Philo of Alexandria Studies in Philo of Alexandria

Edited by Francesca Calabi and Robert Berchman

Editorial Board Kevin Corrigan (Emory University) Louis H. Feldman (Yeshiva University, New York) Mireille Hadas-Lebel (La Sorbonne, Paris) Carlos Lévy (La Sorbonne, Paris) Maren Niehoff (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem) Tessa Rajak (University of Reading) Roberto Radice (Università Cattolica, Milano) Esther Starobinski-Safran (Université de Genève) Lucio Troiani (Universita’ di Pavia)

VOLUME 7

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.nl/philo Philo of Alexandria

A Thinker in the Jewish Diaspora

By Mireille Hadas-Lebel

Translated by Robyn Fréchet

Leiden • boston 2012 Originally published as Philon d’Alexandrie un penseur en diaspora by Mireille Hadas-Lebel ©Librarie Arthème Fayard, 2003.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hadas-Lebel, Mireille. [Philon d’Alexandrie. English] Philo of Alexandria : a thinker in the Jewish diaspora / by Mireille Hadas-Lebel ; translated by Robyn Frechet. p. cm. — (Studies in Philo of Alexandria ; 7) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-20948-0 (hardback : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-90-04-23237-2 (e-book) (print) 1. Philo, of Alexandria. 2. Alexandria (Egypt)—Civilization. 3. Judaism and philosophy. 4. Hellenism. I. Fr?chet, Robyn, translator. II. Title.

B689.Z7H3413 2012 181’.06—dc23 2012017637

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This book is printed on acid-free paper. I would like to express my sincere thanks to my friends Helen and Douglas Davis for their help in editing the English version of this book

Contents

Preface ...... xi Abbreviations ...... xv

I Alexandria “on the Edge” of Egypt ...... 1 Alexandria Yesterday, Alexandria Today ...... 1 the City of Alexander ...... 4 A Founder of Great Eminence ...... 4 A New Brand of Urbanism ...... 6 the Lighthouse and the Ports ...... 8 At the Heart of Hellenistic Civilisation ...... 11 the Museum ...... 11 the Library ...... 13 the Gymnasium ...... 15 Places of Entertainment ...... 15 Population and Districts of Alexandria ...... 16 Alexandrian Syncretism ...... 17 the Greek Temples ...... 17 Isis and Sarapis ...... 17 the Syncretism of the Necropolis ...... 19 From Royal Cult to Imperial Cult ...... 20 How Egypt Became Roman ...... 21

II Being Jewish in Alexandria in Philo’s Day ...... 27 A Distinguished Family ...... 27 Between “Metropolis” and “Fatherland”: The Diaspora ...... 31 “If I Forget Thee, O Jerusalem” ...... 35 Between Greeks and Egyptians ...... 40 Proselytes and Renegades ...... 45 A Fragile Minority ...... 48

III Philo’s Cultural World ...... 53 Hellenised Jews ...... 53 Philo’s Education ...... 54 Greek or Hebrew? ...... 58 the Septuagint Translation ...... 59 viii contents

Philo and the Miracle of the Greek Bible ...... 63 Jew and Greek: “The Judaeo-Hellenistic Symbiosis” and its Limits ...... 66

IV Amid Political Turmoil ...... 69 Early Warning Signals ...... 70 When the Mob Seizes Power ...... 71 Confronting the Tyrant ...... 78

V Judaism According to Philo: Practice and Ethics ...... 91 Exterior Criteria for the Jewish Identity ...... 92 Circumcision ...... 95 The Dietary Laws ...... 97 The Sabbath ...... 99 Passover in Egypt ...... 104 The Two Other Feasts of Pilgrimage ...... 107 The Great Fast ...... 109 The Universalist Interpretation ...... 112

VI The Biblical Commentary ...... 117 Philo’s Treatises and the Bible ...... 117 On the Necessity of Exegesis ...... 122 The Bible of Philo ...... 124 Questions and Answers ...... 127 The Creation of the World ...... 128 Man, Woman and the Serpent ...... 131 The Problem of Evil: Cain and Abel ...... 132 The Models in Humanity ...... 133 The First Triad and Noah ...... 133 The Second Triad and Abraham ...... 135 From Joseph to Moses: The Ideal Leader ...... 139 The Decalogue and the Laws of Moses ...... 145 The Exegetical Invention of Philo ...... 149 The Variety of Ways ...... 149 “God is not Like Man” ...... 151 Are there Myths in the Bible? ...... 152 Philo and the Midrash ...... 154

VII Philo and Philosophy ...... 159 Contemplation and Philosophy ...... 159 contents ix

Philo and the Greek Philosophical Schools ...... 161 When Philo “Platonises” ...... 164 “Everything is Number” (Pythagoras) ...... 165 Philo, a Stoic? ...... 169 Barbarian Wisdoms: Essenes and Therapeutes ...... 171 Is Philo a Philosopher? ...... 175 The “True” Philosophy ...... 177

VIII Philo’s Doctrine ...... 181 God, Logos and Powers ...... 181 Law of Nature, Law of Moses ...... 188 “Migration” and Spiritual Progress ...... 190 Political Theory: In Praise of Democracy ...... 192 The Destiny of the Soul ...... 196 The Sojourner on Earth ...... 199

IX Philo, ‘Father of the Church Honoris Causa’ ...... 201 Philo and the Beginnings of Christianity ...... 201 The Septuagint, an Inspired Text ...... 204 Philo and the Development of Christianity in Alexandria ..... 206 Philo in Caesarea ...... 210 Ambrose the “Latin Philo” ...... 213 Philo as a “Christian Source”: From Translations to Printed Editions ...... 214 Philo Judaeus ...... 218 Conclusion: The Philonic Heritage ...... 221

Requiem ...... 223 Bibliography ...... 225 Index of Ancient Authors and Texts ...... 231 Index of Philonic Passages ...... 235

preface

The name Philo occasionally occurs nowadays in encyclopaedias, philosophy dictionaries or histories of Greek literature, but it is somewhat difficult for the uninitiated to differentiate our Philo from a few other authors with the same very common Greek name. Therefore his city of origin, Alexandria, or his religious identity, Judaism, should accompany this name. Philo Alexandrinus and Philo Judaeus reflect the two aspects of this figure. He benefitted from a superior Greek culture, which was flourishing in Alexandrian circles at the time, and from an extensive familiarity with the founding texts of a religion, which was clearly differentiated from the prevailing polytheism and was becoming known as Ioudaismos. The earliest references to Philo are often derived from the legend that was created around him with the beginnings of the Church. Early Chris- tianity is indeed the vector by which the extensive Greek corpus of this Alexandrian Jew reached its readers. This corpus was duly rediscovered in the celebrated library of his native city following the extinction of the once flourishing Jewish community. Philo’s synthesis of Greek philosophy and the sacred texts would lead the Church Fathers to hail him as a reincarnation of Plato or Pythagoras, all the more worthy of their adher- ence as he had also proved to be a reliable commentator on the Holy Scripture. In their unsparing admiration for what they perceived to be a great precursor to the Church, they read him passionately and borrowed abundantly, if not always crediting him as their source. Little is known of Philo’s personal life, apart from his own accounts of the painful episode of the anti-Jewish riots in Alexandria followed by the arduous embassy to the demented Emperor Caligula. What we do know of his life confirms that Philo was a contemporary of Jesus, which was of relevance to later Christian tradition. Legend has it that he met the apostle Peter, if not John the Evangelist, and that he frequented the first community converted by Mark. He has even, on occasion, been acclaimed as a bishop. Philosophers and Hellenists who, from the 19th century to the present day, have studied the works of Philo have essentially attempted to place him in a world of Greek thought. They have debated whether he was of a Platonist or Stoic tendency, whether he should be attached to any particular philosophical school or whether he perhaps represented a brand xii preface of Alexandrian eclecticism. They could not fail to note that most of Philo’s works were based on the Bible, although he often reduced the Bible to allegories, and that he shared with Plato a concept of Creation based on the Moses story. But their essential criteria for assessing Philo remained philosophy. And, as a philosopher, Philo might indeed provide grounds for criticism. Philo’s dissertations were not composed as a standard treatise; in his search for a philosophical form that pleased him, Philo always took a biblical passage as his point of departure. Did he not risk an excessive display of his culture? Was he not more superficial than profound? In his sometimes confused developments, did there lie anything more than banalities borrowed from manuals, or pious jargon? In reaction to this relentless criticism, his admirers would not hesitate to regard Philo’s work as remarkable, even sublime. Some hailed him as one of the major contrib- utors to the history of ideas and a precursor of mediaeval philosophy. Such contradictory judgements are indicative of the variety and wealth of Philo’s thinking. As the French philosopher Adolph Franck suggested in the late 19th century, “this Alexandrian scholar, apart from being a disciple of Plato or Pythagoras, remains above all a follower of Moses, whom he adapted to the admirable Greek mould, so applying to the interpretation of the holy books an allegorical method already practised by the Essenes and Therapeutes”. Philo’s discretion with himself does not permit us to create a narrative biography, but, perhaps, what we can discern is something of greater consequence: a man who trusted in the life of the spirit. He delivers the most profound of his thoughts—the outcome of those transient moments that illuminate the soul and inspire it: I feel no shame in recording my own experience, a thing I know from its having happened to me a thousand times. On some occasions, after making up my mind to follow the usual course of writing on philosophical tenets, and knowing definitely the substance of what I was to set down, I have found my understanding incapable of giving birth to a single idea, and have given it up without accomplishing anything, reviling my understanding for its self- conceit, and filled with amazement at the might of Him that is to Whom is due the opening and closing of the soul-wombs. On other occasions I have approached my work empty and suddenly become full, the ideas falling in a shower from above and being sown invisibly, so that under the influence of the Divine possession I have been filled with corybantic frenzy and been unconscious of anything, place, persons, present, myself, words spoken, lines written. For I obtained language, ideas, an enjoyment of light, keenest vision, pellucid distinctness of objects, such as might be received through the eyes as the result of clearest shewing. (Migr. 34–35) preface xiii

Such sentiments offer us an authentic glimpse into Philo’s inner soul. Here is a meditative thinker in search of divine enlightenment; a man of deep sensitivity in search of answers to the most profound intellectual questions. This book seeks to explain his personality in the context of the first major synthesis of Hellenism and Judaism. Indeed, these were the last flames of a brilliant diaspora which itself was unaware that it was drawing to an end.

Abbreviations

Works of Philo

Abr. De Abrahamo Aet. De aeternitate mundi Agric. De agricultura Alex. Alexander sive De Animalibus Cher. De Cherubim Confus. De confusione linguarum Congr. De congressu eruditionis gratia Contempl. De vita contemplativa Decol. De Decalogo Deter. Quod deterius potiori insidiari soleat Deus Quod Deus sit immutabilis Ebr. De ebrietate Flac. In Flaccum Fug. De fuga et inventione Gig. De gigantibus Her. Quis rerum divinarum heres sit Hypoth. Hypothetica (Apologia pro Iudaeis) Ios. De Iosepho Legat. Legatio ad Caium Leg. I, II, III Legum allegoriae, I, II, III Migr. De migratione Abrahami Mos. I, II De vita Mosis, I, II Mutat. De mutatione nominum Opif. De opificio mundi Plant. De plantatione Poster. De posteritate Caini Praem. De praemiis et poenis, de exsecrationibus Prob. Quod omnis probus liber sit Prov. De Providentia Quaest. Gen. Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesim Quaest. Ex. Quaestiones et solutiones in Exodum Sacrif. De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini Sobr. De sobrietate xvi abbreviations

Somn. I, II De somniis, I, II Spec. I, II, III, IV De specialibus legibus, I, II, III, IV Virt. De virtutibus

Other Abbreviations

AEPHE Annuaire de l’Ecole pratique des Hautes Etudes ANRW Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, ed. W. Haase. Berlin, 1979–87, II, vols. 19.1, 20.1, and 23.2. AJ Josephus, Antiquitates Judaicae. C. Ap. Josephus, Contra Apionem BJ Josephus, Bellum Judaicum CPJ Corpus papyrorum Judaicarum ed. V.A. Tcherikover, A. Fuks, and M. Stern, Cambridge, 1957–64. 3 vols. HE Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius of Caesarea PE Evangelical Preparation of Eusebius of Caesarea JBL Journal of Biblical Literature REJ Revue des Etudes Juives SVF Stoicorum veterum fragmenta Stern M. Stern, Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and Judaism, Jerusalem, 1976–84. 3 vols. CHAPTER ONE

Alexandria “on the edge of” Egypt

Alexandria Yesterday, Alexandria Today

From Alexander’s founding of this city in 331 bce until its destruction by Diocletian in 295, and particularly during the first three centuries of its existence, Alexandria evoked in the ancient world what Mediterranean civilisation valued most. Established as a Greek city, Alexandria would remain so, even after being elevated in 30 bce to capital for the new Roman province of Egypt. By the splendour of its constructions, it would soon exceed in reputation the merits of all rivals, whether Athens and the rival Greek cities of Asia Minor, Antioch, Pergamum or Ephesus. When Rome, already mistress of the world, was still a mere city of bricks,1 Alex- andria had long-since been dressed in marble. No port elsewhere could rival its activity or boast possession of a celebrated lighthouse already classed among the seven marvels of the world. This is why Philo crowned his native city in superlatives without risk of exaggeration. Authors of all tendencies, prior or post Philo, have never ceased rendering homage to the beauty, opulence, nobility, and celebrity of the site that one inscription calls “the most brilliant city of the Alexan- drians”, and that poets name Pharia “City of the Lighthouse.”2 Nevertheless, contemporary visitors to Alexandria remain rare, with no greater ambition than a simple visit. Those attracted by the literary recollections from the beginning of the 20th century, are seeking the place associated with the Greek poet Cavafy or “the great crystal passen- ger steamer moored at the African Horne” eulogised by Lawrence Durrell in the Alexandria Quartet. Few have heard mention of its archaeological vestiges. And with reason! The Egypt of the Pharaohs reaped revenge on Greek and Roman Egypt, and its grandiose remains are worthy of attracting the crowds. “Egypt is a gift of the Nile”, and the immobile charm of the banks of this mythic river along which slither the sails of the felucca

1 Prior to the embellishments engaged by Augustus. 2 On Alexandria, cf. A. Bernand, Alexandrie la grande, Paris, Arthaud, 1966 and J.-Y. Empereur, Alexandrie redécouverte, Paris, Fayard and Stock, 1998. 2 chapter one boats, takes us back to long-lost periods of the immemorial, even better than those ruins. But Alexandria is not on the Nile. The indifference of travellers is indeed due to another somewhat more banal reason. Tourist agencies scarcely mention Alexandria, simply because they have nothing spectacular to show there. The observations gathered from travel accounts since the 17th century, including the famous Description de l’Egypte (1818) undertaken in the course of Napo- leon Bonaparte’s expedition, suggested no marvels to compare with the ruins of the Delta and the Nile Valley: simply columns, and “a vast under- ground monument”. For lack of tangible traces, the scholars created maps and studied the water supply of the ancient city. In order to uncover the city, it would have been vital to undertake excavations. But when archaeological digs came to be envisaged throughout the Near East and Middle East, as from the mid-19th century, Alexandria would represent a lesser priority objective because the site was already inhabited by 60,000 people. A little-known initiative by Napoleon III would nevertheless make some contribution to uncovering the ancient city.3 The French emperor, seeking to write a History of Caesar, consulted the khedive of Egypt for a map of the sites where his hero had fallen under the spell of Cleopatra. Since such a map did not exist, the astronomer Mahmud Bey was commissioned to execute the requested topographical survey. This map, created in 1861, traced the ancient walls which were destined to disappear in 1882. Owing to prestigious patronage, the intervention also provided the opportunity to undertake initial digs in private properties. Isolated discoveries soon enriched private collections, and the Museum was inaugurated in 1895. The only systematic digs around this period were concentrated on a vast necropolis (Kôm el Shugafa), which was discovered by chance, as well as on the site of the Temple of Sarapis. The development of the modern city would only continue to exacer- bate the ravages inflicted on the ancient city, although permitting isolated fresh discoveries here and there. The museum gradually accumulated inscriptions, statues, mommies and potteries, not always of adequately identified origin. On the other hand, no open-air site could be explored in a city that was ever more over-populated (4 million inhabitants by 2003). Destruction of the patrician villas and the smaller edifices has in fact accelerated since 1990. The apartment blocks, barracks and towers which replace them have required foundations of great depth down to natural

3 Cf. A. Bernand, op. cit., p. 15 sq. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 3 rock. Bulldozers were often used before the arrival of the archaeologists, who were alerted only at the last minute. Rapidly improvised salvage digs have forced desperate choices as vestiges that have survived centuries are condemned to definitively disappear, often right before archaeologists’ eyes. Since 1992, a dozen such excavations have permitted the recovery of villas of the Hellenistic period (3rd century bce) in the old quarter of the Brucheion, as well as the exploration of an immense necropolis, already located by the first generation of travellers to the Orient.4 The works undertaken during the construction of the new Bibliotheca Alexan- drina have also permitted salvage digs which have exposed archaeological remains from the Ptolemaic and Roman Imperial periods. These include two mosaics of considerable quality,5 while vestiges of lesser prestige have been condemned to lie crushed for ever beneath the development. The obstacles encountered with land excavations have re-oriented research towards the potential of undersea exploration. The many maritime wrecks of Greek and Roman ships testify to intense activity in the ancient port and the dangers of navigation in this area. Contrary to press reports, underwater traces of the famous lighthouse have not been found. There is, however, general agreement that many of its stones would have been re-used in the construction of the Fort Qaitbay, which has occupied the site since 1480. Those granite blocks that have been recovered from the sea are the remains of colossal statues, more or less recognisable or identi- fiable from their engraved inscriptions. Two of these represent a Ptolemy as Pharaoh, and his wife as Isis, and must have decorated the threshold of the lighthouse. Among the principal goals of Alexandrian underwater archaeology has been the establishment of the topography of the area of the royal quarters and the ancient port installations that were submerged in the course of various earthquakes from the end of the 4th century.6 Ultimately, the texts of such ancient authors as Philo tell us more about the glory of Alexandria than those relics that have been extracted from land and sea. In anticipation of new discoveries, it has proved to be more productive “to wade less in the waters and rather more in the libraries.”7 Today, the lighthouse has collapsed, Alexander’s tomb has vanished, the

4 J.-Y. Empereur, “Le sauvetage de la cité antique”, Le Monde de la Bible n°111 (“La gloire d’Alexandrie”), May–June 1998, pp. 19–27. For the result of recent digging, see Alexandrina I and II published by J.-Y. Empereur, Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale (BIFAO) and BSAA. 5 Cf. D. Said, “Deux mosaïques hellénistiques récemment découvertes à Alexandrie”, BIFAO 94, p. 377 sq. and 487–489. 6 Cf. J.-Y. Empereur, Alexandrie redécouverte, ch. 4. 7 A Bernand, “Sur le “marbre” des phares d’Alexandrie”, ZPE 118, 1997, p. 136. 4 chapter one two obelisks known as “Cleopatra’s needles” have been dispatched, one to London the other to New York, while the symbol of the ancient city, “Pompey’s column”, is now attributed Diocletian, its destroyer. He who seeks to dream of Alexandrian splendours is destined to return to the literary works of the ancients.

The City of Alexander

A Founder of Great Eminence “City of Alexander” was the name frequently conferred on Alexandria in antiquity. It represents the homage rendered to that most illustrious founder of cities, Alexander the Great. No less than seventy cities called Alexandria have been associated with this conqueror of the Persian Empire. Many were tiny localities that he fortified on his route of conquest towards India; no less than six among these eastern cities of Alex- andria (including Kandahar in Afghanistan) were colonies on the Greek model, like the Egyptian Alexandria which had preceded them. According to Greek definition, the founder of a city is he who chose its site. On what grounds might Alexander have chosen the site of Alex- andria? If Plutarch is to be believed, the hero decided to found a Greek city on Egyptian soil after encountering an old man in a dream who had recited the following lines: Now there is an island in the much-dashing sea of Egypt; Pharos is what men call it.8 The old man would be no other than Homer himself. The site he mentions in these two lines of the Odyssey lay west of the Nile Delta. Alexander swiftly identified this small island close to the coast. Work to lay the city’s foundations began even before his departure for the oasis of Siwa in the desert of Libya, where he intended to consult the oracle of the god Amon. All the omens were declared favourable to the pursuit of his projects; the god protected Alexander and would even claim him as his son.9 The miraculous events in which the Alexander Legend abounds in no way exclude more rational explanations relating to the site itself. Homer

8 Odyssey IV, l. 354, cited by Plutarch Life of Alexander XXV, 5. Homer’s declaration hardly matches the topography, since it situates Pharos, site of the marine god Proteus, at a day’s navigation from the coast. 9 Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica XVII, 51; Plutarch, Life of Alexander XXVII, 9. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 5 er y Eleusi s Suburb e r te ern Cemet Canopus Ga te otis East Ma re Hippodrom Jewish Quar La ke

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P MEDIT mple of Te 6 chapter one had indeed proffered an eminently favourable location, “a strip of land, like enough to a broad isthmus extending between a great lagoon [Lake Mareotis] and a stretch of the sea.”10 At several cable lengths from the shoreline, the Island of Pharos would remind Alexander of the site of Tyre, which he had just captured after a seven-month siege. The Phoenician city was built on an islet linked to the mainland that facilitated the function of two ports. Pharos, likewise linked to the mainland, would also ensure a prodigious economic activity for the new city.11 The presence of Lake Mareotis prevented the city developing to the south; at the same time, it allowed sufficient space for the development of another port, even more dynamic than the sea ports, facing the Egyptian hinterland itself. The climate was known to be healthy since the lake had not produced marshland and the wind freshened the air during the hot season.12 He decided to found a great city in Egypt and gave orders to the men left behind with this mission to build the city between the marsh and the sea. He laid out the site and traced the streets skillfully and ordered that the city should be called after him Alexandria. It was conveniently situated near the harbour of Pharos, and by selecting the best angle of the streets, Alexander made the city breathe with the etesian winds so that as these blow across a great expanse of sea, they cool the air of the town, and so he provided its inhabitants with a moderate climate and good health. As a result, the choice of the site for Alexandria is unanimously acclaimed by the authors of antiquity: When he had reached Canobus and sailed round Lake Mareotis, he went ashore where the city of Alexandria, named after him, is now situated. It struck him that the position was admirable for founding a city there and that it would prosper. A longing for the work therefore seized him, he himself marked out where the city’s market-place was to be built, how many temples there were to be and the gods, some Greek, and Isis the Egyptian for whom they were to be erected, and where the wall was to be built around it.13

A New Brand of Urbanism Alexander engaged an architect for the new city in rather special circumstances, as reported in the Augustan period by Vitruvius, author of the

10 Plutarch, Life of Alexander XXVI, 7. 11 A. Bernand, Alexandrie, p. 41. 12 Diodorus XVII, 52, 2; cf. Strabo, Geography XVII, 1, 7. 13 Arrian, Anabasis of Alexander III, 1, 5. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 7 first known treatise on architecture. Seeking in vain to attract the king’s attention, a Macedonian by the name of Deinocrates, disguised himself as Hercules to gain his hearing. He proposed a project for landscaping Mount Athos as daring as it was scarcely practicable. Alexander could not sub- scribe to such a project, but he nevertheless chose to retain Deinocrates in his entourage. As soon as he had identified a favourable site in Egypt, he asked Deinocrates “to build in his name the city of Alexandria.”14 Alex- andria would remain a Greek city on Egyptian territory, or rather on the very edge of it, apud Aegyptum. The new city would be of resolutely modern conception. The “Ionic plan” had already held sway in the Greek world for a century, based on the model of Miletus with its streets at right angles. This celebrated Greek city of Asia Minor, destroyed in 494 bce by the Persians and liberated in 479 bce, had been rebuilt on a chequer-board plan. It was thanks to Hip- podamos of Miletus, an architect from this city who was also responsible for the construction of Piraeus, that the Athenians would come to understand the advantages of a clear and regular plan satisfying the spirit: “Its mathematical division responded to the mathematical and logical divi- sions within which the philosopher-architects sought to enclose their ideal society.”15 Alexander had perhaps heard of Hippodamos of Miletus from his philosophy master, Aristotle, who greatly admired his talents.16 Throughout antiquity, the configuration of Alexandria was compared to that of a chlamys, the short military cloak of Macedonian origin adopted by all Greeks. When placed flat on the ground, the chlamys seems to be twice as long as it is wide.17 Not surprising since the scantiness of the strip of land between sea and lake did not permit expansion on the north-south axis. The later east-west extension had Alexandria compared with a tenia. For the Egyptians the city remained “Rhakotis”, a “building-site”. According to ancient authors,18 Alexander himself supervised the plotting of the city plan, adapting it to the terrain. It was he who was the one responsible for connecting this site by a causeway with Pharos; he who began the construction of a magnificent palace and powerful ramparts, he who established the location of all the major buildings characteristic of

14 Vitruvius, De Architectura II, Preface. 15 R. Martin, L’Urbanisme dans la Grèce antique Paris, Picard, 1974, p. 106. 16 Aristotle, Constitutions, 1267b. Philip of Macedonia had confided to Aristotle Alexan- der aged 14 years old. 17 A. Bernand, Alexandrie, p. 52. 18 Plutarch, Life of Alexander xxvi, Strabo XVII, 79. 8 chapter one

Hellenism, and he who decided to divide the city centre, with an avenue of exceptional breadth known as the Canobic avenue. The limits of the new city were established with auspices that were interpreted as being favourable. Flour, in the absence of chalk, was used to trace the contours. A swarm of birds immediately fought over the flour so that it was quickly dispersed. Alexander would interpret this as an ill-omen until he was persuaded to reinterpret the event as a portent of future prosperity. Leading an army of 47,000 men, Alexander departed in the direction of Asia, never to see the dreamt-of city to which he had consigned his name. Indeed, ridden with pernicious fever on reaching Babylon, Alexander was destined to die at the age of 33. He had ordered that he be buried at the oasis of Amon, but his body was intercepted en route at Memphis by one of his lieutenants, Ptolemy, son of Lagos, who was seeking to legitimise his own succession. The founder of the Lagid dynasty provided a golden sarcophagus for his predecessor and a tomb for Alexander was later built in Alexandria where it would be admired for over five centuries, one of the city’s finest embellishments.19 Alexander’s memory was indeed best perpetuated in the city of Alex- andria. This heart of a new civilisation linked Greece with the East as it had succeeded in linking “the limited precise and very geometric conception of the Miletus city plan, with a taste for grandiosity, a greater sense of monumentality deriving from both local tradition and oriental contributions.”20

The Lighthouse and the Ports

Alexandria’s topography is better known by descriptions from ancient authors than from its archaeological remains. Travellers from afar lin- gered over their descriptions of the already- mythical city they were just discovering. The historian Diodorus Siculus visited it in 59 bce, and the geographer Strabo sojourned there in 25 or 24 bce; to the latter we owe the most precise evocation of the city. For those arriving by sea, it was indeed the lighthouse perched on the Island of Pharos that announced the port of Alexandria. We should not fail to mention this monument first as it was already counted among the

