ACTS OF THE FLORIDIAN MARTYRS

 

As time goes on, the devotees of Donald Trump, particularly those invested in QAnon conspiracy theories, increasingly display the characteristics of an emerging religious movement. That religion in general should be an influential factor in Trump supporters is not surprising, given his popularity with conservative Evangelicals and Catholics. Many of those, at least at first, overlooked Trump’s very obvious moral failings in hopes of advancing their long-term agenda of transforming the American judiciary. At the time of Trump’s election, I wrote about how his Christian supporters might come to view him as a new Constantine, the 4^th century CE Roman emperor who legalized Christianity in the wake of the so-called “Great Persecution.” That dream was perhaps premature, since it has led to mixed results, with many conservative Christians in America still indulging a well-documented “persecution complex,” in which they imagine themselves oppressed by government policy and changing cultural norms.  

Indeed, it is remarkable how much the narratives around Trump resonate with and exploit deeply rooted ideological tendencies from the Christian past. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty of the global pandemic, many of his supporters did a deep dive into the QAnon rabbit-hole, entering a theological fever-dream in which Trump is an American Messiah, engaged in a clandestine holy war against Democratic demons and child-eating Hollywood elites. Much of this has strong parallels to early Christian apocalypticism as expressed in the New Testament. Yet, like many messianic figures of the past, Trump’s attempt to overturn the established order ended in failure and defeat. Predictably, like their early Christian forerunners, Trump’s followers have turned his defeat into a hidden victory, albeit one postponed to the President’s eventual triumphant Second Coming.   

Now, while they bide their time, Trump’s pious acolytes again suffer at the hands of the diabolical Dems, as President Biden, a veritable “second Nero,” aims to force his subjects to be injected with the “mark of the beast.” As such, right on cue, the unvaccinated masses are now primed to cast themselves as a new generation of martyrs—dying for a righteous, although highly preventable, cause. Modern scholars have debated the extent to which early Christians were actually put to death for their membership in the Christian movement. What cannot be doubted, however, is how successfully early Christians used martyrdom stories as a means of recruitment and mobilization. The proliferation of early Christian “martyr acts,” which recount the alleged executions in often excruciating detail, attest to the popularity and influence such stories had in the shaping of the new religion. One can only imagine how, given enough time and hagiographic reflection, a future Acts of the Floridian Martyrs* will recount the dark and desperate times in which we live.   

*This is an allusion to the Acts of the Scillitan Martyrs, one of the earliest early Christian martyr texts from Roman North Africa.

CONTEXTUALIZING QANON: THE NEW AMERICAN MILLENARIANISM

 

QAnon’s cryptic predictions and counter-intuitive analysis of reality read like something from a Philip K. Dick novel. In the late author’s 1974 semi-autobiographical work, Valis, the protagonist experiences a series of visions which he along with his friends interpret to reveal hidden realities of alien intelligence, political scandal, and gnostic wisdom. In fact, Dick was inspired by his own revelatory experiences—which occurred after a visit to the dentist’s office—and which contained imagery and motifs from early Christian sectarian groups that claimed to possess a secret hermeneutical key to the true nature of the cosmos.[1]

For the acolytes of QAnon, an equally “gnostic” vision of reality has been unveiled by the obscure utterances of their original online oracle. Although much debated by modern scholars,[2] the basic premise of the “gnostic” worldview, of which there were many versions in antiquity, asserts that experiential reality is not what it appears. The world we perceive is, in fact, a prison constructed by demonic powers as a means to enslave the eternal essence of the soul. Only a small spiritual elite are blessed with special revealed knowledge—gnosis—that unmasks this monumental cosmic deception.

This sort of revisionist reading of reality is very much the basis of the QAnon gospel being carried by its missionaries through the furthest reaches of the digital world. It would appear that a not-insignificant number of people—predominately Trump supporters and conservative Christians—believe (among other things) that the “real” cause of the crisis of 2020 is a subterranean religious war being waged by US soldiers against legions of Illuminati demons who torture and abuse children for the purpose of producing a highly addictive drug called adrenochrome used by liberal and Hollywood elites, such as the Clintons and Tom Hanks. The current version of QAnon builds upon the Pizzagate conspiracy theory of 2016, which alleged that senior US Democrats operated a child sex trafficking ring out of a Washington DC pizzeria, although it has now morphed into a far more expansive and eschatological narrative.[3]

One YouTube video, posted by QAnon evangelist “Blessed To Teach” constitutes a kind of Credo or Confession of Faith, punctuated as it is by a series of “I believe” statements. What does “Blessed To Teach” believe? He believes that “a cabal of secret societies has controlled the world for over 200 years” and that a deep state/shadow government is working to destroy America. However, almighty God is now intervening in history, although this is being obscured by a world media that repeats the cabal’s talking points. By the way, all religions other than Christianity are false, since salvation comes “by faith alone.” Even though George Soros is funding socialists to destroy the great nation, God has raised up an army of “Red Pill Christian Patriots” to defeat the Deep State. Beware! Infidels, for military tribunals will be established once victory is achieved under “an anointed” Donald J. Trump. Yes, you read that right! An “anointed” Donald Trump. Such a statement explicitly cast Trump as a Messiah and Christ-figure.

President Donald Trump, for his part, is also cast as a kind of radical Christian caliph, deputized by the “One TRUE Living God” to wage war against the liberal infidels covertly destroying a once great and holy nation. In the case of Trump, things are also not what they seem. The President’s tweets, far from being the shambolic ramblings of an idiotic man-child, are in fact the encoded words of a Christian oracle, the meaning of which only true believers can divine. Numerous online message boards contain the QAnonners detailed exegesis and commentary on the President’s every fragmented utterance.  

The Gospel of QAnon is a curious amalgam of sex scandal, anti-government protest, survivalist mentality, science fiction, biblical religion, and military ethos. In fact, the so-called “Q” gains his authority by claiming to be a senior military officer, although the apocalyptic narrative that has evolved out of his encoded “Q-Drops” are about what you’d expect from an Evangelically funded Predator film. The “White Hat” forces are alleged to have access to advanced technologies such as “Magnetic Levitating Trains (MAGLEVS) and time travel. In combination, all of these ingredients make for a uniquely American brand of heresy and represents the “cult” of Trump in its most extreme form.

Academics, however, are not supposed to use words like “heresy” and “cult.” QAnon would more aptly be characterized as a new religious movement or millenarian sect.[4] In fact, the eschatological dimensions of QAnon are not to be underestimated. Its adherents believe themselves to be on the cusp of a pivot point in cosmic history—a “Great Awakening”—when the powerful forces of White, Christian purity (the “Red Pill Christian Patriots”) will save the great “shining city on a hill” from the dark, demonic masses that threaten to overwhelm it, also known as “the Satanics” or the “Ancient Evil Nephilim Bloodlines of Cain.” After all, are there not riots in the streets? Are people not dying in droves? Are there not earthquakes, fires, and famines? Indeed, “wars and rumours of wars”[5] is what is alleged, while the realities of climate change, mass migration, and political upheaval are all fit into a complex theological framework.

