies of Joshua are dedicated to Chromatius, as are Jerome’s commentaries to The Book of Tobias, Habakkuk and Jonah. Rufinus also chose to received baptism from Chromatius, and, following a very critical reception of the translation of De principiis, sought refuge with him. Jerome, who would become an authority on monastic and ascetic life, joined a proto-ascetic community of Chromatius’ family for three years, between 369–372, and so did Rufinus, who met Jerome in this community.118 Ambrose of Milan was requested by Chromatius to explain the prophecy of Balaam in an epistolary form, and they remained in correspondence for years, as did Augustine of Hippo and Chromatius.119 Finally, John Chrysostom received Chromatius’ protection, expressed in a letter addressed to the emperor by Chromatius, after Chrysostom was deposed in 404. It was also Chromatius who tried to reconcile Jerome and Rufinus when they were entangled in the most scandalous quarrel of the fourth century among Christian authorities.120
All this demonstrates that Chromatius was a central figure in the Christian intellectual circles of the fourth century. What is more, his writings, specifically his Sermon of the beatitudes, influenced a later Pope, Leo the Great.121
Chromatius employed dignitas in a social sense only, although at times critically. In a number of instances, Chromatius used the expressions honores vel dignitates saeculi,122 dignitas regis,123 dignitas ecclesiae,124 and dignitates saeculares.125 Similarly to Ambrose, however, Chromatius redefined the logic of worldly honors in the light of the evangelical principle of equality, and it is worthwhile analyzing this use.
One of his treatises on Matthews’s Gospel contains criticism of worldly ranks in a commentary to the blessing of “the poor in spirit”: Unde ille apud Deum sicut diximus potior est, non quem nobilitas generis vel dignitas saeculi, sed quem devotio fidei Deo et sancta vita commendat.126 (“Therein, as we said, they are more capable before God who are commended by piety of faith in God and the sanctity of life, not by family nobility or a generation’s dignity.”) This is why, according to Chromatius, Jesus warns His disciples not to disregard any of “those small ones”, for they are precious in God’s eyes. Chromatius also discussed the societal phenomenon of praising those of higher social standing. He clarified that it is rather those who seek peace that are of dignity: Magna dignitas paci studentium, cum filiorum Dei appellatione censentur.127 (“Great is the dignity of those seeking peace, for they joined the ranks of God’s sons.”) Similar to the previous quotation, Chromatius stressed the new kind of order that disregards the ancient hierarchy of ranks built on the criteria of social standing. Instead, he proposed an egalitarian approach to people who form new orders and hierarchies on the basis of their achievements in promoting virtue—in this case, peacemaking—in the world.
Neither of these uses pertains to universal human dignity, yet both question the rationale of worldly ranks and promote an alternative kind of axiological order—a practice we already discussed in case of Minucius Felix, Lactantius, Cyprian of Carthage, Novatian, Hilary of Poitiers, Philastrius, Ambrosiaster, Ambrose of Milan, Augustine of Hippo, and Jerome of Stridon. Likewise, Chromatius’ message contributed to an axiological reflection built on different criteria than social standing.
3.4 Jerome of Stridon
Given that it was Jerome who edited and corrected the existent Latin version of the Bible (Vetus Latina), as well as translating the missing parts of the Bible, which became available in its entirety for Latin readers after his work, he is likely to have been one of the most linguistically influential intellectuals in the history of Christianity. Yet the Vulgate, relevant passages of which I discuss below, is not the groundbreaking text of Jerome in the history of human dignity. The innovative anthropological uses of dignitas, such as a repeated phrase, dignitas hominis, placed within an imperative of self-knowledge, occur in his homilies to the Psalms prepared between 389–410, when he was residing in Bethlehem.128 Although it is no surprise that another Christian author expressed an appeal to know one’s dignity, Jerome’s text stands out as the first to coin, use, and repeat the phrase dignitas hominis as a universal anthropological-axiological category.129 The text is unique as to its conceptualization of human dignity and the form of the appeals he formulated—a form most unlike the ones by Basil, Ambrose, and, later, Leo the Great. Despite this important contribution to the understanding of the notion of human dignity, Jerome’s appeal has never played a role in the history of the concept. In the present attempt, we analyze the relevant passages of the homilies on the Psalms and supplement them with a consideration of the relevant passages of the Vulgate as well as Jerome’s letters.
3.4.1 Jerome’s Homilies on the Psalms
Jerome’s homilies on the Psalms have been historically ascribed to both Origen and Jerome, yet the discoveries of the past decade dispel the doubts related to Jerome’s authorship. The publisher of the critical edition of the homilies from 1958 presented them as Jerome’s work, following Germain Morin’s findings, who at the end of the nineteenth century carried out scrupulous manuscript research and who in 1897 and 1903 published the texts under Jerome’s name in Oxford.130 In the late 1970s and early 1980s, some studies challenged the authorship by arguing that it was merely Jerome’s translation and edition of Origen’s homilies.131 The ambiguity was increased by the fact that the time of preparation of the texts by Jerome coincides with the Origenist Crisis, in which Jerome played an important role. This led to one translation of the critical volume being published with both Origen and Jerome listed as the authors.132 Most unexpectedly, Origen’s lost Greek homilies of the psalms 15, 36, 67, 73–77, 80, and 81 were discovered in 2012 in Munich, which provided sufficient grounds for attribution of the Latin volume to Jerome alone, even though he clearly consulted Origen’s text and took much from it.133 The newest two-volume critical edition of the homilies therefore found the older arguments presented in favor of Origen’s authorship to be invalid.
The text was prepared by Jerome between 389–410, first possibly in the confinement of his legendary cave in Bethlehem, and later in a cloister established near to the Basilica of the Nativity.134 The homilies were later publicly preached.135 In Trier, where Jerome traveled after his education, he copied Hilary of Poitiers’s Tractatus super psalmos, which in his opinion relied heavily on Origen’s commentary.136 Jerome’s homilies also follow in Origen’s footsteps, yet the historically groundbreaking category dignitas hominis does not have an equivalent in the Alexandrian commentator’s text. The Latin homilies contain a number of significant claims about dignitas hominis, its use as an anthropological category, and two appeals to know one’s dignity.
3.4.1.1 Human Dignity: Vide Hominis Dignitatem
To start with, at the beginning of the homily on Psalm 81 (in today’s editions it is Psalm 82, due to Septuagint’s division of Psalm 9 into two), written around the year 397, Jerome formulated an imperative ordering his listeners to observe human dignity.137 The call is very laconic, for it reads: Vide hominis dignitatem138 (“Observe human dignity”). The suggestion was prompted by a discussion of the way human beings are treated by God. According to the Scriptures, in particular the first line of the psalm being discussed, God stands in the presence of human gatherings, although at times he also walks, sits or sleeps. According to Jerome, all these postures are indicative of God’s attitude towards humans: walking indicates that God follows the human being after they sinned and parted from Him; sitting indicates God’s power of judgement; sleeping indicates that God tests the human beings while they pray with no evident result. The fact that God stands among the human council is indicative of His high respect for the human creatures, which prompts Jerome to urge his listeners: “Observe human dignity.” It is, therefore, the respect shown to the human creature by God that explains human dignity.
Such a justification of dignity refers neither to human creation, nor to the incarnation, but instead accentuates the respect with which the human being is treated by God. When commenting on the first line of Psalm 81, Origen discusses the purpose of human life as consisting in sharing divine life and becoming a god.139 His homily describes humanity’s exceptional axiology by means of describing human deification, yet does not formulate an appeal to observe human dignity. Instead, the dignity-related terminology of his homily utilizes a sociological meaning of dignity, when Origen describes various ways in which the king honors distinguished people.140 These remarks might have been inspirational for Jerome, for they reference the idea of respect, yet the very appeal and category of human dignity do not originate in the Greek philosopher’s text.
Also, as we remember, in his dignitarian formula, Athanasius justified human dignity by the indignity Christ endured because of God’s kindness towards the human creature (
The linkage between dignity and respect remains a surprisingly modern idea, one familiar in contemporary European culture, which views dignity as demanding respect. The idea that dignity is revealed by the way the human creature is treated also draws on a classical meaning of dignity seen as an honorable office or rank. The honor of being met with God’s standing attitude naturally reveals the rank of a creature treated with such an honor.
Significantly, Jerome confirmed the idea that divine respect relates to the actual value of the human creature. The first verse of Psalm 81 discusses God standing among “gods,” which Jerome interprets as meaning “humans.” In response to referring to human beings as “gods,” Jerome explicates that the human beings were given not only the title, but also its merit. This merit is, presumably, the mentioned human dignity, dignitas hominis.
The very same homily discusses, additionally, the universality of the mentioned dignity of “gods” among whom God stands, and introduces also a notion of the dignity of sons of God. The expression “sons of God” might at first glance sound as if it is limited in scope (for example, restricted only to Christians or only to men), but it is explicitly related by Jerome to all human beings (omnes). The sixth line of Psalm 81 states: dii estis, et filii Excelsi omnes,141 “You are gods, sons of the Most High, all of you,” and Jerome confirms the egalitarianism of this remark by explaining that “all of you” (omnes) means all who equally (aequaliter) have a body, soul, and spirit (corpus, anima, spiritus), and who were equally offered divinity and adoption by God to become his children (donavit et deitatem et adoptionem).142 This phrasing is indicative of Origen’s anthropology, which utilizes the threefold conception of the human being, comprising body, soul, and spirit, including in Homily on Psalm 81.143 Finalizing his universalistic and egalitarian message, Jerome confirms that all humans, rulers and the poor alike (et imperatores et pauperes), are born, and all equally succumb to death. From this, we see that they all partake in God’s divinity and in being adopted by Him. The paragraph thus formulates another dignity-related cognitive imperative: Videte quanta sit dignitas: et dii vocamur, et filii144 (“Notice how great is our dignity: we are called gods and sons”). The egalitarianism of this message is additionally confirmed in the passage’s conclusion: Aequalis enim conditio est145 (“Equal is our condition”).
Finally, the text of the homily on Psalm 81 incorporates a part of the Greek exchange formula, which we discussed in Chapter Two, as well as other Greek-inspired ideas. Following in Origen’s footsteps, Jerome argues that God created human beings so that they could become gods: Propterea feci hominem, ut de hominibus dii fiant.146 This comment serves as explanation of the title of “gods” bestowed upon human beings, and Jerome’s use of the exchange formula suggests that deification is not understood literally by him, but classically, as the glorification of human nature, which remains in possession of its human identity in the state of glory.
Additionally, Jerome remains Greek-inspired when he supplements the dignifying description of a human being with a mention of human finitude. This finitude on one hand justifies the mentioned equality of human beings, since—as he states—we all die. On the other, it stands in contradiction of human divinity, for—as he reasons on grounds of common sense—“gods” do not die. Inasmuch as humans are to become divine, they are immortal; yet, due to sin, they must temporarily suffer the consequence of original sin that makes them mortal in this world.147 Such remarks place Jerome in line with the Greek Fathers, who complemented the recognition of human dignity with a message of humility, as did, for example, Ambrose of Milan.
Jerome’s two imperatives provide important evidence of applying the phrase “human dignity,” dignitas hominis, as an anthropological category—possibly, for the first time in European history. Jerome began his work on psalms in 389, and the research on the homily on Psalm 81 is still scarce—further studies may indicate the commentary was as written earlier than 397. As we shall see, shortly before or at the same time (the third book of De libero arbitrio was completed in 395), Augustine used the notion dignitas naturae, applying it to various natures (not just human) and concepts such as dignitas humana appear in his much later writings, written long after Jerome came up with the idea of dignitas hominis. Even though Jerome’s inspirations were largely Greek, in relation to this original category, the source of the exact phrase cannot be recognized in Origen’s homily on Psalm 81. Origen’s homily offers a discussion of human divination and repeatedly calls human beings “gods”, yet does not coin any name for human axiological status.148 It was Jerome who, prompted by an observation about the respect paid by God to humans, formulated the original exclamation: “Observe human dignity!” Soon after this use, the phrasing dignitas imaginis was employed by Rufinus of Aquileia in a translation of Origen’s De principiis.149
Much, of course, has been written on Jerome’s complex and personally tragic relationship to the classical heritage, primarily Ciceronian. When writing homilies on the Psalms in Bethlehem, Jerome’s interests lay primarily in the earlier Christian attempts of this kind, yet Cicero’s language and style, somehow always in the back of Jerome’s mind, must have played a role, too. Cicero, after all, was a master of the Latin style. Studies have indicated that Jerome’s use of Ciceronian language increased in the later part of his life, peaking around the year 402.150 Cicero, nevertheless, never used the exact phrase dignitas hominis in a frequently commented and well-researched short passage of De officiis and, in other works, such as De inventione, he clearly made use of its social meaning.151 In De officiis, while condemning practices beneath human honor, the ancient lawyer and philosopher mentioned hominis praestantia, and added, “for there are human beings only in name and not in fact” (sunt enim quidam homines non re, sed nomine).152 His use indicates that hominis praestantia is a kind of a virtue towards which people should aspire, yet not an unearned and inherent value of all. The remark, congruent with Cicero’s views on natural slavery presented in De re publica, implies that human predominance is limited to some people, and as such it cannot comprise a foundation for universal human dignity.153 The fundamental level of ontological value of each human life is not presupposed in the passage of Cicero’s last work. In the same passage of De officiis, Cicero relates both dignitas and excellentia to nature (excellentia et dignitas in natura), and soon after uses dignitas in its aesthetic meaning as a quality of fitness of human bodies (dignitas in formis)154 and defines dignitas as a specifically male form of physical beauty, complemented by venustas in women.155 This linguistic variety does not favor or express dignitas in the universal anthropological meaning Jerome used—that of a special human axiological status—though it might have allowed Cicero’s readers to be inspired by a range of expressions. Not many uses can be traced in the subsequent four centuries to prove that Cicero’s dignitas was understood by his readers in the sense of universal human worth. As late as in the fourth century, for example, Ambrose did not use dignitas in this sense in his De officiis ministrorum, modelled after Cicero’s De officiis; apparently, he was not inspired to do so by the ancient rhetorician. Cicero’s inspiration can rather be identified in Tertullian’s De resurrectione mortuorum, which once uses the phrase carnis dignitas, making use of the aesthetic meaning that Cicero applied to human body.156 Later, Minucius Felix in his Octavius (strongly influenced by Cicero’s De natura deorum) used dignitas to describe worldly nobility, which he criticized. Lactantius appropriated the Roman idea of gradus dignitatis to express an idea of gradus dignitatis Deo iudice, referring to a rank of virtue, yet except for that instance, he also used dignitas in its social sense of a worldly rank. Augustine picked up the idea of dignitas naturae possibly shortly before Jerome’s homily was written, but not, however, dignitas hominis. Jerome was one to select a universal meaning of dignitas and to apply it in his homily to the human being—thus forming a category that made an impact in the centuries to come, dignitas hominis. Another undeniable mark of the classical Greco-Roman tradition in Jerome’s homily on Psalm 81 is the implementation of an imperative of self-knowledge. The ancient imperative is, however, appropriated by him to the axiological dimension of the human being—and that constitutes a patristic novum in the history of the classical appeal.