19 At the end of the 4th century, John Chrysostome exclaimed in one of his homilies: “But where then is the tomb of Alexander?” No-one knows what became of it. 20 R. Martin, L’Urbanisme dans la Grèce antique, p. 118. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 9 seven marvels of the world: by day it was visible even at a great distance when the low-lying coast was still barely distinguishable; by night, it sig- naled reefs with a dominating flame. Its architect, Sostrates of Cnidus, had cunningly succeeded in signing the work of which he was so proud. When obliged to inscribe the names of King Ptolemy II Philadelphus and his wife Arsinoe, he had them engraved on a limestone coating knowing that this would soon disintegrate leaving another name engraved in the stone, “Sostrates of Cnidus, son of Dexiphanes [dedicates this edifice] to the saviour gods [Castor and Pollux, the patrons of sailors] for the safety of navigators”. This is what Strabo could have read in his time. The tower, which was about one hundred and thirty metres high,21 had three floors, each one reducing in size with height. The organisation of all the interior machinery incited as much amazement as the tower’s fine white stone exterior,22 which was embellished with sculptures. A fire fed with resinous wood was reflected by an ensemble of convex mirrors at the summit of the structure. The island of Pharos was linked to the continent by a causeway seven stadia in length, known as a Heptastadium. Its earliest mention is found in a 2nd century Judaeo-Greek text, the Letter of Aristeas. The Heptasta- dium outline, to date only approximately reconstituted, has recently been re-examined, thanks to geophysical technology.23 Strabo the geographer describes it around the time of Philo’s birth: The Western mouth is also not easy to enter [. . .] and it likewise forms a second harbor, that of Eunostos, as it is called, which lies in front of the closed harbor which was dug by the hand of man. For the harbor which affords the entrance on the side of the above-mentioned tower of Pharos is the Great Harbour, wherever these two lie continuous with that harbor in their innermost recess, being separated from it only by the embankment called the Heptastadium. The embankment forms a bridge extending from the mainland to the western portion of the island, and leaves open only two passages into the harbor of Eunostos, which are bridged over. However, this work formed not only a bridge to the island but also an aqueduct at least when Pharos was inhabited. (Geography XVII, 1.6) This description is less exact than it would appear. It gives the impression that the Heptastadium defined two ports communicating with each other:

21 Its height may be reconstituted by a calculation founded on indications from Flavius Josephus according to whom the flames had a projection of three hundred stadia in distance (AJ XVI, 144, BJ V, 169). 22 Instead of marble as demonstrated by A. Bernand, “Sur le ‘marbre’ du phare d’Alexandrie, ZPE 118 (1997), pp. 131–137. 23 Cf. A. Hesse in J.-Y. Emperor, Alexandrina I, 1998, pp. 21–29. 10 chapter one to the west that of Eunostos (Happy Return), which sheltered naval yards; to the East, near the Royal Palace, the New Port, the most active, protected by a small headland, Cape Lochias, and sufficiently deep for moor- ing large vessels.24 At the mouth of the Heptastadium lay an extensive market, warehouses and arsenals. To the west of Cape Lochias, near the island of Antirhodos, there was another small port reserved for kings. The harbour for all Egypt was located on Lake Mareotis. Thanks to a system of canals linking it to the Canobic branch of the Nile, it received all the merchandise of the land, as well as that coming from other regions of Africa and Asia: “Through these canals the imports are much larger than those from the sea, so that the harbour on the lake is in fact richer than that on the sea; and here the exports from Alexandria are also larger than the imports” writes Strabo (XVII, 1, 7). All ships heading for Rome or the Hellenistic kingdoms of Asia left from Alexandria. In addition to the Egyptian specialty of papyrus, they would transport fine fabrics, glass vases and blue-glazed pottery manufactured on site. Above all, they would transport wheat, a vital commodity which was eagerly anticipated in the capital of the Roman Empire, since Egypt provided a quarter of the annual public provision of food for the population of Rome.25 Exotic products would also transit through Alexandria. From Africa came ivory, ostrich feathers and the wild animals destined for gladiator games. Other products—silk, spices, aromatics and perfumes— came from India or Arabia. The perfumes were often processed on site at Alexandria before crossing the Mediterranean. Imports to Alexandria included olive oil, honey, wine and such materials as Egypt sorely lacked: wood, marble, metals. In the first century, the volume of maritime exchange between Alexan- dria and Italy was so great that travellers did not need to wait long for a boat to their destination. When King Agrippa I was preparing to embark for Judaea, Caligula advised him to travel via Alexandria as a short-cut. Hence, “they were swift-sailing merchant vessels and highly skilled pilots who manage them as a charioteer manages race-horses and provide a straight-forward passage along the direct route.”26 The voyage between Alexandria and Italy took about eighteen or nineteen days, although with favourable winds, records could be beaten. According to Pliny the Elder,27 two prefects from Egypt departing from

24 Lucian, The Ship, on Egyptian vessels. 25 Cf. Flavius Josephus, BJ II, 383–386. 26 Philo, Against Flaccus 26. 27 Natural History XIX, 1, 3. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 11 the straits of Sicily made the crossing respectively in seven and six days, while a Roman senator leaving Puteoli a bit further north, only took nine days. This rapidity is justified by the fact that the boats leaving Italy for Alexandria were less laden than on their return, since exports exceeded imports. So Alexandria, by its situation and the quality of its harbours, had become, as Strabo testifies (XVII, 1, 13), “the greatest emporium in the inhabited world.”

At the Heart of Hellenistic Civilisation

All the Lagid sovereigns attempted to beautify their capital by adding gardens and public buildings. The royal quarter occupied almost a third of the total city surface. Apart from the palaces, many other constructions radiated with a new form of Hellenism, which has been termed Hellenistic Civilisation.

The Museum “The Museum constitutes a part of the palace of the kings; it encloses a promenade, a place endowed with seating for conferences, and a large hall where the learned members of the Museum take meals together. This society receives revenues in common. It has a priest as director, originally nominated by the king, and now by the emperor.” This description of the Museum by Strabo (XVII, 1, 8), does not correspond to our contemporary understanding of the term “museum”. It was a site animated by meetings, attracting all the talents of the period, a precursor to modern academies and research centres. This institution took its name from Mouseion , the hill of the Muses of Athens, which had sheltered the illustrious philosophical school of Pythagoras, while Plato gathered his disciples in the gardens of the Academy, Aristotle in the woods of the Lyceum and the Stoics beneath the porticoes (Stoa). The new Athens that Alexandria aspired to become was endowed with the capacity to attract the greatest minds of each generation. It was the men of science, rather than literature, who would contribute most to the glory of Alexandria: Euclid the inventor of geometry; Archimedes of Syracuse who, apart from his celebrated theoretical works, developed practical mechanics and improved irrigation techniques in Egypt; Nico- machus the original inventor of arithmetic; Apollonius of Perga, author of a work on conic sections; Eratosthenes of Cyrene, the first geographer, who measured the length of the earthly meridian; Aristarchus of Samos, who calculated the relative differences between earth, sun and moon, 12 chapter one while maintaining that the earth gravitates around the sun; Hipparchus of Nicaea, who determined the solar year and the precession of the equinoxes . . . It is to the Alexandrian school of medicine, as represented by Diocles of Carystus, Praxagoras of Cos, Chrysippus of Cnidus, Herophilus of Chalcedon, Erasistratus of Ceos, that we owe the earliest known dis- section of the human body, thus founding the disciplines of anatomy and physiology; in the second century, Galen would be inspired by his Alex- andrian predecessors, and it is on the basis of his works that humanity achieved the great discoveries of the Renaissance. The philological school was also very active: Zenodotus of Ephesus, Aristophanes of Byzantium, Crates of Mallus would distinguish authentic from apocryphal works, establish texts and divide them into books, develop exegesis on Homer and Hesiod in the form of scholia. Amongst the Alexandrian philologists, Aristarchus of Samothrace was known for the severity and impartiality of his criticism, while Zoilus was deemed to be unjust and not acting in good faith. All the philosophical schools, whether stoic, peripatetic, academic, or sceptic, gathered in Alexandria. The philosophers received at the Museum included Theophrastus of Lesbos and Strato of Lampsacus. However, what is known in philosophy as the “Alexandrian School” corresponds to a period much later than Philo. This eclectic school, which borrowed from Plato and Pythagoras (with a touch of Oriental mysticism), was created at Alexandria in 193 by Ammonius Saccas and taken to Rome by Plotinus. To a certain extent, Philo may be considered as precursor to that school. “Alexandrinism” is generally treated mercilessly in the histories of Greek literature: “Literature strictly speaking, sadly vegetated in this atmosphere of science and erudition, harvesting only fruit with neither sap nor savour.”28 Yet the Museum was not lacking in subtle minds and accomplished versifiers, amongst them Callimachus of Cyrene, author of elegies, epigrams and hymns, as well as his disciple Apollonius, author of a long epic poem on the expedition of the Argonauts, which caused his jealous master to drive him into a period of exile on the island of Rhodes. Apart from those Argonautics and pastoral or lyric poems composed by Theocrites of Syracuse, Alexandrian literature suffers from pedantry which stifles feeling and ultimately renders the text unintelligible.

28 A. Pierron, Histoire de la littérature grecque (section from Histoire universelle by V. Duruy), Paris 1867, p. 471. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 13

Such is the case of the Tragedy of Alexander by Lycophron. The patronage of princes also favoured a brand of courtly poetry based on sheer flattery. Exempt from taxes, nourished at the Crown’s expense and magnificently lodged amid the gardens near the palace, the residents of the Museum had only to cultivate the Muses to take advantage of all that was placed at their disposal, in particular the famous Library. They did not always use these advantages in the best interests if we are to believe Timon the misanthrope: “In populated Egypt, mash is regularly distributed to many pen-pushers, great readers of books, who are ceaselessly and endlessly bickering in the aviary of the Museum.”29

The Library A number of Greek cities already possessed libraries when Demetrius of Phalerum, dismissed from the city of Athens that he had governed for ten years (318–308 bce), found refuge within the entourage of the Lagid king Ptolemy I Soter in Alexandria. The new royal counsellor nurtured the idea of creating an encyclopaedic library attached to the Museum and, in fact, became its first librarian ca 290 bce. A building, specially designed to house books—at that time taking the form of scrolls—was erected in the Bruchion quarter during the reign of Ptolemy II Philadelphus (285–246 bce), son of Ptolemy Soter. The names of Demetrius and Phila- delphus will remain forever associated with this innovation, thanks to the celebrated Letter of Aristeas to Philocrates.30 These two figures did not, however, enjoy the best relations. Demetrius expressed indignation that Soter had selected a son of his second wife to succeed him to the throne and shortly after his accession, Ptolemy II placed Demetrius under house arrest and had him stung by an asp. According to Aristeas, Demetrius had ambitions to increase the number of books in the Library to 500,000. The catalogue established between 260 and 240 bce, showed there were 120,000.31 It is clear that the number of volumes varied according to period—400,000 at the death of Philadelphus, 700,000 in Caesar’s time—but without doubt the library of Alexandria was

29 Silles, ap. Athenaeus I, 22 D. 30 Cf. infra, chap. III. 31 Cf. H.I. Marrou, Histoire de l’éducation dans l’Antiquité, Paris, 1948, p. 261. 14 chapter one the richest collection in all antiquity and “the largest library the world ever knew prior to the invention of printing”.32 Books were gathered in a variety of ways. The collections were generally of Greek works, but some also included books translated from other languages. Ptolemy II would have launched an appeal to all sovereigns and leaders on the earth. As suggested by a bilingual inscription from Kanda- har, it is probable that his appeal was heard as far afield as India, thereby reaching the ears of King Asoka.33 Aristeas, as will be seen, contended that the appeal would also have been heard in Jerusalem. The Lagid kings, for their part, did not hesitate to confiscate books. On learning of any ship arriving in Alexandria with a manuscript, they would despatch officials to borrow it for recopying. Only the copy would be returned and the Library would retain the original. Ptolemy Euergetes behaved likewise with the Athenians, who imprudently lent him the official texts of Lycurgus for their three great authors of tragedies. The Athenians then found themselves in possession of a copy to which was added a fee of 15 talents that was exacted for the loan of the original. And, of course, there was no shortage of materials for creating these copies in Egypt, the land of the papyrus reed. The curators of the Library, among whom were Calimachus, Eratos- thenes and Aristophanes of Byzantium, undertook a systematic classification by genre. The books were stored in cupboards, and arranged as in Aristotle’s library.34 However, at the Sarapium annexe, which was intended for a wider public, the Egyptian approach to installation was preferred, with niches arranged in the walls. Over the centuries, the famous library would suffer fires and misap- propriation. When Caesar was besieged in the Bruchion in 47 bce, he set fire to the arsenals and the flames spread to the book depository. Six years later, Antony wooed Cleopatra by offering her part of the library of Perga- mum, the great rival city in Asia Minor, where the use of pergamenon or parchment, had been developed. The Alexandrian library was again destroyed in 390 during conflicts between pagans and Christians. Reconstituted in the 6th century, it was again the victim of flames during the Arab conquest in 641.

32 E.A. Parsons, The Alexandrian Library, Glory of the Hellenic World, Amsterdam- London-New York, 1952, p. 203. 33 Cf. Parsons, op. cit., p. 201 and L. Robert, “Une bilingue gréco-araméenne d’Asoka”, Journal asiatique 246 (1958). 34 Strabo, XIII, 608. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 15

The seductive idea of reviving a great universal library at Alexandria in the 21st century has generated a new and grandiose architectural project. This eleven-storey building covering 85,405 square metres, is intended to form a solar disk inclining towards the Mediterranean. Although it is intended to contain ten million volumes, it is difficult to see how this library will fulfill its vocation in a world infinitely more vast, diverse and complex than that of the eastern Mediterranean in antiquity. At that time, the Greek language dominated this region of the world, and it sufficed to translate into Greek the most significant works written in other languages.

The Gymnasium Alexandria was also intent on creating at least one if not several centres where Hellenic culture was transmitted to its youth through the gymna- siums. Among the most prestigious public buildings of the city, Strabo would cite the “Gymnasium, which has porticoes more than a stadium in length” (XVII, I.10). The Gymnasium (from Greek gymnos, “nude”) was a place where young Greeks, naked or almost, come of age as ephebes, delivered themselves to athletic exercises. It also contained rooms where philosophers delivered public lectures. The main Gymnasium at Alexandria was such an important centre that dignitaries—among them Mark Antony—exercised the functions of directors, or gymnasiarchs. Although intended mainly for sporting competitions, the Gymnasium often served as the site of grand political assemblies. The young men who frequented the Gymnasium were the sons of Alexandrian citizens. They were required to possess full citizenship and to consent to attend an institution that was under the protection of the Greek gods Hermes and Heracles. It is uncertain whether Jews such as Philo had access to gymnasium education.

Places of Entertainment The Gymnasium possessed its own stadium for training the ephebes in sprinting, but there were also several other stadiums in the city. Strabo tells us that in the Augustan period, the grand stadium and the amphi- theatre, which the Romans used for gladiatorial contests, were situated on the city outskirts at Nicopolis, where Games would be held every five years (XVII, 1.10). 16 chapter one

The hippodrome, which has not yet been located, attracted lovers of chariot racing. According to the third book of Maccabees, it was on this site that Ptolemy IV gathered the Jews and despatched drunken elephants against them; only a miracle avoided widespread massacre. The theatre dedicated to Dionysius was situated near the palace, according to Strabo’s account. As with all Greek theatres, it must have been dug into the flank of a hill. It may therefore be assumed to have nestled on the slopes of the Bruchion with view over the main port. It was also there, as will be noted later, that tragic events took place in Philo’s time.

Population and Districts of Alexandria

The expanse and the beauty of the recently established Greek city transformed it into a major attraction. Egyptians from the countryside began to settle there, and the extent of the rural exodus began to disturb King Ptolemy II,35 because the depletion of the countryside threatened sup- plies of agricultural produce to the capital. So he forbade sojourns of more than twenty days in the city. On discovering that convocations at the tribunal law courts were serving as pretexts for clandestine settlement in the city, he introduced two additional measures: he insisted that legal judgments be settled within five days and he established local jurisdic- tions. Nevertheless the city continued to attract an indigenous population which, in time, became entirely Hellenised. By the first century, the city had reached the dimensions of a megalopolis—certainly the most populated in the Hellenistic world—with numbers estimated at between 400,000 and a million inhabitants. The political upheavals caused by the rival Seleucid Empire, until it was transformed by Pompey into a Roman province in 63 bce, prompted an influx of Greeks from Syria or Hellenised Syrians. We know less about these groups than about the Jews who, for reasons that will be clarified, were found in high proportion both throughout Egypt and within its capital. Philo alone advances figures: “There were no less than a million Jews resident in Alexandria and throughout the country, from the slope into Libya to the boundaries of Ethiopia.”36 He does not provide figures for

35 Cf. Letter of Aristeas, 109–111. 36 Flac. 43. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 17 the Jews of Alexandria itself, but his geographical indications indicate that they made up at least a third of the city’s population. Of the city’s five quarters, each designated by the first five letters of the Greek alphabet (Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon), two were occupied mainly, if not exclusively, occupied by Jews: the Delta quarter situated on the sea side, to the east of the Royal Palace, was said to be Jewish.37 The Jews were under no pressure to take up residence there, Josephus noted, but they had been offered this arrangement because it would be convenient for observing their customs.38 Philo added, however, that many Jews were also dispersed in other quarters around the city. So the division of Alexandria into quarters is known to us, paradoxically, mostly through Jewish writers for reasons which are related to inter- communal conflicts during the 1st century, as we will see in Chapter IV.

Alexandrian Syncretism

The Greek Temples There was no shortage of temples in Alexandria. Strabo mentions a Poseidium—that is, a temple of Poseidon situated close to the port—and a Paneium dedicated to the god Pan of unusual height: “It has the shape of a fir cone, resembles a rocky hill, and is ascended by a spiral road; and from the summit, one can see the whole of the city lying below it on all sides.” Papyri or inscriptions have preserved the memory of other temples dedicated to Greek gods: a Hephaisteium for Hephaistos; a Hermaium for Hermes, a Nemeseium for Nemesis, a Tycheium or temple of Fortune (for Tyche). The presence of these Greek temples in a city so marked by the imprint of Hellenism is not surprising. Without a doubt, there were many others.

Isis and Sarapis The Lagid kings also successfully reconciled their Egyptian subjects by maintaining or developing indigenous cults. At Canobus, not far from Alexandria, the cult of the Egyptian goddess Isis, which has been widely described, would rapidly develop in

37 C. Ap. II, 34–35. Strabo cited by Josephus (AJ XIV, 117). 38 BJ II, 488; C. Ap. II, 36. 18 chapter one

Alexandria itself. Isis the goddess of healing was also mistress of the sea, which explains why a temple of Isis-Pharia, often represented on coins, was built at Pharos. The figure of Isis would also be confused with those of the principal feminine Greek divinities, Aphrodite or Demeter. Here seems to be implied a veritable syncretism. Sarapis, the greatest god of Alexandria, is a typically Alexandrian creation. The Sarapis cult was introduced by Ptolemy I. He entrusted to a com- mission, under the direction of the Hellenised Egyptian priest Manetho, the responsibility of elaborating a divinity that both Greek and Egyptian subjects could honour in common. He ordered a statue from Sinope in the kingdom of Pontus, and introduced Sarapis as the heir to Osiris-Apis, funerary god of Memphis, and to Greek divinities, Dionysius or Aescula- pius. By reason of his pre-eminence over the other gods, Sarapis was also identified with Zeus Amon. His popularity relies on being a healing divinity. Sarapis, Isis and the young Horus (or Harpocrates) constituted a much venerated triad whose cult spread throughout the entire Roman Empire. The Sarapium of Sarapis, rebuilt by Ptolemy III, was considered the finest temple in Alexandria, according to ancient authors. Its structures were layered across an artificial hill which culminated at the site of the sanctuary, and to which access was provided by a hundred steps. Sumptuously coated with precious stones and precious metals, the interior sheltered a colossal statue of the god.39 On the basis of other statues of Sarapis, it is not difficult to imagine this powerful, bearded figure in his maturity, seated on a throne, with a calathos, or bushel, placed on his curly hair. The cult of Sarapis would gradually spread throughout the Mediterranean basin. Thanks to several archaeological excavations (late 19th century, 1940 to 1943, and 1997), we now have a deeper appreciation of the Sarapium than what was known from literary sources. Such excavations have facilitated recovering bilingual dedications, in hieroglyphics and in Greek. One of these claims that “King Ptolemy, son of Ptolemy and Arsinoe, dedicated the temple and the sacred enclosure to Sarapis”. This refers to Ptolemy III Euergetes, who reigned from 246 bce to 221 bce. During the reign of his son Ptolemy IV Philopator, a small sanctuary annexed to the first was dedicated to Harpocrates, “according to the order of Sarapis and Isis”. The

39 Cf. Bernand, Alexandrie, pp. 125–128. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 19 porticoes of the Sarapium housed an annexe to the Great Library, where second copies and less precious books were stored. The image of Sarapis perfectly represents the Greco-Egyptian syncretism for which Alexandrian civilisation provides a variety of examples.

The Syncretism of the Necropolis Several “cities of the dead”, have been discovered in Alexandria;40 it was Strabo who first introduced the term “necropolis,” relating to a cemetery, situated in the west of the city, the extent of which would amaze his contemporaries. There were countless tombs amid gardens and embalm- ing houses. From the third century bce, Greeks were buried in this part of the necropolis. Some were laid in funerary chambers or in deep niches, known as loculi. Others preferred to be cremated, their ashes preserved in water vases, as indicated in recent excavations (1997–2000) in the Gabbari quarter. Cremation was never practiced by the Egyptians themselves, who preferred preserving the corpse in the expectation of re-birth. Greek tombs are often adorned with scenes of farewell to the dead. However, the decoration on some of these tombs can be viewed as an illustration of Alexandrian syncretism: the expression of a similar belief in two forms, one Egyptian, the other Greek. On two tombs from the necropolis of Kom el-Shugafa, which can be dated to the end of the 1st century, parallel scenes are found: those above in Egyptian style; those below in Greek style.41 The upper scene represents Osiris being embalmed in the presence of Anubis, Isis, Nephtys and Horus, as well as the resurrection of Osiris. The lower scene represents three episodes in the life-cycle of Demeter’s daughter, Persephone, who was carried off to the underworld by Hades and permitted to return on earth according to the seasons. The two parallel scenes attest to a comparable preoccupation with the fate of the soul in the beyond, transcribed through a different mythological and pictorial language while emphasising their equivalence. A dozen Jewish tombs of the Ptolemaic period have been discovered since 1870 to the east of the Lochias promontory. They are recognizable—some through the use

40 For the most recent archaeological discoveries, cf. Necropolis I and II under the direction of J.-Y. Empereur and M.-D. Nenna, IFAO, Cairo, 2001 and 2003. 41 Cf. A.-M. Guimier-Sorbets, “Les peintures de la nécropole de Kôm el Chougafa, une forme originale de syncrétisme religieux”, Monde de la Bible 111, 1998, p. 34. 20 chapter one of Hebrew characters, others by the biblical names. Some objects bear Jewish symbols, such as the seven-branch candelabra.42

From Royal Cult to Imperial Cult The royal cult which developed in Egypt at the time of the Lagids is the most striking example of the meeting of the two traditions, Greek and Egyptian. Outside Egypt, Hellenistic cities, in recognition of the Diadochi—the six Macedonian generals who succeeded Alexander—, and of the subsequent kings began, by the end of the 4th century, dedicating sacred enclo- sures with sacrifices, hymns, musical games, gymnastic and horse-riding competitions, gold crowns and statues, to their benefactor. This benefactor would often receive divine epithets such as Sôter “savior,” Evergetes “benefactor,” so that gradually the king had himself turned into a god. He even appeared on coins with the features of his tutelary god, if the god himself did not assume the features of the king.43

In an Egypt where the Pharaonic cult had left traces, the Ptolemies came to be regarded as successors to the Pharaohs. Without scruple, they allowed themselves to be proclaimed “son of Ra”, “living image of Amon”, while assuming the sacerdotal function deriving from these titles. The cult of Alexander the Great, founded by the Lagids, also favoured the royal cult of their dynasty. Ptolemy I was only honoured after his death, but Ptolemy II was associated during his lifetime with the cult of his dead sister and wife, Arsinoe, thus tracing the way for his successors who would all receive divine honours within their lifetime. The royal cult could only proliferate in Egypt as a response to gifts and privileges bestowed by these sovereigns. This cult was the object of decrees written in two languages, as that of the Rosetta stone (27 March 196 bce) which provided the keys to deciphering hieroglyphs. The cult had its priests of Greek rites or Egyptian rites throughout the country. Royal anniversaries were celebrated with particular zeal. Most other Lagid sovereigns chose a Greek god on which the royal cult was superimposed. On becoming master of Egypt with Cleopatra, Mark Antony would respect the custom: he identified himself with Dionysius.

42 Cf. M. Horbury and D. Noy, Jewish Inscriptions of Greco-Roman Egypt, Cambridge, 1992, Introduction pp. XIII–XIV and n°1–12. 43 Cf. Cl. Préaux, Le Monde hellénistique I, PUF, Paris, 1978, pp. 245–259. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 21

Augustus saw the advantages of such a tradition and permitted the consecration in his honour of a Caesareum or Sebasteum (from Sebastos, Greek translation of Augustus). The entry to the Caesareum/Sebasteum, which was visible from the sea, was framed by two obelisks (dedicated to Thoutmosis III), which had been taken from the temple of Heliopolis and have come to be known as “Cleopatra’s needles”. Philo has left us a fine description: For there is elsewhere no precinct like that which is called Sebasteum, a temple to Caesar on shipboard, situated on an eminence facing the harbours famed for their excellent moorage, huge and conspicuous, fitted on a scale not found elsewhere with dedicated offerings, around it a girdle of pictures and statues in silver and gold, forming a precinct of vast breadth, embellished with porticoes, libraries, chambers, groves, gateways and wide open courts and everything which lavish expenditure could produce to beautify it—the whole a hope of safety to the voyager either going into or out of the harbour. (Legatio 151) It is indeed in Alexandria that the imperial cult, totally foreign to the Roman spirit, took root. It remained the preserve of Egypt and other provinces long before taking hold in Rome itself.