Early Christians also speculated about an overturning of their contemporary cosmo-political order using imagery of fantastic beasts, demons, and holy war. Just look at the Apocalypse of John, the final book of the New Testament. Biblical scholars have long understood that this work, like many texts written in the same genre, is more a critique of the author’s contemporary political context than a prediction of some future End of Days. It is an encoded, first-century CE critique of Roman imperial power. Nonetheless, John’s apocalypse (also popularly known as Revelations) has often been interpreted as a scriptural key to how the world will end. Early Christian readers of the work thought that the End Times were eminent, and ever since Christian groups have periodically arisen to proclaim that the Hour is at hand. Usually, these millenarian sects appear in times of crisis, and times of crisis these certainly are. In fact, the Apocalypse of John was not widely accepted into the emerging New Testament canon until well into the 4th century CE. Many early Christian leaders thought the text encouraged worrisome eschatological impulses that the institutional church found difficult to control. QAnon, for its part, is not so much a “church” (in a sociological sense) but a loosely connected network of online commentators. Even though it was birthed in a matrix of Evangelical fundamentalism[6] and Republican extremism (a phenomenon one might well describe as “American Liberty Religion”) QAnonners are under no recognizable institutional framework. Even though they themselves might assert that their so-called “White Hats” represent a finely tuned crusader force carrying out complex operations in an underground hellscape.

In a sense, the QAnon vision represents an act of imaginary insurrection, except for the fact that it has inspired real acts of violence.[7] For most believers, presumably, it is a discursive universe in which panicked conservative Christians can live out their most violent fantasies of overthrowing a tyrannical government, unmasking the Deep State, restoring white supremacy, “saving the children,” and “owning the Libs,” all while doing God’s holy work. 

It is no surprise that so much of the QAnon narrative relies upon rumors of sexual abuse and misconduct. This rhetorical strategy also has a long history. In the 2nd century BCE, Roman Republican authorities sought to suppress the celebration of the bacchanalia festival due to reports that the revelers practiced incest, ritual murder, and cannibalism. What conservative Romans were likely more worried about was the fact that the participants transgressed traditional social hierarchies around class, status, and gender. Slaves ordered around their masters, while women behaved like men. Such subversion simply would not do. So, the whole proceedings were caste in the rhetorical trappings of a proto-satanic cult. Similarly, early Christians themselves faced the same sorts of accusations as their Roman neighbors caught wind of their eucharistic language of body and blood. Such horrific tropes have been routinely applied countless times in moments of historical crisis and change as a means to undermine the Other and maintain the status quo.

Another aspect of QAnon that is worthy of considering has to do with the nature of mythmaking itself. Many ancient myth stories have what is known as an “aetiological” agenda. That is, they are intended to explain aspects of the world that the storytellers and their hearers find otherwise inexplainable. One well known example is the story of Demeter and Persephone. According to Graeco-Roman tradition, when Persephone, the daughter of Demeter (the “Earth Mother”) was lured away to the Underworld by Hades, the earth became infertile as her mother mourned. Eventually, an arrangement is worked out whereby Persephone can split her time between the upper and lower worlds, thereby allowing the crops to grow. This story has often been interpreted as a pre-scientific attempt to explain the cycle of the seasons.

There is a decidedly aetiological dimension to much of the QAnon conspiracy. Promoters such as “Gene Decode” create YouTube videos filled with images of vast military installations and pieces of infrastructure, correlated with natural disasters and climatic events. All this information is then fit into the explanatory model of the “Under Earth War.” As such, QAnonners, who appear otherwise ill-equipped to makes sense of the world around them, rely on an aetiological interpretation based on a hybrid set of conspiratorial constructs.  

All of this reminds me of another ancient aetiology, as a somewhat similar apocalyptic narrative is attested during Late Antiquity. Drawing on legends that widely circulated about Alexander of Great, it was believed that the Macedonian king had imprisoned the demonic, biblical tribes of Gog and Magog behind the “Gates of the North.” These gates, it was thought, would be opened at the end of time as part of a great eschatological battle. Some historians have wondered if this idea of the “Gates of the North” was based on an imaginative aetiological explanation for the remains of Sassanian fortification structures, such as those still present at Derbent, whose purpose people at the time could no longer explain. 

QAnon’s sudden resurgence may seem surprising, but, given the likelihood that the crisis of 2020 seems set to intensify especially as the US election nears and the pandemic spirals out of control. Just what role the acolytes of Q will play remains to be seen. Few religious sects transition to stabilized religions. Most burn themselves out. Unfortunately, the nearly inevitable immolation that occurs consumes more than just the believers themselves. 

[1] https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2007/08/20/blows-against-the-empire

[2]M. Williams, Rethinking "Gnosticism" An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton UP, 1999); K. King, What is Gnosticism? (Harvard UP, 2003) are just two of the major re-assessments of the “gnostic” rubric. Others, such as A. De Conick continue to take a more expansive approach, see The gnostic new age : how a countercultural spirituality revolutionized religion from antiquity to today (Columbia UP, 2016).

[3] https://www.salon.com/2020/08/16/what-is-qanon-a-not-so-brief-introduction-to-the-conspiracy-theory-thats-eating-america

[4] https://theconversation.com/the-church-of-qanon-will-conspiracy-theories-form-the-basis-of-a-new-religious-movement-137859

[5] A reference to Matthew 24, no doubt meaningful to QAnon interpreters: “Jesus answered them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. For many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am the Messiah!’ and they will lead many astray. And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars; see that you are not alarmed; for this must take place, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places: all this is but the beginning of the birth pangs.”

[6] https://www.alternet.org/2020/05/libertarian-journalist-explains-the-links-between-qanon-and-fundamentalist-christianity/

[7] https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/22/us/pizzagate-attack-sentence.html

ET IN ARCADIA EGO: LATIN ALLUSIONS IN WESTWORLD AND PICARD

As someone who teaches Latin, I am often surprised by the ways in which popular culture sometimes generates interest in this long-dead classical language. A few years ago, I noticed a trend of students who were registering for Introduction to Latin courses after reading the Harry Potter books or playing Total War: Rome. The interest of these students wasn't purely academic, but rather, the language connected them more deeply with something they already loved. 

These days you practically need to be a Latinist to make sense of what’s happening in the world. Not so long ago, quid pro quo was on the lips of nearly every journalist and politician involved in the Trump Ukraine scandal. As was explained at the time, this phrase means “something for something,” and is used in the context of the exchange of goods or favors. 

Now, a few months later, the daily news cycle is dominated by references to the “crowned poison” (coronavirus) COVID-19 wreaking havoc throughout the world as governments struggle to contain a global pandemic (itself a technical term from Greek, meaning “all-district”). 

It would seem, then, that Latin is enjoying a kind of micro-renaissance in the current moment. Even popular culture is hopping on the linguistic bandwagon. In just the last couple of weeks, two much anticipated science fiction TV series have employed Latin phrases in key episode titles. 

Season 3 of HBO’s Westworld recently began streaming, with Episode 1 being titled, “Parce domine.” This little bit of liturgical Latin is taken from a medieval chant based on Joel 2:17. 

Parce, Domine, parce populo tuo:

ne in aeternum irascaris nobis.

Spare, Lord, spare your people:

Be not angry with us forever

Presumably, this phrase is meant to foreshadow the violence soon to be unleashed by surviving artificial “hosts” on humanity. However, who turns out to be “Lord” and who will be “spared” remains to be seen. 

Similarly, the penultimate (“next to last”) episode of Star Trek: Picard Season 1 was called “Et in Arcadia ego.” This phrase, meaning “I, too, in Arcadia…” is the title of a 17th century pastoral painting by French baroque painter Nicolas Poussin. The painted scene, which depicts classical shepherds gathered around a tomb, is often interpreted to mean that even in the idealized, pastoral landscape of Arcadia (a kind of classical utopia), death too is present.  

The phrase is also the title of 1965 poem by W. H. Auden:

Who, now, seeing Her so

Happily married,

Housewife, helpmate to Man,

Can imagine the screeching

Virago, the Amazon,

Earth Mother was?

Her jungle growths

Are abated,

Her exorbitant monsters abashed,

Her soil mumbled,

Where crops, aligned precisely,

Will soon be orient:

Levant or couchant,

Well-daunted thoroughbreds

Graze on mead and pasture,

A church clock subdivides the day,

Up the lane at sundown

Geese podge home.