Let us move on to the commentary to a different psalm. Jerome’s homily on Psalm 148 justifies a special human axiological status in yet another—although complementary—way, by adhering to the view already discussed in relation to the Greek Fathers, Gregory of Nyssa and Nemesius of Emesa in particular; that is, anthropocentric finalism. The human being is praised by Jerome because it is the only creature for whom the rest of creation was made. He lists in particular the sun, the moon and the stars mentioned by the psalmist. All of creation is made for humans’ sake only, because angels do not belong to the material world and need no sun or earth. Thus, the human creature enjoys a special status of being the only creature in the universe for whom the universe exists. This special status is described by Jerome in the following way: Grandem honorem habes, humana anima157 (“You have great honor, human soul”). The anthropocentricism of God’s creation corresponds to the aforementioned divine respect for the human being, which is why the two approaches—one justifying human dignity through God’s respect, and the other through the fact of the creation of the universe for the sake of the human creature—are complementary.
Similarly, as in earlier remarks on human dignity, in his approach to anthropocentric finalism, Jerome argues that the dignity manifested in the world’s creation for the sake of the human being is at the same time the reason for human misery.158 This is because creation itself serves the human being and obeys God’s orders through exercising natural laws, while the human beings themselves forget about God. Human beings, in fact, not only forget, but also mistreat and reject God. This is why Jerome acknowledges: Grandis hominis honor, et grandis infelicitas159 (“Great is human honor, and great is human misery”). Once again, the topic of a positive human axiological status goes hand in hand with observation of humanity’s limitations.
3.4.1.2 Christian Dignity: Considerate, Monachi, Dignitatem Vestram!
Jerome also explores the connection between dignity and indignity in more limited contexts; specifically, ones describing dignitas Christiana. He observes, for example, that even though it seems humbling to be a servant, it is of great dignity to be a servant of God: Grandis dignitatis est et meriti, esse servum domini, et non servum peccati160 (“Being a servant of God, and not of sin, is of great dignity and merit”). In a homily on Psalm 133, written around 397,161 Jerome adds: Illi magna dignitas est, qui faciem Domini videt, et ministrat ei162 (“The one, who sees the face God and serves Him, is of great dignity”). The monk adheres to the same metaphor as Ambrose when he further differentiates the servants into, first, those who face their master daily, and second, those who live away from the master and depend on servants working closer to him to intercede on their behalf. This observation led Ambrose to discuss dignitates orationis, the dignitaries of prayer, whereas Jerome speculates as to whether those who face God should not be interpreted as meaning monks and virgins—those living closest to God on everyday basis. As a theoretician of monastic life, Jerome paid much attention to the monastic vocation, and his homily on the beginning of St. John’s Gospel formulated an appeal urging his listeners, who were monks, to consider their dignity: Considerate, monachi, dignitatem vestram163 (“Consider, monks, your dignity!”). This claim is justified by pointing to none other than St. John the Baptist as the first monk in history. The remark also comprises a significant example of a yet another imperative in Jerome’s late homilies, written while he was residing in Bethlehem. The form of an appeal seems particularly fitting for the homiletic purpose.
The homily on Psalm 133 discusses, nonetheless, the dignitas Christiana of all servants of God, not just monks. In relation to this dignity, Jerome adds: […] sic infinita dignitas est, se dicere esse servum Domini164 (“Indeed, infinite is the dignity to call oneself the servant of God”). This line echoes Basil the Great’s homily on psalm 132, which appealed to the just to recognize their dignity (
Finally, it is significant that (as noted), Jerome’s focus when developing his ideas of Christian dignity was on the universal vocation of all Christians to be servants of God, and not on external factors such as ranks among clergy. In one of his letters, he clearly opposed the idea that an office could contribute to being a Christian, famously writing a periphrasis of a well-known Roman saying, barba non facit philosophum, i.e., a beard does not make a philosopher: non facit ecclesiastica dignitas Christianum,166 that is: “Ecclesiastical office does not make a Christian”. This sentence became significant enough to be incorporated in the Middle Ages into canon law, and was repeated by many Christian writers, for instance, Peter Abelard and John Wickliff.167 The rationale behind this remark is simple and yet fundamental: titles and positions mean nothing for Christian life. This demonstrates that there is a connection between dignitas Christiana and the fundamental evangelical teaching that “God shows no favoritism for persons.”168 Jerome himself quoted this passage in one homily,169 and in another he added that God pays no attention to honors, but only to actions: non quaeritur dignitas apud Deum, sed opera.170
3.4.1.3 Jerome on Human Axiology
To summarize the above passages, let us observe that Jerome, influenced by Origen of Alexandria’s reading of the first line of Psalm 81, introduced the anthropologically relevant use of dignitas in the two appeals to observe human dignity. It was Origen who inspired an axiological reflection that led Jerome to coin the category of human dignity, and in this sense, Jerome received lumen orientale. To put it metaphorically, four hundred years after the birth of Christ, a star from the East brightened the skies above a cave in Bethlehem one more time—on this occasion, illuminating the birth of a new concept. And the inconspicuous newborn category from Bethlehem eventually grew to become one of the notions at the heart of European culture.
Origen is, in fact, behind one other anthropologically relevant use of dignitas employed by Jerome—in a letter commenting on Alexandrian exegete’s writings, Jerome used the intriguing phrasing “the dignity of the human soul” (animae dignitas),171 but without elaborating on its meaning and only in order to recapitulate a passage from the Greek philosopher that lists the mentioned dignity. Additionally, in his letters Jerome referred to dignitas almost solely in the context of an office, with the majority of the uses describing an ecclesiastical office such as that of a bishop or an apostle.172
As noted, the letters make little use of the notion of human dignity (except for one instance in which Jerome translates Origen), and commentaries to biblical books (specifically to Isaiah, Ezekiel, books of prophets) use dignitas in its social sense, at times naming the office of a priest.173 The homily on Psalm 81 is unique specifically because we can identify the instances in which Jerome discussed the subject of human axiological status, and did not employ dignitas.
One of his letters, criticizing some points of Pelagianism as well as Stoicism, stands as evidence that Jerome was capable of formulating and comprehending the topic of human dignity, yet would not necessarily employ the terminology relating to dignitas.
The second paragraph of the letter to Ctesiphon treats the subject of who the human being is, and of whether the Stoic teaching correctly describes the human condition. Jerome understands human creatures as necessarily embodied, and thus not capable of freeing themselves entirely in this world from carnal passions or sin. The Stoics claim, conversely, that it is possible, and in doing so, not only are they heretical (they argue that one can achieve a state of salvation from sin and bodily disturbances by human means, which according to Jerome is a form of Pelagianism), but also philosophically wrong, for they argue that it is possible.
According to Jerome (who bases his point, interestingly, on the Scriptures), we can talk of a possibility only when something has already happened at least once. Stoics themselves admit that no one has achieved such a condition, yet state that it is possible. Jerome argues that there is no foundation to claim possibility if something has never happened, and accuses the Stoics of philosophical incompetence.
In this context, Jerome formulates a critical remark stating that while trying to elevate human beings, the Stoics actually diminish God’s power instead (ostenditur hereticos non hominem in excelsa sustollere, sed Dei potentiae derogare).174 According to Jerome, it is only God who can save human creatures from their unfortunate condition, including difficult carnal passions.175 In their anthropology, the Stoic philosophers forgot about humility, which teaches us that human creatures are embodied, and only God can transform their bodies by freeing them from all undesired passions.176
This commentary places Jerome in line with Gregory of Nazianzus, who in his conception of the human microcosm pointed out that human beings are elevated by virtue of being an icon of God, yet are humiliated by virtue of being embodied.177 Human beings should remember both these factors in order not to succumb to pride, which Jerome observed in the Stoics. In their discussion of human value, therefore, the early Christian Fathers, both Greek and Latin, take a perspective that sees human nature as both dignified by virtue of various factors, and at the same time undignified by its weaknesses and incapacity to save itself from this. This is perhaps where the Christian standpoint contrasts most strongly with some contemporary views on human dignity.
Much as with the phrasing dignitas animae, this short passage of Jerome’s letter was prompted by the content of the theory Jerome criticized. It provides evidence, nevertheless, that the topic of human dignity was plausible for Jerome, even if, as a Biblicist and theoretician of monastic life, Jerome was not keen to pick up such an anthropological reflection on his own. He had, nevertheless, an idea of human value, as well as an idea of what conceptions of it are wrong.
Jerome’s criticism of Stoicism as Pelagian reveals another point. Dignitas was not at all a natural “go to” anthropological axiological category for Jerome. The fact that the topic of dignity was not explicitly addressed in the context of elevating humans in excelsa indicates a point already observed in Ambrose’s writings: in the fourth century the concept of dignity was not the commonly selected axiological category defining humanity’s high axiological status that we are used to today. Jerome’s terminological choices are particularly significant, for he was one of the best-educated translators and linguists of his time, someone well-acquainted with the semantic fields of the words to the consideration of which he dedicated his whole life. We have seen that he used the category of human dignity (dignitas hominis) in his homilies on the Psalms, as well as the idea of Christian dignity (dignitas servorum Dei, dignitas monachorum), and implemented the phrases honor animae and dignitas animae. The imperatives of self-knowledge, expressed in the homily on Psalm 81, constitute, of course, milestones for the category of human dignity. Yet apart from that, Jerome used dignitas in the classical Latin meaning of an office or a title (dignitas Romana). Similarly, his translations—first among which is the Vulgate—demonstrate the employment of dignitas in socially relevant contexts.
3.4.2 Human Axiology in the Vulgate
The Vulgate was the version of the Bible that was read and quoted among its Latin audience as soon as it became available. Jerome worked with a cooperative, and it is not possible to identify the authorship of all the passages, although it is certain that he himself edited the Book of Psalms and the four Gospels from the Old Latin versions, consulting their Hebrew and Greek originals, and oversaw the rest. According to Jerome, the original formulation was the basis for the interpretation of the ambiguous passages of the Bible, not a Greek translation of Septuagint, even though it was considered divinely inspired by the early Christian writers. Jerome always considered the text in its original language. Having been educated in Rome, and having studied under Gregory of Nazianzus for two years, he was aware of the depth and complexity of the Greek texts. He was also taught Hebrew in 375–377 by a Jewish teacher in the desert of Chalcis, and mastered an advanced level of the language. Given his biblical enterprise and its widespread effects, it is no surprise that he was one of the four first proclaimed Doctors in the history of the Church.178 In fact, the early definition of the achievement associated with the doctoral title, namely the formulation of the “eminent doctrine,” was defined through the criterion of illuminating the Scriptures.179 This was designed to describe Jerome’s achievement. His linguistic proficiency remained unrivalled by most in his time.
What is significant in the development of terminology and conceptions pertaining to dignity in late ancient and medieval Europe is not the accuracy of Jerome’s Vulgate, but its eventual form, one read and quoted by most thinkers in the Latin West throughout the centuries. The text, proclaimed the Catholic Church’s official version of the Bible under Pope Clement VIII in the late sixteenth century, underwent some revisions by Alcuin during the Carolingian Renaissance, which were included in the thirteenth-century Paris Bible, the basis for the first print by Johannes Guttenberg in 1450s. This most common text of the Vulgate includes a number of passages that we have already encountered as inspirational in the debate over human worth, such as Psalms 8 or 48, repeatedly occurring in patristic axiological deliberations.