How Egypt Became Roman

When Philo was born ca 20 bce, Alexandria had been the capital of the Roman province of Egypt for about ten years. The transition from Lagid Egypt to Roman Egypt had been progressive. The celebrated love affair of the last queen, Cleopatra VII, with two successive masters of Rome, Caesar and Mark Antony was already a fable within the veritable Roman protectorate over Egypt. Following his defeat before Caesar at Palaepharsalus in Thessaly (9th August 48 bce), Pompey had expected to be able to find asylum in Egypt, counting on old links of hospitality that he had secured with Ptolemy XII Auletes. But the political situation of the Lagid kingdom was extremely confused. Cleopatra VII, aged 21, contested the throne offered to her young brother Ptolemy XIII, who was then barely 12 years old. The true masters of the country, the regent Pothinus and the chief of the armies, Achillas, judged it more opportune to eliminate the vanquished Roman general. So Pompey was treacherously slain on their orders in Sep- tember 48 bce in the southern regions of Egypt, while his horrified naval fleet fled. Some days later, Caesar landed at Alexandria and Cleopatra’s 22 chapter one arguments persuaded him that it was she, rather than the young king, who deserved Rome’s support. Caesar had him arrested and gathered rein- forcements. Alexandria then served as the site of a great battle.44 Isolated in a single quarter, Caesar nevertheless succeeded in burning the enemy fleet and taking control of the Main Port and the city, (this was when the famous library suffered partial destruction). Fighting resumed when Cleopatra’s sister, Arsinoe, herself attempted to seize power. In the wake of three naval battles, and another on the Nile, Caesar finally succeeded in capturing Alexandria. He established Cleopatra VII on the throne with her youngest brother, Ptolemy XIV, to whom she officially became wife. The Roman conqueror then found a pretext for lingering for several months in the company of the queen of Egypt before departing on a further campaign. Cleopatra’s seduction was legendary in her own time, and it has indeed been the image retained for posterity. However, less idealised portraits show her to be “ugly, afflicted with a prominent nose and thick lips.”45 None would contest by contrast, her powerful charm and superior intelligence, her vast culture and gift for languages. She had understood early on that the Lagid dynasty could only be maintained with the support of Rome. This is why she decided to seduce two of the greatest Romans: Caesar, then Mark Antony in whose hands, from 47 to 31 bce, she placed the fate of Egypt. Cleopatra was first and foremost the greatest passion of Julius Caesar46 who, following his triumph in 45 bce, had her come to Rome with their son, Caesarion. He even placed a gold statue of the queen in the sanctuary of Venus Genitrix, protector of the Julii. Cleopatra returned to her country after the assassination of Caesar on the Ides of March 44 bce. Of the three triumvirs who shared the power— Mark-Antony, Lepidus, and the young Octavian, Caesar’s adopted son, it was Anthony who took responsibility for the East. Cleopatra had organised the assassination of her young brother, so that she reigned alone. To reconcile herself in the support of Mark Antony, she imagined a grand scenario which Plutarch describes at great length. The scenario involved seeking out the Roman general in Syria and appearing to him dressed as

44 It was related in a work that was attributed to Caesar, but is probably not due to him, De Bello Alexandrino, Cf. P. Graindor, Guerre d’Alexandrie, 1931. 45 Y. Le Bohec, César, chef de guerre, Paris, 2001, p. 391. 46 Cf. Suetonius, Caesar 52. alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 23

Venus on a galley glittering in gold. With oars of silver and purple sails, Venus was surrounded by Nymphs, Graces and Cupids frolicking to the strains of harmonious music. Antony had just been acclaimed at Ephesus as the incarnation of the god Bacchus, and his army proclaimed: “Here is Venus who comes to find Bacchus.” To the end, Cleopatra succeeded in preserving the passion she had excited in Mark Antony. For her, he repudiated his wife, the beautiful Octavia, sister of Octavian, for her he had Arsinoe murdered, for her he stripped the library of Pergamum in order to gift its content to that of Alexandria, for her he delivered to Egypt the richest territories of Judaea and Arabia, and he dismembered the Roman Orient. By offering her Cyprus, Phoenicia and Coele Syria, he alienated his rival, Octavian, who took advantage of Antony’s errors and frustrated his broad global ambitions. To demonstrate just how little his former colleague had deserved the leadership of Rome, Octavian publicly read Mark Anthony’s will in which he designated as his heirs the three children he had conceived with Cleopatra. Mark Antony was declared an enemy of the Republic and, shortly afterwards, on 2 September 31 bce, Octavian defeated Antony at sea near Actium in the Greek gulf of Ambracia. Cleopatra herself had sought to command the five hundred vessels that she had armed, but, terrified, she took flight and Mark Antony hastened to rejoin her in Alexandria. The two lovers lived on another few months, but they committed suicide together as Octavian took control of the city. It is not certain that Cleopatra was bitten by an asp as the legend goes; when her vanquisher found her, she was still alive, and he strove, in vain, to save her in order to show her off on his triumphal return to Rome. He would offer Mark Antony and Cleopatra a common sepulchre. Among the queen’s descendents, he had executed Caesarion who would have been old enough to ascend the throne. Nevertheless he displayed much care and attention to the three youngest, Alexander, Cleopatra Selene and Ptolemy, who were educated in Rome. The date on which Augustus entered Alexandria, 1 August 30 bce, was declared a holiday by senatorial decree and constituted the point of departure for a new age, the Actium era, which commemorated the victory of the master of the West over the masters of the East at Actium. Alexandria would become for centuries the capital of the new imperial province of Egypt, governed by a Roman official of equestrian rank with the title of Praefectus and considerable power: “Now he who is just has the rank of king,” says Strabo (XVII, 1, 12. 1). 24 chapter one

MEDITERRANEAN SEA

Canopus Lake Sirbonis Rap Alexandria DELTA Pelusium Naucratis Wa Athribis di Natrun Leontopolis Heliopolis Memphis SI NA Lake Moeris Krokodilopolis I

FAYYUM GULF OF SUEZ Herakleopolis

MIDDLE EGYPT Oxyrhynchos

Via Hadriana Small Oasis Hermopolis Antinoopolis

THEBAID Heptakomia Panopolis Nile Ptolemais

Hibis Koptos Thebes

Pathyris Great Oasis Latopolis Apollinopolis-the-Great (Edfu) Kysis Ombos

Elephantine Syene First Cataract Philae alexandria “on the edge” of egypt 25

The Egypt that Philo had known from birth was already a Roman province of a few years’ standing. Deep social upheavals would soon prevail, since Augustan Rome now had to re-organise the empire. For all that, this does not signify widespread cultural Romanisation. Like other provinces of the Eastern Mediterranean, Egypt would remain strongly Hellenised as the works of Philo testify better than any other.

CHAPTER TWO

BEING JEWISH IN ALEXANDRIA IN PHILO’S DAY

As an author Philo is clearly devoid of any trace of conceit. His love of philosophy would teach him humility above all else. He tells us nothing about his family or his childhood, confiding very little about his education and later activities. He speaks of himself only when circumstances are gravely serious. So it is indeed a challenge to contemplate writing Philo’s biography. His only real confessions concern his intimate spiritual life, those moments of sterility which cede only to the heavenly grace of inspiration, and the despair of having to abandon meditation for the turmoil of political life. For a closer appreciation of Philo, we must constantly return to consult- ing his writings. They reveal solid and structured thought, the best of the Alexandrinus and the Judaeus of his time. Sometimes, amid an exegetical commentary, an inspired flight into philosophy, or an account of historical interest, we may catch an unexpected glimpse of his personal life. Some- times, over and above the generalisations, behind which he chooses to hide, we may even capture his perception of himself as an Alexandrian Jew.

A Distinguished Family

Philo was born into a distinguished family in Alexandria. His exact birth date is unknown. In the course of one among those rarely revealed episodes of his life—his ambassadorial mission to Emperor Caligula in the year 39–, he introduces himself as being already at an advanced age. From that, without absolute certainty, we might assume that he was about sixty at the time of this mission, and we might therefore conclude that he was born around the year 20 bce. By the time of his birth, Philo’s family was, without doubt, well established, much respected and of considerable fortune distinction. Some attribute him sacerdotal origins.1 To undertake the academic projects to

1 Cf. J. Schwarz, “Note sur la famille de Philo d’Alexandrie”, Mélanges Isidore Lévy, Paris 1953, pp. 591–602. 28 chapter two which he aspired, Philo must have benefitted from that much cherished otium so highly valued by the educated elite of the Roman world. The usual translation of this term as “leisure” risks misconstruing the concept with “entertainment” or “idleness.” In reality, it means he used the advantages of privilege to devote himself to study and authorship. Philo would not have sought mere distraction, devoid of thought. It was indeed study which occupied his leisure and constituted his principal pleasure. For a free man, making the most of otium implies a certain measure of affluence, if not a great fortune. What, in fact, did Philo live on? None of his writings indicate that he practised any profession. However, his writings may not have extended over a very long period of his life. He would doubtless have sought to acquire the necessary maturity and authority before consigning his reflections to posterity. The essence of his reflections are likely to have been written in the wake of his active engagement with society. The prestige he acquired through assemblies gathered on the day of the Sabbath, led him to publish biblical commentaries which would only have appealed to a limited public essentially within the Jewish community, even if some might have reached minor circles beyond. Considering the prestigious functions of his brother Alexander, who had risen to the post of alabarch or director of customs, we may assume that Philo maintained a powerful attachment to his illustrious family. Given the volume of activity at the port of Alexandria, Philo’s brother had accumulated an immense fortune: “He surpassed all his fellow citizens in both ancestry and wealth.”2 Had he not indeed contributed to decorating the Temple of Jerusalem? This Alexandrian would also entertain links, in both friendship and business, with the great Roman lady Antonia Minor, daughter of Mark Antony. Widowed an early age, this mother of Germani- cus and Claudius, and grandmother of Caligula, would figure in Rome among the last parangons of antique virtue; she had always protected the Herodian royal family exiled there, and in particular the future king of Judaea, Agrippa I, grandson of Herod and Mariamne the Hasmonean. Agrippa I, accompanied by his wife Cypros, was among the illustrious guests who were received in the household of the alabarch. She played on Alexander’s generosity to pay off the enormous debts that Agrippa had accumulated in Rome, having dispersed the fortune inherited from his mother by irresponsibly lavish displays. Well aware of Agrippa’s

2 AJ XX, 100. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 29 prodigality,3 Alexander is said to have hesitated about granting him a loan of two hundred thousand drachma which risked being spent well before reaching its destination. But the admirable Cypros, Agrippa’s wife, knew how to bend Alexander to her will. Alexander nevertheless reacted prudently, providing Agrippa only a portion of the funds he had requested at his departure, while giving orders that he receive the balance on arrival in Italy. Some years later, the cordial links that were established between the two families concluded with a marriage. In the year 41, Agrippa I had almost entirely recovered the ancient kingdom of his grandfather Herod, when his eldest daughter Berenice, aged 13 at the time, married Marcus, the youngest son of Alexander, the alabarch. It is not known whether the marriage took place in Jerusalem or Alexandria, but Philo would have attended, and again been witness to this exhibition of grandiosity which he often disparaged in his writings. The princely marriage did not produce the anticipated results: within a single year, 44, Berenice lost, first her father and then her husband. Philo’s niece by marriage would later have two royal husbands,4 before taking refuge in Caesarea Philippi with her brother Agrippa II, who, on becoming king, reigned over only a part of the ancient Herodian kingdom. Ultimately she would meet Titus and embark on the passionate liaison which made her famous. She was then 41 years old; her royal lover was just 29. So Philo’s philosophical vocation would develop in contradiction with the mercantile and worldly circles in which he lived, while he also benefitted from this environment. Alexander could afford to be generous with his wealth, he may well have provides lodgings for a brother decidedly little suited to practical life. Did Philo establish a family of his own? Although we know that he had a virtuous wife, we do not know whether there were any offspring. In two philosophical dialogues on very general issues—Providence, and the intelligence of animals—Philo5 battles with the ideas of a figure much younger than himself, who is introduced as his nephew Alexander. This Alexander could only be the elder son of the alabarch, later known

3 AJ XVIII, 159–160. 4 Her uncle Herod king of Chalcis, then Polemon king of Cilicia who converted to Juda- ism to marry her, AJ XIX, 277. 5 The authenticity of these dialogues has been contested in the past, but this involves arguments both external and internal in its favor. Cf. M. Hadas-Lebel, Introduction to De Providentia, Editions du Cerf, 1973, pp. 23–46, and A. Terian, Introduction to De Animali- bus, Supplement to Studia Philonica n°. 1, Scholars Press 1981. 30 chapter two in Roman circles under the tria nomina, as Tiberius Julius Alexander. The first name of Tiberius was probably given him in honour of Emperor Tibe- rius. So we may situate his birth shortly after the accession to the throne of the successor to Augustus who died in the year 14. The tria nomina implies Roman citizenship, but Tiberius Alexander was not the first in his family to possess it. Citizenship had already been accorded his alabarch father, probably in recognition of the services he rendered to Antonia Minor, whom he served as bailiff. The family of Philo, if not Philo himself, belonged to a Romanised Alexandrian elite on which, since the Augustan victory at Actium, the new power depended. The son of such a high-ranking Roman citizen could not be refused access to the gymnasium and the ephebeia. Tiberius Alexander thus acquired a refined education and made philosophical choices which con- tradicted those of his uncle Philo, judging by the dialogue in which he contests the existence of Providence in the world, and the possibility of the Creation of the universe as asserted by Philo. In the second dialogue, the arguments of the same Tiberius Alexander in favour of the rational intelligence of animals are evoked, though in his absence. Tiberius Alex- ander no longer had time to waste on philosophical joustings, as Philo somewhat bitterly regrets: “Had he truly wished to continue learning, he would not have allowed himself to become occupied with other concerns. Tell me, why would he leave his other affairs and come merely to entertain a relative with useless words designed to tickle the ears?”6 Tiberius Alexander, who must have been about thirty years of age, was henceforward totally taken up by “family, social obligations and endless business affairs of the city.”7 His eldest daughter had already been promised in marriage to her cousin Lysimachus,8 a cultivated young man, much imbued with philosophy, who held Philo in great esteem. In this philosophical debate between uncle and nephew, Judaism receives small consideration: it rather concerns Platonism and Stoicism as opposed to Aristotelism and the New Academy. The key to this astonishing omission is perhaps provided in a passing remark from the historian Flavius Josephus: he reveals that the son of the alabarch “did not stand by the practices of his people” (AJ XX, 100). For this reason, Tiberius Alexander is referred to with the qualification “apostate”, although this

6 Alexander sive De Animalibus 3. 7 Ibid., 4. 8 Cf. A. Terian in his introduction to De Animalibus, p. 31. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 31

“apostasy” represents no official and public renunciation of his ancestral religion. Seduced by philosophical systems incompatible with such religion, and impelled by ambition to engage in a career, the young man had simply chosen to abandon a cumbersome practice. From then on, he would experience a remarkable social ascent, quite different from that of his father. He was no longer a Jew of Alexandria in the service of Rome, he had become a Roman.

Between “Metropolis” and “Fatherland”: The Diaspora

Philo lived in a major Greek city apud Aegyptum, “on the edge of ” Egypt. It is indeed this city, not the whole of Egypt, that he considers his “home- land”. He embraces the tradition that Jews were at Alexander’s side when he founded Alexandria. “They have come at the time of their foundation as immigrants to the satisfaction of the founders” (Flac. 46), he declares, referring to “certain” cities, without elaboration. Where indeed were his ancestors from? Did Philo himself know? He seems to presume that his family had been long resident in Alexandria but nothing in his writing indicates when the family had arrived or why they had settled there. It is probably in Alexandria that the word diaspora began to appear in the sense it is understood today. This Greek noun is formed from a verb signifying “to disperse” or “to disseminate”. It is applied, in the Greek translation of the Bible, to those who had to leave the Land of Israel.9 On one occasion, it appears in plural in the Psalms: “And he will gather the dispersions of Israel.”10 This proves that the word does not only designate a state of dispersion, but also specific communities. It is in this sense that the New Testament refers to “those of the dispersion.”11 Without doubt, Philo knew this usage of the word diaspora, which was indeed contemporary to him, but he avoids using it. This is perhaps because the Hebrew verb zrh, often rendered diaspeirein, evokes the worst of punishments—in other words, the Babylonian exile. Yet the Greek verb speirein enshrines the idea of insemination: the grain carried off by the wind to take root elsewhere.12

9 Deut. 28,25 and 30,4. 10 Ps. 146,2. 11 Acts of the Apostles 8,4. Cf John 7,35. Epistle of James 1,1. 12 The Greek verb corresponds to the Hebrew zr’ “to sow” phonetically very close to zrh “to winnow”. 32 chapter two

Philo, in fact, preferred quite another metaphor, which had the advantage of placing the Jews within the same context as the various Greek communities of Alexandria. Just as the descendants of the Macedonians, Athenians or Cretans established in Egypt continued to define themselves by their origins, the descendants of Judaeans remained Ioudaioi, that is, they perpetuated a privileged link with Judaea, their land of origin. This name however had an additional significance as it could include all those who were not of Judaean origin but had adopted the lifestyle of Judaeans or Jews13 which, within barely a century, had come to be known in Greek as “Judaism” (Ioudaismos). Even two hundred years later, the Greek historian Cassius Dio (37, 17) would define the Jews in the following terms: This name [Ioudaioi] also applies to those who, amongst other men, although of different origins, observe zealously their laws. This species is met even among the Romans. Whether or not originating from Judaea, Philo tells us, all the Ioudaioi, had like the Greek colonisers on the edges of the Mediterranean, both a “metropolis,” that is a mother city, and a “fatherland”: They hold the Holy City where stands the sacred Temple of the most high God to be their mother city, yet those which are theirs by inheritance from their fathers, grandfathers, and ancestors even farther back, are in each case accounted by them to be their fatherland in which they were born and reared, while to some of them they have come at the time of their foundation as immigrants to the satisfaction of the founders. (Against Flaccus 46) According to Philo, every Jew in the diaspora was therefore the son of his mother, Jerusalem,14 and of his father, the country where his ancestors had chosen to live; he owed them equal attachment. Far from being a maledic- tion, exile was the result of voluntary emigration. Since tiny Judaea was so poor that it could hardly feed its inhabitants, many Judaeans had to resort to living elsewhere. In the only passage where he evokes reasons for this emigration, Philo in fact provides justifications of an exclusively economic order:

13 This latter term is a popular derivative of the Latin Judaeus, corresponding to the Greek Ioudaios and to the Hebrew Yehudi. The word Ioudaismos is met for the first time in a Jewish text probably of the 1st century BC, book II of the Maccabees. 14 Cf. M. Niehoff, Philo on Jewish Identity and Culture, Tübingen, 2001, pp. 33–44. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 33

For so populous are the Jews than no one country can hold them, and therefore they settle in very many of the most prosperous countries in Europe and Asia both in the islands and on the mainland . . . (Against Flaccus 45–46) Perhaps Philo stressed the economic motivation because that was what he observed in his period. Immigrants were again forced to flee Judaea, which was bleeding after the reign of Herod and, since the year 6 c.e., under pressure from Rome which had brought the region under its direct domination. Political motivation had doubtless been dominant in the past. Any refugee from Judaea naturally had a tendency to turn towards Egypt, an adjacent land with easy access and unparalleled prosperity. In all periods Judaea, a hinge between Asia and Africa, had been a zone of turbulence where armies of great empires would confront each other. All conquer- ors, whether Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian or Greek, inevitably passed through this territory on their way to war and the local populations were subjected to the consequences. Judaeans were, therefore, tempted to cross into Egypt, as in the period of Jeremiah15 or in times of war between the Greek dynasties of Syria and Egypt, Seleucid and Lagid, that agitated the 3rd century,16 and at the beginning of the 2nd century, during the Judaean revolt, led by Juda Maccabaeus and his brothers against Syrian rule. Throughout the first century, the civil upheavals in Judaea,17 the frat- ricidal wars supported by Rome, and oppression from Herod would only accentuate this wave of emigration. The injunction against returning into Egypt: “Ye shall henceforth return no more that way,” in Deuteronomy 17, 16, does not seem to have proved an obstacle. What Philo also fails to mention, is that a group of Jews from Egypt, descendents of ancient war captives, rounded up by Ptolemy I, were liberated by his son Ptolemy II Philadelphus. This information is found not in a hostile source but in an anonymous work, probably by an Alexan- drian Jew, the Letter of Aristeas to Philocrates. It includes the text of a royal decree, by which Greek soldiers would receive an indemnity if they freed their Jewish slaves. More than 100,000 persons, including breast-fed children, were freed within seven days according to the same source.18 This episode was recorded, without shame, by such Jewish authors as Flavius

15 Jeremiah 44,14 27–28. 16 C. Apion I, 194. 17 The letter from the Roman consul Lucius, addressed to King Ptolemy implies that opponents to Simon, brother of Juda Maccabaeus took refuge in Egypt in 142 bc (1 Mac. 15, 16–21). 18 Letter of Aristeas to Philocrates 22–26. 34 chapter two

Josephus, because this happy outcome demonstrated the favourable conditions for Jews who settled in Egypt during the Ptolemaic dynasty. Whatever the real causes of Jewish settlement in that region, Philo’s comparison with the Greek colonisers is far from absurd. In the distant rural provinces to which they had been sent at the time of the Lagid dynasty, many Jews had become, like the Greeks established there, “peas- ant-soldiers” having at their disposal according to military grade, lands of variable size constituting their allotment (kleros) and from which derived their identity as cleruchs. It would appear that the Egyptians had already long appreciated the military value of Judaeans since among the last of the pharaohs, Psam- meticus I or II of the Saite dynasty had sought them out to protect the Aswan frontier against the Nubians. This Jewish garrison was maintained on the island of Elephantine ( yeb) even after the Persian conquest in 525 bce. Aramaic documents, found on site at the end of the 19th century, enable us to follow the history of a family and the destinies of a small community which managed to survive for over two hundred years.19 There were also many Jewish soldiers in Lagid Egypt from the reign of Ptolemy I, while various papyrus from Fayyum prove that Jews maintained a status equivalent to Greeks, since the cleruch listings mixed Jews and Macedonians.20 By the second century, Jews had exercised major military commands, if Flavius Josephus is to be believed: “Ptolemy Phi- lometor (181 to 145 bce) and his consort Cleopatra entrusted the whole of their realm to Jews and placed their entire army under the command of Jewish generals, Onias and Dositheos.”21 Onias could well be the son of the high-priest Onias III, assassinated ca 172 bce, near Antioch at the beginning of the crisis in Judaea, which pitted “pious” Jews against “Hellenist” Jews. This figure, Onias IV, obtained the right to found a veritable Judaean colony at Leontopolis in the Delta region, around a temple which would have originally22 served as a sub- stitute for the Temple of Jerusalem sullied by the pagans in 167 bce. The temple of Leontopolis survived until well after the restoration of the Jeru- salem sanctuary (in 164 bce), which introduced the Hanukkah festival.

19 Cf. P. Grelot, Documents araméens d’Eléphantine, Paris, 1972, p. 26–40; J. Mélèze- Modrezejewski, The Jews of Egypt, JPS, Philadelphia-Jerusalem 1995, pp. 21–44. 20 Cf. Corpus Papyrorum Judaicarum (CPJ ) I 30 = Tebtynis Papyrus III 1075. See J. Mélèze, op. cit., p. 85. 21 Cf. C. Apion II, 49. 22 This foundation of a dissident temple is, according to Tcherikover, CPJ I, p. 46, “an act of an adventurer, with no religious or national significance”. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 35

Josephus23 attests that it was not destroyed until after the terrible Jewish war against the Romans in 74 ce. Since Philo makes no mention of it, this might be interpreted as proof of his implicit disapproval of a dissident cult. Some eighty-odd funerary inscriptions from Leontopolis—a site significantly named today as Tell el-Yahudiyeh, “the tell of the Jews”—provide us with an indication of this community in the Augustan period, contemporary to that of Philo. But our author seems to have been unaware of them or the existence of their temple. Although they form a “colony” in the Greek style, their heresy does not allow them to be recognised within the context defined by Philo.

“If I Forget Thee, O Jerusalem”

Since Jerusalem was his metropolis, his mother-city, Philo could not forget her. This traditional attachment is reflected in various ways but, first and foremost, by the pilgrimage, which diaspora Jews began to join in the 2nd century bce. In the entire output of Philo, mention is only found once , declared in the first person—alas in a contested treatise24—of a pilgrimage to the “ancestral Temple.” The name of Jerusalem is not mentioned, but there is question of Ascalon on the coast which would appear to have been an obligatory halt on the journey for any traveller arriving from Egypt. Elsewhere in a treatise that is certainly authentic, Philo evokes the unique Temple of God and the necessity for those wishing to offer sacrifice, to reach this site “even if from the ends of the earth”.25 Only the powerful call to piety, he says, may bring men to part from their dearest ones in order to undertake such a trip. We have the surest proof of this in what actually happens. Countless multitudes from countless cities come, some over land, others over sea, from east and west and north and south at every feast. They take the temple for their port as a general haven and safe refuge from the bustle and great turmoil of life, and there they seek to find calm weather and, released from the cares whose yoke has been heavy upon them from their earliest years, to enjoy a brief breathing space in scenes of genial cheerfulness. Thus filled with comfortable hopes they devote the leisure, as is their bounden duty, “to holiness and the honouring of God. Friendships are formed between those

23 BJ VII, 433–436. 24 Prov. II, 107. 25 Spec. I, 68. 36 chapter two

who hitherto knew not each other, and the sacrifices and libations are the occasion of reciprocity of feeling and constitute the surest pledge that all are of one mind.” (Spec. I, 69–70) In this passage, an echo of deep exaltation may be detected, mixing individual spiritual elevation with the fraternal joy that Philo apparently experienced. He provides us, moreover, with a description of the Temple as he knew it;26 that is, the great edifice magnificently restored by Herod. He is particularly impressed by the thickness of the exterior wall—that which may still be seen amid the remains today, with the Wailing Wall and its extensions. He admires the magnificently decorated porticoes, as Jose- phus would also attest in greater detail.27 With regard to the sanctuary itself, he would view it from the exterior, since the high-priest alone had access to the Holy of Holies, and only once a year, on the Day of Atone- ment. But what he was able to see, he described as being “of unspeakable splendour.” Even those arriving from Alexandria, the wealthiest city in the Eastern Mediterranean, were overwhelmed by the splendour of the Temple of Jerusalem. This is hardly surprising when we are reminded that the entire diaspora contributed to maintaining the Temple with the half- shekel tax imposed on all males who were twenty years old and over, and methodically collected each year among all communities. The wealthiest did not stop at this modest contribution; they also sought to leave within the building a trace of their piety along with their generosity. A certain Nicanor of Alexandria offered the Temple the most famous of its portals, that in front of the Sanctuary itself on the East. Long after the destruction of the sanctuary, the Talmud still evokes with amazement the miraculous circumstances by which this portal escaped a shipwreck when it crossed from Alexandria.28 The children of the donor were themselves buried in the Holy City. An inscription found on a sarcophagus in a cave on Mt. Scopus indicates that it contained the “remains of the children of Nicanor from Alexandria who had the portals built.”29 Nicanor’s door was only in bronze; other doors were enhanced with gold and silver. Accord- ing to Josephus,30 it was to Philo’s own brother, Alexander, that they owed their splendid decorative embellishments. Philo does not mention this;

26 Ibid., 71–75. 27 AJ XV, 391–419. 28 Middot I, 4; Yoma III, 10; Yoma 38a. This is the door described by Josephus as the most imposing and precious, BJ V, 201. 29 J.B. Frey, Corpus Inscriptionum Judaicarum II (1952), n° 1256. 30 BJ V, 205. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 37 perhaps he had already died prior to the completion of his brother’s generous initiative; perhaps, he disapproved of the ostentatious gesture, or he might simply have found bragging about it indecent. The pilgrimage, the annual collect, the donations were only one tangible aspects of the links between the diaspora and Jerusalem. By the 3rd century bce, Jewish “houses of prayer” commonly known then as “proseu- chai,” rather than “synagogues,” are traceable on Egyptian soil. It is not known whether they were by this period oriented towards Jerusalem, but it is certain that the Torah was taught there, as in Jerusalem, and that sacred studies in both centres could not fail to reinforce links with the “metropolis.” Philo mentions synagogues not only as sites for prayer, but also as centres to which believers gathered the seventh day and the days of feasting to expound the sacred text. Here is how he describes the atmosphere of these assemblies: They do always assemble and sit together, most of them in silence except when it is the practice to add something to signify approval of what is read. But some priest who is present or one of the elders reads the holy laws to them and expounds them point by point till about the late afternoon, when they depart having gained both expert knowledge of the holy laws and considerable advance in piety. (Hypothetica VII, 13) Epigraphy attests to the existence of synagogues as far afield as Schedia in the Delta and Krokodilopolis in the Fayyum region. The formulation of their dedications, the only surviving traces, attests the Jews’ loyalty to their Lagid sovereigns by the mid 3rd century: On behalf of King Ptolemy and Queen Berenice, his sister and wife and their children, I dedicated this house of prayer.31 On behalf of King Ptolemy, son of Ptolemy, and of Queen Berenice his wife and sister and their children, the Jews in Krokodilopolis [dedicated] this house of prayer.32 A late 1st century papyrus mentions a synagogue set in a garden on the eastern outskirts of this very town of Krokodilopolis, “City of Crocodiles”. There is also trace of two synagogues founded in the reign of Ptolemy VIII Euergetes II (145 to 116 bce) in the Delta at Xenephyris and Nitriai, and two other foundations shortly afterwards at Athribis, also in the Delta, and dedicated to sovereigns Ptolemy and Cleopatra, one by “Ptolemaios son of Epikydes, chief of police,” the other by “Hermias and Philotera his