As for Him:

What has happened to the Brute

Epics and nightmares tell of?

No bishops pursue

Their archdeacons with axes,

In the crumbling lair

Of a robber baron

Sightseers picnic

Who carry no daggers.

I well might think myself

A humanist,

Could I manage not to see

How the autobahn

Thwarts the landscape

In godless Roman arrogance,

The farmer’s children

Tiptoe past the shed

Where the gelding knife is kept.

The poem describes a primordial wildness subjugated and subdued by technological intervention, while at the same time ominously invoking the violent potential of that same intervention’s tools. Incidentally, a “gelding knife” is used in castration. 

Aside from their individual artistic merits, both Westworld and Picard are currently dealing in different ways with anxieties around artificial intelligence. In both cases, dreams of techno-utopia threaten to collapse into dystopian nightmares as the savage realities of the slavery, exploitation, and violence upon which these future Arcadiae are built begin to be laid bare. As such, they are again exploring the well-worn sci-fi question—what happens when the creature turns on its creator? A question previously explored in 2001: A Space Odyssey, Blade Runner, etc., and one that, as it happens, is as old as the Bible itself.

The same theme was also explored in the 2014 film Ex machina, the title of which is based on the Latin phrase Deus ex machina, usually referring to a contrived plot device. The deliberate excision of Deus from the title emphasizes through omission the terrifying (quasi-divine) creative power of technology and invites philosophical and even theological reflection.  

In all these cases, the use of Latin serves as an effective form of exegetical shorthand, which points the viewer to other works of art or literature which offer an important reservoir of humanistic reflections on the unprecedented pace of technological change. They speak to the valuable contribution that past artistic, literary, and intellectual traditions can and must make to understanding and giving meaning not only to our present, but to our many possible futures. 

WOMEN IN THE COPTIC MANICHAEAN HOMILIES

In his 2001 “Prolegomena to a Study of Women in Manichaeism,” Kevin Coyle noted the relative absence of scholarly interest in Manichaean women.[1] This in spite of the increased attention that has been paid to women in various bodies of early Christian literature[2] and the prominent role of female figures in both the ecclesiastical and theological architecture of the Manichaean movement. On the ecclesial level, we know, for instance, that women were part of the church as both Catechumens and Elect and that certain specific women were highly venerated in the Egyptian liturgy. Whereas on the theological level, female beings play a central role in the unfolding of the Manichaean cosmic drama. It is indeed notable that unlike the gnostic myth of the fall of Sophia, in which a female entity is ultimately to blame for the cosmogony, in the Manichaean version, the female demiurge engineers the cosmos as part of an elaborate divine stratagem of light-purification and redemption. Moreover, as Kevin Coyle also noted, Manichaean literature has so far evidenced little of the “misogynistic” tendencies we find in other types of early Christian writing. Still, in spite of all this, we cannot automatically assume that women were held in particularly high regard in a religious movement that operated in a highly patriarchal society. After all, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Nonetheless, I would like to explore this question further by examining one particular Manichaean text—The Sermon on the Great War—in which a unique emphasis does seems to be placed on women by the author, revealing some rather striking attitudes to the place of women in the Manichaean community and revealing clues to the text’s historical milieu.

An Inclusive Apocalypse

            Contained within the Homilies codex[3] of the Medinet Madi manuscripts, the Manichaean Sermon on the Great War presents a vivid, albeit fragmentary, vision of the end of days and the culmination of the great cosmic struggle between Light and Darkness. It begins with an invocation of Mani and the revealed wisdom he left to his disciples. How he gave them knowledge and taught them the mysteries of the final separation. This knowledge, or “his good” (ⲡϥⲁⲅⲁⲑⲟⲛ) as the homilist states, he has notably bequeathed to “the orphans and widows” (ⲛⲛⲟⲣⲫⲁⲛⲟⲥ ⲙⲛ ⲛⲭⲏⲣⲁ) (Hom 7.19). These terms could partly be meant to designate the followers that he is leaving behind. As the end time approaches, however, none will be spared as the common people flee from their villages and even the kings and nobles are brought low (Homilies 9.7-18). Both married and unmarried women will suffer on that day:

ⲛ̅ⲣⲩⲛⲉ ⲙ̅ⲛ̅ ⲛⲉⲧⲁⲩϫⲓ ϩⲉ̣ⲓ̣[…]ⲧ’ ⲛ̅ϩⲓⲁⲙⲉ ⲉⲩⲛ̅ⲛⲏⲩ ⲁⲩ̣[ⲙ]ⲛ̅ⲧϭⲁⲩⲁⲛ: ⲡ̣[ϩⲟⲟ]ⲩⲉ ⲉⲧⲙ̅ⲙⲟ ⲛ̅ⲧⲉ ⲑⲣ̅ⲧⲉ · ⲡⲉⲓⲡⲓⲣⲁⲥⲙⲟⲥ ⲉ̣ⲧ̣[…]ϥⲛⲏⲩ ⲛ̅ⲟⲩⲁⲛ ⲛⲓⲙ: ⲉⲓⲥ ⲡϩⲟⲟⲩⲉ ϭⲉ ⲉⲧⲙ̅ⲙⲟ  ϥ̣ⲛⲏⲩ ϥⲁϫⲓ ϭⲁⲗ ⲉⲛ ϩ̅ⲛ̅ ⲧⲉϥϭⲓⲛⲉⲓ

The virgins and those who have taken a husband […] the women when they will come in slavery. That day of horror; this trial that […] will come to everyone. Behold, therefore, that day will come and it will not lie by its coming (Homilies 9.18-22)

“Freemen” and “freewomen” will all be affected (Homilies 9.31), as will “pregnant women and those who are nursing” (Homilies 10.22). It is striking the degree to which the homilist seems to make a special effort to include references to women as well as men, instead of simply referring to the suffering of male subjects by default as we might well expect from an ancient author. This already alerts us that this author has taken a particular interest in the female members of the Manichaean community and is in stark contrast to a text such as the first volume of Kephalaia which presents numerous Elect and Catechumens as interlocutors, but never specifically identifies any as female.   

            In spite of this gender-inclusive rhetoric, the discourse takes a dramatic turn with a harsh condemnation of “the cruel goddess of the fire” (Homilies 10.27), which the homilist equates with the image of Babylon. In this context, Babylon, no doubt influenced by biblical paradigms, represents the manifestation of evil in the world. According to the homilist, is was she who “instituted the Sabbaths, the festivals, and the fasts” of the Jews (Homilies 11.3-4). It was she who crucified Jesus and whose temple was destroyed in Jerusalem (Homilies 11.14-16). It is she who rules in the fire of the Magi (Homilies 11.17-18). Throughout history, we are told, the apostles of God have been at war with her:

ⲁⲍⲁⲣⲁⲇⲏⲥ ⲛⲁϫ̣ⲥ̣ [ⲁⲃⲁⲗ] ϩⲛ̅ ⲧⲃⲁⲃⲩⲗⲱⲛ· ⲁⲓ̈ⲏ̅ⲩ̅ⲥ̅ ⲛⲁϫⲥ’ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲛ̅ ⲑⲓⲉⲣⲟ[ⲩⲥⲁⲗⲏ]ⲙ̣: ϯⲛⲟⲩ ⲇⲉ ϩⲱⲱϥ ⲁⲩⲧⲛ̅ⲛⲁⲩ ⲁⲣⲁⲥ ⲙ̅ⲡⲙⲁϩ̣ϣ̣[ⲁⲙⲧ ⲛ̅]ⲁ̣ⲡⲟⲥⲧⲟⲗⲟⲥ ⲡⲣⲉϥⲥⲱⲧⲉ