Psalm 8 famously asks what the human being is, that God remembers them (quid est homo quod memor es eius?), and adds that the human being was made only a little lesser than the angels (paulo minus ab angelis), crowned with glory and honor (gloria et honore conorasti eum), and placed above other works of God’s hands (super opera manuum tuarum).180
Psalm 48, commented on by Basil the Great, states that fools (insipientes) boast about their riches and know not that no one can pay the price of their salvation (praetium redemptionis) or that of their brothers. A fool or someone unlearned (insipiens et indoctus) is thus similar to brute beasts (adsimilatus est iumentis), a thought repeated at the end of the Psalm and concluding it (comparavit se iumentis).181
These are the two psalms pertaining to the subject of human axiology, the terminology of which does not include the noun dignitas for the simple reason that original text does not call for it.
The word dignitas is in fact used less than twenty times altogether in the Vulgate, and none of the cases carries the meaning of specifically human dignity (dignitas hominis). The Book of Esther, for instance, mentions court dignitaries supporting the Jews (Esth 9:3); the Book of Proverbs mentions royal dignity (Prov 14:28) and the dignity of the old (Prov 20:29); Ecclesiastes mentions a priestly dignity (Eccl 10:6); the First Book of Maccabees mentions the dignity in which Alexander Balas wants to partake by marrying King Ptolemy VI Philometor’s daughter, Cleopatra Thea (1 Mac 10:54); and the Wisdom of Sirach mentions a prophet’s dignity (Sir 44:4). The New Testament does not use the noun at all.
This absence of the now-common concept of dignity seems indicative of the fact that dignitas was used primarily in the meaning of an office, rank or social status.
As for a pressing question concerning the biblical description of the creation of humankind, Jerome did not offer any discussion of the verses pertaining to the making of human beings in his Hebrew commentary to Genesis.182
Summarizing Jerome’s contribution to the history of human dignity, we can on one hand observe his crucial role in formulating the category of human dignity, but on the other, repeat the pressing question concerning the period in history in which the noun dignitas entered into the first league of anthropological concepts defining a human’s positive axiological status and came into standard use in discussions of human axiology. We will come back to this topic in the next Chapter, in which I analyze Leo the Great’s speeches (with their famous imperatives to know human dignity) that accentuate dignitas as a privileged, systematic category in the anthropological discourse.
At this point in history, we find little proof that dignitas is a select, privileged term that is naturally employed when the subject of human worth is raised in Latin European culture. A milestone has, nevertheless, been reached. The category of human dignity (dignitas hominis) was made plausible by Jerome’s commentary prepared in Bethlehem and later delivered to the public around the year 397. And this is not to be underestimated. Before any category can spread—even the one that eventually enters the very DNA of European culture—it must be formulated. One reason that we today speak of “human dignity” is because someone first coined the term. In fact, ironically, when a contemporary scholar claims that the ancient and medieval Christian writers “have little to say” about human dignity, they are ignorant of the point that they utter the words “human dignity” because Jerome of Stridon, upon rereading Origen’s speech, worked out the notion dignitas hominis and—in a way—put it in their mouths.
3.5 Augustine of Hippo183
Augustine of Hippo is one of the most popular authorities in Christianity; a Father of the Church and (since 1295) one of the first four officially proclaimed Doctors of the Church, next to Jerome, Ambrose and Pope Gregory I. For 300 years, until 1568, these four were the only Doctors officially recognized by the Church.184 Augustine is thus one of the longest recognized and formally established Christian intellectual authorities. He also remains a crucial authority and a reference point for the Orthodox and Protestant Churches.
Due to his well-known criticism of Manicheism, Augustine worked on an optimistic ontology in which everything that is, is good, and evil is seen as a privation of good that does not have a reality of its own. This doctrine has some consequences for human nature, which is seen by Augustine as unconditionally good, and deteriorated only insofar as free will forfeits the greater good by turning to the lesser good.185
As an educated rhetorician Augustine, just like Jerome, was heavily influenced by Cicero. Augustine’s language includes the concept of dignity as well as its discussion.186 The last book of an early anti-Manichean work, De libero arbitrio, contains evidence of Augustine’s appreciation of human nature despite its deterioration through sin and the use of the concept dignitas naturae, though applied not only to human nature.187 In De civitate Dei, written in between 413–426,188 Augustine stressed that the dignity of a rational soul indeed surpasses all other beings (verum etiam subiciantur propter rationalis animae dignitatem.)189 and confirms that human nature is full of dignity (hominis […] certe natura tantae est dignitatis).190 Following the idea expressed in Asclepius, the Bishop of Hippo also proclaimed that, “above all the miracles that the human being can make, is the miracle of the human being themselves” (Nam et omni miraculo, quod fit per hominem, maius miraculum est homo).191 Dignitas hominis naturae is not, nevertheless, what one could call a significant idea of his. On one hand the use of the concept is not entirely absent from Augustine’s vocabulary—it occurs a number of times in an anthropologically significant context—yet, on the other hand, if contrasted with the sheer body of work that Augustine wrote, these uses are not regular. They occur in texts written in the last decade of the fourth century and later, around the years 413–414, and since 419.192 Augustine’s texts are one of the most numerously preserved ancient Christian writings, even though we know of only a small proportion of what originally comprised about five million words, and over a thousand works.193 Given this, uses of the concept of human dignity are not frequent, nor is the term defined or selected as a leading anthropological category. It does, nevertheless, appear within meaningful contexts.
Apart from Augustine’s use of the term dignitas in its various contexts, his famous conceptualization of human iconicity presented in De Trinitate, (the conceptualization which influenced many later classical formulations), is relevant.194 I will start with a brief reconstruction of the most important points of this conception, before moving on to the analysis of Augustine’s use of dignitas in anthropologically-relevant contexts, and specifically in his discussion of various kinds of hierarchies of beings. Finally, I will discuss Augustine’s views regarding slavery, for they were one of the most commonly referenced opinions on this issue in late antiquity, and because a link between slavery and human dignity had already been observed in European culture—by Gregory of Nyssa.
3.5.1 The Dignity of a Direct Icon of the Trinity
A hallmark of the Augustinian understanding of iconicity is its direct character. Contrary to authors such as Irenaeus of Lyon, Origen, the Cappadocian Fathers and his own teacher, Ambrose of Milan, Augustine argued that each human creature is a direct icon of the Trinity, not an icon of one divine person, Christ, by way of whom all others are icons.195 Pointing out the plural form used in the Hebrew text of Genesis (“Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness’”),196 Augustine argued that if it is “us” who makes, and if it is “our” likeness, then the iconicity of a human being is shaped after the whole Trinity, which speaks of itself as “we” and “our.” The conception of direct iconicity was therefore defended with exegetic arguments, just like the conception of indirect iconicity, although Augustine and Ambrose referred to different passages of the Scriptures.
As a proponent of the direct iconicity of Trinity, Augustine had to demonstrate the way in which the Trinity is reflected in human icons. He pointed out the various triads present in the structure of the human soul (mens—notitia—amor, i.e., mind—knowledge—love, in Book IX, and memoria—intelligentia—voluntas, i.e., memory—reason—will, in Book X), arguing that such threefold structure of the soul’s faculties resembles God’s triune nature.197 His viewpoint can therefore be classified as descriptive of the human structural resemblance of God, although elements of functional similarity are also contained in his theory: the function of these faculties characterized as directedness towards the highest good, God.
As with most of the Fathers, Augustine found it implausible that the human body could be a carrier of an image of God. He argued that what is temporal and changing cannot reflect that which is eternal and unchanging.198 Interestingly, Irenaeus of Lyon assumed iconicity to pertain to the whole of a human being, inclusive of their body, precisely because the human body is subject to salvation and eternal life.199 Augustine ignored the eschatological perspective of human corporality, and argued the opposite. Relying on the same premise, he excluded faith as a possible criterion of iconicity: human faith is not eternal, because it will be replaced by seeing “face to face” through visio beatifica in eternity.200 It is therefore that which is eternal in a human being that comprises the foundation of imago Dei: the immortal soul, with its three faculties structurally resembling the Trinity—memory, reason and will.
Since these faculties are the same in all human beings, men and women, they should all be iconic as participants in one human nature. In a passage of De Trinitate, however, Augustine added nuance to that point in regard to male and female functions. He interpreted the Scriptural argument from Genesis 1:27 (“male and female he created them”) to suggest that one human nature comprises two complementary counterparts: male and female. The entire twofold human nature, consisting of male and female, is iconic according to Genesis 1:28; however, one can ask whether the counterparts themselves, when considered in abstraction from one nature of which they are a part, are iconic as well. In the passage, Augustine was willing to concede that women, when considered in abstraction from the common human nature—that is, seen merely from the point of view of their function (being men’s assistance)—should not be considered iconic at all, while men, when considered in abstraction from one common human nature—that is, from the perspective of their function (associated more clearly with spiritual activity)—should be.201 Augustine added that men are completely and fully iconic both as part of one nature and in themselves, whereas women are not. This reflection seeks to do justice to the Apostle Paul’s remarks that men are “the glory of God”. As a result, Augustine emphasized the commonality of human nature, which is iconic in its entirety but at the same time introduced a hierarchy between the sexes considered in abstraction from their common nature. One could argue that this non-egalitarian element of his theory of iconicity undermines the application of this theory to the topic of universal human dignity. Nonetheless, it is worth noting that, firstly, when Augustine discussed human dignity explicitly, he did not raise the mentioned point of inequality of male and female function and therefore their iconicity, focusing on being human in general; and secondly, right after he affirmed this inequality of iconicity, he stressed the equality of male and female participation in God and His redemption.
This is because the motive of the distinct functions men and women have led him to specify the actions that develop human iconicity. And so, iconicity is properly identified not only in soul itself, in its triune faculties, but more specifically in the highest part of the soul, which he at times localized “in the spirit of the mind” (in spiritu mentis), when it is directed toward God—and this part is common to men and women equally.202 Further elaborations of these developments refer to individual acts, primarily moral acts, as constitutive of the icon’s similitude to the divine archetype, and stress that such actions, which properly demonstrate participation in Christ and His redemption, are equally available to men and women. While the just-discussed inequality of iconicity considered from the point of view of male or female functions was based on St. Paul’s passage regarding men as “the glory of God,” the point highlighting the equality of male and female alike in their participation in Christ and in their ability to use their spiritual minds to contemplate God is, in turn, an attempt to explain Paul’s view that “there is no longer male or female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”203
It is worth adding that Augustine was not systematic in his terminology for describing the highest part of the soul, which contemplates God. At times, the faculty operating during visio beatifica is called ratio superior, and at times oculus interior atque intelligibilis (the internal and intelligible eye) or, famously, oculus cordis (the eye of the heart).204 In one of his sermons, Augustine went so far as to say that that all the efforts of our earthly life come down to healing this faculty, through which God is contemplated: Tota igitur opera nostra, fratres, in hac vita est sanere oculum cordis unde videatur Deus.205
Let us return to the theory of direct Trinitarian iconicity. A threefold iconic image of God is imprinted in one human nature, yet it can be perfected or distorted, and the process of its perfection demonstrates the functional resemblance to God. The perfection of an image is achieved through achieving unity with the archetype: Honor enim hominis verus est imago et similitudo Dei quae non custoditur nisi ad ipsum a quo imprimitur.206 (“The true honor of humans is in their image and similarity to God which is preserved in no other way than by reference to the one who imprinted them.”) Once the faculties of the soul, memory, reason and will, become directed towards the object that the icon is to depict, i.e., towards God (in other words, once memory remembers God, reason knows God, and will loves God), the soul becomes an icon in the strongest sense possible, carrying “the closest similarity” (similitudo proxima).207
An image present in the human soul has the power to bind the soul to that which it depicts. As Augustine writes regarding the soul, Denique cum Illi penitus adhaeserit, unus erit spiritus […].208 (“In the end it will inwardly cling to Him, and will become one spirit […].”) Once united with God, the soul achieves the highest place in the hierarchy of beings, a place superseded only by God himself: Sic enim ordinata est naturarum ordine, non locorum, ut supra illam non sit nisi Ille.209 (“So, therefore, it was ordered not by place but by the order of nature, not to be superseded by anything but God.”) As we shall see, Augustine adjusted this view elsewhere.
Iconicity thus has a functional aspect, and remains strongly connected to the human capacitas Dei, the capacity to be filled with God in the sense of sharing God’s spirit by directing all the soul’s crucial faculties to Him. As such, the Augustinian conception describes a direct icon of God, but discusses both the structural and functional resemblance of a human icon to their archetype.
3.5.2 Deformations of the Icon
As we saw, the image of God can be perfected, but it can also be deformed, eventually losing its similarity to the archetype. Augustine described the problem of dynamicity or the gradational character of iconicity expressis verbis in De Trinitate and remarked on it in De civitate Dei. First of all, Augustine explains why iconicity can be deformed:
Quamquam enim magna natura sit, tamen vitiari potuit, quia summa non est, et quamquam vitiari potuerit, quia summa non est, tamen quia summae naturae capax est, et esse particeps potest, magna natura est.210
Despite being great, human nature could be deformed because it is not the highest nature, and although it can be deformed in the future, because it is not the highest nature, however, being a vessel of the highest nature, and being capable of participating in it, human nature is a great nature.