31 CPJ I, 134 III Appendix I 1441–1444, Horbury-Noy, no. 22, cf. Mélèze, op. cit., p. 88. 32 CPJ III, Appendix 7, no. 1532 A; Horbury-Noy, n° 117. Cf. J. Mélèze, op. cit., p. 88. 38 chapter two wife and their children.”33 A papyrus from the period of Cleopatra VII indicates a synagogue in a suburb of Alexandria. Philo knew several synagogues in the heart of Alexandria,34 one of which was particularly “great and famous.” Unfortunately he did not leave any description for posterity. It is the Talmud which, much later, recounted with amazement the splendour of a lost edifice destroyed in the time of Emperor Trajan: Whoever has not seen the double colonnade of Alexandria has never seen the splendour of Israel in his life. It was a sort of grand basilica with col- onnades positioned one in front of the other. Sometimes it held twice the number [of Hebrews] who went out of Egypt.35 There were seventy golden thrones with precious gems and pearls embedded in them, for the seventy elders, and each throne rested on twenty-five myriads of gold pieces. At the centre was a wooden platform, on which stood the cantor of the synagogue. When someone was preparing to read the Torah an attendant waved a cloth and the people said “Amen”. For each blessing that was said, the attendant waved the cloth and the people said after him, “Amen”. In spite of this, everyone remained orderly. Each guild or corporation was seated with his own and if a stranger entered he joined the people of his group and remained with them. And who destroyed it? The wicked Trogionos. (Jerusa- lem Talmud Sukka V, 1, 55a) Exchanges were not infrequent between Jerusalem and what the Talmud calls “her little sister” Alexandria. Writings would circulate. The grandson of a sage from Jerusalem, Jesus (Joshua) son of Sira, settled in Alexandria ca 132 bce, and translated into Greek the book of his ancestor “to serve also those abroad seeking to be friends of knowledge and confirm their behaviour with lives according to the Law.”36 From the “mother city,” the daughter communities were informed of the introduction of new feasts in the calendar. Maccabees Book II has preserved the Greek translation of a letter written by the Jews of Jerusalem to their brothers in Egypt in the year 188 of the Seleucid era, i.e. the year 124 bce, in which they are requested to commemorate each year for a period of eight days, as from the 25th of the month of Kislev, the purification of the Sanctuary by Juda Maccabaeus. Philo nevertheless fails to mention this feast which would

33 Cf. CIJ II n°s 1443 and 1444, Horbury-Noy n°s 27 and 28, Mélèze op. cit., p.94. 34 Legat., 132; Flac. 41, cp. Mos. II, 216. 35 That is if we are to believe the figures attested in the Bible, over a million spectators. 36 Ben Sira or Ecclesiasticus, Prologue 26–35 “pertaining to doctrine and wisdom, that such as are desirous to learn, and are made knowing in these things may be more and more attentive in mind and be strengthened to live according to the law.” being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 39 become Hanukkah, since his commentary is only attached to biblical feasts. He also ignores the feast of Purim, although this was instituted in Alexandria on the basis of a Greek translation brought from Jerusa- lem by the priest Dositheos and his son Ptolemy “in the fourth year of the reign of Ptolemy and Cleopatra”, according to Greek additions to the book of Esther. As only two Ptolemies who reigned over Egypt had wives named Cleopatra, we must choose between Ptolemy VIII (ca 114 bce) and Ptolemy XIV (ca 48 bce) when seeking to establish when the feast was introduced to Egypt. As perceived in Jerusalem at the end of the 1st century, the two most significant diasporai were those of Babylon and Alexandria. Herod would recruit high priests from these regions, doubtless hoping to gain popularity in two influential communities. Since he knew his rule was contested in Jerusalem, he hoped that by choosing foreigners he might subvert potential rivals in his kingdom among the priestly caste. The Alexandrian priest who benefitted from his selection was a certain Simon, “the son of one Boethus,” whose daughter Mariamne had the good fortune of pleasing the king.37 Enhancement of family prestige was required to assure her position as queen. This is why, despite the fact that he had not been destined for the role, her father was appointed high priest in 24 bce. In retrospect, he founded a substantial dynasty: five other high priests in the first century would come from this family.38 The Talmud has described the Boethus family as having the reputation of being cynical priests and oppressors of the people.39 It may be the case that notable families, such as that of Philo in Alexandria and Boethus in Jerusalem, would have known each other. In the course of pilgrimage, high-ranking visitors would reside with families linked by long-standing traditions of hospitality. Israeli archaeologists have unearthed, in what was once the upper city of Jerusalem inhabited by the aristocracy, a fine patrician residence with special rooms for guests, dating from the beginning of the first century, and identified as the house of Cantheras, a high priest of Boethusian descent. At that time, the high priests were not appointed for their scholarship but for purely political reasons. Those who had real authority were masters or “rabbis,” of the school of the Pharisees, considered the best interpreters of the Torah. Hillel, the most celebrated rabbi of Jerusalem and a

37 AJ XV, 320. 38 AJ XVII, 164, 339 (Joezer and Eleazar son of Boethus); XIX, 297 (Simon son of Boethus surnamed Cantheras) to whom may be added Joshua son of Gamala. 39 Pesahim 57 a, cf. Tosefta Menahot 13,21. 40 chapter two contemporary of Philo, was faced with a difficult case submitted to him by his colleagues of Alexandria. Two brothers from that city risked being designated mamzerim if the full rigour of the law was applied as their mother had been kidnapped by their father when she was already betrothed to another man, that is legally the wife of this man. Hillel requested that the contract established in this affair be examined, and discovering within it the formula “when you enter into my house, you will be my wife according to the law of Moses and of Israel”, he established that the two young Alexandrians were legitimate children since their mother had actually never been the first man’s wife. If this anecdote is reliable, it may be concluded that the diaspora sustained a certain degree of autonomy when dealing with religious matters, only submitting difficulties to the masters in Jerusalem as a last resort.

Between Greeks and Egyptians

Generally speaking, the situation of the Egyptian diaspora was complex: the substantial Jewish minority, which Philo estimated at a million souls within a total population of seven million—figures impossible to verify— was cornered between two more or less hostile elements: the indigenous Egyptians and the Greeks, masters of the land since the conquest of Alexander. The Lagids had succeeded in maintaining a balance between the diverse populations of the country. The majority of Egyptians were relegated to the bottom of the social scale. The Macedonian Greeks occupied the upper echelons. Judaeans, Samaritans or Syrian immigrants, if they were Greek speaking, came to be counted amongst the Hellenes.40 In time, there would also be a layer of Hellenised Egyptians, the first known of whom being Manetho, a priest who wrote the history of his people in Greek in the course of the 3rd century. In a distant past, the history of the Hebrews had encountered the history of Pharaonic Egypt. Jews retained a bad memory of this episode as reflected in their sacred books, turning the Exodus from Egypt into a founding event. Manetho endowed it with a wicked alternative version that might be considered a “Counter-Exodus.” On the one hand he based it on the early annals to affirm that the pastoral Hyksos kings were

40 Cf. Mélèze, op. cit., p. 131. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 41

invaders who had dominated Egypt more than five hundred years and who, when later chased out, had occupied Judaea, founded Jerusalem and built the Temple; thus he identified them as ancestors of the Jews. On the other hand, he also claimed that the Jews were in fact originally Egyptian lepers, banished from society, who had seized power with the support of the inhabitants of Jerusalem during the reign of Amenophis; thirteen years later, they would have been expelled and accompanied to the Syrian border by Osarsiph, priest of Heliopolis, who assumed the name of Moses. Manetho thus originated the notorious libel of the “impure” according to which Moses and the Hebrews were ejected from Egypt as trash. Doubtless, all Jews would not necessarily have read Manetho. Philo does not bother mentioning him. Two generations later, Flavius Josephus gathered these hostile legends from his readings in Roman libraries. He underlines two reasons for Egyptian hostility towards Jews in Manetho’s contradictory accounts: “the original grievance of the domination of our ancestors over their country” (here Josephus seems to accept the identification of the Hyksos as being Hebrews) and “the profound contrast between the two cults” which created “bitter animosity” in the Egyptians”.41 According to Manetho, the previous priest of Heliopolis named Moses, had taught this gathering of lepers a host of laws in absolute contradiction with Egyptian customs, “prescribing them by his first law, not to worship gods, not to abstain from the flesh of any animal that divine Law renders the most sacred in Egypt, but to immolate all, to consume them and to unite only with men linked by the same pledge.”42 Philo was no doubt aware of these accusations, already three centuries old and difficult to stifle. Observation of other Egyptian rites of his own time only exacerbated his horror. Egyptians had come to venerate the vilest and most detestable animals: For in addition to wooden and other images, they have advanced to divine honours irrational animals, bulls and rams and goats [. . .]. and invented for each some fabulous legend of wonder” (. . . .) But now, the Egyptians have gone to a further excess and chosen the fiercest and most savage of wild animals, lions and crocodiles and among reptiles the venomous asp, all of which they dignify with temples, sacred precincts, sacrifices, assemblies, processions and the like. For after ransacking the two elements given by God to man for his use, earth and water, to find their fiercest occupants, they found on land no creature more savage than the lion nor in water than

41 C. Ap. I, 224. 42 C. Ap. I, 239. 42 chapter two

the crocodile and these they reverence and honour. Many other animals too they have deified, dogs, cats, wolves and among the birds, ibises and hawks; fishes too, either their whole bodies or particular parts. What could be more ridiculous than all this? Indeed strangers on their first arrival in Egypt before the vanity of the land has gained a lodgment in their minds are like to die with laughing at it.43 He describes the Nile infested with sacred crocodiles, such that in certain places, even the hardiest sailors dared not plunge a fingertip.44 This form of gross idolatry justifies the scorn he expresses, as doubtless did other Jews.45 The Egyptians knew it only too well, and for this reason animosity between the two populations grew ever stronger, short of actual violence. We should also not forget that many Jews served in the Lagid army. By contrast, all Jews in Egypt were convinced of the superiority of Greek civilisation, even if they had difficulty reconciling it with polytheism. Philo sometimes ventures criticism against birth or marriage of the gods, even when recognised as being legendary fictions, or against what he believed to be deification of the elements and stars.46 Time after time, he defends the truth in biblical accounts as opposed to mythological fictions, but he dares not ridicule these to the extremes found for example in Plato’s Republic (377 d). Both prudence and piety decreed against mocking pagan deities: “We must refrain from insulting them since no disciple of Moses would permit God’s name to be taken lightly”.47 This is why Moses has forbidden “idle talk or reviling with an unbridled tongue, gods whom others acknowledge.”48

Already the Greek translation of the Bible, the Septuagint, had rendered the commandment in Exodus 22, 27 by “You will not blaspheme the gods.” Aristeas for his part, had affirmed that Jews and Greeks would worship the same “God, sovereign, master and creator of the universe”, known in Greek by the name of Zeus.49 This kind of conciliatory declaration could

43 Decal. 76–80, cf. Spec. I, 79; II, 146, Mos. I,23, Contempl. 8–9, Legat. 139, 163 and Wis- dom of Solomon XV, 18. 44 Prov. II, 108. 45 Cf. M. Niehoff, Philo on Jewish Identity and Culture 1,2: The Egyptians as Ultimate Other, pp. 45–74. 46 Decal. 54 and 156. 47 Mos. II, 205. 48 Spec. I, 53. 49 Letter of Aristeas 16. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 43 not prevent Greeks from observing that the Jews kept their distance. In Greek opinion, the Jewish dietary laws seemed of the utmost curiosity, since they observed that Jews for some incomprehensible reason refused to eat pork, the most available of meats. By the reign of Ptolemy I, Heca- taeus of Abdera,50 a Greek who had visited Egypt, underlined the “a-social”51 character of the Jewish lifestyle, while expressing profound admiration for Moses their legislator. Certain Greek authors later interpreted the lack of conviviality linked to dietary laws as indicating a tendency toward “misanthropy,” in the strongest sense of the term, that is, hatred of other men. This accusation is found in the first century Stoic school of philosophy, with Posidonius of Apamea and his contemporary the rhetorician Apol- lonius Molo living on the island of Rhodes. It would be reiterated in Alex- andria with a contemporary of Philo, Apion, to whom we will return. In parallel, the Stoic philosopher Chaeremo, director of the Museum, would spread the fable of the “impure” inherited from Manetho.52 With regard to the official Lagid policy toward Jews, these allegations seem to have had little consequence. An Alexandrian Jewish text known as the Third Book of Maccabees, probably written about the time Philo was active, tells of a case of persecution from an already distant past. Under the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator (222 to 205 bce), the whole Jewish Egyptian community would have escaped an attempted extermination after Philopator had been refused entry into the Holy of Holies in Jeru- salem. In revenge, he sought to impose the Dionysiac cult on the Jews in his land and, in the face of their refusal to submit to the cult, he accused them of plotting against the state and ordered all the kingdom’s Jews to be delivered to him. The narrator of the story underlines the suffering of the brutalised victims and the satisfaction of the pagans, whose “hate, long nourished in the depths of their heart, was now permitted liberal expression.”53 The Jews from the countryside and those of Alexandria were assembled in a hippodrome at the gates of the capital. There were so many that the officials had still not completed their registration after forty days. The king decided to have them crushed under foot by five hundred

50 In his Aegyptiaca which has reached us through the Bibliotheca Historica et Aegyp- tiaca of Diodorus of Siculus (1st cent. bce). 51 Cf. C. Lévy, “L’antijudaisme païen : essai de synthèse”, in L’antijudaisme à l’antisémitisme contemporain, V. Nikiprowetzky ed., Lille, P.U.L., 1979, p. 64 and J. Mélèze, “L’image du Juif dans la pensée grecque vers 300 avant n.e.”, in Greece and Rome in Eretz Israel (Kasher, Rap- paport, Fuchs edd.), Jerusalem, 1990, p. 115. 52 Flavius Josephus conserves extracts of these authors in his Against Apion. 53 III Mac. 4, 1–1b. 44 chapter two drunken elephants. Miraculously, the elephants instead turned on the royal soldiers. The repentant king redirected anger toward his bad counsellors, liberated the Jews and recommended their protection by the local governors. An annual feast was established in memory of these events. In the second half of the first century, Flavius Josephus records that the commemoration of this event continued to be celebrated by the Jews of Alexandria,54 but he places the hippodrome miracle in the reign of Ptolemy VIII Physcon (145–116 bce) and attributes purely political reasons for the king’s hostility. According to Josephus’ account, Physcon had overthrown his own brother, Ptolemy VI Philometor, with his sister-wife Cleopatra II, towards whom the army under the Jewish direction of Onias and Dositheos remained faithful. Ptolemy VIII would have sought revenge against the Jews of Alexandria, who were delivered naked and in chains, men, women and children, to a herd of elephants in a state of inebriation. These animals rather launched attack on the friends of Physcon. The king was stirred by a dream, and thanks to the intervention of his concubine, then did penance. This short account, as may be seen, preserves elements of legend. There- fore, modern historians disagree as to date and credibility of these events, all the more since the general schema largely recalls the book of Esther. With regard to relations between Jews and pagans, two themes might be taken from book III of Maccabees. On the one hand, the interpretation of the Jewish dietary laws gives rise to the perception of “misanthropy”— “they distinguish themselves in their attitude towards food, and for this reason, they appear detestable to certain”.55 On the other hand, relations of friendship, neighbourliness or business developed between the two groups, which encouraged certain Alexandrian Greeks to run to the aid of the persecuted Jews.56 Whatever the case, and even in the event of pure fiction, book III of Maccabees seems to reflect the notion of danger experienced by the Jews of Alexandria at the beginning of the Roman period.57

54 C. Ap. II, 55. 55 III Mac. 3–4. 56 III Mac. 3,8–10. 57 See details of various hypotheses in F. Parente “The Third Book of Maccabees as Ideological Document and Historical Source”, Henoch 10/2, 1988, pp. 143–182 and J. Mélèze in his introduction to the third book of Maccabees, La Bible d’ Alexandrie 15.3, Cerf, Paris 2008. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 45

Proselytes and Renegades

There must also have been amongst the Greeks certain sympathisers with Judaism who had adopted at least a few Jewish practices. Philo’s frequent references to these “newcomers”, whom he calls either “proselytes” or “epe- lytes,” would hardly be pure invention. When examining the institutions of various populations, Philo observes that they remain specific to each people. In contrast, the laws of Moses “attract and win the attention of all: whether barbarians, Greeks or dwellers on the mainland and islands, nations whether East or West, of Europe and of Asia, the whole inhabited world from end to end”58 (Mos. II 20). The most appreciated aspect of Jew- ish practice, according to Philo, was the sabbatical rest, somewhat understandable in a world ignorant of the notion of the week, with a day off for rest. Philo adds that the great Fast—Kippur—incited respect and veneration from all observers.59 The apostle Paul is known to have encountered many of these metuentes or “Godfearers” in the synagogues of Asia Minor and Greece where he had occasion to preach. Those who were unsatisfied with remaining on the threshold crossed the bridge to conversion, as did the royal family of Adiabene, Queen Helen and her two sons, Izates and Monobazus, in the year 50.60 Josephus also attests that the Antioch community already included proselytes by the mid- first century: “They were constantly attracting to their religious ceremonies multitudes of Greeks and these they had, in some measure, incorporated with themselves.”61

We know of no precise case of conversion to Judaism in Alexandria. Philo, our only source, simply indicates that “multitudes of others” accompanied Jews to the island of Pharos where they would celebrate each year a feast in honour of the Greek translation of the Bible.62 With regard to the dramatic events in the year 38 c.e. to which we will return, he also reports that women who were found with Jews were harassed but “if they were recognised to be of another race, since many were arrested as Jews

58 Cf. Josephus, C. Ap. II, 282. 59 Mos. II, 22–23. 60 These facts are reported by Flavius Josephus in AJ XX, 17–49. Queen Helen distributed wheat to the Judaeans during a famine; troops from Adiabene later embarked in the Jewish revolt against Rome. The queen and her sons were buried in Jerusalem. 61 BJ VII, 45. 62 Mos. II, 41. 46 chapter two

without any careful investigation of the truth, they were released.”63 It may be concluded from this fleeting allusion that inter-marriages were relatively frequent in Alexandria, which would not be a unique case in the diaspora. In that period, no conversion ritual existed for women; those who married Jews simply expressed a commitment to follow the “ancestral customs” of their husbands. While circumcision dissuaded male can- didates for conversion, some women converted without being married to Jews. Josephus tells us—doubtless not without a little exaggeration—that almost all wives of the heads of families in Damascus were converted to the Jewish religion.64 Philo constantly praises proselytes who have abandoned idle fables in favour of the “clearer vision of truth and the worship of the one and truly existing God,”65 “they who have joined the new and godly commonwealth, they who scorn legendary fiction and are attached to pure truth”.66 The “sincere lovers of simplicity and truth”67 would have been capable of moving Philo. In his view, the Mosaic laws related to welcoming68 the foreigner, in his view, apply to those proselytes that have “abandoned their kinsfolk by blood, their country, their customs and the temples and images of their gods, and the tributes and honours paid to them,” and by this fact deserve to be welcomed by other Jews “not only as friends and kinsfolk, but as themselves.”69 The Legislator, he says, grants “equal rank to all in- comers with all the privileges rendered to the native born; he exhorts the old nobility to honour them, not only with marks of respect but with quite special friendship” since “they have left their country, their kinsfolk and their friends, for the sake of virtue and religion”; so they should not be denied “another citizenship, or other ties of family and friendship”70 Blood relations, he reiterates, must be renounced if a parent incites abandoning faith to God. Only piety is “the indissoluble bond of all the affection which makes us one”, the point of departure for “kinships of greater

63 Flac. 96. 64 BJ III, 560. 65 Virt. 102. 66 Spec. I, 51. 67 Spec. I, 309. 68 Lev. 19; 33–34; Deut. 10,19. 69 Virt. 103. 70 Spec. I, 52. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 47 dignity and sanctity,” those which unite between them “sons of God, that is those who do what is good.”71 The love for the proselyte who has found the path of God is contrasted- with horror for the renegade. Philo’s discourse relies indeed on a biblical base but at times a hint of more immediate preoccupation would seem to intervene. Egyptian Jews would not yet have forgotten the apostate named Dositheos, son of Drimylos who, if we are to believe the third book of Maccabees, saved King Ptolemy IV Philopator from a conspiracy in 217 bce. Papyri permit us to retrace, already in the period of Ptolemy III, the career of one Dositheos who was elevated to the highest Alexandrian rank: the priesthood of the deified Alexander and the Ptolemies.72 The works of Philo swarm with allusions to personalities intoxicated by their social ascension, overtaken by gluttony or temptations of the flesh, and totally or partially abandoning the lifestyle inherited from their ancestors. Philo also attacks free thinkers who detect mythology in the sacred writings or those who interpret the divine commandments in an allegorical vein and end up renouncing all practice. These varied behaviour pat- terns, to his mind, reflect the many alternatives a Jew might choose to abandon his community and break with a chain of tradition worthy of respect. Philo, the uncle of Tiberius Alexander did not need to stray far in order to find a turncoat. Perhaps he was referring to his nephew among others of the same generation when he warned against the risk of “brother, son or daughter, or wife, housemate or true friend however true, or anyone else who seems kindly devoted” who could incite his former co-religionists “to fraternise with the multitude, resorting to their temples, and joining in their libations and sacrifices”.73 Would Philo have been unaware of what compromises had been incurred through the ambitions of his own nephew? The dialogues of Tiberius Alexander with Philo must intervene in a pre- cocious career74 begun with entry into service of the Roman army and military epistrategical responsibilities in the Thebaid by 41. A few years later, from 46 to 48, Tiberius Alexander was named procurator of Judaea

71 Spec. I, 317–318. 72 Cf. J. Mélèze, op. cit., pp. 59–65. 73 Spec. I, 316. 74 Cf. E.G. Turner, “Tiberius Julius Alexander”, Journal of Roman Studies, XLIV, 1954, pp. 54–64. 48 chapter two

(BJ II, 220). This choice of Emperor Claudius, a son of Antonia Minor, was probably due to family connections as much as to his origins: a Roman raised as a Jew would know how to placate the religious susceptibilities in a province reputed to be volatile. The procurator in fact only maintained peace at the price of extremely tough repression. Jacob and Simon, two sons of Juda the Galilean, who had incited Jews to revolt in the year 6 c.e. when Rome had taken direct control of Judaea and ordered a census, stirred up an endemic agitation only temporarily calmed under the short reign of Agrippa I (41–44). Tiberius Alexander had them executed, imposing the punishment that Rome reserved for rebels: crucifixion (AJ XX, 102). The betrayal of his coreligionists by a former Jew who had crossed over into the service of Rome must have excited anger. It is not known whether Philo lived long enough to have learned of this. He was certainly not still alive by the time the career of Tiberius Alexan- der had reached its zenith in the year 66. The son of the alabarch became the first man in Egypt with the title of “praefectus.” Echoing the disturbances in Judaea, inter-communal clashes broke out in Alexandria. After failing to curb his former brethren, Tiberius Alexander despatched troops against them. According to Josephus,75 the ensuing massacre left 50,000 Jews dead. Three years later, it was Tiberius Alexander who welcomed Vespasian newly elected emperor by his troops of Judaea, and assured him the indispensable support of his rich province, Rome’s wheat gra- nary. The new emperor placed him alongside Titus as commander of the army which would besiege Jerusalem. Thus in mid-summer of the year 70, when the Temple was burned, Tiberius Alexander witnessed before his very eyes the melting of the gold and silver with which his father had adorned the great doors of the Temple court. This specific case that our sources permit us to follow well beyond the death of Philo, is symptomatic of a society undergoing extreme change.

A Fragile Minority

Rome’s grasp of power over Egypt, at first so welcomed by the Jews who saw in Julius Caesar a protector of their religion,76 would engender profound upheavals that were ultimately damaging to their cause.

75 BJ II, 487–498. This evaluation might perhaps appear excessive but remains difficult to verify since Josephus provides our only source. 76 See the decrees reproduced by Flavius Josephus in Book XIV of the Antiquities. The Jews in Rome came several nights to keep vigil over Caesar’s tomb; cf. Suetonius I, Caesar 84. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 49

Transforming Egypt into a Roman province had completely upset the fragile social equilibrium between communities, mostly to the det- riment of the Jewish population. Henceforward the administration and the Roman army controlled the land. Some Greek notables personally obtained Roman citizenship, but most of the local Greeks were contented with civil rights in the town where they were settled without reference to the Greek cities from which their ancestors originated. Local citizenship was the unique trace of their past glory, and they did not intend sharing it with others. A Greek from the chora, the rural province, who did not reside in a city, had no civil rights but, due to his origins, he would pay a poll tax at reduced rate. Right at the bottom of the ladder, those Egyptians insufficiently Hellenised to count amongst the Greeks had no right and had to pay the whole of the per capita, otherwise known as laographia. The Jews were indeed a problem apart. From the Roman viewpoint, the Judaei who originated in Judaea, a vassal province of the East, were regarded as being more like Egyptians than Greeks. So, all the Jews of Egypt, including the most Hellenised among them and those who lived in the capital, were compelled to pay the laographia tax, which was judged dishonourable. A rough copy of a request—unfortunately poorly conserved—has been found, addressed by a Jew of Alexandria ca 5 bc, to Gaius Turranius, the prefect of Egypt, protesting against this downgrading.77 Given their minority status, the Jews enjoyed a certain degree of autonomy in the management of their own affairs. They possessed their community organisation, such as was attested around the year 25 bc by Strabo78 the Greek geographer, who had visited Alexandria: “An ethnarch of their own has been installed, who governs the people, and adjudicates legal suits, supervising contracts and ordinances as if he was head of a sovereign state.” The ethnarch had a council at his disposal. The Jews of Alexandria, according to Greek terminology, constituted a politeuma,79 a recognised community enjoying specific privileges, directly subordinate to the government rather than the city.80

77 CPJ II, 151, p. 30. 78 Cited by Josephus in AJ XIV, 117. 79 The term appears in the Letter of Aristeas. 80 Cf. A. Kasher, The Jews in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, Tübingen, 1985, p. 240. 50 chapter two

The last “ethnarch”, or rather “genarch” according to Philo’s termi- nological preference,81 died in the year 10 or 11 under the prefecture of Aquila.82 It seems that Augustus seized the opportunity to re-organise the Jewish community by reinforcing the authority of the council of elders, the gerousia. The following year, he delivered instruction on this point to his new prefect, Magius Maximus, as Philo himself recalls.83 The number of counsellors comprising the gerousia is not known for certain. Some suppose84 that it included seventy-one members in imitation of the Jeru- salem Sanhedrin. Philo has preserved the names—typically Greek—of three among them,85 Euodus, Trypho and Andron, who held office in the year 38 during the frightful series of events he narrates, as will be observed in due course. He also mentions the archontes who constituted a sort of executive power in this assembly. It might be supposed that the council held meetings in a hall adjoining the great synagogue, or at least situated in what was considered in Alexandria as the Jewish quarter, the Delta quarter. By the thirties of the first century, the precarious condition of this community became evident. What had been an asset for the Romans at the outset of their conquest became a cumbersome burden. Despite the existence of a Greek nationalistic nostalgia, it was towards the Greeks closest by customs, life-style and religion, that the Romans tended to incline. Religious syncretism and hellenisation had also favoured the integration of certain Egyptians into Alexandrian society. There was, moreover, an indigenous mass that Rome expected would keep still and quiet. This population had a propensity for becoming agitated over quite small and mundane events, “accustomed to blowing up the tiniest spark into grave seditions.”86 There was no need to furnish a subject of dispute since the Egyptians, as Philo claims, already harboured “a somewhat innate hostility to the Jews”.87 As distinct from the Lagid power which had opened access to the Jews in the army and the administration, the Romans reserved such posts for themselves: we know of no Jewish soldiers in the Egypt of the Roman period.88

81 Flac. 74. 82 AJ XIX, 283. 83 Flac. 74. 84 Cf. E.R. Goodenough, The Jurisprudence of the Jewish Courts in Egypt, 1929, p. 249. 85 Flac. 76. 86 Flac. 17. 87 Flac. 29. Cf. C. Ap. I, 223. 88 CPJ I, Introduction. being jewish in alexandria in philo’s day 51

As for the administration, a Jew like the alabarch Alexander or, a few years later, a certain Demetrios occupying the same functions,89 could well be temporarily hoisted into the limelight. These were exceptions, somewhat dangerous exceptions, since such social achievement exacerbated the animosity of Greeks and Egyptians. The Jews of Alexandria about this period attempted to improve their status and obtain equality with the Greeks by acquiring Alexandrian citizenship. In support of their claim, they stressed the antiquity of their settlement in Alexandria—since the time of Alexander—and pointed to their perfect hellenisation. Their arguments failed to convince the Romans and succeeded only in alienat- ing the Greeks, who were jealous of their own prerogatives. Nothing in Alexandria any longer was as it had been. Philo, lover of meditation and knowledge, found himself impelled towards “a vast ocean of political cares.”90 A few periods of calm still enabled him to complete his major biblical commentary, but history would not delay in catching up with him.