Zarathustra threw her out of Babylon, and Jesus threw her out of Jerusalem. And now, too, has the third apostle been sent to her, the savior (Homilies 11.21-24)

In fact her wickedness has no bounds, as she murders the king’s builders and gardeners, warriors and messengers, wise-men and judges (Homilies 12.10-23). Worst of all, she

ⲁⲥϣⲧⲉⲙ [ⲁⲧ]ⲧⲁⲡⲣⲟ ⲛ̅ⲛⲓⲣⲙ̅ⲙ̅ⲙⲏⲉ· ⲛⲉⲧⲡⲱⲣϫ’ ⲙ̅ⲡⲟⲩ[ⲁⲓ̈ⲛⲉ ⲁ]ⲃⲁⲗ ⲙ̅ⲕⲉⲕⲉ· ⲁⲥϩⲱⲧⲃⲉ ⲛ̅ⲛ̅ⲥⲁⲓ̈ⲉⲩⲉ· ⲁⲥⲡⲱ̣[ϩⲧ] ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ⲙ̅ⲡⲥⲛⲁϥ ⲛ̅ⲛ̅ⲥⲁⲓ̈ⲏ

closed [the] mouth of these truthful ones who separate [light] from darkness. She killed the beautiful males (and) shed the blood of the beautiful females (Homilies 12.24-27).

It is she who wages the “great war” against the Light by persecuting the Manichaean community. The use of Babylon as the archetype of evil is somewhat incongruous with the prestige which Mani is sometimes said to have attached to the city as his place of origin (cf Homilies 54.14; 61.17), yet less so in the wake of his execution at the hands of Persian authorities. In this apocalyptic context the homilist is building upon the imagery of the Apocalypse of John, as well as the Manichaean tendency to view the evil principle of Matter (ϩⲩⲗⲏ) as a feminine entity.[4] For instance, in the Berlin Kephalaia, Matter is identified as “the Death-desire, which is [Mother] of them all” ([ⲧϩⲩ]ⲗ[ⲏ] ϩⲱⲥ ⲧⲉ̣ⲛ̣ⲑⲩⲙⲏⲥⲓⲥ ⲙ̅ⲡⲙⲟⲩ ⲉⲧⲉ ⲛⲧⲁⲥ ⲡⲉ ⲧⲟⲩ[ⲙⲉⲩ] ⲧⲏ̣ⲣ̣ⲟⲩ) (26.33-27.6). It would seem then that there is a certain ambivalence in the homilist’s mind between making special mention of the fate of females on the last day and the essential femininity of the primordial evil that threatens them, manifest in the world as the Whore of Babylon.

            After this polemical digression, the register then shifts back to a more humanistic focus. As the homilist laments the coming fate of Manichaean women.

ⲉⲩⲁⲃⲱⲕ ⲁⲧⲟ ⲉⲩⲁ … … [ϩⲙ̅ ⲡⲓⲛⲁϭ] ⲙ̅ⲡⲟⲗⲉⲙⲟⲥ: ⲉⲓ̈ⲣⲓⲙⲉ ⲛ̅ⲛⲁⲡ̣ⲁ̣ⲣ̣ⲑ̣ⲉ̣[ⲛⲟⲥ ⲛ̅ⲥϩⲓⲙⲉ] ⲛⲉⲧⲁⲩⲙⲉⲣⲓ ⲡⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉ ϩⲛ̅ ⲟⲩⲧⲟ̣ⲩⲃⲟ[…ⲡⲟⲩ] ⲥⲁⲓ̈ⲉ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ ϩⲛ̅ ⲧⲉϥϩⲗ’ⲡ[ⲓⲥ] ⲉⲣⲉ ⲧ[… …] ⲉ ⲁⲧⲟ : ⲉⲓⲣⲓⲙⲉ ⲛⲛⲁⲉⲅⲕⲣⲁⲧⲏⲥ̣ [… ⲛⲉⲧⲁⲩ] ⲧⲟⲩⲃⲟ ⲟⲩⲁⲉⲧⲟⲩ ⲙ̅ⲡⲟⲩⲣⲉϥⲥⲱ̣[ⲧⲉ … ϩⲙ̅ ⲡⲓ] ⲛⲁϭ ⲛ̅ϣⲧⲁⲣⲧⲣ̅ ⲉⲧⲁϣⲱⲡ̣ⲉ̣ ⲛⲓⲙ [… …] ⲧⲟⲩⲃⲟ : ⲉⲓ̈ⲣⲓⲙⲉ ⲛ̅ⲛⲁⲭⲏⲣⲁ ⲉⲧⲉ ⲙ[ⲛ̅ⲧⲉⲩ ⲡⲉⲧⲁⲥ]ⲱⲧ ⲛ̅ⲧⲟⲧϥ̅ ⲁⲣⲁⲩ

Where will they go? [Where] will they [… …] [in this great] war? I weep for my [female] virgins who have loved God in purity […] [their] beauty in his hope, where will [… …] I weep for my abstainers [… who have] purified themselves for their savior [… in this] great trouble that will come about. Who [… …] purity? I weep for my widows who [have no one that will] stretch his hand to them (Homilies 17.4-12).

     

In this way, the homilist fears for the female members of the community, in particular the “virgins,” “abstainers,” and “widows,” as opposed to the mothers and wives early said to suffer during the end times. The primary focus now appears to be on the threat that will be posed to their chastity in the coming crisis. A time when “[sisters] will lead their sisters astray” (Homilies 21.3-4) and “elect will lead astray elect” (Homilies 21.7). In this time, even they will cry “why were we born into the world?” (Homilies 21.17).

            There is hope, however, as the Manichaean church huddles together amid the world’s collapse. At this moment, says the homilist,

ⲉⲩ̣ⲁ̣ⲛ̣[ⲟⲩ]ϩⲙⲉ ⲕⲁⲧⲁ ⲙⲁ ⲙⲁ · ϩ̅ⲙ̅ⲙⲏϣⲉ [ⲛ̅ⲉⲅ]ⲕ̣ⲣⲁⲧⲏⲥ: ϩⲛ̅ⲏ̣ⲡⲥ’ ⲙ̅ⲡⲁⲣⲑⲉⲛⲟⲥ ⲉⲩⲁⲟⲩⲱⲛϩ’: [ⲡⲁⲣ]ⲭ̣ⲏ̣ⲅⲟ̣ⲥ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲙ̣̅ⲛ̣̅ ⲛ̅ⲥⲁϩ · ⲙ̅ⲡⲣⲉⲥⲃⲩⲧⲉⲣⲟⲥ ⲁⲩ[ⲱ ⲛ̅ϣⲙϣⲉⲧⲉ] ⲧⲏ̣[ⲣⲟⲩ] ⲙ̣̅[ⲡ]ⲁ̣ⲣⲑⲉⲛⲟⲥ ⲛ̅ⲥϩⲓⲙⲉ ⲙ̅ⲛ̅ ⲛ̅ⲉ̣[ⲅⲕⲣⲁⲧⲏ]ⲥ · ⲛ̅ⲕⲁⲧⲏ̣ⲭⲟⲩⲙⲉⲛⲟⲥ ⲙ̣̅ⲛ̅ ⲛ̅ⲉⲩⲥⲩⲅⲅⲉⲛⲏⲥ̣

They will be saved in every place. Multitudes [of] abstainers, numbers of virgins will appear—[the] leaders and the teachers, the presbyters [and all the deacons], the female virgins and the abstainers, the catechumens and their relatives (Homilies 22.3-7)

Here they will comfort one-another. “The virgin will cling to her fellow-virgin and explain [her] sigh to [her]” and “the abstainer will proclaim to [her fellow] abstainer all the sufferings she bore” (Homilies 22.14-17). Again, a special effort is made to suggest that male and female community members will come to their mutual aid and comfort.