The loss of a similarity to God is gradational, and thus, in De civitate Dei, Augustine warned against the deceptiveness of the slow and slippery process of losing similarity to God. Those who are not cautious enough might not realize that they have arrived at the last stage of this process, which makes them—originally created in the image of the most perfect being—suddenly exhibit similarity to animals (similitudo pecorum).211 The first stage of the process is a treacherous desire to be like God, the incentive that pushed Eve into accepting the Devil’s temptation, and the one that makes the human creature rely on their own finite powers. Since a human being is an icon of God, when they decide to rely on themselves and believe that they themselves can be like God, they break the connection to that which they were created to depict. As a result, they are overthrown from the noble position they were placed in, and start to find pleasure in things that animals are satisfied with, such as bodily desires. Thus—as Augustine puts it, following Psalm 48—while it was a human being’s honor to be similar to God, it is their disgrace to be like an animal: atque ita cum sit honor eius similitudo Dei, dedecus autem eius similitudo pecoris.212
If it has become deformed and deprived of similarity to God, the image present in the human soul can be renewed by the intervention of God’s grace, for an icon cannot renew its resemblance on its own.213 In De Trinitate, Augustine stressed that only participation in God can make a distorted icon beautiful again. If this happens, Iam enim se non diligit perverse, sed recte, cum Deum diligit, cuius participatione imago illa non solum est, verum etiam ex vetustate renovatur, ex deformitate reformatur, ex infelicitate beatificatur.214 (“It no more loves itself perversely, but righteously, because it loves God whose image it is not only by participation but also it is renewed from old age, reformed from deformation, brought into happiness from unhappiness.”) The image that lost its reflection can be recreated again: Sed peccando, iustitiam et sanctitatem veritatis amisit; propter quod haec imago deformis et decolor facta est: hanc recipit, cum reformatur et renovatur.215 (“But by sinning the soul lost justice and holiness of truth; as a result, this image was made deformed and discolored: it regains this image when it is reformed and renovated.”)
It is important that in the later part of his life, Augustine insisted that no matter how distorted the image has become, the human soul always remains an icon of God.216 De civitate Dei stresses this point by stating that the nature of both good and evil people is exactly the same. What differentiates good creatures from evil ones is their will: good or vicious.217 In statu viae, the human creature always has a chance to regain its full similarity to God, no matter how grave the deformation has become.
Interestingly, in the context of the distortion of iconicity, Augustine employed the concept of dignity (dignitas) and formulated the expression describing the deformation of dignity (deformitas dignitatis).218 As stressed above, this deformation does not have the power to overshadow the image of God, but, as Augustine suggested in De Trinitate and De civitate Dei, it results in a change in a being’s place in the hierarchy of beings.
What are the implications of deforming iconicity for human axiology? Augustine described the change in a value of a human being in the context of the human icon’s shameful similarity to animals, discussed in De Trinitate. Instead of being God’s icon, human value becomes narrowed to its own limited worth, as well as to the value of things in which animals find pleasure (ad ea quibus pecora laetantur.)219 In De civitate Dei, Augustine presented an extended passage concerning the change in the hierarchy of beings following a creature’s immoral behavior.
3.5.3 Nature and Justice as Criteria for the Dignity of a Rational Being
A very good example of the deformation of an icon comes from Augustine’s De civitate Dei. In Book XI, Augustine described the two alternative hierarchies of being: one that is built based on the consideration of the nature of being; the other, which is less truthful according to him, based on the being’s utility.
The natural hierarchy classifies animated beings as higher than inanimate ones, animated beings (which have senses) higher than inanimate, rational creatures higher than non-rational ones, and, finally, immortal rational creatures higher than rational mortal beings. Augustine therefore draws the obvious conclusion that angelic nature is greater than human, mortal nature.220 This view expressed is soon to be refined by adding one final criterion to the hierarchy of beings. Before we develop this point, let us observe that, in De Trinitate, Augustine affirmed that within the hierarchy of beings, the human soul is second only to God.221 Additionally, in his early dialogue, De libero arbitrio, he affirmed numerous times that human nature is greater than that of material creation and spoke of the levels of dignity (gradus dignitatis) in various natures, using terminology resembling that of Lactantius.222
On the other hand, if the utility of beings is considered a criterion of a being’s value, material beings might be considered better than animate things; for, Augustine rhetorically asks, who would not rather have bread than mice in their house? He likewise observes: a horse is valued higher than a slave, a pearl much higher than a female servant, even though—and this is certain—human nature is of a greater dignity than a material object. He thus explains: Sed quid mirum, cum in ipsorum etiam hominum aestimatione, quorum certe natura tantae est dignitatis, plerumque carius comparetur equus quam servus, gemma quam famula?223 (“But what wonder, that in people’s own estimations, whose nature is full of dignity, a horse is estimated by the majority as dearer than a slave, a pearl dearer than a female servant?”). This hierarchy of utility is dictated by need, and it therefore does not consider the nature of things and the truth about them, as does the first classification, one apparently closer to the truth.
It is particularly significant that Augustine adds one final criterion to the classification based on nature. Although the nature of a being (animated or inanimate, rational or lacking rationality, mortal or immortal) comprises the true criterion of a being’s value, in the case of rational beings, the classification requires a second measure. “The weight of will and of love” (pondus voluntatis et amoris) is so great in rational creatures, he argues, that even though an angelic creature is by nature better than a human being, from the point of view of the laws of justice, a morally good human being is better than a fallen angel: Sed tantum valet in naturis rationalibus quoddam veluti pondus voluntatis et amoris, ut, cum ordine naturae angeli hominibus, tamen lege iustitiae boni homines malis angelis praeferantur.224
Considering this principle of the weight of will and love (pondus voluntatis et amoris) shows how significant morality is to the axiological hierarchy of rational beings. According to Augustine, disobeying rules of justice can alter the natural value of a being (not a being’s nature) and result in a change in its place in the axiological hierarchy that was built upon the criterion of the perfection of nature. Justice, therefore, weighs heavily on dignity. The example of the fallen angels shows that the two criteria of a rational being’s value (nature and justice) themselves form a kind of hierarchy: justice seems to weigh more heavily than nature, for it can overrule it. This thesis is of great importance to the question of the gradational or dynamic character of dignity: the natural value of a being can be overshadowed by moral indignity. In general terms, the realization of moral indignity results in the lowering of a being’s axiological status (gradus dignitatis). This is why Augustine already affirmed in De libero arbitrio that the dignity of the human soul is valued by God so highly that He made human happiness dependent on human free choice.225
3.5.4 Offences to Human Dignity (Dignitas Humana)
The early parts of De civitate Dei, completed in the year 413 or 414, offer a short description of pagan practices, which Augustine judges in a strikingly modern fashion as ones that “defile human dignity” (humana dignitas inquinatur),226 therein employing the category of specifically human dignity, dignitas humana. The occurrence of this phrasing is significant, although not because of the kinds of acts Augustine points out (all are strongly embedded in ancient practices unknown today: offerings to pagan gods and the rituals accompanying these), but rather due to the very occurrence of the category of human dignity and the established opinion that some acts constitute an offence to human dignity.
There are at least three assumptions to be observed about this remark. First, the underlying assumption is that there is a dignitas humana, a human dignity; one that is present in Roman people, yet apparently common to all human beings. Second, this human dignity has a normative character, for it presents norms to be observed precisely because of this dignity. Third, if those norms are not met, that constitutes an offence to human dignity. These assumptions regarding human dignity are surprisingly modern and could well be found in international legal as well as ecclesiastical formulations that list a number of practices offensive to human dignity. Augustine’s examples are not what we would encounter today, yet the rationale behind his description is the same: human dignity is a value that demands actions of its bearers that are worthy of their value. Succumbing to primitive pagan beliefs (such as the idea that burning a number of material goods could alter one’s fate) is beneath human dignity, for it makes no use of human reason. The bearers of dignity are obliged by their dignity to act according to their great nobility, and to use reason. Even though this remark is made by Augustine in passing and shows little explicit conceptualization of human dignity, its assumptions are significant. Furthermore, precisely the way in which the remark is formulated seems to suggest that both the concept of human dignity and the idea that certain actions are beneath human dignity were obvious to Augustine and his readers. Similar logic was spelled out earlier by Basil the Great in regard to child slaves, yet Augustine’s tone is—as we may stress—also very close to the appeals by Ambrose or Jerome, both urging audiences to know human dignity and to live according to it.
Finally, it is worth noting that the phrasing dignitas humana seems close Jerome’s idea of dignitas hominis. However, while Jerome used dignitas only in reference to human specific axiological status, differentiating humans from the rest of creation, Augustine used dignitas in reference to various natures (dignitates naturae), instituting hierarchies of rank (gradus dignitatis) between them.227 His use is, therefore, less relevant to the post-Second World War notion of human dignity, which relates specifically to humans and was designed to protect their rights. In Augustine’s view, dignitas is hierarchical and applicable also to material beings, which is surprising to the contemporary reader. Nonetheless, in being associated with natures, Augustine’s dignitas remains inherent in nature and thus unearned and universal. As such it is fundamentally relevant to contemporary debates: it refers to an ontological perfection from which particular duties of and towards dignity-bearers result.
3.5.5 Message of Humility
Augustine’s view on the importance of justice for the axiological status of the human being is perhaps why his sermons advise knowing one’s humility rather than knowing one’s dignity. Commenting on John the Baptist’s actions, in his sermons on St. John’s Gospel, Augustine praises the Baptist’s humility as resembling the humility of Christ. Both these men demonstrated the “glory of God, not the glory of the human being” (gloria Christi, non gloria hominis.)228 Augustine explains that God shares his divinity with humans so that the human beings can realize their humility. (ut agnoscat homo humilitatem suam, impertiat Deus divinitatem suam).229 A similar phrase, which is not found in Augustine’s preserved writings but was attributed to him during the Carolingian Renaissance by Alcuin, was adapted in the Middle Ages.230
Another allegedly Augustinian line commenting dignity can be traced back to a collection of sermons called Eusebius Gallicanus. It formulates an appeal to know both how great and how dependent the human creature is: Agnoscat homo quantum valeat, quantum debeat et, dum pretium suum cogitat, vilis esse sibi desinat231 (“May a human being know how much they are worth and how much they owe, and so long as they consider their price, they stop seeming worthless to themselves.”) This appeal is closest to that which Leo the Great formulated in the fifth century, indicating that the line is likely to originate from a non-Augustinian source. It remains a fact, however, that the line’s medieval reception identifies Augustine as an author, and that the Bishop of Hippo formulated an influential message concerning human humility in his popular sermons on St. John’s Gospel.
3.5.6 Treatment of Slaves
The reconstruction of Augustine’s views on human axiology and his use of dignitas in anthropologically relevant contexts that has been presented here does not include Augustine’s views on slavery, for he himself did not relate this problematic to the question of human dignity. Such an inference is obvious from a twenty-first-century point of view due to international laws on human rights, which are founded on the principle of respect for human dignity. It amounts to an anachronism, however, to assume that this was obvious for all ancient writers. As we observed, the problem of subsumption (i.e., the application of the principle of human dignity to different cases) took a long time to resolve. The Latin Father related the topic of human dignity to the poor, as we already observed, but not specifically to slaves, like Gregory of Nyssa did. This is worth mentioning before we concisely recapitulate Augustine’s views on slavery. A key Augustinian view in this topic is the belief that slavery is a result of sin, and as such does not belong to the order of nature. In this, Augustine negates both the Aristotelian and to large extent the then-contemporary Roman view of slavery.232
The Bishop of Hippo presented two arguments in defense of his view, one exegetic and one etymological. The exegetic argument points out that the word for slavery does not appear in the Bible prior to Noah’s story, and only in relation to the sons of his sons.233 The etymological argument suggests that the noun slave (servus) comes from the gerundive servandus, meaning the one who is to be saved, or the verb servare, to maintain or preserve. During early wars in humanity’s history, fighters who were captured and liable to die were at times saved, and this is how slavery, and the word “slaves,” came into being. This demonstrates that slavery originated in war and sin.234
The origin of slavery justifies, according to Augustine, why slaves might be treated severely when necessary. Augustine argued—formulating one of his most troubling and disappointing views—that the whipping of slaves is not only permissible, but advisable if the slave was guilty of a serious crime.235 However, in a commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians, he surprisingly drew a relation between the slaves’ wounds and the wounds of the Apostle Paul. Augustine compared the stigmata that the Apostle Paul carried on his body to the wounds that slaves suffer in consequence of punishment or damage, and which make them eligible for manumission.236 He understood Paul’s stigmas to be a consequence of sin, in particular, Paul’s earlier violent prosecution of God’s Church. The Apostle’s wounds were nevertheless transformed through the remission of sins in baptism—into Paul’s crown of glory (ad coronam victoriae). And so can the wounds of slaves, presumably, be transformed.
Augustine’s treatment of the doctrine of original sin, one to which he paid significantly more attention than his Eastern contemporaries, weighs significantly on his account of slavery, one also taken to be a consequence of sinful behavior. Although, in his view, sin in general causes troubling effects, the sacrament of baptism can wash them away, including in the case of slavery. On one hand, therefore, Augustine justified wounds caused by third parties to the slaves as a consequence of the slaves’ previous sins; on the other, he affirmed that there is no place for such consequences among the saved.
The Bishop of Hippo, who did not dedicate any extended treatise to the subject of slavery but rather remarked on it in a number of places, shaped many opinions in the Latin West and Greek East (for example, those of John Chrysostom).237 His views on slavery, which to some extent express the Roman forma mentis, break free from the Roman core belief of natural slavery, and introduce the notion of salvation into the topic of human beings suffering in captivity. They also formulate a troubling remark concerning the punishment of slaves, which the author apparently does not see as an offence to human dignity. At the same time, however, they make it clear that slavery has no place in the kingdom of God.