89 Cf. AJ XX, 147. 90 Spec. III, 3.

CHAPTER THREE

PHILO’S CULTURAL WORLD

In the great city of Alexandria, Philo was in contact with the best that Hellenism had produced beyond the frontiers of Greece. He thought in Greek, spoke only Greek and had long been nourished at the breast of Hellenic culture. In his view, humanity was divided between Greeks and barbarians and he had no doubt that he was on the side of the former: non Greek-speaking Jews would therefore probably belong to the latter category. But at the centre of his cultural universe there was also a book: the Bible. A Bible in Greek.

Hellenised Jews

The Jews of Egypt had adopted the Greek language long before Philo’s appearance on the scene in the first century. Indeed, through papyri and inscriptions, the hellenisation of the Jews can be traced back at least three centuries, as far as Fayyum and Upper Egypt.1 The Aramaic language would rapidly give way to Greek, the biblical names to Hellenic names. Jews sometimes took the names of sovereigns, Ptolemy or Arsinoe, and even went as far as adopting, without too much reflection, names which placed them under the protection of pagan divinities, whether Apollo- nius, Hermias or Artemidorus. However, a clear preference may be noted for theophoric names like Theophilus, Theodosius and Dositheus (“God given,” equivalent to the Hebrew Nathan, Nathanael or Jonathan). They often chose Simon, which had the advantage of coinciding phonetically with a Greek name, but they also remained faithful to Joseph in honour of the great precursor of the Jewish presence in Egypt. Within Philo’s family, Greek names would be the rule. He himself bears a typically Hellenic name which may be interpreted as “friend of God.” His brother is called Alexander, a name that Jews adopted in homage to the great conqueror

1 Mélèze, op. cit., p. 56 sq. 54 chapter three who, it was said, had honoured and protected them.2 Another member of the family is Lysimachus. We cannot rely entirely on the onomastic argument to determine the degree of hellenisation. Even after the reaction against Hellenism in Judaea which led to the Maccabean uprising (from 167 bce), Greek names continued to be conferred, with the Hasmonean kings themselves setting the example. The most obvious sign of hellenisation is to be found in the many works written in Greek. Well before Philo, Jewish texts appeared in Greek-in Egypt, but certainly in Alexandria—not to mention translations from Hebrew or Aramaic into Greek. Over time, this literature matured and gained legitimacy , from the somewhat clumsy beginnings demonstrated by Demetrius the “chronograph” who attempted to reconstitute the biblical chronology, up to Philo’s major corpus. The Jews of Ptolemaic Egypt had already experimented with all genres. Among works that have survived is a tragedy on the Exodus from Egypt by the playwright Ezekiel, an epic poem on Jerusalem from another Philo, and an anonymous novel with mystical embellishments, about the marriage of the fine Joseph with Aseneth, daughter of Pentephres (Poti- Phera), priest of Heliopolis. The writing closest in spirit to Philo is the text of wisdom attributed to King Solomon—, a poem of nineteen sections, included in the Christian Pseudepigraphs, which is as Greek as it is Jewish. Works of totally different inspiration, however, appeared in an identical time and place. Also in the Alexandrian diaspora, probably toward the end of the first century bce, the strange and composite work known as the Third book of the Sibylline Oracles was produced. This work, in the pagan tradition, was supposedly based on the prophecies of a Sibyl but its author, who claims to be the Sibyl of Erythraea, is nowadays considered to have been a Jew. The clue to her identity derives from the mix of pagan mythology with events of biblical history, projected as if they were still to come, in order to give greater credibility to the other predictions that had still not been realised. There is nothing more foreign to Philo than these apocalyptic deliria.

Philo’s Education

Philo provides as little detail about his education as he does about the rest of his life. Again, it is only on the basis of impersonal generalities

2 See the legendary account of the arrival of Alexander in Jerusalem in AJ XI, 326–339. philo’s cultural world 55 that we may reconstruct any personal experience. Parents, he says, are the benefactors of children since they provide not only nourishment but also “education for body and soul, placing them in a state, not simply of being, but even of well-being.”3 Doubtless, he is grateful to his parents for the quality of education they provided him, but he does not say how much he has received. Did his family fortune give him the benefit of preceptors? Would he have frequented the smart schools known as gymnasia reserved for Greeks possessing Alexandrian citizenship? For some critics, only the frequentation of such schools would explain “the remarkable and probably unique fusion in the history of Jewish and Hellenistic culture from the third century on, in Alexandria.”4 It would appear however that those schools, which were originally open to all children of well-to-do families without distinction of origin,5 would have accepted only Greeks in Philo’s time, as a result of the decrees of Augustus who aimed at promoting Greeks over other populations of Egypt. Might Philo, the son of a distinguished family, have been the exception? On the other hand, would Jewish parents attached to their own tradition, as seems to have been the case in Philo’s family, have sent their child to institutions placed under the protection of pagan divinities and filled with their images, while also compromising respect of the sabbatical rest? Moreover, all rich Greeks did not necessarily benefit from a gymnasium education. Thanks to papyrus attestation, we know that in the Egyptian province, Greek parents despatched their sons armed with some financial support, to search out a master in the main city.6 Such masters must, therefore, have created schools for small numbers of disciples. No need to imagine, as Wolfson suggests, that Philo would have frequented a school alongside the synagogue.7 We have to concede, however, almost total uncertainty about Philo’s education. What we can assume is that he benefitted from reputable teachers and worked through the syllabus that was available to him with obvious enthusiasm.8 On many occasions, Philo cites the sciences which were part of the general teaching (enkyklios paideia) and indispensable foundation for

3 Spec. II, 229. 4 M. Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism, I, p. 66. 5 A.H.M. Jones, Cities of the Roman Provinces, Oxford, 1971, p. 308. 6 Cf. B. Legras, Neotès. Recherches sur les jeunes Grecs dans l’Egypte ptolemaïque et romaine, Paris, 1999, pp. 36–40. 7 H. Wolfson, Philo I, p. 79. 8 Cf. Congr. 74–78. 56 chapter three the study of philosophy.9 The first level was “grammar” which consisted of reading, writing, study of Aesop’s or Babrios’ fables. The next level10 involved a literary study of the poets (Homer, Hesiod, and the tragedians) and the authors of prose, particularly such historians as Xenophon and Thucydides. This level also involved instruction in geometry, arithmetic and music, often including a science of numbers divided into rhythm, harmony and melody.11 Philo adds rhetoric12 to sharpen the spirit in speculation and engage in expression, sometimes associated with its “twin sister” dialectic, which helped discerning between true reasoning and false. At the top of the edifice, like a mistress surrounded by her servants, was enthroned, radiant and sovereign, Philosophy. All other branches of knowledge, Philo tells us, are merely propaedeu- tic, an obligatory passage, the door which leads to the apartments, the suburb which announces the city, milky nourishments which precede solid food for the child, Hagar who gives birth so that Sarah, in turn, may give birth.13 Where might Philo have studied philosophy? He would undoubtedly have assiduously frequented the public lectures at the Museum or elsewhere. He himself says that, “hardly a day passes but the lecture halls and theatres are filled with philosophers discoursing at length, stringing together without stopping to take breath their disquisitions on virtue.”14 With an acute sense of observation, he often noted those in the audience who remained preoccupied by their daily cares, “thoughts on their families, on outsiders, on things private and things public,”15 as well as “thoughts of voyaging and trading, some with their farming and its returns, others with honours and civic life, others on the profits they get from their particular trade and business, others with the vengeance they hope to wreak on their enemies, others with the enjoyment of their amorous passions”16 and who behaved “like images or statues,” having ears but not hearing. Contrary to those who simply came to have their ears charmed

9 Cf. A. Mendelson, Secular Education in Philo of Alexandria, Cincinnati 1982, ch. 1. 10 Congr. 15, 148, Somn. I, 205. See H.I. Marrou, Histoire de l’éducation dans l’Antiquité, Paris, 1965, p. 229 sq. 11 Congr. 76. 12 Congr. 17–18; Cher. 105, Agric. 18, Somn. I, 205, Quaest. Gen. III, 21. 13 This is the theme of the treatise entitled De Congressu eruditionis gratia. 14 Congr. 64. 15 Her. 12. 16 Congr. 65. philo’s cultural world 57 for an instant, Philo must have brought all his intelligence and prodigious memory to bear on whatever he heard. He should also be assumed to be a fervent reader of philosophical works, not only in the great public library but also in his own abundant private library. While he has certain philosophical preferences, he seems to have read and meditated on all things. He cites the pre-Socratics, Zeno, Anaxagoras, Democritus, he venerates Pythagoras, and often speaks as a Stoic but he admires the great Plato above all, without necessarily naming him. On the other hand, he distances himself from Aristotle and detests those whom he regards as pseudo-thinkers or “sophists”, among whom he counted the Sceptics or adepts of the New Academy.17 Few of his contemporaries, whether cultivated Greeks or Romans with a knowledge of Greek, possessed such a vast philosophical knowledge: indeed, those who have left writings usually claim to be adepts of a particular school. Among Jews, Philo’s passion for philosophy is perhaps not unique, but his is the sole example supported by writings. Clearly Alexandria alone could produce such a considerable work. The cliché of the thinker confined to his study with his cherished readings however must be qualified. Philo himself tells us that living in domestic seclusion suits the feminine disposition, while men are suited to frequenting “the public squares, buildings, tribunals, clubs, assemblies ridden with rumbling crowds, life in the open air with all its palaver and activities” (Spec. III, 169). He pays homage to those parents who provide for their offspring physical education as well as edification of the soul. All Greek education included gymnastics and sport. Within both real and metaphorical contexts, Philo expresses admiration for the athlete and provides precise descriptions of sporting events, including a boxing match, or a pentathlon,18 or passing reference to wrestling competition or chariot racing.19 We should not be surprised by Philo’s interest for practices supposedly forbidden in Jewish life. In fact, the book of Maccabees20 does not censure physical exercise per se, but the nudity often required by many sports, which was an alien concept in the Holy City. Philo also attended theatrical productions, or at least the public readings, which often replaced them. He would avoid the coarseness of mime,

17 Her. 246, Congr. 52, Quaest. Gen. III, 33. Cf. infra ch. VII. 18 Cher. 81, Agric. 114–115. 19 Prob. 26, Prov. II, 103. 20 I Mac. 1, 13 s. II Mac. 4, 11 s. Cf. H.A. Harris, Greek Athletics and the Jews, Cardiff, 1976, ch. III. 58 chapter three which flourished in the Roman period, preferring declamations of the finest texts among the Greek tragedies he had studied.21 From these brief allusions, we may draw the impression of a man open to the world, an aristocrat of subtle mind shunning vulgarity, for whom all “observation” provides a stimulus for the elevation of the soul.

Greek or Hebrew?

The adaptation to Hellenism by the Jews of Egypt, and more particularly by those of Alexandria, is hardly to be doubted. This does not shed substantial light on the relationship between Jews and their own tradition. When Philo describes those gatherings on the seventh day, where the assembly comments on the Bible, he does not mention the language in which the reading is conducted. Would the Bible have been read publicly in Greek? We cannot unconditionally attribute Philo, and his co-religionists of Alexandria, a Hebrew knowledge that they doubtless possessed only superficially, if at all. Their culture remained essentially Greek, even if the Bible occupied that mental space that certain Greeks reserved for Homer or Hesiod, but with a sacred dimension that none of these poets could equal. The modern Jew has difficulty imagining that his distant ancestors, even in the diaspora, could have read the sacred text in a language other than the original Hebrew. How could communities in such close proximity to the Holy Land two thousand years ago, be less knowledgeable than later traditional Jewish communities, for which study of the Talmud was sovereign? Looking into the mists of such a distant past evokes visions of a ghetto which probably never existed. A more appropriate comparison with the world of Alexandrian Jewry might be with the emancipated communities of Western Europe since the nineteenth century. Apart from the question of civic rights, the culture of the “emancipated” Jews was profoundly disturbed. Reactions ranged from loyalty to outright rejection, including various forms of compromise with modernity. The vernacular prevailed, so that the Hebrew of the sacred texts and prayers was either read with limited understanding, or no longer read at all. The Hebrew was replaced by transliterations or translations, often the final phase before total abandonment.

21 Ebr. 177; Prob. 141. philo’s cultural world 59

We cannot know for certain whether the Jews of Alexandria experienced an identical evolution. It is probably more accurate to see them as immigrants from Judaea who, to the extent that they took root in the land of Egypt, underwent a loss of their original heritage in favour of the local culture practices, according to a recognised process of acculturation. The adoption of another language was without consequence in daily life, but the rupture with sacred texts, which gradually became incomprehensible threatened the survival of a minority identified by its religion. Preserving the original language of these texts required a voluntary act, which is, in practice, difficult to sustain. Did Philo himself sufficiently master Hebrew to understand the original? The extent of his Hebrew knowledge has long been the subject of lively scholarly debate. In the sixteenth century, the humanist Scaliger wrote, not without humour, that Philo was as fluent in Hebrew as might have been a Gaul or a Scythian. Renan would concede that Philo had only a “very scanty” knowledge of Hebrew: “He hardly knew the Hebrew language.” Such is the predominant opinion today with only a few voices holding a contrary position. Given such uncertainty, some scholars avoid expressing an opinion.22 In any case, Philo did indeed read the Bible in Greek.

The Septuagint Translation

The translation of the Bible into Greek remains one of the silent, anonymous, and undated events which have changed the face of the world. Nevertheless, its significance was understood early enough to prompt a book by an Alexandrian author, most probably Jewish, who was writing at the end of the third or the start of the second century bce (even if he does conceal his identity and the period in which he was writing). This book to which we have already referred several times is The Letter of Aristeas to Philocrates. It is introduced as a long report, addressed by an Alexandrian Greek named Aristeas to his brother Philocrates, on the result of a mission he had just accomplished. In order to complete the famous library of King Ptolemy II Philadelphus, the librarian, Demetrius of Phalerum, had suggested translating “the books of the Law of the Jews” from Hebrew into Greek. Aristeas was therefore assigned, with one Andreas, to carry a

22 Cf. R. Arnaldez, introduction to the De Opificio mundi, Cerf, Paris, 1961, p. 47 and Nikiprowetzky, op. cit., ch. III. 60 chapter three despatch to the high-priest of Jerusalem asking him to send “elders versed in the knowledge of their Law and capable of translating it, six from each tribe” (§ 39). The royal ambassador also bore sumptuous gifts destined for the Temple of Jerusalem. Aristeas’ brief stay in this city provided him with the opportunity to describe the region and its resources, the city and its streets, the sanctuary and its rituals. This is indeed an extremely precious record of Jerusalem at the beginning of the second century bce, since it is generally esteemed that the account was written about a century later. The author presents an apologia for Judaism, while claiming to reproduce the explanations provided by the high priest Eleazar in response to the curiosity of his pagan visitor (§ 128–171). Aristeas goes on to describe the welcome that Ptolemy accorded the translators on their arrival from Jerusalem. They were received promptly at court, contrary to the custom, and proceeded to unroll before the royal eyes “the precious skins on which the Law was written with Judaean characters in gold” (§ 176). The king then offered them a sumptuous banquet, carefully respecting the Jewish dietary laws. The feast lasted for seven days. Each day, he king questioned ten or eleven of the seventy-two sages, about the best form of government, the control of the passions and more generally the manner in which the individual should behave. Their replies evoked the admiration of their audience and in particular that of the philosophers who were present. Aristeas relates that the translators were then installed on the island of Pharos, “near the beach, sojourn enveloped in silence” (§ 301). It was there that they could finally begin to work collectively on all details of the translation. By astonishing coincidence, the seventy-two elders finished their work in seventy- two days (§ 307). The translation was then read in public to the Jewish community, which welcomed it with enthusiasm and requested a copy. Everyone agreed to respect, in its entirety and without modification, this work executed “with piety and a rigorous exactitude” (§ 310). The king marvelled at its reading, prostrated himself before the books and ordered them to be religiously conserved (§ 317). He rewarded the translators and despatched gifts to the high priest. This faithful recapitulation of the Letter of Aristeas to Philocrates is intended to emphasise the legendary nature of the account. One can now understand why doubts arose as to the pagan origin of its author. The text is certainly a Jewish apologia. The author attempts to convey the excellence of the Law and portray Jews as true philosophers who draw their wisdom from the Law itself. The author’s homage to philosophy also identifies him as being of authentic Greek culture. The very long passages philo’s cultural world 61

(§ 187–292) devoted to replies from the translators belongs to the literary tradition of the “philosophical banquet” for which Plato provided the model. It may also be related to many treatises “on kingship” which flourished in the Hellenistic period. The most interesting element lies in the message that the Letter of Aristeas seeks to communicate with regard to the translation itself. The translation derives from a royal initiative which confers on the document all of the King’s prestige. It was endorsed by the high priest, thereby affirming its religious authority. It was executed by men of wisdom and exceptional piety, guaranteeing its exactitude. It resulted from the harmonious collaboration of representatives from the twelve tribes of Israel, which eliminated all controversy. It was completed in seventy-two days by seventy-two translators, suggesting divine approval. It was immediately acclaimed by the whole of the Alexandrian Jewish community, affirming it as the uncontested reference. Ultimately it was preserved without alteration, conferring authenticity on subsequent copies. Over and above a defense of Judaism addressed to pagans, the Letter of Aristeas also aims to be of use within the Jewish community: it serves to legitimise the Greek translation known as the Septuagint since it is, according to legend, the work of seventy-two, if not seventy, translators. Just before closing his account, the pseudo-Aristeas finally faces the question he has evaded up to this point: did one have the right to translate the sacred text into another language? This question is approached indirectly: the king is astonished that “such master-pieces” have remained unknown in the Greek world. Demetrius the librarian then explains that they had not been translated, “because of the august nature of this law, and because it is God-given” (§ 313). He even states that some Greeks who ventured to cite translated passages, had been seized by mental torments or loss of vision. Such was the justifiable punishment for having sought to “deliver divine affairs to the profane” (§ 315). Furthermore, rendering Hebrew into Greek was not simply a matter of translating one language into another; it was a perilous leap from the sacred to the profane, from divine word to human language. The Law of Moses risked diluting the sanctity and venerability with which it was held by the Jews themselves. The so-called translation of the Septuagint did not originally involve all biblical writings but more specifically what the Jews of Alexandria called o nomos, “the Law” or preferably in the plural oi nomoi, “the laws”; that is, the first five books of the Torah, known to us as Pentateuch (from Greek penta, five + teuche scroll), since at that time they were presented in five scrolls. In the West, we still designate these five books individually by 62 chapter three their Greek titles: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. To this day, these books, which constitute the Torah (in Hebrew “teaching”, “doctrine”), have pre-eminence over the rest of the Bible in the synagogue liturgy. Apart from the text of Genesis, which is essentially narrative, the other four writings are of a largely legislative order. However, as Flavius Josephus notes, the biblical laws are not simply reserved for a limited number of jurists, as the laws of other peoples; they are the object of study for all Jews so that “should anyone of our nation be questioned about the laws, he would repeat them all more readily than his own name.”23 If the Jews of Egypt sought to continue observing their laws, it would require those to be linguistically understandable. The translation of the Torah into Greek had therefore become a vital necessity, relegating to second place any fear of profanation. After all, was there not elsewhere in the Jewish Aramaic-speaking world, a quasi simultaneous translation of the biblical text into Aramaic which would later be written down in what is called the Targum? 24 It is true that the Targum would originally have been oral. The major audacity of the Egyptian community lay in possessing a written text of the Greek translation—and this, by about the middle of the third century. As for the legend introduced by the Pseudo-Aristeas, it served only to veil the fact that the Jews of Egypt had themselves undertaken this translation on which depended the survival of their religion in a land of exile. This explanation has prevailed with modern historians until quite recently. However, some have been tempted to rehabilitate the version of royal initiative. They have the weight of argument on their side: there are no known private translations in that period. The translations all resulted from official initiatives. But why would a Greek king of Egypt have translated the “laws” of his Jewish subjects? A response may be envisaged, based on a parallel discovered in 1978 with the Greek translation of the demotic customs at Hermopolis-West. This translation and that of the Torah should, in fact, be located within the judicial reform undertaken in 275 bce by Ptolemy II Philadelphus precisely. The judges representing the sovereign had to have at their disposal the legal texts ruling the life of the various communities in the kingdom. Translated into Greek, the Jewish law thus became a Greek law for the Jews in Egypt.25

23 C. Ap. II, 177. 24 Some date the Targum back to the public reading of the Torah instituted by Esdras in the 5th century. This theory is based on the word meforash (Nehemiah 8.8). 25 Cf. J. Mélèze, op. cit., ch. V. philo’s cultural world 63

Whatever the reasons, translation of the Torah into Greek was originally a purely local event. With time, this initiative was followed by translation of other books of the Bible, while other Jewish works written directly in Greek would be added. Translation of the Septuagint was then dissemi- nated throughout the Hellenised diaspora, notably in Asia Minor, where Paul would preach in the first century ce. Thus, the Septuagint became the Old Testament of the Christians. It was then that the translation of the Holy Book of the Jews could be seen as an event of global significance.

Philo and the Miracle of the Greek Bible

Supernatural intervention remains very discreet in the Letter of Aristeas. It may be reduced precisely to this sentence: “It so occurred that the work of the translation was completed in seventy-two days, as if such a thing had been due to some premeditated plan” (§ 307). By the time Philo re-examined the account of the translation, more than a century and a half later, in his Life of Moses, the legend had made considerable advances. Philo was, however, less interested in the recent embellishments and rather more concerned with the origins of the translation. He attributed its initiative to “some people” who, being aware of the excellence of the Jewish laws “written in the Chaldean tongue”, would have regretted that they should be found “in one half of the human race, the barbarians” (among whom he counted the non-Greek-speaking Jews) and denied altogether to the Greeks.26 Particularly underlined is the role of King Ptolemy II Philadelphus since the prestige of his patronage did much to enhance the value of the translation. The unnamed high priest is qualified as “king of the Jews,” a title intended to increase his prestige in the eyes of the pagan readers and underline his function as ethnarch at that period. He was delighted to send some “Hebrews” (their number is not indicated) “who had received an education in Greek as well as in their native lore”, since in his view the idea of the translation implied “a divine plan.” The banquet is evoked in a few lines as a test of wisdom. The translators were fully aware of the difficulty of making a “full version of the laws given by the Voice of God, where they could not add or take away or transfer anything, but must keep the original form and shape.” In other words, the challenge lay in the translatability of a sacred text

26 Mos. II, 27. In the course of twenty-odd paragraphs summarising the Letter of Aristeas, Philo’s account of the translation itself occupies nearly ten. 64 chapter three

(Mos. II, 34). The significance of the task was matched by the significance of the site where the translation was undertaken. The island of Pharos, beyond the reach of urban vices, as it was from the ravages of the high sea, is described as a place “where they might find peace and tranquility and the soul could commune with the laws, with none to disturb its privacy” (ibid., 36). Philo adds a detail unknown to Aristeas: before setting to work, the translators would request divine support by raising the holy books towards heaven. This invocation sought to establish the link between the human and the divine: They became as it were possessed, and, under inspiration, wrote, not each scribe something different, but the same word for word, as though dictated to each by an invisible prompter. (ibid., 37) Philo clearly asserts that the translators had become prophets, at least momentarily, and that the translation produced was inspired. There is no longer question of an agreement among men of erudite wisdom, such as described by Aristeas. The translation was rather the fruit of a state of “enthusiasm,” in the Greek sense of the term, that is, possession by the divinity,27 and all the more so, of a collective phenomenon concerning all the participants since the same words issued simultaneously from all their lips. Ultimately, it may be said that the Greek words had been chosen by no other than God, just as words from the original revealed Hebrew. The consequence of such a belief is considerable: expounding the Greek text is equivalent to expounding the Hebrew text, since both reflect the Word of God. The unanimity of the translators appears to be something of a miracle, but it may be explained also in human terms: Yet who does not know that every language, and Greek especially, abounds in terms, and that the same thought can be put in many shapes by changing single words and whole phrases and suiting the expression to the occasion? This was not the case, we are told with this law of ours, but the Greek words used corresponded literally with the Chaldean exactly suited to the things they indicated. For, just as in geometry and logic, so it seems to me the sense indicated does not admit of variety in the expression which remains unchanged in its original form, so these writers, as it clearly appears, arrived at a wording which corresponded with the matter, and alone, or better than any other, would bring out clearly what was meant. (Mos. II, 38)

27 Cf. the description of the prophetic state in Spec. I, 65: “The declarations will simply pass him by, since it is Another who will whisper them to him.” philo’s cultural world 65

In other words, the translation has been conceived with scientific rigour and mathematical precision, rendering it incontestable. Philo appears to believe in the possibility of such prowess. Yet, a century and a half earlier, when the grandson of the Jerusalemite Jesus Ben Sira, settled in Alexandria and translated the work of his ancestor, he experienced the difficulties of transposition from one language into another, “since they do not have the same strength, those things told in Hebrew by this book when translated into another language.”28 Consequently, he begged the indulgence of his readers, having spent “many sleepless nights” in order to accomplish his task well. To excuse the imperfections in his own book, he had not hesitated invoking a more august example: “Moreover not only this volume, but also the Law itself, the Prophets and other books, offer a considerable variance within their contents.”29 This statement is important for two reasons. On the one hand, it constitutes the earliest known attestation of the triple-division in Hebrew Bibles: Pentateuch, Prophets, and Hagiographs. On the other, it expresses the first clear awareness as to the imperfection of all translation and, more specifically, the difficulties in translating the Bible into Greek. The grandson of Ben Sira knows what he is talking about: he is perfectly at home with Greek and Hebrew. Is it to Philo’s frail knowledge in Hebrew or to his apologetic intention, that we must attribute quite such conflicting approaches? If Chaldeans have learned Greek, or Greeks Chaldean, and read both versions, the Chaldean and the translation, they regard them with awe and reverence as sisters, or rather one and the same, both in matter and words, and speak of the authors not as translators but as prophets and priests of the mysteries, whose sincerity and singleness of thought has enabled them to go hand in hand with the purest of spirits, the spirit of Moses. (ibid., II, 40) Philo was not alone in thinking this way . Even in his time, the anniversary of the translation of the Septuagint was celebrated each year in the summer as a festival on the island of Pharos. The massive gathering of Jews would also attract other Alexandrians, as Philo himself describes. After the prayers and thanksgivings, some fixing tents on the seaside and others reclining on the sandy beach in the open air feast with their relations and friends, counting that shore for the time a more magnificent lodging than the fine mansions in the royal precincts (ibid., II, 42).