Finally, we are given a utopian vision of the new age, when “the (female) elect will sleep and arise in [the house] of the queens and the noble ladies” (Homilies 24.9-10), singing songs of glory in every land and reading the scriptures of the Apostle of Light. Moreover, the homilist proclaims:

ⲥⲉⲛⲁⲙⲉ[ⲓ̈ⲉ ⲙ̅] ⲡ̣ⲁⲛⲁⲅⲛⲱⲥⲧⲏⲥ ϣⲁ ⲟⲩⲏⲣ · ⲉⲣⲉ ϩⲛ̅ϣⲟ ⲛ[ⲏⲩ] ⲁ̣ϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁⲣⲁϥ̣ : ⲛ̅ϩⲁⲩⲧ’ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲙ̅ⲛ̅ ⲛ̅ϩⲓⲁⲙⲉ · [ⲙ̅ⲙⲏ]ϣⲉ ⲙⲏϣⲉ ⲕⲁⲧⲁ ⲡⲟⲗⲓⲥ ⲡⲟⲗⲓⲥ : ⲛ̅ⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥ̣[ⲓⲁ] ⲙ̅ⲛ̅ ⲛ̅ⲏⲓ̈ ⲛ̅[ⲛ̅]ⲕⲁⲧⲏⲭⲟⲩⲙⲉⲛⲟⲥ · ⲥⲉⲛⲁⲣ̅ ⲑⲉ [ⲛ̅ⲛⲓ]ⲁⲛⲥⲏⲃ̣ ⲛ̅ⲧ̣ⲥⲃⲱ : ⲕ̣ⲁϭⲛ̅ⲧⲟⲩ ⲉⲩⲯⲁⲗⲉ ⲉⲩ[…] ϩⲩⲙⲛⲟⲥ̣ […] ⲛ̅ⲱ… ⲡⲁⲣ̣ϩ̣ⲏⲥⲓⲁ ⲙ̅ⲡⲙ̅ⲧⲟ̣ ⲛ̣[…] ⲛⲛⲓ̣ [… …] ⲟ̣ⲥ̣.ⲩ̣ [… … …] ⲉⲩϣⲁ̣[ⲛ]ⲟⲩⲱ · ⲙ̅ⲛ̅ ⲡ̣ϭⲣ[…] ⲙ̅ⲡⲟ̣[… …] ⲙ̅ⲡ̣ⲁ̣ϫⲁⲓ̈ⲥ’ ⲡⲙⲁⲛ̣ⲛⲓⲭⲁⲓⲟⲥ: ⲕⲁϭⲛ̅ⲧⲟ̣[ⲩ] ⲧ̣ⲏ̣[ⲣⲟⲩ] ⲛ̅ⲛⲁϭ ⲙ̅ⲛ̅ ⲛⲕⲕⲟⲩⲓ̈ · ⲟⲩⲙⲏϣⲉ ⲛ̅ϣⲏⲣⲉ ⲛ̣̅ⲧ̣ⲉ̣ [ⲛ̅ⲕⲁ]ⲧⲏⲭ̣ⲟ̣ⲩⲙⲉⲛⲟⲥ: ⲉⲩⲁⲧⲉⲩⲉ ⲁⲧⲇⲓⲕⲁⲓⲟⲥⲩⲛⲏ [ⲕⲁⲧⲁ] ⲡⲟⲗ[ⲓⲥ]: ⲕ̣ⲁϭⲛ̅ ⲛ̅ⲕⲟⲩⲓ̈ ⲛ̅ⲗⲓⲗⲁⲩⲉ ⲛ̅ⲥϩⲓⲙⲉ ⲉ[ⲩϫⲓ] ⲥⲃⲱ ⲁⲥϩ̣ⲉ̣ⲓ̈ ⲉⲩⲣ̅ⲯⲁⲗⲉ ⲉⲩⲱϣ

How greatly will they [love] the reader, since thousands will [come] (to) visit him, male and female, [masses] and masses in every city! The churches and [the] catechumen’s houses will be like schools. You will find them singing psalms and […] hymns […] publically in the presence of [… … … …] if they cease, and the […] of the Lord Mannichaios. You will find them [all], the great and the small, a large number of children of [the] catechumens, being given to righteousness [in every] city. You will find the little girls, [being] taught to write and singing psalms and reading” (Homilies 30.27-31.7)

This last detail is most striking in the homilist vision of the redeemed cosmos. Not only are Manichaean women given a special place in the new reality, but female literacy (something which many in our current world find so incredible dangerous and threatening) is offered as a hallmark of the final defeat of the powers of darkness.  

            As we can see, the homilist places a deliberate and particular emphasis on the fate of Manichaean females—Elect and Catechumens, Virgins and Abstainers, women and girls. The default masculine is studiously avoided in favor of an equal opportunity salvation, a time when “brother will look after brother, sister after sister” (Homilies 30.6). At the same time, however, the types of women who are highlighted—virgins, widows, abstainers, girls—are all figures that fall outside the procreative function. Yet, there seems to be a conscious avoidance of the complete negation of the feminine that we find in other ascetic contexts such as the much debated final saying of the Gospel of Thomas, where “every woman who makes herself male will enter the Kingdom of Heaven” (logion 114) or the Dialogue of the Savior were Judas calls for the “works of the female” to be destroyed (NHC III,5.145). Something here has shifted. In the Manichaean kingdom, the femininity of the redeemed women is preserved, valued, and even emphasized.

The “Autonomy of Chastity”

            Why would the homilist do this? What would have motivated him (or her!) to such a radical re-imagining of reality? While Kevin Coyle has elsewhere suggested that the Manichaean elect conceived of themselves as “ultra-sexual,”[5] that is beyond the constraints of gendered differences, the Sermon on the Great War seems intent on highlighting and preserving gender distinctions. As already noted, women are highlighted elsewhere in Coptic Manichaean literature, not only in the Psalm-Book doxologies, but also in the litany of venerated women from the same collection (Ps 192.21-32)[6]:

ⲟⲩϩⲁⲩϣⲛⲉ ⲧⲉ ⲙⲁⲣⲓϩⲁⲙⲁ̣      ⲉϭⲱⲣϭ ⲁⲡⲕⲉⲙⲛ̅ⲧⲟⲩⲏⲉ ⲉⲧⲥⲁⲣⲙⲉ                      ⲛⲉⲟⲩⲛ̅ ⲟⲩϩⲣⲉϥϣⲙ̅ϣⲉ ⲉⲥⲣⲁⲩⲧ ⲧⲉ      ⲙⲁⲣⲑⲁ ⲧⲉⲥⲕⲁⲓⲥⲱⲛⲉ ϩⲛ̅ⲉⲥⲁⲩ ⲛ̅ⲥⲧⲙⲏⲧ ⲛⲉ      ⲥⲁⲗⲱⲙⲏ ⲙⲛ̅ⲁⲣⲥⲉⲛⲟⲏ ⲟⲩⲣⲉϥⲕⲁⲧⲁⲫⲣⲟⲛⲏ ⲙ̅ⲡ̣ⲥⲱⲙⲁ̣ ⲡⲉ      ⲑⲉⲕⲗⲁ ϯⲙⲁⲓ̈ⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉ ⲟⲩⲣⲉϥϯ ϣⲓⲡⲉ ⲛ̅ⲫⲁϥ ⲧⲉ      ⲙⲁⲝⲓⲙⲓⲗⲗⲁ ϯⲡⲓⲥⲧⲟⲥ ⲟⲩⲣⲉϥϫⲓ ϣⲓⲛⲉ ⲁⲧⲛⲁϥⲣⲉ ⲧⲉ      ⲓⲫⲓⲇⲁⲙⲁⲥ ⲧⲉⲥⲕⲁⲓⲥⲱⲛⲉ      [ⲥ]ϣⲧⲉⲕⲁⲧ ⲁⲛⲓϣⲧⲉⲕⲱⲟⲩ ⲟⲩⲥⲁⲓ̈ϫ ⲉⲥϩⲛ̅ ⲡⲁⲅⲱⲛ ⲧⲉ      ⲁⲣⲓⲥⲧⲟⲃⲟⲩⲗⲁ ϯϩⲁⲣϣ̅ϩⲏⲧ ⲟⲩⲣⲉϥϯ ⲟⲩⲁⲓ̈ⲛⲉ ⲛ̅ϭⲉ ⲧⲉ      ⲉⲩⲃⲟⲩⲗⲁ ϯⲉⲩⲅⲉⲛⲏⲥ      ⲉⲥⲥⲱⲕ ⲙ̅ⲡϩⲏⲧ ⲙ̅ⲡϩⲏⲅⲉⲙⲱⲛ ⲟⲩⲥⲁⲃⲏ̣ ⲙ̅ⲙⲁⲓ̈ⲥⲁϩ ⲧⲉ      ⲇⲣⲟⲩⲥⲓⲁⲛⲏ ϯⲙⲁⲓ̈ⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉ      ⲉⲥⲏⲗ [ⲁϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲛⲓⲇ̅] ⲛ̣ϩⲟⲟⲩⲉ      ⲉⲥϣⲓⲛ[ⲉ] ⲥⲁ ⲡⲥ̅ⲁ[ⲡⲟ]ⲥⲧⲟⲗ[ⲟ]ⲥ