3.6 Female Christian Intellectuals
It would be valuable to consider at least one text written by a female ancient author in any history of an idea, for the simple reason that women, with their discourses and ideas, make up about a half of any society. However, it is notoriously difficult to reconstruct these ideas in antiquity because of the limited availability of the sources. Nevertheless, there were ancient Christian female intellectuals in the fourth century of whom (and of whose texts) we know, counting examples such as Faltonia Betitia Proba’s Cento Vergilianus de laudibus Christi (composed around the year 360) and Egeria’s Itinerarium seu Peregrinatio ad loca Sancta (describing a pilgrimage undertaken by Egeria in between 381–384).238 Additionally, the first part of Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis (written around 202/203), was traditionally attributed to the female narrator, although the debate about authorship (possibly by Tertullian) is inconclusive, and it is most likely that the text was written by a man.239 Let us examine these sources, starting with those that testify to what ancient and medieval thinkers assumed to be a female voice, and moving on to those that were written by women.
Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis remains a historically precious description of the imprisonment and passion of two female martyrs who were executed in 207 through partially ineffective damnatio ad bestias. The first part of the text is a first-person narration written by someone claiming to be the imprisoned female martyr, Vibia Perpetua of Carthage. This narrator’s account is supplemented by a third-person eyewitness report of the passion. Even though one can hardly expect a theoretical treatment of the problem of human dignity in a description of martyrdom, the text remains a clear example of a culturally significant change brought forth by Christianity. Early Christians celebrated and praised female sanctity alongside the male: Perpetua and Felicity are mentioned together with many female saints in the Nobis quoque peccatoribus prayer of the Roman Canon, and their death has been commemorated since antiquity, recognized as a holiday in the liturgical calendar throughout the ages. This egalitarian approach to both male and female sanctity marks a significant shift away from Roman societal habits, particularly in the realms of law, politics, and education.240
Egeria’s text, the unique Latin of which suggests that the author was a pilgrim of Spanish origin, describes her pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and contains a number of the earliest accounts of Jerusalem’s late fourth-century liturgy. Given the pilgrim’s purposes, it is not surprising that the text cannot illuminate matters of anthropology, let alone anthropological axiology. Sadly, it does not employ dignitas, not even in a social sense.241
Finally, Proba’s Cento is an anthropologically-orientated poem insofar as it relays the history of humankind according to the Christian faith, starting with human creation and ending with an account of Christ’s redemption and the sending of the Holy Spirit. This is expressed by a mixture of Virgil’s verses extracted from a number of his works: Aeneid, Georgics, and Bucolics. Some of the lines implicitly contain axiologically-relevant massages; for example, by calling a human being the image of God.
Although Proba, limited by Virgil’s vocabulary, did not use the expression imago Dei, she described the creation of Adam as planned by God to be imago pietatis (“the image of piety”),242 cari Genitoris imago (“the image of the beloved Father”),243 and nova forma viri pulcherrima (“the new most beautiful form of a man”).244 Significantly, in the next verse Proba related the property of God-likeness only to Adam, and not to Eve.245 Additionally, Proba coined rare vocabulary descriptive of human image after the sin. As we remember, Basil the Great described “the earthly image” (
Proba, on the other hand, described a remorseful Adam self-identifying after the original sin as imago tristis (“the sad image”).246 The expression opens Adam’s speech to God, yet its subsequent two lines are missing, making the interpretation of the expression difficult. In this expression itself, however, the female poet focused, presumably, on the internal experience of sorrow accompanying Adam’s self-accusation. The expression could be a unique attempt to identify the existential situation of a penitent human icon, one admitting their wrongdoing and awaiting forgiveness; thus, neither unblemished by sin, nor persisting in it. No other Christian writer coined terminology for this particular stage of human iconicity.247
The expressions, imago pietatis, cari Genitoris imago and nova pulcherrima forma viri as well as imago tristis, serve a poetic purpose and are thus not elaborated on, yet they mark an original interpretation of the anthropological notion of an image. Moreover, Proba explicitly confirmed female worthiness in God’s glory in a passage describing God’s prohibition given in the garden of Eden. God warns: femina, nec te ullius violentia vincat, si te digna manet divini gloria ruris248 (“women, may you not be conquered by anyone’s violence, since the worthy glory of the divine kingdom awaits you”). This demonstrates Proba’s understanding of a woman’s final purpose: the glory of divine kingdom.249
The poem making use of Virgil’s verses, with its few lines interpreting human creation in God’s image, remains the most relevant passage written by a Christian woman with regard to the history of human dignity. Cento did not pass unnoticed by the learned men of ancient Christianity: Jerome, Augustine, and John Chrysostom.250
Finally, it is worth adding that we know of a number of learned ancient Christian female intellectuals, sometimes forming a center whose aim can be described as scholarly. For example, we know that Melania the Elder, companion of Rufinus of Aquileia and the founder of two monastic communities on the Mount of Olives, was a keen follower of Origen, and thus was undoubtedly competent philosophically. Olympia, a wife of Nebridius and later deaconess and the founder of a monastic community, was another well-educated aristocrat and a friend of Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa and John Chrysostom. Chrysostom addressed seventeen letters to her, which testify to his appreciation of Olympia’s intellect and her community. We know that Emmelia, the mother of Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa, was a woman of substantial knowledge, for her sons attribute their early knowledge of Christian doctrine to their mother. She also educated her daughter, Macrina the Younger, whose theological competence is implied by Gregory of Nyssa’s De anima et resurrectione and Vita Sanctae Macrinae. There are numerous others of whom we know, Christian and pagan, without knowing their views, for sometimes not even their letters are preserved.251
Interestingly, one of these women’s distinctions evoked a passage employing the phrase dignitas personae, not in the legal sense common to Roman Law but in the modern sense of the dignity of a person. Paulinus of Nola met Melania the Elder upon her return from Jerusalem to Rome in 399 and expressed his opinion of her in a letter written in 400 to Severus. His short report contains a number of dignifying expressions: Paulinus calls Melania tanta anima252 (“such a soul”), femina nobilis (“noble woman”) or femina sancta253 (“holy woman”), only to question right away if she can at all be called a woman, when she is such a brave Christian: At quam tandem feminam, si feminam dici licet, tam viriliter Christianam!254 Additionally, Paulinus feels obliged to explain he is not capable of describing Melania’s excellence adequately, yet will try to do so in order to do justice to the divine grace she works with and her own dignitas personae, the dignity of her person.255 Melania, to whom a whole chapter is dedicated in Palladius’ Historia Lausiaca, made such an impression on Paulinus that he stated that, despite the inferiority of her sex (interior sexus), she appeared more noble than her male ancestors, who were consuls (dedit se nobiliorem consulibus avis).256
The passage quoted above is intriguing for a number of reasons. First, it is precisely despite his prejudice towards femininity that Paulinus praises the lady in question, showing that the Christian search for sanctity could overrule a societal partiality. Second, Paulinus contrasts the dignitas Romana of Melania’s family (called nobilitas) with her own distinction, which results not from circumstantial factors such as birth, but from her own choices. This illustrates the trend we have already witnessed in other Christian writers of challenging the worldly hierarchies and conceiving of alternative axiological orders. Third, Paulinus calls Melania’s distinction dignitas personae, among other terms. This demonstrates the shift from dignitas Romana to dignitas applied more broadly, though not yet universally. The dignity of birth is called nobilitas by Paulinus, and dignitas is used to name one’s personal excellence. A step towards a universal category of dignity, consisting in the application of dignitas to figures seen habitually as inferior, is being made—and just around three years after Jerome, hidden in the confinement of his monastery in Bethlehem, wrote the appeal containing the category of human dignity: Vide hominis dignitatem.
To finalize the investigation into the female writers of the fourth century, let us add that some of the Christian learned women assembled to study the Scripture, inclusive of ancient biblical languages, and practice Christian virtues. One of the most well-known circles of this type is that formed by Marcella on the Aventine Hill, guided, after the founder’s insistence, by none other than Jerome. The Aventine Hill brought together Marcella and her mother Albina, along with Asella, Melania, Fabiola, Sophronia, Furia, Principia, Felicita, Lea, and Paula of Rome with her daughters and daughter in law, Blaesilla, Eustochium, Rufina, Paula, Leta, as well as a sister of Ambrose of Milan, Marcellina, and a sister of Pope Damasus, Irene.257 Some excelled in Hebrew and Greek, as testified to by Jerome’s letters, and Paula and Eustochium in particular entered into life-long debates with him over textual and exegetic matters, having followed him when he left Rome for Palestine. Jerome dedicated translations of some books of his Vulgate to Paula and Eustochium, and his commentaries—to Marcella. Marcella’s theological competence allowed her to engage with the debate about the views of Rufinus of Aquileia, which led to his condemnation by Pope Anastasius, and she is likely to have been part of early controversy surrounding Pelagius.258
Although the aim of such gatherings was religious and ascetic, often leading to the establishment of female monastic centers, the discussion that took place there required theological and linguistic competence due to its focus on the original version of the Scripture. Unfortunately, although we know that the learned ancient Christian women expressed their views, there are no sources allowing us to investigate them. We can only relay their names and identify their main intellectual interests.
3.7 Conclusions Concerning the Latin West
The investigated examples of the leading fourth-century texts demonstrate a linguistic void in ancient Christian Latin anthropology, which lacked a specific, systematic name for human axiological status up until the end of the fourth century. At the same time, the topics of human value, greatness or dignity were discussed and described, and people were even commanded to know the phenomenon of human greatness. These fourth-century descriptions of human axiology provide evidence that the term dignitas was not commonly used in its anthropological sense. At the very end of the fourth century, Jerome’s and Augustine’s writings provide examples of a change, initiating a new practice of calling human axiological status dignitas hominis or simply dignitas, and later—in the early fifth century—dignitas humana.
Among the mentioned fourth-century anthropological discussions, a significant cultural phenomenon took hold: a formulation of calls to recognize the axiological status of a human being. This tradition, originating from Greek Cappadocia, builds on an ancient practice of verbalizing maxims such as
This development led to another, also prevalent in the European culture: the identification of the notion of human value as a normative concept. Ambrose’s calls require not only knowing one’s own value, but also acting according to this great nobility. This is why he commanded his listeners: adtende tibi!, miles es!, athleta es! The same norm required human creatures to be humble, a point which was to be evoked by Ambrose’s calls to remember one’s finitude, specifically in reference to human corporality. Paradoxically, however, human corporality was praised by the Bishop of Milan, following in the footsteps of his Cappadocian master, Basil.
The social meaning of dignitas, dignitas Romana, was also adapted by the Bishop of Milan to express a different, meritocratic and spiritual kind of order among the faithful. As we saw, a criticism of worldly hierarches was also expressed by Chromatius of Aquileia, and earlier, by Minucius Felix, Lactantius, Cyprian of Carthage, Novatian, Hilary of Poitiers, Lucifer of Cagliari, and Philastrius. Ambrose’s influential sermons on Psalm 118 proclaim that not only Romans but also Christians have their own dignities. The Bishop of Milan distinguished the order of the servants, i.e., apostles, prophets, and teachers (ordo administrantium), the order of the virtues among the ordinary members of the Church, i.e., the faithful (ordo privatorum), as well as the order among those who pray (ordo orationis), descriptive of the phenomenon of spiritual intercession. This adaptation of the social practice of differentiating various offices, together with Ambrose’s remarks on the poor, show that the social meaning of dignitas prevailed, but its message was regarded critically by Christians, who believed that “God shows no favoritism for persons”. Ambrose’s descriptions of human value thus promote the idea of a universal, natural greatness that all humans share in equal measure, and which must be observed and respected. At the same time, they propose a hierarchy based on criteria relating to free human efforts to achieve sanctity, not on circumstantial factors such as sex, wealth, or birth, over which one often had little or no influence.
After Ambrose of Milan’s death, Jerome of Stridon continued the practice of calling for the recognition of human dignity. His homily on Psalm 81, prepared around the year 397 in the monastery in Bethlehem where Jerome resided towards the end of his life, clearly followed Origen’s reflection on the same psalm. The commentary, highly influenced by a text by Origen of Alexandria, formulates two appeals to observe human dignity which relate explicitly to universal human dignity. The text justifies human dignity by way of the respect with which the human creature is treated by God; another homily does so by way of the classical anthropocentric finalism, pointing out that the whole of the universe was made and exists for humanity’s sake only. Even though Jerome’s homilies were known throughout the ages, his unique and groundbreaking discussion of human dignity was never part of any history of human dignity. Undoubtedly, however, the text contains the earliest application of dignitas hominis as an anthropological category, one congruent with Augustine’s and later Leo the Great’s linguistic practices. It also represents an important early chapter of the Christian tradition to appeal to know human dignity.
In the early fifth century, Ambrose’s follower Augustine of Hippo used dignitas humana in an anthropological sense alongside the classical social meaning, which we have called dignitas Romana. His earliest uses of dignitas, contained in the third book of De libero arbitrio completed in 395, are not limited to anthropology but rather applied to all kinds of beings and represent their respective value, one often limited, yet inherent. A philosopher who dedicated a significant amount of his intellectual efforts to investigating anthropology offered an axiological analysis of not only human beings, but of the whole created world. Formulating his famous optimistic ontology, inclusive of the privative theory of evil, he set the framework for later Christian discussions of good and evil, which adopted his theory.
In anthropology itself, Augustine firstly formulated a conception of the direct, structural iconicity of God, and secondly, presented two models of the hierarchy of goods in which a human creature’s dignity was assessed according to two criteria: perfection of nature and justice of behavior. Augustine’s views differ significantly from the East-inspired remarks by Ambrose, introducing a number of originally Western points to axiology.