28 Ben Sira, Prologue 24. 29 Ibid., 24–25. 66 chapter three

In affirming the inspired character of the Septuagint, Philo does not express simply a personal opinion, but indeed that of his entire community: the Greek version of the Bible has been turned into a sacred text.

Jew and Greek: “The Judaeo-Hellenistic Symbiosis” and its Limits

Philo passionately wanted to be both Jew and Greek at the same time. The inspired character of the Septuagint seemed to indicate that it was possible, and that God favoured the will to be both one and the other. The Jew listened to the divine message in the Greek language, but any Greek could also henceforward have access to it and become one of these courageous proselytes that Philo could not praise too highly.30 Being both Jew and Greek was, “in a clear vision of truth”, to share “the same griefs and the same joys,” so that they may seem to be the separate parts of a single living being, which is compacted and unified by their fellowship in it.” (Virt. 103). Philo identified with this symbiosis to the very depths of his being. Alexandria was the air that he breathed, the language he spoke, the libraries and lectures he frequented, the performances he attended. Jerusalem was his “metropolis,” his inner voice, his weekly rest, his daily nourishment, his annual feasts and occasionally his pilgrimages. All that could be perfectly reconciled. The rationality of the Greek philosophers that he admired shed an admirable light on the Bible that he loved. Indeed, there were surprising convergences, long since noted, between the text of the Bible and certain philosophical theories. Thus Pythagoras, Anaxagoras, Plato and the Stoics had, it would seem, reached the understanding of a unique God, despite the vulgar polytheism amidst which they lived.31 The monotheism of the Jews sometimes caused them to be considered as a “race of philosophers”. This was indeed what Theophrastus,32 disciple of Aristotle, would observe. Varro, the Roman scholar contemporary of Cicero, had believed that they worshipped Jupiter since they were satisfied with honouring a single God, the greatest; he applauded them moreover for according such respect to the divinity as to avoid all material representation.33 For certain apologists of Judaism this encounter was hardly unexpected. As they could not doubt the absolute anteriority of the Bible, they

30 Cf. supra ch. II, pp. [00–00]. 31 C. Ap. II, 168. 32 Fragment of the De Pietate, cited by Porphyry, De Abstinentia II, 26 = Stern I, N° 4 33 Cf. various fragments cited by Augustine = Stern I n° 72 a–d. philo’s cultural world 67 were persuaded that the “holy conceptions” of God maintained by the philosophers, would have reached them from an ancient lost translation of the Pentateuch. Thus, the philosopher Aristobulus, who dedicated his Explanations of Moses’ Writing to king Ptolemy VI Philometor ca. 170 bce, ingenuously affirms: “Plato followed our law and examined its least detail, he has taken much from there just as Pythagoras, in turn, transposed much of our creed and had it pass into his doctrine”, or again: “Pythago- ras, Socrates and Plato followed Moses when they said that they heard the voice of God; they considered that the organisation of the world had been made by God in detail and that he ceaselessly maintained it.”34 This doctrine of the “pilfering of the philosophers” later picked up by Christian apologists, “as absurd and irritating as it might seem to us, has nevertheless apparently been professed in good faith.”35 Philo is an inheritor of this Judaeo-Alexandrian tradition. He sometimes affirms that Heraclitus followed the doctrine of Moses: Is not this the truth, which according to the Greek Heraclitus, whose greatness they celebrate so loudly put in the forefront of his philosophy and vaunted it as a new discovery? Actually, as has been clearly shown, it was Moses who long ago discovered the truth that opposites are formed from the same whole.36 Elsewhere, it is Zeno who would also strike him as being inspired by an account from Genesis37 or the Greek legislators who are said to have borrowed from Moses.38 Given the extent of Philo’s writings, it cannot be said, however, that this is a dominant theme. It should be noted that despite the abundance of parallels between Plato and the Bible, he does not suggest “plagiarism”, because, in Philo’s eyes, philosophy is “a gift accorded by God to permit men to discover by reasoning with the aid of the senses, what the Jews have known by revelation.”39 Philo equally appreciates that philosophy offers him the instrument of allegorical exegesis, so permitting him to rise to the rational and extract the universal. Between philosophy and the Bible, he envisages a splendid accord of which he would like to convince others.

34 Cf. various fragments cited by Eusebius, Praeparatio Evangelica XIII, 12. 35 Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire, p. 101. 36 Her. 214; cf. Leg. I, 108, Quaest. Gen. III, 5, V, 152. 37 Prob. 57. 38 Spec. IV, 61. 39 M. Alexander, “Apologétique judéo-hellénistique et premières apologies chrétiennes”, Les Apologistes chrétiens et la culture grecque, Beauchesne, Paris 1998, p. 32. 68 chapter three

Thus the Judaeo-Greek symbiosis in Philo emphatically did exist. But what impact did it have beyond Philo and a small circle of Alexandrian Jews who shared his dual culture? Will we ever know if Philo aspired to reach an audience beyond his own community, whether he was read by a broader public and how his works were received? What we do know is that Philo’s presentation of Judaism to pagans encountered dangerous adversaries. Manetho, the Egyptian priest, had gained a following among the Greeks. In his wake, a certain Lysimachus40 had picked up the fable of the “lepers” while, in Philo’s time, it was a Stoic philosopher, Chaeremon, director of the Museum of Alexandria, who advanced his own version of it,41 not to mention the grammarian Apion. In his History of Egypt in five volumes, this Apion, a Hellenised Egyptian, offered a fanciful and chronologically incoherent account of the Exodus; he also had an idiosyncratic explanation for the origin of the Sab- bath: the Jews, having walked six days to reach Judaea, suffered “tumours in the groin;” they therefore rested the seventh day and called this day “Sabbath” according to the Egyptian word sabbo designating disease of the groin.42 Apion also retailed rumours that Jews worshipped the head of an ass in their Temple or, in an early version of the blood libel, that they captured a Greek traveller each year, fattened him up, sacrificed him and pronounced a pledge of hostility against all Greeks while devouring his flesh.43 Such were the tales circulating in the most refined city of the Empire. Jews like Philo, who felt a complete sense of belonging, would find themselves denigrated with ever-greater frequency as undesirable foreigners, of impure origin and animated by a hatred of humanity. The dialogue of cultures had been cut short. The Judaeo-Greek symbiosis was merely an illusion. It could be argued that the entire corpus of Philo’s writings had been nothing less than a lengthy monologue.44

40 This Alexandrian author is situated in the second century bc. He is cited in C. Ap. I, 304–320. 41 C. Ap. I, 288–303. Chaeremon figures amongst the Alexandrian delegation to Emperor Claudius. He was also Nero’s preceptor. 42 C. Ap. II, 21. 43 C. Ap. II, 95. 44 Cf. G. Scholem, concerning the “Jewish-German symbiosis”: To engage in dialogue there must be two interlocutors who mutually listen to each other, who are ready to see the other as he is and for what he represents [. . .] To whom then should the Jews address themselves in this Judaeo-German dialogue on which so much has been said? They speak to themselves, to avoid saying they deafen themselves”; Fidélité et Utopie. Essai sur le juda- ïsme contemporain, Paris 1978, p. 104. CHAPTER FOUR

AMID POLITICAL TURMOIL

Philo must have been in his sixties when he witnessed the brutal break- down of the world in which he and his fellow Jews had found their place. Until then, emperors Augustus (30 bce to 14 ce) and Tiberius (14 to 37 ce), had maintained what is often termed as Jewish “privileges.” These were in fact rights and exemptions which allowed Jews of the empire to observe their ancestral way of life, as had been officially recognised by Julius Caesar. Such “privileges” were based on the “cherished Roman principle of free exercise of national customs for all peoples.”1 This enabled Jews to continue respecting all their feast days and dietary laws. Roman legislation implied the right of public meeting, exemption from military service for Jews who were Roman citizens, and the exemption from appearing in courts of justice on the day of the Sabbath.2 Augustus indeed guaranteed the right to cease work on the Sabbath eve as from the ninth hour; this was called “paraskeue” (literally, “preparation”).3 Moreover, Philo indicates, that at the time of Augustus, if the regular distribution of free food to the people fell on the Sabbath,4 the Jews of Rome would enjoy rights to a special free distribution the following day. He also refers to letters from Augustus to the provincial governors, expressly sanctioning the collection of the half-shekel for the Temple in Jerusalem, thus preempting possible objections to the practice that might arise.5 Philo tends to idealise the reign of Augustus, and that of Tiberius which followed, even though the former had established the ignomini- ous laographia, which reduced the social status of Jew in Egypt, while the latter had, in the year 19, expelled Jews from the city of Rome. In spite

1 J. Juster, Les Juifs dans l’empire romain, Paris, 1914, vol. I, p. 221. 2 J. Cf. Josephus, AJ XIV, 185–267. See E. Bickerman, “Une question d’authenticité: les privilèges juifs”, Mélanges Isidore Lévy, Brussels, 1955; Ch. Saulnier, “Lois romaines sur les Juifs selon Flavius Josèphe”, Revue Biblique 88 (1981) pp. 161–195; M. Pucci- Ben Zeev, Jewish Rights in the Roman World, Tübingen, 1998. 3 AJ XVI, 163, cf. Pucci- Ben Zeev, op. cit. pp. 235–256. 4 Legat. 158. 5 Legat. 311–316, cf. AJ XVI, 166 and Pucci- Ben Zeev, op. cit. pp. 258–261. 70 chapter four of that, Philo simply seeks to observe that Augustus preserved the peace and filled the universe with his benificence (Legat. 147); while the cruel conduct of Tiberius could be explained as a product of the malign influence of his shameless praetorian prefect, Sejanus, whose schemings would ultimately be exposed (Legat. 160). On the death of Tiberius in the year 37, his successor, Caligula, inherited an immense empire, which extended to the Rhine in Europe, and as far as the Euphrates in Asia. He had above all inherited a peaceful and prosperous empire “gained not by faction but established by law, with all parts, east, west, south, north, harmoniously adjusted, the Greek in full agreement with the barbarian, the civil with the military, to enjoy and participate in peace.” (Legat. 8) It might be observed however, that the administration of provinces, which were far from the centre of power was deeply unsatisfactory.

Early Warning Signals

The local populations in Egypt can hardly be said to have enjoyed the protection of the Roman authorities who replaced the Lagid dynasty. Philo mentions the case of a cruel and unscrupulous Roman governor who tortured an insolvent family—and “when there were no kinsmen left, the maltreatment was passed on to their neighbours and sometimes even to villages and cities” (Spec. III, 162). The news from Judaea was scarcely better. Philo heard about a governor—with title of prefect6—named Pontius Pilate who, during the reign of Tiberius, was noted for “briberies, insults, robberies, outrages and wanton injuries, executions without trial constantly repeated, ceaseless and supremely grievous cruelty” (Legat. 302). However, Philo seems to have been unaware of the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth during the pre- fectship of this same Pilate. Roman administrators did not generally understand much about Jew- ish particularity. The precise application of decrees dictated by Caesar or Augustus would, from time to time, run into difficulty, depending on the caprice or good will of the provincial governor concerned. We know of complaints originating from communities in Asia Minor whose religious liberty had been flouted. Although we do not possess such documents for

6 An inscription from Caesarea has his name appear with the title of praefectus. amid political turmoil 71

Alexandria, we do have direct accounts of events witnessed by Philo. A prefect of Egypt, whose name he avoids mentioning, decided to compel the Jews to work on the day of the Sabbath. When confronted with dem- onstrations of mourning and prostration, the prefect embarked on a long speech, which Philo attempts to reproduce: in the case of a fire or a natural catastrophe, he asked, would the Jews go around doing nothing or would they sit in their synagogues peacefully reading the holy books, explaining difficult passages in them and discussing at leisure the philosophy of their fathers? To this extent, the order of the prefect was as constraining as the necessity imposed by a natural catastrophe (Somn. II, 123–129). This discourse must have been held before Jewish notables, probably the council of the community to which Philo would have belonged. Doubtless, the prefect must have yielded before an obstinacy he could not understand. This distasteful incident would be nothing to match the ensuing persecutions that inspired two of Philo’s narrative treatises in which he dis- creetely includes himself: the Against Flaccus (In Flaccum) and Embassy to Caligula (Legatio ad Gaium), perhaps his last writings.

When the Mob Seizes Power

At the time he wrote Against Flaccus, Philo had just confronted the Egyp- tian rabble at work on those sites of his city most familiar to him. His life would be indelibly marked by this experience. Philo already had a low opinion of the Egyptian population, which was scarcely hellenised and which still practiced animal worship. This explains why, throughout his writings, Egypt is presented as an allegory of materialism, the body and its vices drowning the ship of the spirit.7 He detects in the Egyptian temperament a marked tendency to excitability and a capacity to become agitated over nothing.8 This is why the rabble, the ochlos, is so quick to invade the streets and public places, “not the peaceful, public-spirited crowd but the crowd which regularly fills everything with confusion and turmoil, which by its love of meddling, its eager pursuit of the worthless life, its habitual laziness and idling is a thing that means mischief ” (Flac. 41). Shortly after Caligula came to power, the “disorderly crowd” seized control of Alexandria, indulging in acts of violence against the Jews. The

7 Agric. 64, 89 Migr. 14, 18; Somn. II, 255. 8 Agric. 62, Flac. 17. 72 chapter four one man to whom the Jews might have turned to for protection, was the Roman prefect, a man of good reputation, Avilius Flaccus. Wider events, however, were to dash their hopes. Flaccus had been appointed prefect by Emperor Tiberius in the year 32 ce, for a period of six years. He had proved to be a brilliant adminis- trator, as even Philo acknowledged (Flac. 4–6). But the death of Tiberius, in 37 ce, dealt a double blow to the prefect’s ambitions: firstly, the young Tiberius Gemellus, the late emperor’s grandson whom Flaccus had hoped would ascend the throne, was eliminated in favour of Gaius Caligula; sec- ondly, Flaccus’ close friend Macro, the praetorian prefect to whom Gaius owed the empire, had himself fallen into disgrace and was ultimately slain, along with his family. This left Flaccus without a protector in Rome, and his mandate would soon be terminated. His fear for his future apparently led him to seek political successes that would enhance his reputation in Rome. Philo sees this as the fatal turning point which would lead Flaccus into hypocritical and pernicious intrigues. According to Philo, the prefect became “a masked dummy on the stage with the title of government inscribed upon him merely for show” (Flac. 20) so that “the ruler became subject, the subjects leaders” (ibid., 19). Flaccus yielded to the local demagogues who demanded that he deliver the city’s Jews to the fury of the mob in exchange for a promise of political support for him from the city of Alexandria. Flaccus did not bother to transmit a message of congratulation from the Jewish community to the new emperor, despite having promised to do so (Flac. 97–101). Moreover, the latent hostility towards the highly visible Jewish minority was coupled with a new element that was certain to incite envy among Egyptians and anguish for Flaccus. The young Caligula had just granted Agrippa I, a third of the kingdom of his grandfather Herod, and conferred on him the title of king. This northern part of Herod’s former kingdom had been left vacant in 37 ce on the death of the tetrarch Philip, Agrippa’s uncle. This grant was an act based on personal friendship (as we shall see, Caligula detested the Jews as a people, although Agrippa was his friend). So once again, the Jews had a king, while the great and eternal Egypt was humiliated and subjugated. What is more, this king was the friend of an emperor whom Flaccus the prefect could only regard with great fear. Agrippa I, who happened to be in Rome at the moment of the imperial decision, would have been able to return to his kingdom by various routes. In fact, he chose to pass through Alexandria where “a host”—probably, Philo’s brother, the alabarch Alex- ander—accommodated him in discreet lodgings (Flac. 28). His presence amid political turmoil 73 however, could not have passed unnoticed; although discreet, his visit was not clandestine. Agrippa would certainly have paid a courtesy visit to Flaccus, who, for his part, was obliged to manifest some conventional cordiality: “While in public he played the part of friend and comrade to Agrippa, through fear of him who had sent him there, in private he vented his jealousy and gave full utterance to his hatred by insulting him indirectly since he had not the courage to do so outright” (Flac. 32). Flaccus refrained from intervening when the rioters began cruelly mocking the new Jewish king. Alexandria was, indeed, a centre for that somewhat vulgar and decadent theatrical genre called “mime”. They would seize a poor lunatic named Carabas,9 who “spent day and night in the streets naked, shunning neither heat nor cold” and was “made game of by the children and the lads who were idling about” (Flac. 36). He was decked out as king of theatre, in a scene, which is not without parallel to the mocking of Christ. Bedecked with ridiculous insignia of kingship, he was hailed with the Aramaic title of Maran (“our Lord”)10 apparently the term by which King Agrippa was addressed. The impunity with which such acts were treated encouraged other vilifications of the Jewish community in general. Greek Egypt, heir to the Egypt of the Pharaohs, had deified the Macedonian sovereigns and it was an easy matter to adopt the Roman imperial cult even before other provinces, when the region fell under Roman rule. By the reign of Augustus, Alexandria abounded with statues of the emperor, to which homage was rendered in solemn ceremonies. The imperial cult assumed the dimension of a great civic assembly. Only one element of the population excluded itself from such ceremonies: the Jews. Their absence was recognised and tolerated: the authorities knew that their loyalty was not in question, that they were forbidden under any circumstances from worshipping any other God than their own. In that period, moreover, the imperial cult was not really in force, even in Rome. Neither Augustus nor Tiberius were worshipped in their own life-time. The “apotheosis”, or deification, of emperors occurred only after their death. One just has to recall Vespa- sian’s ultimate declaration on sensing the approach of his end: “Horror! I believe I am becoming a god!”

9 Some have proposed substituting this name for the Aramaic name of Barabbas, but Carabas is generally maintained: this word would designate a boat-owner; it would therefore be a derisive nickname. 10 This is the Aramaic found in the formula Maranatha (I Corinthians 16, 22): “The Lord came.” Philo curiously transcribes it as Marin in Flac. 39. 74 chapter four

Flaccus probably knew that the young Gaius Caligula wished to be proclaimed a god while still alive and that the Alexandrians, accustomed to bestowing the sovereign with divine attributes, encouraged him in his folly.11 When the crowd assembled in the theatre near the main port to agitate for the setting up of imperial statues in the synagogues (Flac. 41), the prefect of Egypt found a way of returning to grace: showing his devotion to Caligula by annulling the exemption from the imperial cult that only the Jews enjoyed. “Gaius supposed that he really was regarded by the Alexandrians as a god [. . .] Then again he thought that the violent proceedings against the meeting-houses had sprung from a clear conscience and from a sincere desire to do him honour” (Legat. 164–165). It was a diabolical scheme: if the Jews yielded, they would be seen to have publicly abdicated their faith; if they did not yield, they would be condemned for incivility and lese-majesty. Their enemies had hatched a plot, which would lead the Jews into a trap, whichever choice they made. As the author of the measure, Flaccus would be considered both popular with those he administered and caring for the emperor’s glory. He could thus not only rescue his somewhat compromised political past but also resurrect his political future. Since the Jews refused to introduce imperial statues into the synagogues, these would be closed, so that even their name might no longer survive (Flac. 53). The defence mounted by Jewish notables, among whom Philo should doubtless be counted, was ineffective.12 Aware that it was not enough to insist on preserving their traditions, they argued that the synagogues were “sacred buildings where they could set forth their thankfulness” towards the Augustan house (Flac. 48). Furthermore, the name of the sovereign appeared in the dedication of the buildings, where prayers were recited for his health, his preservation and that of his family, and where offerings were made in his honour: shields, gilded crowns, commemorative plaques. If the Jews were deprived of their synagogues, they would be unable to manifest their fidelity to the emperor. The fact that the many synagogues embodied Jewish loyalty to the emperor should have ensured their protection (Legat. 133). Far from protecting them, however, the prefect encouraged groups of agitators to invade the city’s synagogues, a number of which were burned

11 Legat. 162–170. 12 This procedure is implied in Philo’s account and confirmed in § 76 “when previously he had called our archontes with a view to reconciling us with the rest of the city”. Philo still uses “us” in § 103. amid political turmoil 75 to the ground. All the others, without exception, were desecrated: statues of Caligula were erected and, in the largest synagogue, a bronze figure, mounted on an old rusty chariot which had belonged to Cleopatra, was installed. As for Flaccus, “who if he wished, could have by himself sup- pressed in a single hour the tyranny of the mob, he pretended not to see what he saw and not to hear what he heard but allowed them to wage war unrestrainedly and so wrecked the peace” (Legat. 132). In that year 38 ce, a further escalation occurred when Flaccus dissolved the institutions of the community and stripped the Jews of all civil rights in Alexandria. Jews, such as Philo who regarded this city as their home- land and could attest to the presence of their ancestors on Alexandrian soil for generations, found themselves treated as “foreigners and immigrants” by edict of the prefect. This satisfied large sections of Alexandria’s population, who disputed the notion of citizenship for Jews and were hostile to their special status. Through the decrees of Flaccus, the Jews lost their rights of ownership and all legal protection. Henceforth, the mob could loot this newly outlawed population without penalty. Flaccus, seeking even greater popularity, incited the systematic spoliation, ransacking and persecution. The Jews, who were, until then, dispersed throughout the city, were forced into the restricted area of a single quarter, under conditions of no minimal hygiene (Legat. 125), while their homes were relentlessly pillaged. Deprived of their livelihoods, they sank into poverty, lacking even the most basic essentials. As victims of “a carefully organised famine,” seeing their wives and children dying, some men attempted to leave the area to which they had been confined, in order to reach the market.13 Their fate was atrocious; they were “treacherously stabbed, dragged through the whole city to be trampled over, and thus completely done away with, till not a part of them was left which might receive burial, the right of all people” (Flac. 65). Many others were stoned, stabbed or beaten with clubs “by those whom savagery had maddened and transformed into the nature of wild beasts” (Flac. 66). Entire Jewish families were burnt on pyres in the heart of the city, without pity for old age, youth or innocent children.14 In other cases,15 corpses were dragged through the streets until there was nothing left of them. Some were scourged, tortured and finally crucified. Friends of Philo

13 According to Legat. 127, they had in fact left in order to escape the putrid air of an over-populated quarter, and were pitifully struck down. 14 Flac. 68, cf. Legat. 130. 15 Flac. 70, cf. Legat. 131. 76 chapter four were among the victims-aged men, members of the community council. Flaccus had thirty-eight council members arrested after they were discovered in their homes. Chained together, they were forced to file, hands tied behind their backs, across the public square to the theatre where, in full view of their enemies, who were often their spoliators, they were stripped and whipped to death. No humiliation was spared. Philo adds an apparently insignificant detail, as “evidence of no small malignancy” (Flac. 78). The practice in Alexandria was for lictors to beat Greek criminals with flat rods, while Egyptians were beaten with whips. When the Jews were whipped—among whom were many notables—they were dishonoured and beaten with whips, “treated like Egyptians of the meanest rank and guilty of the greatest iniquities” (Flac. 80). Philo’s account, written while still suffering the shock of these events, deserves recalling. If it sometimes reminds the reader of the most recent afflictions to which Jews would fall victim in the XXth century, this is doubtless due to human wickedness, which always knows how to rein- vent such cruelties. When free rein is released, instincts emerge inciting persecution against minorities. In Philo’s account, Flaccus is consistently described as the author of the most vicious measures against the Jews. To justify expulsions and search warrants, the single pretext used was that the Jews were stock- piling arms in their dwellings—an accusation which naturally infuriated Philo. In fact, Flaccus was himself becoming a hostage of the populace, whose favour he was cultivating: “He hurried and pressed on the matter to conciliate the mob, which was opposed to the Jews, thinking that this would persuade them to make his policy their own” (Flac. 82). On one occasion, Flaccus presented the crowd with a real show “divided into acts”, in order to provide another spectacle for popular gratification: “The show had been arranged in parts. The first spectacle lasting from dawn till the third or fourth hour consisted of Jews being scourged, hung up, bound to the wheel, brutally mauled and hauled to their death march through the middle of the orchestra” (Flac. 85). Jewish women, extracted against their will from the gynaeceum, also contributed to the spectacle, and heightened its appeal: “They were seized like captives not only in the market-place, but also in the middle of the theatre and taken on the stage on no matter what calumnious charge, meanwhile being subjected to outrage of an intolerable and most barba- rous kind” (Flac. 95). The crowd went berserk when they realised that these women were indeed Jews by birth—which assumes that there were others of different amid political turmoil 77 origin amongst the wives of Alexandrian Jews16—giving orders that they be served with swine’s flesh. (Flac. 96). The latter period of Flaccus’ governorship, as recorded by Philo, seems to have been one of those moments of collapse in authority when factions seize control of public sites, when crowds turn unruly, and when the leader can only follow those whom he no longer commands, in a confusion of demagogy and anarchy. The power of the crowd, that ochlocracy for which Flaccus had opened the floodgates, would ultimately turn against him. Reports reaching Caligula did not speak favourably. The emperor sent a small troop from Italy commanded by a centurion, to arrest Flaccus. He was taken by surprise while at a lavish banquet. His accusers were two Alexandrians, both of whom sought vengeance against this prefect of Egypt. One, Lampo, was a venal clerk of the court, “a pen-murderer;” the other, Isidorus, a skilful agitator, “a mob crusher, popularity hunter, practised in producing disturbances and confusion, a foe to peace and tranquility, an adept at creating factions and tumults.” (Flac. 135) Flaccus incurred the wrath of his accusers when, still in control of public order, he had dealt severely with them and their circles which indulged in bouts of drunkenness and slander (Flac. 51). In revenge, Isidorus bribed a group of scoundrels to testify against Flaccus. Rapidly unmasked and threatened with arrest, he took flight expecting to conduct his revenge from Rome. Flaccus, condemned to exile, would ultimately die a miserable death on the island of Andros. Philo likes to imagine him in his downfall, bewailing his fate and tortured with remorse for having permitted the persecution of Jews whom it had been his duty to protect. Flaccus would belately realise how much weakness he had displayed simply to humour their adversaries, “a disorderly and unstable horde, whose flattery, to my sorrow, deceived me” (Flac. 172). Imperial vindictiveness also pursued the fallen prefect. One day, on his island, Flaccus saw two of Caligula’s emissaries coming to meet him. He understood that this was the end: there was no escape from the daggers destined for his demise. The Jews of Alexandria had already celebrated his downfall when the news of his arrest reached them. Philo recalls this moment. It was in the midst of the festival of Sukkot, “at the autumn equinox in which it is

16 Cf. Flac. 96: “Then, if they were recognised as being of another race—since many were arrested as Jewesses without any careful investigation of the truth, they were released.” 78 chapter four the custom of the Jews to live in tents” (Flac. 116). After the terrible sufferings the Jewish community had just endured, the usually joyous Sukkot feast was shrouded in mourning “for painful sensations are apt to double themselves most especially at feast time in persons who are unable to observe the feast” (Flac. 118). At first, they had found it difficult to believe that the prefect had been arrested: surely this rumour was just a cruel joke? Then, confronted with the unusual disturbance of the city in the middle of the night, they would bow to the facts. Philo recalls the hymns chanted throughout the night and, as the synagogues were still shut, the psalms sung on the shore the following dawn with the prayers of thanksgiving: We do not rejoice, O Lord, at the punishment meted to an enemy, for we have been taught by the holy laws to have human sympathy. But we justly give thanks to Thee because Thou has taken pity and compassion on us and relieved our unbroken and ceaseless afflictions (Flac. 121). Once the danger had passed, Philo and his companions ultimately recognised the action of Providence.