Mariam is a net-caster,      hunting eleven other wanderers.                             [refrain] There were. A joyous servant is      Martha her sister. Obedient sheep are      Salome and Arsenoe A despiser of the body is     Thecla, the god-lover. A serpent-shamer is      faithful Maximilla. A bearer of good news is      Iphidama, her sister,      imprisoned in these prisons.     A champion is      Aristoboula, the enduring. A light-giver is      the noble Eubula,      leading astray the governor. A wise teacher-lover is      Drusiane, the god-lover,      confined [for 14] days,      looking for the apostle.

Each of these figures, from both canonical and non-canonical traditions, are presented as paradigms of feminine virtue. Moreover, as in the case of Jesus himself, women are also key figures in the passion story of Mani. For instance, in the Section on the Crucifixion also from the Homilies codex, we have the three women who came to weep over the body of Mani (Homilies 59.2-10):

ⲧⲟⲧⲉ̣ ⲁⲩ̣[ⲃⲱⲕ] ⲁ̣ϩⲟⲩⲛ ⲁϫⲱϥ· ⲛ̅ϫⲓ ϣⲁⲙⲧⲉ ⲛⲕⲁⲧ[ⲏⲕⲟⲩⲛⲉⲛⲏ] ⲛ̅ⲧⲉ ⲡ̣ⲛⲁϩⲧⲉ: ⲃⲁⲛⲁⲕ, ⲇⲓⲛⲁⲕ ⲙⲛ̅ ⲛ̣[…] ⲁⲩϩⲙⲉⲥⲧ ϩⲁⲧⲏϥ ⲁⲩⲣⲓⲙⲉ ⲁϫⲱ̣ϥ̣ [ⲁⲩⲕⲁ ⲛⲟⲩϭⲓϫ] ⲁϫⲛ̅ ⲛⲉϥⲃⲉⲗ· ⲁⲩϣⲁⲧⲙⲟⲩ ϫⲉ ⲛⲉⲩⲃⲣ̅ⲃⲱ̣ⲣ̣ⲟ̣[ⲩ… ⲉ]ⲡⲓⲇⲏ ⲛ̅ⲧⲁⲣⲉ ⲧϥ̅ⲯⲩⲭⲏ ⲉⲓ ⲁⲃⲁⲗ [ϩⲙ̅ ⲡⲥⲱⲙⲁ …]ϥ ⲡⲉ: ⲁⲩⲣ̅ⲁⲥⲡⲁⲍⲉ ⲛ̅ⲧϥⲧⲁⲡⲣ̣[ⲟ…] ⲉ̣ⲩⲣⲓⲙⲉ ⲁϫⲱϥ ⲉⲩϫⲱ ⲙ̅ⲙⲁⲥ: ⲡⲛ[ⲓ̈ⲱⲧ ⲟⲩⲉⲛ ⲁ]ⲛⲉⲕⲃⲉⲗ ⲛ̅ⲕⲓ̈ⲱⲣⲙⲉ ⲛ̅ⲥⲱⲛ

Then they came to him, three (female) catechumens of the Faith: Banak, Dinak and [Nushak?]. They sat beside him, wept, and [put their hands] on his eyes. They closed them so that they might not … For when his soul left [the body] … They kissed his mouth … weeping over him, and saying: “Our [Father, open] your eyes and look at us.

Clearly modelled on the three Marys of the gospel tradition, the homilist then instructs the reader, “bless these women, thank and worship them!” (Homilies 59.21-23).

Aside from such literary and hagiographic presentations, we have ample evidence of “real” Manichaean women, especially in the documentary texts from Kellis—some of these letters even written by them. Here we have a number of women filling traditional ancient gender roles—mothers, daughters, wives, sisters—although the exact familial relationship between these individuals is sometimes hard to establish or distinguish from ecclesiastical ones.

One such letter (P. Kell. Copt. 31) is addressed to

ⲛⲁϣⲉⲣⲉ ⲙ̅ⲙⲉⲣⲉⲧⲉ ⲉⲧ’ⲧⲉⲓ̈ⲁⲧ’ ⲛ̅ⲧⲟⲧ ⲧⲟⲛⲟⲩ ⲙ̅ⲙ̣ⲉ̣ⲗ̣ⲟⲥ ⲛ̅ⲧⲉⲕ’ⲕⲗ̣ⲏⲥⲓⲁ ⲉⲧⲟⲩⲁⲃⲉ [ⲛ̅ϣⲉⲣⲉ] ⲙ̣̅ⲡ̣ⲛⲟⲩⲥ ⲛ̅ⲟⲩⲁⲓ̈ⲛⲉ ⲛⲉ̣[ⲧⲏⲡ ⲁⲛ ⲙ]ⲛ̅ ⲛ̅ϣⲏⲣⲉ ⲙ̅ⲡⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉ· ⲙ̣ⲯ[ⲩ]ⲭⲁ̣ⲩⲉ ⲉⲧⲥⲙⲁⲙⲁⲧ ⲙ̅ⲙⲁⲕⲁⲣⲓⲟⲥ ⲙ̅ⲙⲁⲓ̈ⲛⲟⲩⲧⲉ ⲛⲁϣⲉⲣⲉ ⲛ̅ⲥϩⲟⲛⲁ

My beloved daughters, who are greatly esteemed by me, the members of the Holy Church, [the daughters] of the Light Mind, they who [are also counted] among the children of God, the favored, blessed, God-loving souls, my daughters.

The anonymous “father” of the letter praises the women as “helpers,” “patrons,” and “pillars” before requesting some quantities of oil. Iain Gardner suspects that this oil may be some kind of offering and that its anonymity is due to it being a “circular” or “chain-letter.”[7] It is difficult to say. The anonymity could also be a sign of danger. After all the author writes that he is “praying to God every hour that he will guard you for a long time, free from anything evil of the wicked world” and urges the recipients not to hold on to the letter, lest it “fall into somebody’s hands.” Another letter (P. Kell. Copt. 37), written by a certain Ammon, refers to the “grief that overcame me, and the heartbreak that seized me, when I heard about what happened; namely that they shook those of this word.”