In contrast with the Greek Church Fathers, Augustine saw human nature as inferior to angelic nature, due to human mortality resulting from original sin; he made an exception, however, in the case of an immortal angel forsaking his dignity by violating justice. Augustine’s stance is thus a good example of what is sometimes called the Western anthropological tendency to focus on the consequences of original sin, although in fact this trend is evident precisely from Augustine onward. The Bishop of Hippo developed his own interpretation of original sin, and paid more attention to the reality of sin than did his contemporaries in the East. Despite his insistence on the fact that sin does not diminish human iconicity or dignity entirely, the theory of sin remained most relevant to his axiology of a human being. This means that his anthropology does not link human dignity with the act of incarnation or redemption (as was done by the Greeks, who as a result were led to proclaim human superiority over the angels, as the latter are not subjects of the incarnation and redemption). Instead, Augustine made use of the classical model of the hierarchy of natures, modified so as to integrate the criterion of just actions. This provides a good context for linking human dignity with human free choice, which Augustine once stressed in his early work, De libero arbitrio, and Pelagius took to extremes. This idea resonated in later influential and mature conceptions of human dignity developed in advanced Middle Ages; specifically, in the theory of Bernard of Clairvaux, who defined human dignity through freedom.
In his terminological choices, Augustine, an educated rhetorician, utilized the anthropological meaning of dignitas; however, his commentaries on the soul show that this was not a leading anthropological category for him, but rather one of many possible ways of expressing the phenomenon of human axiological status. Dignitas was also not a uniquely human status for Augustine, since he was ready to discuss the ranks of dignity (gradus dignitatis) specific to various natures, not just human.
All the three discussed Latin writers who shaped the anthropological-axiological debates of the fourth or early fifth century—Ambrose, Jerome and Augustine—were influenced by Cicero. So was Lactantius, who first proposed to name the idea of the hierarchy of honor and virtue with the expression gradus dignitatis Deo iudice. Cicero was the one to use expressions such as praestantia in relation to some human beings and excellentia et dignitas in relation to nature. His Latin style remained a model for generations of Latin writers. However, as pointed out, he never used the exact phrase dignitas hominis, and in the single fragment that prompted him to discuss human praestantia, he stressed that it does not apply to all human beings, nor did he assume it is unearned and unconditional. He also used dignitas in the sense of the fitness of the male bodily form. This ambiguity is perhaps why Ambrose, who modelled one his works after De officiis, was never led to discuss “human dignity,” despite paying much attention to human greatness. Jerome—and, later, Augustine—were the ones to do so, and the monk of Bethlehem takes precedence in that.
Looking back at the writings and translations of Ambrose, Jerome, and Augustine, which coin and employ but do not favor dignitas as a leading anthropological-axiological category, we can ask one final time: what happened in the Western Latin tradition that eventually led to the use of “dignity” as in its principal notion in anthropology? Arguably, the watershed in the European discourse was not defined in the fourth century—hence, it was yet to come.
Hilar. Pict., de trin. 2.25 (SCh 443, 316, linea 1; CCL 62, 61). In order to make the Latin quotations presented in the book uniform, I do not follow CCL insofar as I replace the letter “u” with the letter “v”, where it is orthographically justified.
Hilar. Pict., de trin. 2.25 (SCh 443, 316, linea 16; CCL 62, 61). Cf. Phil 2:8.
Hilar. Pict., de trin. 2.24.
Hier., vir. ill. 124 (CSEA VI/1, 378, lineae 1393–1395): Ambrosius, Mediolanensis episcopus, usque in praesentem diem scribit, de quo, quia superest, meum iudicium subtraham, ne in alterutram partem, aut adulatio in me reprehendatur, aut veritas.
Pope Bonifacius VIII, Gloriosus Deus, 1295; Beda Venerabilis, Epistola responsoria Venerabilis Bedae ad Accam Episcopum (PL 76, 303–308).
M.G. Mara, Ambrose of Milan, in: A. Di Berardino (ed.), Patrology 4: The Golden Age of Latin Patristic Literature: From the Council of Nicaea to the Council of Chalcedon, (Placid Solari trans.), Notre Dame 1991, 144–180; M.G. Mara, Ambrogio di Milano, in: Di Berardino (ed.), 2007, 229–235; C. Markschies, Leone I Magno, in: Döpp / Geerlings / Noce (eds.), 2006, 40–60; M. Starowieyski, Ambroży bp Mediolanu, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 51–62.
Ambr., hex. 5.15,52 (CSEL 32/1, 178, linea 23, and 179, linea 8; two instances of dignitas understood as an office in a primitive community).
Mara, 1991, 153.
Ambr., hex. 6 (CSEL 32/1, 204–261).
Ambr., Cain 1.2,7 (CSEL 31/1, 343, linea 8). The title of “a god” in reference to Moses appears in Ex 7:1.
Ambr., psal. 118.22,14 (CSEL 62, 495, linea 19).
Ambr., Luc. 10 (CCL 14, linea 12).
In today’s editions it is Ps 119:17.
Ambr., psal. 118.22,14 (CSEL 62, 495, lineae 14–17): Sed quia Graecus habet:
Ambr., Abr. 1.7,63 (CSEL 32/1, 543 linea 19): Provocantur feminae meminisse dignitatis suae et lactare filios suos.
Ambr., hex. 6.1,2 (CSEL 32/1, 205, linea 8); 6.9.67 (CSEL 32/1, 254, linea 20).
Ambr., hex. 6.8,52 (CSEL 32/1, 243, linea 23).
Ambr., hex. 6.8,50 (CSEL 32/1, 241, linea 14).
Ambr., hex. 6.8,50. Cf. Iren., her. 4.20.7 (gloria enim Dei vivens homo; SCh 100, 648, linea 180); 1 Cor 11:7.
Ambr., hex. 6.1,2 (CSEL 32/1, 204, lineae 20–21).
Ambr., hex. 6.3,10 (CSEL 32/1, 209, linea 29). This is worth stressing because anthropocentric theories are sometimes interpreted as anti-environmentalist.
Plin., nat. 3.7.
E. Osek, ‘Poznaj samego siebie’ w interpretacji Bazylego Wielkiego, in: Vox Patrum 52 (2008), 762–763. I reconstruct many facts of the subsequent history of the Greek maxim using Ewa Osek’s fabulous research as well as Marius Reiser’s synthetic article: M. Reiser, Poznaj sam siebie: Samopoznanie w starożytności i chrześcijaństwie (H. Ordon trans.), in: Ruch biblijny i Liturgiczny 1 (1991), 1–11.
Men., asp. 198–193; id., kon. 1.1–2; (Ps.)Men., sent. 1.584–585; D. S., bibl. hist. 13.24,5; Plu., cons. Ap. 116c–d.
Reiser, 1991, 1.
Arist., rh. 1395a; X., mem. 4.2,24–27; Philo, legat. 69.1.
X., mem. 4.2,24–27; Plu., adv. Col. 118c; Pl., ap. 23a–b.
Cf. Pl., ap. 23a–c.
Pl., Alc. 1 124a–133c; Prt. 343a–b; Chrm. 164d–165a; Phlb. 48c–49a; Phdr., 229c–230a; ap. 23a–c.
Pl., Alc. 1 131e (me and mine) and 132d (the eye).
Luc., dmort. 2.3; Reiser, 1991, 1–11; E. Jüngel, Tod, Tübingen 1985, 54–74.
Tert., apol. 33.4; Epict., dia. 3.24,85.
Clem. Al., strom. 5.4,23,1.
Epict., ench.3.1,18–19.
Plot., enn. 1.6,9; 4.7,41; 5.3,1–10; 5.3,17.
Cf. Osek, 2008, 769.
Philo, migr. 8.
Deut 4:9, 6:12, 8:11, 11:16, 12:13, 15:9, 24:8, 19:30; Gen 24:6; Ex 10:12, 23:21, 43:12; Tob 4:12, 4:14; Sir 29:20. In providing the list, I rely on a detailed study presented in Osek, 2008, 769. Cf. also 1 Pet 5:8; 2 Cor 13:5.
I quote the New Living Translation.
Clem. Al., strom. 2.15,71.
Or., cant. 10.141–142 (Greek text), 2.5 (Latin text); Cant 1:8.
Cf. Osek, 2008, 769–771, Reiser, 1991, 5.
Ambr., hex. 6.6,39 (CSEL 32/1, 230, linea 8); id., psal. 118 2.13 (CSEL 62, 27, linea 20–24): Nosce te ipsum, quod Apollini Pythio adsignant gentiles viri, quasi ipse auctor fuerit huius sententiae, cum de nostro usurpatum ad sua transferant et longe anterior Moyses fuerit, qui scripsit librum Deuteronomii, quam philosophi qui ista finxerunt.
J. Guerrero van der Meijden, Późnostarożytne apele o rozpoznanie godności ludzkiej. Bazyli z Cezarei Kapadockiej, Ambroży z Mediolanu, Leon Wielki, Mistrz z Werony, in: Vox Patrum 83 (2022), 141–162.
The traditional view assuming the lack of Ambrose’s originality can be found in: F.E. Robbin, The Hexaemeral Literature: A Study of the Greek and Latin Commentaries to Genesis, Chicago 1912, 57; a more moderate standpoint in: T. Krynicka, Hexaemeron Ambrożego z Mediolanu jako źródło do XVII księgi Etymologii Izydora z Sewilli, in: Vox Patrum 48 (2005), 26; A. Aleksiejczuk, Homilie na sześć dni stworzenia świętych Bazylego Wielkiego i Ambrożego z Mediolanu: przyczynek do analizy porównawczej “Heksaemeronów”, in: Acta Patristica 9 (2018), 56–72. As for ancient opinions, Jerome writes that Ambrose compiled both Basil’s Hexaemeron and the commentary to Genesis by Hippolytus of Rome; cf. Hier., ep. 84.7 (PL 22, 749).
Ambr., hex. 6.8,50 (CSEL 32/1, 241, lineae 14–24). Where Ambrose uses the phrase “glory of God” he references Paul’s address to men only, in which a women is called “the glory of a man” (1 Cor 11:7). Initially one is tempted, therefore, to translate homo as “man” in this line, but nonetheless, the context justifies the opposite; that is, an inclusive interpretation of Ambrose’s line as addressed to both men and women. Firstly, Ambrose discussed issues pertaining to women, whom he addressed just a moment before, and secondly, the homilies were spoken to a mixed group of the faithful. There is nothing in this line to suggest the author suddenly addresses men only. Thirdly, when Ambrose addresses men only in the other places, he stresses it explicitly. Fourthly, the phrase “glory of God” already had an inclusive reading in Irenaeus of Lyon’s Adversus haereses. For the discussion of Ambrose’s approach to the value of women, see: D. Kasprzak, Tematyka społeczna w pisamch Ambrożego z Mediolanu, in: Vox Patrum 32 (2012), 279–281; for the thesis that Ambrose did not proclaim the ontological inferiority of women anywhere, see: L.F. Pizzolato, La coppia umana in sant’Ambrogio, in: SPMed 5 (1976), 185.
I briefly describe this phenomenon in: Guerrero van der Meijden, 2002, 405–426.
This provides an identification of Stoic influences on Christianity. For an overall description of the relationship between Stoicism and Christianity, see, e.g.: Rasimus / Engberg-Pedersen / Dunderberg (eds.), 2010.
Ambr., hex. 6.7,42 (CSEL 32/1, 233–234, lineae 15–4; lines across two pages).
Ambr., hex. 6.7,42 (CSEL 32/1, 234, linea 29): Secundum hanc imaginem Adam ante peccatum, sed ubi lapsus est, deposuit imaginem caelestis, sumpsit terrestris effigiem.
Basil. Caes., in ps. 48.8 (PG 29, 452).
Gr. Naz., or. 33 contr. Ar. 12 (PG 36, 229).
Ambr., off. 1.3,11 (CCL 15, 5).
Ambr., hex. 6.8,52 (CSEL 32/1, 243, linea 23).
Ambr., hex. 6.8,53 (CSEL 32/1, 245, linea 10).
Acts 10:34; Rom 2:11; Eph 6:9; Jas 2:1, 2:9; cf. Jude 1:16.
Gal 3:28 (NRSV-CE); cf. Mark 8:36.
B. Degórski, Pojęcie brat w okresie prześladowań chrześcijan, in: Dissertationes Paulinorum 30 (2021), 5–28.
Minuc., oct. 37.11 (BSGR 1982, 35, linea 28).
Minuc., oct. 16.5 (BSGR 1982, 13, lineae 1–3).
Minuc., oct. 17.1 (BSGR 1982, 13, linea 16).
Minuc., oct. 37.10 (BSGR 1982, 35, linea 30).
Minuc., oct. 36.1 (BSGR 1982, 34, lineae 5–6).
Minuc., oct. 16.5 (BSGR, 13, linea 2: ratio et sensus) and 36.1 (BSGR 1982, 34, lineae 4–5: mens libera).
Lact., inst. 5.15,7, (CSEL 19, 448, linea 13). Cf. also other uses of the social meaning of dignitas: e.g., 1.20,6 (CSEL 19, 72, linea 21); 5.1,19 (CSEL 19, 401, linea 18); 5.11,8 (CSEL 19, 434, linea 17).