Confronting the Tyrant

Flaccus had indeed perished, the victim of Caligula’s demented malev- olence. Philo, still recovering from the ordeals unleashed by Flaccus, hastened to directly confront the mad emperor; then he discovered for himself the meaning of tyranny. The episode probably occupied most of his time during 39 ce. Philo, who appears to have been a member of the council of the Alexan- drian Jewish community, was chosen with four other distinguished Jews17 to plead the cause of his brethren before the Emperor himself in Rome. According to Flavius Josephus, he might even have led the delegation,18 but Philo never boasts; as usual, he refrains from emphasising his role. Meanwhile, another Alexandrian delegation, led by one Apion, also took the road for Rome. The litigation submitted for imperial deliberation by Philo’s delegation concerned the rights of Jews to citizenship in the city of Alexandria. Apion was determined to thwart their endeavours by

17 He mentions five ambassadors in Legat. 370. Josephus only mentions three delegates in AJ XVIII, 257. 18 AJ XVIII, 259. amid political turmoil 79

representing their refusal to pay homage to the imperial cult as proof of their lack of loyalty to Rome. Apion’s agitations had already begun under Tiberius who nicknamed him cymbalum mundi (“he who fills the world with noise”). This hellenised Egyptian,19 having pretension to erudition was the author of a work on Homer and a history of Egypt in five books. To mark the occasion, he had written a memorandum against the Jews of Alexandria, the contents of which has been partially preserved, thanks to Flavius Josephus. Taking refuge in Rome, following the Jewish revolt of 66–70 ce, Josephus, the former general and governor of Galilee, must have discovered a number of anti-Jewish writings in the imperial library. Amongst these was the pam- phlet from Apion, which Josephus would refute some fifty years later in his Against Apion. Josephus was furious at the ignorance and contempt this “charlatan” displayed with his confused “charge” filled with lies and calumnies against Jews in general, and those of Alexandria in particular.20 We may just imagine the anti-Jewish discourse—alas only too frequent— that Philo must have heard in the presence of Caligula in the year 39. Apion maintained that the Jews of Alexandria were foreigners only recently arrived from Syria,21 who had no right to the title of “Alexandri- ans”. He recognised that there had indeed been Jewish generals, Dositheos and Onias, in the period of Ptolemy Philometor, but he dismissed them, ignoring the fact that they had saved Alexandria from a coup d’état. He used the persecution from which the Jews had been miraculously spared in the reign of Ptolemy Physcon,22 to indicate that the Lagid dynasty was already not favourable towards them, while the marked hostility from the last Cleopatra served as proof that they did not merit the least sympathy. Following this historical introduction, Apion reached the heart of the debate: “Why, if they are citizens, do they not worship the same gods as the Alexandrians?” In his opinion, the answer was to be found in their lack of civic fidelity, which clearly pointed to their seditious nature.

19 Cf. C. Ap. II, 29: “Born in the Egyptian oasis, more Egyptian than them all, as might be said, he disowned his true country and falsely claimed to be an Alexandrian, thereby admitting the ignominy of his race” and ibid., 41. 20 C. Ap. II 3–7. 21 Ibid., 33. This is often the name vaguely designating territories of the early Seleucid Empire. 22 This is the episode of the elephants that III Mac. 4–5 dates to the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator (221–204), cf. supra ch. II. 80 chapter four

Adding to the absurd and pernicious fables circulating against the Jews in the Eastern world,23 he attacked their laws, and asserted that their civilisation had not produced men worthy of admiration, “for example, inventors in arts and craft, or eminent sages”, as opposed to Greece and Alexandria which had produced so many outstanding figures—among whom Apion includes himself !24 He reserved a particular venom for the Jewish practice of circumcision and the dietary laws. Such are the calumnies, which Philo was obliged to refute in defence of his community. His appointment as head of the Jewish delegation doubt- lessly corresponded with the esteem in which he was held, as well as his seniority. Philo himself considered that extensive experience equipped him with greater circumspection than his companions (Legat. 182). Only extreme urgency would have led to the decision to dispatch a delegation to Rome in mid-winter (ibid., 190), just a few months after the disgrace of Flaccus. Philo may have suffered from the effects of voyage, which was considered unwise by early autumn.25 Prior to recounting this embassy to Gaius Caligula, Philo deems necessary, in his Legatio ad Gaium, to pause for reflection on the psychology of the figure he was going to meet. As opposed to simply evoking the portrait of a madman, he prefers to explain how Caligula’s tyrannical nature was progressively revealed. Following the sinister end of the reign of Tiberius, the young emperor had been welcomed with enthusiasm across the empire. He indeed benefitted from the posthumous popularity of his father, Germanicus, the adopted son of Tiberius. It was not yet known that he was a debaucher consumed with vice. There was great sympathy for an illness that had afflicted him, without any suspicion that this was caused by his dissolute behaviour. His recovery was celebrated with joy. Hailed as saviour and benefactor, he would not tolerate any rival. Thus began the escalation of his crimes: his young cousin Tiberius Gemellus, the only real grandson of Tiberius, who had more right to the empire than himself, was put to death. Next came Macro the praetorian prefect, who imagined that he could play the role of mentor to the young emperor. And finally his own father-in-law, the respected senator Marcus Silanus, was killed for

23 Cf. supra ch. III. 24 C. Ap. II, 135–136. 25 Legat. 15. This fact is confirmed by Paul in Acts of the Apostles, 27, 9–10. amid political turmoil 81

committing the error of proffering paternal advice. Such was the first year of Caligula’s reign. Simple observation of the facts contradicts Plato’s theory that tyranny is a reaction to the anarchy, which inevitably follows the degeneration of democracy. It is clear that some men are simply born with a tyrannical nature. And Caligula was such a man. Moreover, destiny encouraged this impulse. According to Josephus,26 Tiberius himself favoured Gemellus as his successor but had allowed chance to decide for him. During his final illness, he decided, on the basis of a prediction, that whichever of the can- didates was first to reach his bedside the following day would inherit the empire. Tiberius was dismayed to see his adopted grandson Gaius enter first. Full of foreboding for the fate of Gemellus, the dying emperor was only able to commend the young man to the protection of his successor who, he believed, had been chosen by the gods. The version of the succession provided by Suetonius27 is much more disturbing: by his account, Caligula poisoned Tiberius then suffocated or strangled him, with his own bare hands, in order to steal the imperial ring. In confronting Caligula, Philo would come to understand the psychology of a tyrant. This young emperor, the very opposite of a sage, was thoroughly enslaved by his passions, directed by his pleasure and by the caprice of his desires; concentrated in him were the qualities of presumption, arrogance and haughtiness, characteristic of an unworthy aspirant to political power. Caligula boasted of having been “modelled as an emperor” in the maternal womb (Legat. 56). Any advice, any censure of his behaviour, was intolerable to him, thus explaining his ingratitude towards Macro and Silanus. Philo further observes that a tyrant is all the more empowered by the impunity of his office. Public opinion, both inconstant and passive, com- pounds the impunity; it finds all sorts of pretexts for excusing crimes, which would normally be considered to be beyond redemption. Thus the tyrant survives, owing to the weakness and complacency of the crowd, which becomes an accomplice to his wicked deeds. While introducing Caligula as a demented personality, Philo attempts to understand the logic that made this tyrant eager to be considered a god and to be honoured as such. The Greek definition of the king as “shepherd of the peoples” offers a justification for his megalomania. Just as the

26 AJ XVIII, 211–223. 27 Caligula, 12. 82 chapter four shepherd is not of the same essence as his flock, so he, the emperor, is of a different order to the subjects he rules (Legat. 76). Unlike Roman historians, Philo has sought a philosophical explanation, which is not without grounds, in attempting to understand the evolution of Caligula. Having created a tyranny, Caligula encountered in the Romans the same complacency mixed with fear, the same hypocritical flatteries which allowed him to abuse his role with impunity.28 He began by absorbing the attributes of semi-gods, until he believed himself more powerful than they, since he might easily pass from one to the other. Soon he paraded with attributes borrowed from the Olympian gods, whether Mercury, Apollo, or Mars. This is where passion leads “when it is reinforced by vanity and ambition, combined with possession of the supreme dominion” (Legat. 114), concludes Philo on a moralistic note. In a tyrannical regime, subjects who are no longer protected, become slaves. Throughout the empire, in fact, some subjects would be more vulnerable than others, depending on whether they were prepared to honour the emperor as a god, or not: this was indeed the case for the Jews. For this reason Philo claims: “we were ranked not only as slaves, but as the most degraded among the slaves, when the ruler changed into a despotic master” (Legat. 119). Alerted by the Alexandrians, Caligula focused his hatred on those unyielding subjects, “for he looked with disfavour on the Jews alone because they alone opposed him on principle, trained as they were we may say even from the cradle, by parents and tutors and instructors and by the far higher authority of the sacred laws and also the unwritten customs, to acknowledge one God who is the Father and Maker of the world” (Legat. 115). Such was the man that the Alexandrian Jewish delegation, under Philo’s leadership, prepared to confront. Between his delegation and that of Apion, the match was unequal. The Egyptian delegation could prove to Caligula that, for the most part, Alexandrians already honoured him as a god. This delegation, moreover, enjoyed strong support at court. Among them was a slave named Helicon “who had been foisted for ill into the imperial household” (Legat. 166). Endowed with a semblance of culture and sprightly conversation, he humoured Caligula and manoeuvred himself into the emperor’s good graces. Jewish customs furnished fertile material for new jokes. The delegation led by Apion was suspected by

28 Even in Italy, the oriental habit of prosternation came to be introduced (Legat. 116). amid political turmoil 83 the Jewish delegation of having bribed Helicon with promises of honours. Helicon deftly mixed accusations with banter, taking advantage of his intimacy with the emperor amid ball games, gymnastics, bathing and din- ners. There was also a former actor amongst the courtiers: one Apelles, native of the pagan city of Ascalon whose inhabitants were notoriously filled with “irreconcilable hostility beyond all possible truce” toward their Judaean neighbours (Legat. 205). So enemies prevailed both within and without the court of Caligula. Friends, if such existed, hardly showed themselves. At the homes of all those on whom they had believed they might count, the Jewish emissaries encountered only closed doors. In Rome, there still remained a single possible recourse: the Jewish king Agrippa, who had been one of Caligula’s supporters before his imperial accession and therefore had been rewarded with a kingdom. Agrippa agreed to submit to the emperor a petition relating to Jewish rights in the city of Alexandria. The Jewish delegation briefly sighted Caligula on the banks of the Tiber, from where the emperor benevolently waved and promised to give priority to the Alexandrian affair. Philo, alone among his companions, suspected a trap in this unexpected behaviour. He no longer slept; “I was deeply disturbed and had no rest by day or night . . . I kept my affliction concealed since it was not safe for me to let it appear” (Legat. 184). Caligula did not, in fact, meet them immediately. Instead, he left for the region of the Campania where he owned several country houses. The Jew- ish emissaries followed him, patiently expecting to be received, in the port of Puteoli, which they knew by the Greek name Dicearchia. There, they learned about the latest of the tyrant’s fantasies: his wish to have a statue of himself, in the guise of Jupiter, erected in the Temple of Jerusalem. The Romans, at that time, indeed controlled the ancient capital of the Judaean kingdom. On the death of Herod in 4 bce, Augustus divided his territories into three, leaving to Archelaus, Herod’s son born of a Samari- tan wife, the regions of Idumaea, Samaria, and Judaea with Jerusalem. The unpopularity of Archelaus had driven the emperor, in the year 6 ce, to impose direct rule from Rome. Galilee and Peraea remained in the hands of Herod’s other son, Antipas, while the regions situated in the east and the north of the Lake of Tiberias, Batanaea, Auranitis and Trachonitis, were ruled by Philip, a third son of Herod. Caligula had given Agrippa those territories after Philip died without heirs but Jerusalem still depended on the Roman praefectus based in Caesarea, and to have his statue erected in the Temple, the emperor needed only command his representative. 84 chapter four

Philo reports with great precision the circumstances in which he learned the disturbing news. While the delegation was still waiting to be received at Puteoli, a Jew arrived breathless and much disturbed. Initially, he was unable to speak. He was so overcome by tears that, after three attempts, he still failed to utter a word. Finally he regained his voice and revealed Caligula’s plans. Others came to confirm his declarations. Philo brings to life the feelings that assailed the members of the delegation, “petrified by consternation [. . .] we stood there speechless and powerless in a state of collapse with our hearts turned to water” (Legat. 189). Full of apprehension for the future of their mission, they could only bemoan their past miseries, and anticipate the forthcoming dangers. How could they discuss the profanation of the Alexandrian synagogues when a far greater threat weighed on “that most notable and illustrious shrine whose beams like the sun’s reach every whither, beheld with awe both by east and west” (Legat. 191)? What could they expect from an unstable adolescent wielding absolute power? They were willing to die if only this would serve their cause. The new danger did not only threaten a specific community, but also “a more universal interest, the corporate body of the Jews” (Legat. 194). The very existence of Judaism was at stake. “The danger [. . .] involved the expulsion, enslavement and wholesale spoliation of the Jews who dwelt not only in the Holy Land but everywhere throughout the habitable world” (Legat. 330). The men who confirmed this catastrophic information were probably Jews too, as Puteoli was a port used by vessels that had undertaken the voyage from the Eastern Mediterranean. Whether or not they were Jews, they seemed to be well-informed about the latest events in Judaea. Shortly before, a Roman tax collector, Capito, arrived poor in the region, had fraud- ulently accumulated wealth. In order to protect himself against possible accusations relating to the fraud, he devoted his energies to maintaining tension between Jews and pagans in the city of Jamnia (Yabneh), which came under his jurisdiction. One of his efforts involved inciting pagans to raise an altar to the emperor in Jamnia in order to provoke an uprising among the Jews. Capito’s report to Caligula was likely to have persuaded the emperor to have his gilded image erected within the Temple itself. Anticipating resistance, Caligula was decided to take extreme measures. The authority of the prefect of Judaea, residing in Caesarea, seemed insufficient; so he wrote to the legate of Syria, Petronius who outranked the prefect of Judaea. The emperor was prepared to redeploy troops from the eastern front of the empire on the Euphrates to Judaea, in order to deter an uprising over the installation of his statue. Petronius himself was amid political turmoil 85 caught between two fears: that inspired in him by the caprice of the tyrant, and that inspired by the inevitable reaction of all the Jews, not only those of Judaea but throughout the world. “The result would be something too stupendous to be combatted. But without this, the inhabitants of Judaea are unlimited in number. Their bodies are of the finest quality and their souls of the highest courage, preferring to die in defence of their national institutions” (Legat. 215). Philo suggests there was even a risk that the Jews of Babylonia, who lived in the Parthian empire beyond the Euphrates, might become involved. Petronius attempted to intimidate the Jews by threatening them with invading troops while delays in the construction of the statue in Sidon allowed him to buy time. But the population reacted to the threat with a massive demonstration such as had never before been seen. Leaving their houses and fields, the Jews hastened to Phoenicia to lodge a petition with Petronius. Philo describes the crowd and the clamour as if he had been present. The Jews were without arms, divided into six groups of men, women and children, and ranked according to age. All expressed signs of bereavement, weeping, moaning, their heads covered with dust, walking with their hands behind their backs as if strung together. This might be the first known example of non-violent mass demonstration in history. Philo also records, in the purest of historiographical tradition, the eloquent defence addressed by Jewish representatives to the Roman legate of Syria. It is the speech that Philo himself would have made, had he been there. Death or suicide, Petronius was told, would be more honourable than obedience to a tyrant. This notion already expressed at the time of the Maccabees, and later codified in the Talmud, seems by this period to have been a matter of consensus amongst Jews: rather death than idolatry. Petronius prudently decided to play for time and avoid massacre: he slowed down execution of the statue and provided various pretexts, apparently unrelated to the Jews, explaining delays in a letter to Caligula. These arguments could only stimulate the anger of the emperor.29 King Agrippa I, whose aid had already been solicited by the Jewish delegation of Alexandria, was not aware of these tumultuous events in Judaea because his voyage had taken a. considerable time. For his part, Philo had little difficulty imagining an emotional state comparable to that

29 See a slightly different account of this whole episode in detail from Flavius Josephus AJ XVIII, 261–288. 86 chapter four which gripped him and his companions; he was able to detect Agrippa’s response on being told the news: physical weakness, loss of appetite and all the signs of a deep depression (Legat. 276–329). In a long and pathetic letter recorded by Philo, Agrippa tried to convey to Caligula the vital importance that “ancestral customs” had for the Jews. He recalled that previous emperors had respected these practices, proof that they did not see any contradiction with the honours due to their own persons. Accord- ing to the parallel account from Flavius Josephus,30 the intercession of Agrippa with Caligula took place on the occasion of a dinner at which the emperor honoured his friend. As Caligula had promised Agrippa whatever gift he would most appreciate, the king apparently seized the opportunity to ask Caligula to abandon his plans to erect a statue of himself in the Temple. In this way, Agrippa succeeded in bringing Caligula to his senses: the Temple of the “metropolis” was not to be touched, but altars and statues of the emperor could be erected on surrounding territories, even at the risk of creating disturbances. Philo believes that Caligula’s concession was merely apparent, and that another colossal statue was being prepared in Rome to be discretely, and without warning, erected in the Temple. This is a fair reflection of the vindictive tenacity of the tyrant. Returning to Rome in the autumn of the year 40 ce, the Jewish delegation was still reeling from the shock of this news when it was presented to the emperor. Under the circumstances no one had the heart to defend either personal interests or citizenship for Alexandrian Jews. The emissaries had every reason to be upset by the imperial welcome. There was no tribunal with a judge, assessors and a clepsydra to ensure equal time for the protagonists. The emperor visited the pavilions of his Roman gardens, passing from one to the other. The humble attitude of the pleaders introduced into his presence, their flattering greetings addressing him as being “above the human condition” and as Augustus Imperator were hardly sufficient to placate him. The “mildness and kindness with which he replied to our greeting was such that we gave up for lost not only our case but our very lives,” recounts Philo (Legat. 352). The Jews received only vulgar insults and cynical banter over their beliefs. The Alexandrians of the rival delegation, including Apion and a certain Isidorus, rejoiced and pushed the accusation of lese-majesty further, extending it to all Jews, since only they refused to offer sacrifices to the emperor. The strong protestations of loyalty from the Jewish delegates, recalling that sacrifices were offered in the Temple in honour of the sover-

30 AJ XVIII, 289–300. amid political turmoil 87 eign, evoked a searing reply from Caligula: “Alright, that is true: you have sacrificed, but to another, even if it was for me; so what good is it then? For you have not sacrificed to me (Legat. 357).” The long-awaited encounter, for which they had braved the perils of a winter crossing, had brought only fear and humiliation for Philo and his companions. Then driven along, we followed him up and down, mocked and reviled by our adversaries, as they do in the mimes at the theatres. For indeed the business was a sort of mime; the judge had taken the role of accuser, the accuser the role of a bad judge who has eyes only for his enmity and not for the actual truth. (Legat. 359) The least defence became impossible when confronted with such outright hostility. Derision over Jewish practice intensified when the emperor launched “the great and famous question”: “Why do you refuse to eat pork?”, so unleashing the noisy hilarity of their adversaries. When, in this hostile atmosphere, Caligula finally reached the political issues, which were the object of the envoys, he scarcely took the trouble to listen, showing greater interest in the decoration of his pavilions. Reading Philo’s account, one encounters the powerless rage, the still simmering humiliation, the memory of the anguish: “In our deep distress, our souls had passed from within us” (Legat. 366). On this occasion, the capricious tyrant did not exploit his cruelty to exhaustion; it sufficed to dismiss his visitors, judging them more stupid than wicked, since they failed to recognise his divinity. Thus ended the interview. It left the Jewish ambassadors terrified not for their own fate, but for that of all their co-religionists throughout the Roman Empire. They had reached the pit of despair. The already lengthy account of the Legatio, had a sequel in which Philo reported the reversal of situation, but the text is interrupted right at that point, the sequel has been lost. It is the historian Flavius Josephus who picks up the thread here. He underlines the dimension of spiritual leadership assumed by Philo, despite these frightful circumstances. Philo, having thus been treated with contumely, left the room, saying to the Jews who accompanied him that they should be of good courage, for Gaius’ wrath was a matter of words, but in fact he was now enlisting God against himself. (AJ XVIII, 260) The sequence of events as narrated by Josephus was sufficient to console Philo’s unshakable belief in divine Providence. The letter from Petronius had, he tells us, profoundly irritated Caligula. Although having yielded 88 chapter four to the request of his friend Agrippa, the emperor had read between the lines of the letter that he had, in fact, been betrayed. Petronius, he concluded, had allowed himself to be bribed by the Jews. In his fury, Caligula ordered Petronius to put an end to his own life. But Providence watched over the wise legate, says Josephus. Before this dispatch arrived, another letter reached Petronius, informing him of the assassination of Caligula in Rome.31 Josephus had no doubt that divine protection had intervened and had “swiftly and punctually paid him reward for showing honour to the Temple and coming to the rescue of the Jews.”32 The success of the senatorial conspiracy which ended the misrule of a mad emperor was certain evidence of God’s power. “It will comfort those who are in unhappy circumstances and will teach a lesson in sobriety to those who think that good fortune is eternal and do not know that it ends in catastrophe unless it goes hand in hand with virtue.”33 These lines of Josephus might equally have been signed by Philo. One can thus reconstruct what Philo probably wrote, with relief and gratitude to God, in the missing conclusion of his Legatio. Once again, he believed he had experienced clear proof of the action of Providence. The Book that he had tirelessly elucidated had indeed shielded him from despair34 and enabled him to face difficulties. He had just experienced the situation symbolised by the burning bush that was seen by Moses: For the burning bramble was a symbol of those who suffered wrong, as the flaming fire of those who died of injustice. Yet that which burned was not burnt up, and this was a sign that the sufferers would not be destroyed by their aggressors, who would find that the aggression was vain and profit- less while the victims of malice escaped unharmed. The angel was a symbol of God’s providence, which all silently brings relief to the great dangers, exceeding every hope. (Mos. I, 67) The victims of injustice had not perished on this occasion, since they had benefitted from divine support, as promised to all feeble beings, whether foreigner, widow, or orphan. In these circumstances, the Jewish people represented the lonely orphan who had been saved by the compassion of

31 The troubles of the year 41 in Rome are reported in great detail by Flavius Josephus in book XIX of the Antiquities. 32 AJ XVIII, 309. 33 AJ XIX, 16. 34 Faith in God is one of the most prized dispositions for Philo, cf. Praem. 13, Poster. 26; it is according to him the only thing “naturally capable of consoling human life” (Flac. 176). amid political turmoil 89 the Master of the Universe.35 For Philo, this provided the opportunity to reflect again on the Jewish condition full of danger, for which Providence was the last resort. One may say that the whole Jewish race is in the position of an orphan compared with all the nations on every side. They when misfortunes fall upon them, which are not by the direct intervention of heaven are never, owing to international intercourse, unprovided with helpers who join sides with them. But the Jewish nation has none to take its part, as it lives under exceptional laws, which are necessarily grave and severe, because they inculcate the highest standard of virtue. But gravity is austere, and austerity is held in aversion by the great mass of men because they favour pleasure. Neverthe- less, as Moses tells us the orphan-like desolate state of his people is always an object of pity and compassion to the Ruler of the Universe whose portion it is, because it has been set apart out of the whole human race as a kind of first fruits to the Maker and Father. (Spec. IV, 179–180)

35 Cf. Migr., 62, Spec. IV, 179–180, Legat. 3

CHAPTER FIVE

JUDAISM ACCORDING TO PHILO: PRACTICE AND ETHICS

Apart from the extraordinary events already mentioned, Philo himself generally eludes the curiosity of the biographer. He does not disclose much about his personal life, but close and informed scrutiny is rewarded with one significant exception. Deeply attached to his religion and passionately occupied with its interpretation, he offers a detailed account of how he conceives and practices Judaism. The history of a single individual, like that of an entire people, is not only made up of major events but also of mundane, day-to-day events. There is no doubt that Philo’s daily bread consisted of both the practice of Judaism and reflection on the Holy Scripture. Since Philo’s time, Judaism and Jews have frequently come under threat. The destruction of the Temple in 70 ce and the loss of the Judaean home- land in 135 following the second Jewish revolt, would modify certain earlier religious practices. Philo’s exquisite descriptions provide a rare record of Jewish observance in the Alexandrian diaspora of his day. He does not portray himself as a thinker who distances himself from, or disparages, the religious ritual. So, his reflections on the symbolic should not be seen to diminish the actual value of the ritual, because that would suggest a somewhat disinterested individualism. Seeking “naked absoluteness for its own sake” would simply create “disembodied souls,” knowing “neither city nor village nor household nor company of any human beings,” thus “overlooking all that the mass of men hold in regard.” This is why the sacred Scripture teaches its adherents “to have thought for good repute and to let go nothing that is part of the customs fixed by divinely empowered men, greater than those of our time”1 The point of view maintained by a diaspora Jew offers supplementary historical interest. It reflects, implicitly or explicitly, an echo of the incomprehension, if not hostility, that Jewish practices might have provoked within a pagan environment. Such reactions already generated unease

1 Migr. 90. Cf. R.D. Hecht, “The Exegetical Contexts of Philo’s Interpretation of Circum- cision”, in Nourished with Peace. Studies in Hellenistic Judaism in Memory of Samuel Sand- mel (F. Greenspan et alii ed.), Chicago, 1984, pp. 51–79. 92 chapter five amongst the hellenised Jews, if they had not already drifted into outright alienation and assimilation. Philo, who was a recognised authority and thinker amongst his peers, obviously felt duty-bound to fulfill a fundamental pedagogical mission: explaining Judaism.