It would seem then that the Manichaean community of Egypt existed in a somewhat precarious state. In the early 4^th century, certainly after the Edict of Diocletian in 302, Manichaeans were under increasing pressure from both state and ecclesiastical authorities. One of the perceived dangers, at least from proto-orthodox Christians, was in fact the promient presence of women in the movement. Yet, the women of the Kellis community appear to be mostly Catechumens, while those praised by the homilist were Elect. Women who may have sought what Virgina Burrus has called the “autonomy of chastity” characteristic of the ascetic movement more broadly.[8] It is this category of Manichaean women that attracted the most scorn from the church fathers. Jerome, for instance, in his 22^nd Letter to Eustochium, compared Manichaean women to prostitutes,[9] attempting to undermine their claims to ascetic chastity:

Et quam viderint tristem atque pallentem, miseram et monacham et Manicheam vocant, et consequenter; tali enim proposito ieiunium heresis est. Hae sunt, quae per publicum notabiliter incedunt et furtivis oculorum nutibus adulescentium gregem post se trahunt, quae semper audiunt per prophetam: ‘Facies meretricis facta est tibi, impudorata es tu.”

When they see a woman with a pale sad face, they call her ‘a miserable Manichaean nun’, and quite logically too, for on their principles fasting is heresy. As they walk the streets they try to attract attention and with stealthy nods and winks draw after them troops of young men. Of them the prophet’s words are true: ‘You have a whore’s forehead; you refuse to be ashamed.’

Similarly, Epiphanius, portrayed Mani’s alleged forerunner, Scythianus, as a charlatan who married a prostitute (Panarion 66). An account clearly modelled on the heresiological legend of Simon the Magician and his consort Helen (Irenaeus, Against Heresies 1.23). Moreover, Epiphanius claimed that Mani (or rather, Cubricus, as he called him) was an orphan adopted by a foolish old woman (Panarion 66). These are just the sort of people that Mark the Deacon, in his account of a debate between a female elect named Julia and bishop Porphyry of Gaza, claimed were attracted to Manichaean teaching:[10]

καὶ γὰρ τὸ μάθημα αὐτῶν τοῖς γε νοῦν ἔχουσιν πεπλήρωται πάσης βλασφημίας καὶ καταγνώσεως καὶ γραώδων μύθων ἐφελκομένων γυναικάρια καὶ παιδιώδεις ἄνδρας κοῦφον ἔχοντας τόν τε λογισμόν καὶ τὴν διάνοιαν

For their teaching, at least for those in their right minds is full of every blasphemy, contemptuous opinion, and old wives’ tales, attracting only feeble women and childish men, light on reason and understanding.

Here, too, the rhetoric is telling in that Mark attempts to discredit his hero’s opponents by reference to two of antiquity’s most marginalized and disempowered groups—women and children. Precisely the two groups that the author of the Sermon on the Great War makes a place for in the age-to-come. The homilist seeks to re-assure the women of their importance to the movement and their right to secure a place within its apocalyptic narrative. In this our author is following the counsel of Mani himself, who in a letter also found at Kellis (P. Kell. Copt. 54)[11] instructs his followers, both male and female, to “love one another”:

ⲛ̣̅[ⲥⲁϩ ⲙ]ⲉⲣⲓ ⲛ̅ⲥⲁϩ · ⲛ̅ⲥⲁⲃⲉⲟⲩⲉ · ⲛ̅ⲛⲥ̣[ⲁⲃⲉ]ⲟⲩⲉ · ⲛ[ⲉⲡⲓⲥⲕ]ⲟ̣ⲡⲟⲥ · ⲛ̅ⲉⲡⲓⲥⲕⲟⲡⲟⲥ · ⲛ̅ⲙⲁⲑⲏⲧ̣[ⲏⲥ] · ⲛ̅ⲙ̅ⲙ[ⲁⲑⲏⲧ]ⲏ̣ⲥ · ⲛ̅ⲥⲁⲛ · ⲛ̅ⲛ̅ⲥⲁⲛ · ⲛ̅ⲥⲱⲛⲉ ⲁ[ⲛ ⲛ̅]ⲛ̅ⲥⲱ[ⲛⲉ]· [ⲛ̅]ⲧⲉⲧⲛ̅ϣⲱⲡⲉ ⲧⲏⲣⲧⲛ̅ · ⲛ̅ϩⲓⲛ[ϣⲏ]ⲣⲉ ⲛ̅ⲛ̣[ⲟⲩⲥ]ⲱ̣ⲛⲁ ⲛ̅ⲟⲩⲱⲧ ⲛ̅ⲁⲧⲡⲱⲣϫ

The [teachers] will love the teachers, the wise ones (will love) the wise ones, the bishops (will love) the bishops, the disciples (will love) the disciples, the brothers (will love) the brothers, also the sisters (will love) the sisters —you will all become children of a single undivided body.

It is also interesting to note the dramatic tension evoked by this precarious situation in the mind of the homilist. On the one hand, the status and chastity of the Manichaean women is highlighted and valued, while on the other, the cosmic force that threatens to undermine that status and chastity is personified as the profoundly unchaste Whore of Babylon. Conversely, to opponents of the movement such as Jerome, the roles are reversed and it is the moral corruption of Manichaean women that is caste as a threat to women of his own theological faction. In both cases, the sexualization of evil is employed as a powerful rhetorical trope, as one early Christian group seeks to marginalize its rivals.

Enkratites in Context

While it is clear that the author of the Sermon on the Great War places a unique emphasis on women in his apocalyptic vision, does this really tell us anything about the Manichaean community of Egypt? It is often tempting to view Coptic Manichaean texts as reflective of a specifically Egyptian milieu, but this approach is difficult to sustain. All we really know is that the Medinet Madi manuscripts were read and used as part of the liturgy of an Egyptian community, but there is mounting evidence of a Syriac substratum to that community.[12] In fact, both Koenen and Petersen have identified elements of the Sermon that point to a “Babylonian” environment,[13] that is, the heartland of the original Manichaean movement.

Thus, the more likely context for the female-focused rhetoric of the Sermon on the Great War is the increased pressure and marginalization being experienced by the Manichaean church in the aftermath of Mani’s execution in 277 CE. Moreover, the ascetic tone of the discourse bears many of the hallmarks of Syrian asceticism native to the region. After all, one of the key groups of women that the homilist describes are called ⲉⲅⲕⲣⲁⲧⲏⲥ, or enkratites, a label applied since the second century CE to a Syrian sect who, according to Irenaeus, “preached against marriage, thus setting aside the original creation of God, and indirectly blaming him who made the male and female for the propagation of the human race” (Against Heresies 1.28). Such anti-cosmic values and denial of procreation imbued the early Manichaean church, particularly the Elect, and drove its proto-monastic programme. As Mani states in Kephalaia Chapter 85 (212.22-28):[14]