Lact., inst. 5.15,6 (CSEL 19, 448, linea 9: gradus dignitatis Deo iudice). Having followed a distinction between the noble (yet selective) dignitas Christiana and the universal and unconditional dignitas hominis, I agree with Volp’s suggestion that Lactantius reinterpreted dignitas Romana; cf. Volp, 2006, 360: “Minucius Felix, Laktanz und Ambrosius verwenden den altrömischen dignitas-Begriff zunächst vor allem negativ, um das Neue des christlichen Wertekosmos Auszudrücken […].” Cf. also p. 219, where Volp comments again on the one use by Lactantius.
Cypr., ep. 39.3 (CCL 3A, 583, linea 16).
Cypr., ep. 39.3 (CCL 3A, 583, lineae 18–23).
Novatian., ep. 30.4 (CCL 4, linea 111).
Lucif., moriend. 4 (CCL 8, linea 73).
Philastr., div. her. 150 (CCL 9, lineae 38–45).
Ambrosiast., ad Cor. 1.15,41,1, (CSEL 81/2, 179–180, lineae 22–26).
Hilar. Pict., psal. 131.23 (CCL 61B, 127, linea 1).
Hilar. Pict., psal. 64.5 (CCL 61, 227, linea 22).
Hilar. Pict., comm. in Matth. 2.3 (SCh 254, 106, linea 7). It is worth stressing here that Hilary talks about the dignity of the origins in the contexts of Sadducees and Pharisees, not of the origins of humankind.
Hier., ep. 14.9 (CSEL 54, 58, linea 3).
August., civ. 22.19 (CSEL 40/2, 631).
Iulianus Toletanus, progn. 3.22 (CCL 115, 96, lineae 9–12): Non enim, ut idem doctor egregius ait, deformitas in eisdem corporibus, sed dignitas erit, et quaedam, quamvis in corpore, non corporis sed virtutis pulchritudo fulgebit.
August., agon. 12.13 (CSEL 41, 117, linea 3).
August., corrept. 1.13,39 (CSEL 92, 267; PL 44, col. 940, linea 21): Haec de his loquor, qui praedestinati sunt in regnum Dei, quorum ita certus est numerus, ut nec addatur eis quisquam, nec minuatur ex eis: non de his qui, cum annuntiasset et locutus esset, multiplicati sunt super numerum.
Such a view is suggested by some commentators. Dignitas Christiana does not, however, exhaust ancient Christian views on dignity, which include a discussion of universal dignitas hominis. I will return to the discussion of such ideas in the conclusions contained in Chapter Six. The quoted ancient opinions demonstrate that interpreting dignitas Christiana to mean ecclesiastical office amounts to an unwarranted reduction.
Ambr., hex. 6.8,52.
Ibidem.
Ambr., Abr. 1.7,63 (CSEL 32/1, 543, linea 19).
Hilar. Pict., psal. 131.24 (CCL 61B, 128, linea 9): Quanta viduarum dignitas est […]!
Ambr., off. 2.28,140–141 (CCL 15, 148).
Basil. Caes., att. t. i. 5 (PG 31, 212).
Ambr., hex. 6.8,51.
Ambr., hex. 3.12,49 (CSEL 32/1, 91, linea 20).
Ambr., hex. 6.2,3 (CSEL 32/1, 205, linea 19).
Ambr., hex. 2.5,19 (CSEL 32/1, 57, linea 22): Imago est enim invisibilis Dei filius.
Col 1:15: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation” (NRSV-CE).
Ambr., hex. 3.7,31–32 (CSEL 32/1, 80); 5.12,41 (CSEL 32/1, 173); 6.7,40–46 (CSEL 32/1, 231–235).
Ambr., hex. 3.7,3; 6.7,40–41.
Ambr., hex. 6.8,46 (CSEL 32/1, 237, lineae 5–6): Et multo aptius anima vel homo Latine vel Graece
Ambr., hex. 6.8,52 (CSEL 32/1, 243, linea 23).
Ambr., hex. 1.5,19 (CSEL 32/1, 15, lineae 18–19).
Ambr., hex. 6.10,3 (CSEL 32/1, 210, linea 7).
Ambr., hex. 6.10,3 (CSEL 32/1, 210, linea 14).
Ambr., hex. 6.3–6 (CSEL 32/1, 209–231).
Ambr., hex. 6.9 (CSEL 32/1, 246–260).
On microcosmic theories, cf. J. Kiełbasa, Człowiek jako mikrokosmos w myśli średniowiecza, in: M. Karas (ed.), Historia filozofii: Meandry kultury, Cracow 2014, 145–158; J. Guerrero van der Meijden, Człowiek jako mały świat: Filon z Aleksandrii, Nemezjusz z Emezy, Grzegorz z Nyssy, Edyta Stein. Czy mikrokosmiczność uchybia godności człowieka?, in: J. Machnacz (ed.), Edyta Stein: Fenomenologia getyńsko-monachijska, Wrocław 2016, 13–22; J. Guerrero van der Meijden, The Origins of the Concept of Microcosm, in: ead., 2019, 155–163.
Ambr., hex. 6.9,55 (CSEL 32/1, 246, linea 15).
Guerrero van der Meijden, 2016, 13–22.
Ambr., hex. 6.9,54 (CSEL 32/1, 246, linea 7). Cf. the title of the ninth chapter: De corporis humani praestantia […].
Ambr., hex. 6.95,6 (CSEL 32/1, 247, linea 22).
Ambr., off. 1.452,21 (CCL 15, 81, lineae 28–32).
Cic., off. 1.130 (LCL 30, 130–132); Tert., res. 5.2 (CCL 2, 926, linea 14: dignitas carnis). On Tertullian’s idea of dignitas carnis, cf. M. Wysocki, Godność ludzkiego ciała w dziele Tertuliana “O zmartwychwstaniu ciała”—wybrane fragmenty, in: Forum Teologiczne 10 (2019), 215–228.
Ambr., hex. 6.8,44–45.
Ambr., off. 1.45–46 (CCL 15, 81–82).
Ambr., off. 1.46,222 (CCL 15, 82, lineae 2–8).
Ambr., off. 1.46,223 (CCL 15, 82, lineae 9–10).
Ambr., off. 1.45,220 (CCL 15, 81, lineae 9–10).
Ambr., psal. 118.22,14 (CSEL 62, 495, linea 22).
Ambr., psal. 118.22,14–15 (CSEL 62, 495–496).
Ambr., psal. 118.22,15 (CSEL 62, 495–496, lineae 24–5 [lines across two pages]).
Ambr., hex. 5.15,52 (CSEL 32/1, 178, lineae 23–24; 179, linea 8).
Ruf., apol. 1.4.
Ambrose of Milan, ep. 50.
Benedict XVI, Saint Chromatius of Aquileia, in: id., Church Fathers: From Clement of Rome to Augustine, San Francisco 2008, 155–160; T.P. Scheck, Life and Career of Chromatius of Aquileia, in: Chromatius of Aquileia: Sermons and Tractates on Matthew (T.P. Scheck trans.), New York 2018, 289–362 (loc. e-book); M. Starowieyski, Chromacjusz, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 241–242; B. Studer, Chromatius of Aquileia, in: Di Berardino (ed.), 1991, 572–574.
C. Cerami, Le beatitudini in Cromazio d’Aquileia e Leone Magno, in: Laurentianum 59 (2018), 399–423.
Chromat., serm. 2.4 (CCL 9A, 9, linea 53).
Chromat., serm. 23.3 (CCL 9A, 106, linea 81); id., Mat. 1.1 (CCL 9A, 193, linea 24).
Chromat., Mat. 57.78 (CCL 9A, 485, linea 78).
Chromat., serm. 41.3 (CCL 9A, 177, lineae 73–74).
Chromat., Mat. 57.3 (CCL 9A, 485, lineae 82–83).
Chromat., serm. 41.7 (CCL 9A, 178, lineae 112–113).
A. Capone, Introduzione, 14 in: id. (ed.), Hieronymus, Tractatus 59 in psalmos (1–115). Homilia in psalmum 41 ad neophytos, Rome 2018.
I have first described this use in: J. Guerrero van der Meijden, Utworzenie kategorii godności człowieka (dignitas hominis) przez Hieronima ze Strydonu, in: Vox Patrum 87 (2023), 135–154. Selected parts from this chapter are identical to the contents of the Polish article.
G. Morin (ed.), Jerome of Stridon, Tractatus LIX in psalmos, CCL 78, Turnhout 1958. Previously published as: Jerome of Stridon, Tractatus sive homiliae in psalmos, in Marci evangelium aliaque varia argumenta, Oxford 1897, 1–316, and Tractatus novissime reperti, Oxford 1903, 1–94. Before Morin’s work on the psalms, the texts were part of PL 26 (published in 1845).
V. Peri, Omelie origeniane sui Salmi: Contributo all’identificazione del testo latino, Vatican 1980; id., ‘Correptores immo corruptores’: Un saggio di critica testuale nella Roma del XII secolo, in: IMU 20 (1977), 19–125.
Orygenes / Hieronim, Homilie o księdze psalmów (St. Kalinkowski trans.), Cracow 2004. In his introduction to this volume, Adam Bandura provides arguments for treating Origen as an author and Jerome as merely a translator and editor.
Capone, 2018, 9–23; A. Capone (ed.), Hieronymus, Tractatus 59 in psalmos (119–149). Tractatus is psalmos series altera, Rome 2018; Perrone / Molin Pradel / Prinzivalli / Cacciari (eds.), 2015; J.W. Trigg, Introduction, in: Origen of Alexandria, Homilies on the Psalms: Codex Monacensis Graecus 314 (J.W. Trigg trans.), Washington 2020, 3–5; L. Perrone, Discovering Origen’s Lost Homilies on the Psalms, in: Piscitelli (ed.), 2012 19–46.
On Jerome’s cave in Bethlehem, cf. J. Murphy-O’Connor, Oxford Archeological Guide to the Holy Land, Oxford 2008, 233. On the monasteries in Bethlehem and Jerome’s life in them, cf. J. Kelly, Jerome: His Life, Writings and Controversies, New York 1975, 129–130.
Capone, 2018, 12–14.
Hier., vir. ill. 100 (CSEA VI/1, 364, lineae 1264–1268).
G. Stefanelli, Cristiani, giudei e pagani: lessico, esegesi e polemica nei Tractatus in Psalmos di Girolamo, in: Aug. 57 (2017), 81–104; Capone, 2018, 13. Even though Capone describes many uncertainties concerning the dating of Jerome’s commentary to the psalms, he is quite certain about the homily on Psalm 81.
Hier., trac. in ps. 81.1 (HO 9/1, 230).
Or., in ps. 81.1 (GCS 19, 510–511, lineae 5–15).
Or., in ps. 81.2 (GCS 19, 513, lineae 7–9):
Hier., trac. in ps. 81.1 (HO 9/1, 234).
Hier., trac. in ps. 81.6 (HO 9/1, 234).
Or., in ps. 81.1 (GCS 19, 512, linea 8). Cf. J. Guerrero van der Meijden, The Three Dimensions of a Human Being: Origen, in: Guerrero van der Meijden, 2019, 88. The chapter lists the threefold anthropological models among the Church Fathers.
Hier., trac. in ps. 81.6 (HO 9/1, 234).
Hier., trac. in ps. 81.6 (HO 9/1, 234).
Hier., trac. in ps. 81.6 (HO 9/1, 234).
Hier., trac. in ps. 81.7.
Or., in ps. 81.1–2.
Or., princ. 3.6,1 (GCS 22, 280, lineae 12 and 15).
Kelly, 1975, 12; H. Hagendahl, Latin Fathers and the Classics: A Study on the Apologists, Jerome, and other Christian Writers, Gothenburg 1958, 150–155.284–292.309–311. Hagendahl, 292, estimates that the quotations of Cicero’s philosophical writings increased in the later years of Jerome’s life, peaking in the year 402. He therefore finds Jerome’s declarative denial of the classical heritage not to be credible.
Cic., off. 1.106–107 (LCL 30, 108): Ex quo intellegitur corporis voluptatem non satis esse dignam hominis praestantia, eamque contemni et reici oportere; sin sit quispiam, qui aliquid tribuat voluptati, diligenter ei tenendum esse eius fruendae modum. Itaque victus cultusque corporis ad valetudinem referatur et ad vires, non ad voluptatem. Atque etiam si considerare volumus, quae sit in natura excellentia et dignitas, intellegemus, quam sit turpe diffluere luxuria et delicate ac molliter vivere quamque honestum parce, continenter, severe, sobrie. Intellegendum etiam est duabus quasi nos a natura indutos esse personis; quarum una communis est ex eo, quod omnes participes sumus rationis praestantiaeque eius, qua antecellimus bestiis, a qua omne honestum decorumque trahitur, et ex qua ratio inveniendi officii exquiritur, altera autem, quae proprie singulis est tributa. Ut enim in corporibus magnae dissimilitudines sunt (alios videmus velocitate ad cursum, alios viribus ad luctandum valere, itemque in formis aliis dignitatem inesse, aliis venustatem), sic in animis exsistunt maiores etiam varietates. In other works, Cicero uses a social meaning of dignitas; cf. inv. 2.160: Iustitia est habitus animi communi utilitate conservata suam cuique attribuens dignitatem; 2.166: Dignitas est alicuius honesta et honore et verecundia digna auctoritas.; 2.161: Observantia per quam homines aliqua dignitate antecedentes cultu quodam et honore dignantur. On the concept of dignity in Cicero, cf. J. Lössl, The Pre-Christian Concept of Human Dignity in Greek and Roman Antiquity, in: Loughlin (ed.), 2019, 37–56.
Commentators observed that the possessive pronoun nostra was placed before natura in the fourteenth century manuscripts and does not originate from Cicero. Cf. K. Harper, Christianity and the Roots of Human Dignity, in: T.S. Shah / A.D. Hertzke (eds.), Christianity and Freedom, Cambridge 2016, 127–128: “It is not priggish to note that Cicero never quite says ‘the dignity of man’—as a textual note, the ‘our’ (nostra) preceding nature is an editorial supplement; some modern commentaries supply ‘of man’ after dignity, but that textual variant is attested only from fourteenth century manuscripts on.”
Cic., off. 1.105 (LCL 30, 106). J.G.M. trans.
Cic., rep. 3.36–37.
Cic., off. 1.107 (LCL 30, 108).
Cic., off. 1.130 (LCL 30, 130–132).
Tert., res. 5.2 (CCL 2, 926, linea 14). On Tertullian’s idea of dignitas carnis, cf. M. Wysocki, Godność ludzkiego ciała w dziele Tertuliana “O zmartwychwstaniu ciała”—wybrane fragmenty, in: Forum Teologiczne 10 (2019), 215–228.
Hier., trac. in ps. 148.3 (HO 9/2, 182).
Hier., trac. in ps. 148.6.
Hier., trac. in ps. 148.6 (HO 9/2, 184).
Hier., trac. in ps. 115.16 (HO 9/1, 518).
Capone, 2018, 13.
Hier., trac. in ps. 133.1 (HO 9/2, 72).
Hier., hom. in Io. Ev. 2 (CCL 78, 517, linea 24).
Hier., trac. in ps. 133.1 (HO 9/2, 72).
Basil. Caes., in ps. 32.1 (PG 31, 324).
Hier., ep. 14.9 (CSEL 54, 58, linea 3).
Decretum magistri Gratiani, pars 2, causa 2, q. 7, canon 29, textus; Peter Abelard, Sic et non, q. 106, sententia 20, and q. 141, sententia 5; John Wycliff, Tractatus de civili dominio (Summa theologiae, III–V), lib. 2, cap. 9.
Gal 3:23; Rom 2:1; Jas 2:1; Jas 2:9; Jude 1:16.
Hier., trac. in ps. 140.4.
Hier., trac. in ps. 98.6 (HO 9/1, 388).
Hier., ep. 124.14.
Hier., ep. 58.5 (honos, an alternative form of honor); ep. 66.7 (dignitas); ep. 69.5; 69.9 (dignus, dignitas); c. Ioan. 8; 12; 37; 38.
Hier., Is. 2.4 (VL 23, 223, linea 7: dignitas bellatorum); 4.2 (VL 23, 400, linea 36: dignitas imperii); 13.24 (VL 35, 1438, linea 45: aetas, sex, dignitas); id., Ezech. 7.23 (CCL 75, linea 1031: dignitas regis et iudicum); 13.42 (CCL 45, linea 333: dignitas sacerdotalis); 14.44 (CCL 75, linea 1878: dignitas sacerdotum); 14.45 (CCL 75, linea 234: dignitas sacerdotalis); id., Ion. 3 (CCL 76A, linea 225: dignitas militantium).
Hier., ep. 133.2.
Hier., ep. 133.2.
Hier., ep. 133.2.
See Chapter Two in this monograph, section Gregory of Nazianzus, subsection Dignity of the Microcosm Binding the Earthly and the Divine.
R. Weber / R. Gryson (eds.), Biblia Sacra Vulgata, Stuttgart 2007, XXXIII (subsequent footnote references to the Vulgate Bible [vulg.] provide the page numbers from this edition, while the biblical references concerned appear in the main text); M. Graves, Jerome’s Hebrew Philology: A Study Based on his Commentary on Jeremiah, Leiden 2007, 196–198; Benedict XVI, 2008, 133–143; J. Gribomont, The Translations: Jerome and Rufinus, in: Di Berardino (ed.), 1991, 195–245; Kelly, 1975, 15–14.50.
Benedict XIV, De servorum Dei beatificatione et beatorum canonizatione, lib. IV, pars II, cap. 11.
Vulg. 776.
Vulg. 829.
Hier., qu. Hebr. Gen. 1–2.
Parts of this discussion of Augustine of Hippo’s views are an edited part of a chapter of my book Person and Dignity (Guerrero van der Meijden, 2019, 274–281). I thank Albrecht Doehnert from De Gruyter for the permission to reprint.
P.B. Wodrazka, Eminente Dottrina: La procedura per il confirmento del titolo di Dottore della Chiesa, Verona 2019, 20–23.
August., enchir. 10–13.
E.g., in August., trin. 4.1,3; 9.7,12–13; 12.2,2–12.3,3; 14.23–15.24; 15.10,17–15.11,20; civ. 11.15–16; solil. 1.8,15.
August., lib. 3.5,15–16; cf. also 3.20,56 and 3.22,65.
A. Trapè, Saint Augustine, in: Di Berardino (ed.), 1991, 363; J. van Oort, De civitate Dei, in: V.H. Drecoll (ed.), Augustin Handbuch, Tübingen 2007, 349.
August., civ. 8.15 (CSEL 40/1, 380, lineae 10–11).
August., civ. 11.16 (CSEL 40/1, 535, lineae 23–24).
August., civ. 10.12 (CSEL 40/1, 468, lineae 25–27). Cf. (Ps.)Apul., Asc. 6 (CCCM 143, 179, linea 101).
There is a debate concerning the chronology of Augustine works; nonetheless, we can situate De civitate Dei between 413–426 (books I–III, in which the expression dignitas humana is utilized, were completed in 413 or 414), and as for De Trinitate, only books I–XII were written between 399–413, and later books (in particular book XIV, in which dignitas is used as an anthropological concept) were not written before 419. Cf. Trapè, 1991, 363.371; J. Brachtendorf, De Trinitate, in: Drecoll (ed), 2007, 363–377; van Oort, 2007, 349; Starowieyski, Augustyn z Hippony, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 138, 140; R. Chevalier, Saint Augustin et la pensée grecque: Les relations trinitaires, Fribourg 1940, 15–28.
The number of Augustine’s works is usually repeated based on the partial list put forward by a contemporary to Augustine and his colleague, Possidius of Calama, who wrote the Saint’s first biography. Possidius named 1030 works, remarking that his list was not exhaustive. Indeed, some of the surviving works are not included in it. Augustine’s Retractationes also includes a list of Augustine’s works. Cf. Trapè, 1991, 55–365.
E.g. Anselm of Canterbury (Monologion), Pseudo-Bonaventure (De imagine Dei).
August., trin. 7.6,12.
Gen 1:26, NRSV-CE trans.
August., trin. 9; 10.
August., trin. 14.2,4.
Iren., haer. 6.1; cf. also 5.35,2.
August., trin. 14.2,4 (CCL 50A, 425): Mens quippe humana cum fidem suam videt, qua credit quod non videt, non aliquid sempiternum videt. Non enim semper hoc erit, quod utique non erit, quando ista peregrinatione finita, qua peregrinamur a Domino, ut per fidem ambulare necesse sit, species illa succedet, per quam videbimus facie ad faciem (1 Cor 13,12): sicut modo non videntes, tamen quia credimus, videre merebimur, atque ad speciem nos per fidem perductos esse gaudebimus.
August., trin. 7.10.
August., trin. 12.7,12. Cf. Eph 4:24–24. Compare August., trin. 12.4,3–4.
Gal 3:28, NRSV-CE trans. August., trin. 12.7,12.
August., quaest. 46.2; id., serm. 88.6; id., solil. 1.6,12. For a commentary to Augustine’s theory of contemplating God, cf. J. Guerrero van der Meijden, Augustyńska koncepcja rationes aeternae a badania Edyty Stein nad zagadnieniem sensu, in: Zeszyty Naukowe Centrum Badań im. Edyty Stein 15 (2016), 179–190.
August., serm. 88.6 (PL 38, 542).
August., trin. 12.11,16 (CCL 50, 370).
August., civ. 11.26 (CSEL 40/1, 550): Et nos quidem in nobis, tametsi non aequalem, immo valde longeque distantem, neque coaeternam et, quo brevius totum dicitur, non eiusdem substantiae, cuius Deus est, tamen qua Deo nihil sit in rebus ab eo factis natura propinquius, imaginem Dei, hoc est illius summae trinitatis, agnoscimus, adhuc reformatione perficiendam, ut sit etiam similitudine proxima.
August., trin. 14.14,20 (CCL 50A, 448).
August., trin. 14.14,20 (CCL 50A, 448).
August., trin. 14.4,6 (CCL 50A, 429).
August., trin. 12.11,16 (CCL 50, 370).
Ibidem. In this passage Augustine refers to Psalm 49, in particular to verses 12–14, comparing a man to a beast: “People, despite their wealth, do not endure; they are like the beasts that perish. This is the fate of those who trust in themselves, and of their followers, who approve their sayings. They are like sheep and are destined to die; death will be their shepherd.”
August., trin. 12.11,16.
August., trin. 14.14 (CCL 50A, 446, linea 18).
August., trin. 14.16,22 (CCL 50A, 452).
August., trin. 14.4,6; 14.8,11.
August., civ. 12.1–8.
August., trin. 14.4,6 (CCL 50A, 428).
August., trin. 12.11,16 (CCL 50, 370).
August., civ. 11.15 (CSEL 40/1, 535): […] quanto magis angelica creatura, quae omnia cetera, quae Deus condidit, naturae dignitate praecedit!
August., trin. 14.14,20 (CCL 50A, 448).
August., lib. 3.5,15–16. Cf. Lact., inst. 5.15,6 (CSEL 19, 448, linea 9).
August., civ. 11.16 (CSEL 40/1, 535).
August., civ. 11.16 (CSEL 40/1, 536). Cf. id., trin., 13.17,22, where Augustine argues that no demon should be seen as superior to the human being.
August., lib. 3.22,65. Later, around 413, Pelagius took this thought to extremes, arguing that human honor and dignity comprise in free choice understood as a capacity to choose between two alternatives, good and evil. Pelagius, Epistola ad Demetriadem, 2.
August., civ. 2.29 (CSEL 40/1, 108).
August., lib. 3.5,15–16.
August., serm. ad pop. 380.6 (REAug 61 [2015], 265, linea 199).
Ibidem.
Alcuin of York, Commentaria in sancti Iohannis Evangelium, col. 787, linea 31; Hermannus of Runa, Sermones festivales, sermo 70, linea 113.
Eus. Gall., hom. 24.7 (CCL 101, 286, lineae 147–149); Stephan of Bourbon, Tractatus de diversis materiis praedicabilibus, pars I, titulus 8, cap. 9.
J.A. Cabrera, Schiavitù, in: Di Berardino (ed.), 2008, 4776–4778; C.L. de Wet, The Punishment of Slaves in Early Christianity: The Views of Some Selected Church Fathers, in: Acta Theologica 23 (2016), 263–282.
August., civ. 19.15.
Ibidem.
August., psal. 102.14.
August., Gal. 64 (CSEL 84, 141, linea 9).
De Wet, 2016, 267.
M. Starowieyski, Proba, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 830; N. Natalucci, La datazione, in: ead. (ed), Egeria, Itinerarium Egeriae, Firenze 1991, 37–43; M. Starowieyski, Egeria, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 303–304.
M. Starowieyski, Perpetuy i Felicity męczeństwo, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 803.
A. Badini / A. Rizzi (eds.), Proba, Il centone, Bologna 2011.
Cf. Egeria, Itinerarium (BP 17).
Proba, cent. 118 (BP 47, 86).
Proba, cent. 349 (BP 47, 108).
Proba, cent. 119 (BP 47, 86).
Proba, cent. 120 (BP 47, 86).
Proba, cent. 233 (BP 47, 96).
August., civ. 22.33.
Proba, cent. 155–156 (BP 47, 88).
On Proba’s approach to femininity, largely informed by Virgil’s negative approach to women, see E.A. Clark, Faltonia Betitia Proba and her Virgilian Poem: The Christian Matron as Artist, in: ead., Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith: Essays on Late Ancient Christianity, New York 1986, 124–152.
Hier., ep. 53.7 (PL 22, 544); Augustine of Hippo, Epistula 130 (ad Probam) (CSEL 44, 40–70); John Chrysostom, Epistulae 169–170 (PG 52, 710). Jerome simply offended Proba by calling her “a talkative granny” (garrula anus).
P. Wilson-Kastner, A Lost Tradition: Women Writers of the Early Church, Washington 1982; A. Stępniewska, Matki Ojców Kościoła, Lublin 2015.
P. Nol., ep. 29.6 (CSEL 34/2, 251, linea 26).
P. Nol., ep. 29.6 (CSEL 34/2, 251, linea 20).
P. Nol., ep. 29.6, (CSEL 34/2, 251, lineae 21–22).
P. Nol., ep. 29.6 (CSEL 34/2, 251, linea 25).
P. Nol., ep. 29.6 (CSEL 34/2, 252, lineae 6–7).
L. Mirri, La dolcezza nella lotta: Donne e ascesi secondo Girolamo, Bose 1996, 149–167; B. Degórski, Starochrześcijańskie mniszki czasów św. Hieronima, in: Hieronim, Listy do Eustochium (B. Degórski trans.), Cracow 2004, 11–50; Stępniewska, 2015, 92.
Hier., ep. 127.8 (PL 22, 1092); Stępniewska, 2015, 105.