ⲙⲡⲣⲏⲧⲉ ⲛⲧⲉⲕⲕⲗⲏⲥⲓⲁ ⲉⲧⲟⲩⲁⲃⲉ ⲧⲉⲧⲉϣⲁⲣⲉ ⲡⲁⲡⲟⲥⲧⲟⲗⲟⲥ ⲥⲙ̣ⲛ̣ⲧ̣ⲥ̣ ϩⲙ̅ ⲡⲕⲟⲥⲙⲟⲥ ϫⲉ ⲭⲱ̣ⲣⲓⲥ ϩⲓⲥⲉ ϩⲓ ⲙ̅ⲕⲁϩ ⲙⲁⲣⲉ ⲛⲉⲕⲗⲉⲕⲧⲟⲥ ϭⲛϭⲁⲙ ⲛ̅ⲣⲃⲁⲗ ⲁ̣ⲃⲁⲗ ⲁⲡⲕⲟⲥⲙⲟⲥ ⲁⲗⲗⲁ ⲉⲓⲙⲏⲧⲓ ϩⲛ ⲧⲉⲥⲕⲉⲯⲓⲥ ⲛ̅[ⲧⲛⲏⲥⲧⲓ]ⲁ ⲙⲛ̅ ⲧⲁⲡϣⲗⲏⲗ ⲙⲛ̅ ⲧⲁⲧⲉⲅⲕⲣⲁⲧⲉⲓⲁ ⲙⲛ̅ ⲧⲁⲧⲙⲛⲧⲛ̣[ⲁⲉ] ⲙⲛ̅ ⲧⲁⲧⲙⲛⲧⲙⲟⲛⲟⲅⲉⲛⲏⲥ ⲙⲛ̅ ⲧⲁⲛⲁⲭⲱⲣⲏⲥⲓⲥ ⲙⲡⲗ̣[ⲏⲅⲏ] ⲙⲛ ⲛ̅ϣⲥⲛ̅ⲧⲁⲩⲣⲉⲁ ⲧⲁⲥⲕⲏⲥⲓ̣ⲥ ⲛ̅ⲙ̅ⲙⲣⲣⲉ ⲡⲙⲟⲩ ⲙ̣[ⲙⲁⲣⲧⲩ]ⲣⲟⲥ

Thus, the Holy Church which the Apostle established in the world: without toil and suffering the Elect will not be able to be free from the world, but rather, by consideration of fasting and prayer and abstinence (enkrateia) and alms and only-begottenness and with-drawal  (anachōrēsis), wounds and lashings, the discipline (askēsis) of bonds, (and) martyrdom

Such a statement, laced with ascetic terminology, evokes the need for the Elect to transcend the things that bind them to the cosmos, to tame the body, and to deny themselves even unto death—as their master had done before them. As a reward, our homilist has seen not a time when sexual difference will be definitely erased, but permanently controlled. Namely, brought under the rule of enkrateia. This is a time, we might say, when the Elect will neither marry nor be given in marriage, but will find their rest like angels in heaven (Mt 22:30).

In the end, however, the Sermon on the Great War can and should be read as yet another front in the late antique war over women, procreation, and sexual ethics, whereby the honor and/or shame attributed to the women of a religious community is seen to have profound cosmic implications. A rhetoric that is both ancient and remote, yet unsettlingly modern and familiar.    

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[1] Kevin J. Coyle, “Prolegomena to a Study of Women in Manichaeism,” in Manichaeism and its Legacy, Leiden: Brill, 2009, pp. 141-2. Originally published in Mirecki and BeDuhn (eds.), The Light and the Darkness: Studies in Manichaeism and Its World, Leiden: Brill, pp. 79-92.

[2] Fiorenza E. Schüssler, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins, New York: Crossroad, 1983; Elizabeth A. Clark, Women in the Early Church, Wilmington, Del: M. Glazier, 1983; Ben Witherington, Women in the Earliest Churches, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988; Karen J Torjesen, When Women Were Priests: Women's Leadership in the Early Church and the Scandal of Their Subordination in the Rise of Christianity, San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1993; David M. Scholer, Women in Early Christianity, New York: Garland Pub, 1993; Susanna Elm, Virgins of God: The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity, New York: Oxford University Press, 1994; Gillian Clarke, This Female Man of God: Women and Spiritual Power in the Patristic Age, AD 350-450, New York: Routledge, 1995; Margaret Y. MacDonald, Early Christian Women and Pagan Opinion: The Power of the Hysterical Woman, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996; Patricia C. Miller, Women in Early Christianity: Translations from Greek Texts, Washington, D.C: Catholic University of America Press, 2005; Madeleine Scopello, Femme, Gnose, et Manichéisme : De l’espace mythique au territoire du réel, Leiden : Brill, 2005; Nicola Denzey Lewis, The Bone Gatherers: The Lost Worlds of Early Christian Women, Boston, Mass: Beacon Press, 2007; Kim Haines-Eitzen, The Gendered Palimpsest: Women, Writing, and Representation in Early Christianity, New York: Oxford University Press, 2011.

[3] The present analysis is based on the new edition of the text by Nils Arne Pedersen, Manichaean Homilies, Turhout: Brepols, 2006.

[4] Matter (ὕλη) as the antithesis of God is somewhat harder to pin down in what remains of Mani’s own writings. In fact, it is so far unattested. Ephraim wrote that “if Mani and Bardaisan designate (their) creators as ‘god,’ perhaps the way is open for them to designate Matter as well, since it is the cause for creation, as they assert” (Reeves, “Manichaean Citations from the Prose Refutations of Ephrem” in Emerging from Darkness: Studies in the Recovery of Manichaean Sources (ed. Mirecki and BeDuhn; Leiden: Brill, 1997, p. 238) although this reads as somewhat hypothetical. For Serapion of Thmuis, the primary opposition is between “God” and “Satan” (Against the Manichaeans 12, 26; Lieu, Greek and Latin Sources on Manichaean Cosmogony and Ethics, Turnhout: Brepols, 2010, p. 50-51), a dichotomy also found in the Letter of Mani to Menoch preserved by Augustine (Lieu, Greek and Latin, 12-13), as well as in the account of al-Nadim in which the ruler of the realm of Darkness is al-Shaytan (B. Dodge, The Fihrist of Al-Nadīm: A Tenth-Century Survey of Muslim Culture, New York: Columbia University Press, 1970, p. 778). Even one of Mani’s letters from the Kellis documents makes specific reference to Satan (P. Kell. Copt. 53 43.12; Gardner, Kellis Literary Texts Volume 2). Matter, however, does occur relatively frequently in the Coptic sources, where it is said to be the “bad tree” (1Ke 22.32) and the feminine power who created the King of Darkness (1Ke 27.13-18), as well as the “Mother of this world” (Ps 221.5-6). From the Kellis finds, P. Kell. Gr. 97 refers to “dark matter” (τὴν σκοτινὴν ὕλην) (B.I v 9) (Gardner, Kellis Literary Texts Volume 2) and T. Kell. Copt. 4 alludes to “deceitful matter” (ⲑⲩⲗⲏ ⲛϩⲁⲗⲃⲉ) (51 [Gardner, Kellis Literary Texts Volume 1, Oxford: Oxbow, 1996]).

[5] “Women and Manichaeism’s Mission to the Roman Empire,” in Manichaeism and Its Legacy, Leiden: Brill, 2009, p. 194, 205.

[6] Gregor Wurst, Psalm Book: Pt. II, Fasc. 1, Turnhout: Brepols, 1996; C.R.C. Allberry, A Manichaean Psalm-Book: Part II. Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1938; Gregor Wurst, Psalm Book: Pt. II, Fasc. 1, Turnhout: Brepols, 1996.

[7] Iain Gardner, Anthony Alcock, and Wolf-Peter Funk (eds), Coptic Documentary Texts from Kellis, Volume I, Oxbow, 1999, p. 207.

[8] Coyle, “Prolegomena,” 153.

[9] Jerome, Letter 22 (Jerome: Select Letters, Loeb 262, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1933, p. 81).

[10] Life of Porphyry of Gaza, 85 in Iain Gardner and S.N.C. Lieu (eds.), Manichaean Texts from the Roman Empire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004, p. 126; Marci Diaconi: Vita Porphyrii episcopi Gazensis (Leipzig: Teubner, 1885).

[11] Iain Gardner (ed.), Kellis Literary Texts: Volume 2, Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2007, p. 89.

[12] For instance, the Coptic-Syriac glossaries from Kellis (Gardner, Kellis Literary Texts: Volume 1).

[13] Nils Arne Pederson, Studies in the Sermon on the Great War (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1996, p. 81-3).

[14] With addenda et corrigenda by W.-P. Funk (unpublished).