Exterior Criteria for the Jewish Identity

By the second century bce, three traditional Jewish practices, individually or collectively, would come to be seen by the outside world as epitomising Jewish identity: circumcision, dietary laws and sabbatical rest. Circumcision was far from being exclusive to the Jews. It had long been practiced throughout the Near East and was obligatory for Egyptian priests. Its particular association with Judaism probably dates back to the outbreak of the crisis at the time of the Maccabees (167 to 164 bce). At the beginning of the second century, when dominion over Judaea passed from the Lagids to the Syrian Seleucids, a hellenising movement spread even in Jerusalem. Some hellenised Jews practised epispasmos, a procedure designed to disguise their circumcision when they were naked at the gymnasium.2 Opposed to the hellenisers were traditional Jews determined to defend their faith and identity. Their anger was directed particularly at the king of Syria, Antiochus IV Epiphanius, who stands accused by Jew- ish sources of having attempted to eradicate Judaism. Antiochus not only broke the legitimate line of sacerdotal descent by himself appointing high priests, but also made circumcision a crime punishable by death. “Two women were brought to trial for having circumcised their children. Their babies were hanged from their breasts, and the women were paraded publicly through the city and hurled down from the walls.” (II Mac. 6. 10) The result was a revolt by the Jews, initiated by a provincial priestly clan, which was led by Judah “Maccabaeus” and his brothers. After a bitter struggle, the Temple, which had been sullied by pagan sacrifices, was restored, and a new feast, Hanukkah, was instituted, along with the re- establishment of all the traditional Jewish customs. It is probable that these events led to circumcision becoming so strongly associated with Jews, who, in turn, became more attached to this tradition and outsiders observed that the Jews would risk persecution rather than abandon this practice.

2 I Mac. I, 15 (“they made themselves prepuces”) and II Mac. 4.12–15. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 93

In Mediterranean countries, Jewish abstinence from eating pork appeared more curious than any other of the dietary laws. When a Jew abandoned his faith, the first visible sign was usually his consumption of forbidden meats. During the persecutions by Antiochus IV, a noble and pious elder, Eleazar,3 was put to death for refusing to even pretend to eat pork as demanded by the royal police. In another celebrated case, seven brothers and their mother were tortured to death rather than eat pork and appear to violate the laws of their forefathers.4 In the diaspora, the dietary laws—which were originally purity rules— were obviously an obstacle to the conviviality of Jews with their pagan neighbours. They provoked accusations of misanthropia, or hatred of others, a charge that became increasingly common in the Graeco-Roman world of Philo. At the most benign level, the dietary laws simply inspired derision: had the great Moses nothing better to do than concern himself with “rats and weasels”?5 As the practices of Jews met with such widespread incomprehension, the author of the Letter of Aristeas had sought to provide rational explanations of the dietary practices, some of which would anticipate those of Philo. According to the Letter, Aristeas, the envoy of Ptolemy II, questioned the high priest Eleazar in Jerusalem on the subject of Jewish dietary laws, “for I believe that most men feel some curiosity concerning passages in the law dealing with food and drink and animals regarded as unclean” (§ 128). The conundrum for Aristeas appears to be “why, creation being one, some things are regarded as unclean for food and some even to the touch”? (§ 129) Eleazar explains that the birds which are permitted depend on what they themselves consume: the Law permits herbivorous birds and forbids carnivorous breeds which do violence to their prey (§ 145–6). The cleanliness of a “permitted” animal depends on its not having exercised any violence in procuring its food; it stands as a moral example and invokes justice. In the case of the “parting of the hoof ” and the “cloven foot” of “permitted” livestock, this symbolises discernment that should keep man away from vice; while the “chewing of the cud” alludes to remembrance of divine benefits (§ 153–7). So “all that

3 II Mac. 6.18–31. 4 Ibid., ch. 7. The mother had subsequently received the name of Hannah in Jewish tradition. Confusion is established between these brothers and those of Judah Maccabaeus, so that they are honoured as martyrs in Christianity under the name of “Maccabees”. 5 Cf. Letter of Aristeas, 144: Do not accept the exploded idea that it was out of regard for “mice” and “weasel” and other such creatures that Moses ordained these laws with such scrupulous care. Not so, these laws have all been solemnly drawn up for the sake of justice, to promote holy contemplation and the perfecting of character. 94 chapter five is said of food, unclean creeping beings and animals, is directed toward justice and just intercourse among men” (§ 169). Eleazar the High Priest—or rather his “spokesman”, the Alexandrian author of the Letter of Aristeas—is shown to be perfectly aware of the separatism entailed in these laws, but he claims it as a means of sheltering from the contagion of paganism and particularly from its worst manifestation, Egyptian animal worship (§ 138–142). The observance of the Sabbath, would ultimately give rise to the accusation of indolence or even absurd superstition. Indeed during the revolt of the Maccabees, some Jews had refused to do battle and allowed themselves to be massacred rather than profane the holy day;6 as a consequence, Jews were granted permission to engage in defensive war even on that day. Failure to resolve the definition of what constituted a defensive war on the Sabbath would later facilitate Pompey’s conquest of Jerusalem, with relative ease, in 63 bce.7 A one-day cessation of all activity each week was unheard of in the Graeco-Roman world. Greeks divided the months into series of ten days, while Romans marked at regular intervals the calends, nones and ides, without any day dedicated to rest. The interruption of all activity by Jews once every seven days was conceded, sometimes with tolerance, sometimes with anger, when confronted with implacable Jewish determina- tion. Julius Caesar expressed his gratitude for Judaean military support by introducing edicts protecting the Jewish cult throughout the Roman East- ern provinces.8 Augustus was derisive of foreign cults,9 but he confirmed these edicts. The application of these decrees, however, often aroused hostility from the local population or met with irritation from a newly arrived governor to the Eastern Mediterranean, like one that Philo encountered in Alexandria.10 Irritation was intensified when some Romans observed the laws of weekly rest, as adopting foreign customs was considered a betrayal.11 Circumcision, dietary laws and observance of the Sabbath became the fundamental hallmarks of Judaism as seen by the outside world and, in

6 I Mac. 2.32–38. 7 AJ XIV, 63–65. 8 See documents reproduced by Flavius Josephus in his Antiquities XIV, the authenticity of which is generally admitted. 9 Cf. Suetonius, Life of Augustus 93. Augustus believed moreover the sabbath was a fasting day, ibid., 73. 10 Cf. supra ch. IV, p. 71. 11 The sabbath would attract many proselytes, cf. C. Ap. II, 282; Mos. II, 20–21. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 95 their eyes, constituted the essential features of Jewish identity. We should note that there was never any question of identifying Jews by specific clothing. It was quite possible for Jews to observe the biblical command to wear a garment with a blue thread,12 but to do so discreetly. Within the vast panorama of Jewish laws embraced in Philo’s writings, we should not expect to find an ethnographical description of their functions but rather the philosophical justification from a scholar attached to his traditions and seeking their appreciation.

Circumcision

Philo underlines the importance he attaches to circumcision in his treatise on Jewish laws (De specialibus legibus). Here, he prepares to re-examine, point by point, the Ten Commandments, using each as the title of a chapter, and assembling all the laws that are relevant to each. In the course of so doing, he introduces a slight deviation from his declared intention, by dealing at the outset with that most controversial issue: circumcision.13 In his Quaestiones on Genesim III, 47 to 61, he attributes a significant role to the interpretation of this rite. This priority accorded to circumcision over other laws, even over the prohibition against idolatry, stems from a social phenomenon. More than any other Jewish custom, circumcision was apparently “an object of ridicule among many people” (Spec. I, 1). It provoked childish mockery (ibid., 3) of which Latin literature in the first century provides many examples.14 Philo would have experienced the mockery in his daily life. Attempting to understand why so many populations—not only Jewish—were attached to such a practice, sometimes interpreted as mutilation, Philo suggests various explanations, including medical, ritual and symbolic. These explanations are probably not intended to directly address pagans, who are unlikely to have read Philo. Rather, they may have been intended to address Jews shocked by the derision, and others, more attached to tradition, who were simply in search of arguments to justify their faith and attempt to combat those in their immediate environment who ridiculed the practice.

12 Cf. Aristeas 158: “in his habits he gives us a sign that calls us.” 13 Spec. I, 2 sq. Cf. A Mendelson, Philo’s Jewish Identity, Atlanta 1988, pp. 54–58. 14 Petronius Satyricon 68, 102 and fragment N° 37; Martial Epigrams VII, 30, 35, 82 XI, 94. 96 chapter five

Philo observes that from the medical point of view, circumcision avoided painful genital diseases15 more prevalent in torrid zones, particularly during the summer. This explains the geographical distribution of the practice, found not only among Jews, but also among Egyptians, Arabs and Ethiopians, while in more northern regions it was unknown. He adds that circumcision favours fecundity since “the sperm, if there is no obstacle preventing it, will succeed in reaching its proper place”. Hence nations practicing circumcision are prolific.16 By fixing the age of circumcision at fourteen years, the Egyptians clearly regarded it as a rite of passage. The Hebrews preferred to circumcise boys soon after birth, as they thought fully grown adolescents were likely to oppose the procedure.17 Philo also invokes a ritual justification when he refers to the Egyptian priests, who were not only required to undergo circumcision but also to shave their bodies. Similarly, he notes that as a “nation of priests,” the Jews were also required to observe scrupulous cleanliness of the body.18 In speaking about the biblical concept of “circumcision of the heart”, Philo draws an analogy between two generative organs, one of the body, the other of the soul; one visible, the other unseen. The act of circumcision results in one resembling the other.19 These four reasons do not seem to be exclusive to Philo, although he defends them with much conviction since, he asserts, they derive from ancient tradition (Spec. I, 8). Philo prefers to use symbolic validations leading to ethical conclusions. Circumcision, on the one hand, symbolises the sublimation of superfluous and excessive physical desires; on the other, the rejection of pride and arrogance, both of which distance man from the love of God.20 Thus the expansion of the body reflects the expansion of the soul. Using the vocabulary of the philosophers, Philo interprets the biblical message, “Circumcise the hardness of your heart” (Deut. 10.16), as an injunction to hasten and “prune away from the ruling mind superfluous overgrowths sown and raised by the immoderate appe- tites of the passions and planted by folly, the evil husbandman of the soul” (Spec. I, 305).

15 Quaest. Gen. III, 48. This disease is called “anthrax or carbuncle” in Spec. I, 4. 16 Quaest. Gen. ibid.; Spec. I, 7. 17 Quaest. Gen. III, 47 and 48. 18 Spec. I, 5; on priestly mission, cf.; Spec. II, 163–164. 19 Spec. I, 6; Quaest. Gen. III, 48. 20 Quaest. Gen. III, 46–48, 51–52; Spec. I, 9–11. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 97

The metaphorical interpretation of circumcision as “circumcision of the heart” could lead to the ritual falling into disuse. Indeed, some decades later, this is precisely what happened when the apostle Paul concluded, at least with regard to pagans who became followers of Christ.21 Philo himself opposes, on this point as on others, any abandonment of the centuries-old ritual in its most profound meaning. Thus, he argues most passionately for the preservation of the rite of circumcision: It is true that receiving circumcision does indeed portray the excision of pleasure and all passions, and the putting away of the impious conceit, under which the mind supposed that it was capable of begetting by its own power: but let us not on this account repeal the law laid down for circum- cising [. . .] Nay, we should look on all these outward observances as resembling the body and their inner meanings as resembling the soul, It follows that, exactly as we have to take thought for the body, because it is the abode of the soul, so we must pay heed to the letter of the laws. (Migr. 92–93) This justifies, theoretically at least, a purely allegorical explanation of circumcision for those preparing to convert to Judaism: The proselyte is one who circumcises not only his circumcision but his desires and sensual pleasures and the other passions of the soul [. . . .] But what is the mind of the proselyte if not alienation from belief in many gods and familiarity with honouring the one God and Father of all?”[. . .] But proselytes are also those who, by themselves, have run to the truth. (Quaest. Ex. II, 2)

The Dietary Laws

An analogous justification was also proffered by Philo concerning the dietary rules. In his treatise on “Specific Laws”, he sets himself the task of examining Jewish dietary rules that he attributes entirely to Moses. The main purpose of the Lawgiver would have been to teach control of the instincts, which is why it was necessary to regulate everything that related to eating in order not to cede recklessly to the “desires of the stomach.” It appears to Philo that the offering of the first fruits (Spec. IV, 97–99) should relate to this preoccupation: learning “not to rush to seize the abundant gifts which the seasons of the year have brought, but wait till

21 Cf. P. Borgen, “Debates on circumcision in Paul and Philon”, in Philo, John and Paul. New perspectives on Judaism and Early Christianity, Atlanta, 1987. 98 chapter five the first fruits have been consecrated.” To this biblical injunction, which did not, of course, apply in the diaspora, far from the Temple in Jerusalem, were added observances that Philo, as any other Jew, must put into daily practice. Abstinence from pork and fish without scales—which surprised foreigners more than anything else—is explained as a refusal to indulge in gluttony, since these dishes were said to be particularly delectable and greatly appreciated (ibid., 100–101). Forbidding the consumption of the flesh of wild animals and other carnivorous species is more easily justifiable: their ferocity should not be imitated (ibid., 103). The same applies also to birds of prey. It is forbidden moreover to eat lacerated beasts since man should not become “table mate” to ferocious animals by sharing “their feasts of flesh” (ibid., 119). As for reptiles, without dallying over the disgust that these might spontaneously provoke, Philo sees in them the symbol of men devoted to gluttony, which should be avoided at all costs. Finally, the polypodal category, associated with reptiles, would be a repellant symbol of slavery to multiple passions (ibid., 113). Philo’s explanations also contain considerations of hygiene, where they are applicable. The interdiction over the consumption of carcasses is due to the fact that “their body contains dead serum as well as blood” (Spec. IV, 119), while the prohibition against consuming fat is due to its excessive nutritive richness (ibid., 124). But Philo is not content with such explanations; he insists on linking the purely literal interpretation with moral justifications, to which he would give preference. The natural death of the animal, he declares, must be respected, “because the fitness of things bids us keep untouched what we find deceased and respect the fate which the compulsion of nature has already imposed” (ibid., 119). It is evident that the Bible itself inclines in this direction when, for example, it prohibits the consumption of blood because “blood is life”.22 Philo underlines this view: blood is “the essence of the soul”, not of the intelligent and reasonable soul, but of that which operates through the senses, the soul that gives the life which we and the irrational animals possess in common (ibid., 123). It is therefore necessary to avoid strangling and stifling animals, since this would amount “to entombing in the carcass blood which is the essence of the soul and should be allowed to run freely away” (ibid., 122).

22 Lev. 17, 10–14; 19, 26; Deut. 12, 23–25; 15, 23. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 99

Philo’s task is not easy. He cannot conceal a certain embarrassment when he must justify the impurity of four-legged mammals, which lack one of the criteria demanded by Leviticus: chewing the cud, parting of the hoof, and the cloven foot. Thus, it is forbidden to eat the meat of the camel, which is a ruminator; this example would be frequently discussed in a region like Egypt. No obvious explanation prevails; here Philo, as Aristeas before him, is obliged to rely on an allegorical interpretation: “If we fix our eyes on the literal way of regarding the matter, I do not know what principle there is in the reason given; but if we look to the way suggested by latent meanings there is a most vital principle” (Agric. 131). In the figurative sense, ruminating refers to intellectual activity: remembering in order to meditate and learn in the calm of the tête à tête with oneself. But one also needs discernment—indicated by the cloven foot—in order to apply one’s intelligence in the service of good. What use, indeed, are all the distinctions established by grammarians, musicians, geometers, philosophers, those who attempt, each in his domain, to define the nature of things, if their ultimate aim is not moral perfection?23 The ultimate meaning of the dietary rules is of an ethical order. It is hardly honourable that man should indulge his own lust: “Let a man be well pleasing to God, to the universe, to nature, to laws, to wise men and discard self-love. So only will he attain true excellence” (Spec. IV, 131).

The Sabbath

Concerning the seventh day of rest, Philo’s explanation was greatly facilitated by its growing appeal to Gentiles at the time. Although the observance of rest on the Sabbath day would also sometimes invite hostility or misunderstanding from the pagans,24 it had acquired a degree of official approval in the Roman Empire—even in Rome itself—thanks to the decrees of Caesar. In Rome, according to Philo himself, the wheat was kept in reserve for the Jews of the city when public distributions took place on the day of the Sabbath.25 The sanctity of the Sabbath is reinforced by the fact that its celebration is prescribed in the Decalogue, to which Philo accords pre-eminence,

23 Agric. 133–145; Spec. IV, 107–109. 24 Cf. Horace, Satires I, 9, 69, Persius, Satires V, 176; Seneca Epistle 95; Juvenal, Satires XIV, 96–106; Martial, Epigram. IV, 7. 25 Legat. 158. 100 chapter five since it covers the divinely affirmed laws, while the other laws emanate from Moses the Lawgiver. Moreover, this day is placed under the sign of the figure seven, the hebdomad, in which Philo recognises specific virtues conforming to Pythag- orean numerology, as will be demonstrated.26 Almost a quarter of his treatise on the creation of the world is devoted to the seventh day and the virtues of the hebdomad.27 If these numerological arguments raise a smile today, the place attributed to them by Philo proves how important and convincing they were to him. The weekly rhythm was less familiar in his period than it would subsequently become, when in Rome towards the middle of the first century the period of the week was placed under the sign of the seven known planets and gradually became universally accepted.28 Philo endeavours to demonstrate that the Sabbath transcends all temporal matters as it falls entirely under the sign of the divine, and embraces “the happy and blessed things” (Leg. I, 2–3). Had it not been sanctified by God? This is the day on which Creation was completed, a feast celebrated in heaven and on earth, “and the things on earth as they rejoice and exalt in the full harmony of the sacred number,”29 condensing within it the light of the six days of Creation, “for seven reveals as completed what six has produced,” that is revealing the Father’s perfect world.30 Contrary to other practices that he raises and only justifies later, Philo legitimises the Sabbath in its own right before enumerating the rules attached to its observance. Two reasons are given in the two parallel versions of the Decalogue for the observance of the Sabbath. The first is in imitation of God, who rested on the seventh day after complet- ing the creation of the world (Exodus 20.11); the second is the memory of slavery in Egypt (Deuteronomy 5.15). Without hesitation, Philo adopts the first. It might have appeared somewhat absurd for a Jew, circulating in the upper echelons of Egyptian society, to link the imperative of Sab- bath observance to slavery in Egypt. It was sufficient to be sensitive to the moral dimension of the Sabbath: one should be able to sympathise with

26 Leg. I, 8–16; Mos. II, 210; Decal. 102–105; Spec. II, 56. 27 See further ch. v. Cf. analysis of Opif. 89–128 in J. Leonhardt, Jewish Worship in Philo of Alexandria, Tübingen, 2001, pp. 54–60. 28 Cf. Ch. Pietri, “Le temps de la semaine à Rome et dans l’Italie chrétienne (IVe–VIe s.). Le temps chrétien de la fin de l’Antiquité au Moyen Age, IIIe–XIIIe siècles”, Colloques internationaux du CNRS N° 604, pp. 63–81. 29 Mos. II, 210; cf. Mos. I, 207. 30 Spec. II, 59. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 101 the condition of slavery and not deny slaves the rest that was necessary to restore their strength; a rest that also embodied a foretaste of liberty.31 Philo added a practical observation. Because all men were vulnerable to a sudden change in fortune, it was prudent that the masters themselves should become accustomed to working with their hands. In this way, the Sabbath underlines the fundamental equality of all men.32 The ethical perspective is indeed present, although not essential here. The only authentic justification for the Sabbath, according to Philo, resides in what we would call imitatio Dei. God had created the world in six days, and on the seventh he had begun “to contemplate what he had created as perfect” (Decal. 97). Of course, God did not need time for creation: the “days” are simply a means of expressing the act of creation in human terms. Man, however, lives within a time frame. He must undertake his work during six days before taking time for reflection on the seventh. Thus, in alternating the practical and contemplative life, he will come to understand the divine work of Creation and will himself achieve a state of perfect equilibrium, leading to blessed joy (ibid., 100). What could be more glorious for mortal nature than drawing its model from immortal nature? “The man that guides himself in accordance with the seventh and perfect light is both of good understanding and holy” (Leg. I, 18). Philo scarcely deviates from the literal sense of the Holy Writings when describing the spiritual vocation of the Sabbath. But how might this day have been observed in the Alexandria of his time? When Philo criticises the pure allegorists, he also provides a glimpse of the activities that are forbidden on the Sabbath, although it is still difficult to evaluate how widespread observance might have been.”33 It is quite true that the Seventh Day is meant to teach the power of the Unoriginate and the non-action of created beings. But let us not for this reason abrogate the laws laid down for its observance, and light fires or till the ground or carry loads or institute proceedings in court or act as jurors or demand the restoration of deposits or recover loans or do all else that we are permitted to do as well on days that are not festival seasons. (Migr. 91) Unlike the explanation of the dietary laws, not all of the activities that are forbidden on the Sabbath, as such, are found in the Bible. Many of

31 Spec. II, 66–68. 32 Cf. Infra ch. VIII, p. 193. 33 Cf. R. Goldenberg, “The Jewish Sabbath in the Roman World”, ANRW II, 19, 1,1979, pp. 414–447. 102 chapter five these prohibitions must have been extrapolated from biblical texts and adopted as law over time. But this is not always the case. Philo’s insistence that fires may not be lit on the Sabbath is explicitly prohibited in Exodus 35.2–3. “It is forbidden to light any fire on this day, fire being regarded as the source and origin of life, since without it nothing can be executed which serves the requirements necessary for existence.” (Spec. II, 65) 34 In various passages of the Bible (Ex. 34.21; 23.12), agricultural tasks are explicitly forbidden, “even in times of ploughing and harvesting”. This provided the pretext for extending the obligation of rest to servants and domestic animals. The double portion of manna, which fell in the desert on the sixth day during the Exodus (Ex. 16.22) established the prohibition of all harvesting on the seventh day (Mos. I, 205). Philo endowed it with a wider interpretation that seems to be of his own invention: the Sabbath also concerns the world of vegetation, which should be left in peace on this holy day since the Sabbath is the festival of all creation.35 It extends also to every kind of tree and plant; for it is not permitted to cut any shoot or branch, or even a leaf, or to pluck any fruit whatsoever. All such are set at liberty on that day and live as it were in freedom, under the general edict that proclaims that none should touch them. (Mos. II, 22) From this text we learn that, according to Philo’s practice, it is not only organised harvesting, picking or grape-gathering which are prohibited, but anything that might constitute a symbolic beginning. A comparable view was held in Judaea at this time. This may be deduced from an argument between Jesus and other Jews, when his disciples plucked ears of corn in a field on the Sabbath.36 Other forbidden activities mentioned by Philo, could have derived from texts of the prophets. Jeremiah, for example, remonstrates with those who transport heavy loads (17.19–27), while Amos (8.5) and Isaiah (58.13) oppose those who travel or run their businesses on the Sabbath. The various prohibitions had been identified long before Philo, but they had not yet been codified. This would occur later in the Mishna, which would enumerate the thirty-nine labours forbidden on the Sabbath.37 Res- toration of the Sabbath in Jerusalem, after the Babylonian exile, seems to

34 Spec. II, 65; cf. Mos. II, 219. 35 Opif. 89. 36 Matthew 12, 1–4; Mark 2, 23–3, 6; Luke 6, 1–11; 13, 10–17. 37 Shabbat VII, 2. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 103 have been the work of Nehemiah.38 From then on, Sabbath observance would be imposed wherever Jews lived. Amongst the decrees in favour of the Jews that were established by Caesar, Augustus and governors of the provinces of Asia, some clearly indicated that Jews should be exempt from having to appear before a tribunal or serve in the army in order not to travel or carry loads on that day.39 Philo summarises these forbidden activities and declares it necessary to abstain from all activities, which are aimed at profit. This did not signify laziness, as claimed by some Romans,40 or letting oneself go amid vulgar distractions.41 On the contrary, the weekly spiritual respite provided space for reflection and contemplation. On that day, the Jews “confided themselves to the philosophy of their fathers” in their synagogues and attempted to gain in wisdom and virtue.42 Paradoxically it is the ironical speech of the Roman governor of Egypt who had sought to compel the Jews to infringe the Sabbath43 that gives us the most precise description of their attitude that day. They stood with their right hand “tucked inside and the left held close to the flank under the cloak,” in order to avoid any gesture that could be interpreted as vio- lating the Sabbath. They gathered in their synagogues to read and discuss the difficult passages in the holy books. By resisting the governor, the co- religionists and compatriots of Philo demonstrated their attachment to ancestral customs and in particular to the Sabbath: He saw that those on whom he was exercising pressure were not submitting to his orders, and that the rest of the population instead of taking the matter calmly were intensely indignant and shewed themselves as mournful and disconsolate as they would, were their native city being sacked and razed and its citizens being sold into captivity. (Somn. II, 124) The observance of the Sabbath, says Philo, is regarded “with most reverence and awe” (ibid., 123), and is the unbreakable code on which the whole of Jewish existence depends.

38 Nehemiah XIII, 15–22. 39 Cf. Josephus, AJ XIV, 12, 20, 23, 25; XVI, 4. 40 Cf. Seneca, fragment of the treatise on superstition, cited by Augustine, City of God, VI, 10. 41 Mos II, 211. 42 Ibid., 216; Spec. II, 62; Hypoth. VII, 11–14. 43 The identification of this figure with the apostate Tiberius Alexander, Philo’s nephew, from the time when he was Epistrategos in the Thebaid, has been proposed by D. Schwartz, Studia Philonica Annual I (1989), 63–69. This would appear somewhat improbable. 104 chapter five

The weekly study session at the synagogue, for those who attended, provided the resources for what Philo termed “philosophising.” It offered time to escape from the diverting bustle of everyday life, to study and reflect together on the word of God. At the same time, the study sessions created an ambience conducive to the cultivation of the virtues defined by the philosophers. To Philo, the Sabbath was the highest expression of the gift from Sinai. Evoking this sacred day of rest, Philo reveals something of his own rhythm of life: While the body is working, the soul enjoys a respite, but when the body takes its rest, the soul resumes its work, and thus the best forms of life, the thematic and the practical, take their turn in replacing each other. The practical life has six as its number allotted for ministering to the body. The theoretical has seven for knowledge and perfection of the mind. (Spec. II, 64)44 Study is not the only form of perfecting the spirit. “Philosophising” also aims at the “improvement of character, and submission to the scrutiny of conscience” (Opif. 128). It exacts accountability “in the council chamber of the soul”, “in order to correct what had been neglected and to take precau- tion against repetition of any sin” (Decal. 98). The imitatio Dei permits man to recover some kind of cosmic rhythm where moral values have their place. For Philo, far from constituting a constraint, the observance of the Sabbath represents a period of liberation for the spirit; it is for him, above all, a way of living in harmony with the world, of recovering the purity and equality of Creation.

Passover in Egypt

Philo also lived within the cycle of biblical festivals, which still animate the Jewish calendar. One among them, Passover, had in fact a paradoxical character in Egypt, of which he was very conscious: how could the exodus from Egypt be celebrated while the Jews remained there? An allegorical interpretation of the Exodus account provided the beginnings of a resolution to this dilemma. If “two million men and women”— such is the figure deduced by Philo from biblical data—had joyfully left Egypt, this was because the land of their birth had become a “land brimful

44 Spec. II, 64. Cf. H Weiss, “Philo on the Sabbath”, Studia Philonica Annual 3, 1991, pp. 83–105. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 105 of inhumanity, which made a practice of expelling strangers, and what was worst of all, assigned divine honours to irrational creatures, not merely domesticated animals but even wild beasts” (Spec. II, 146). This description of Egypt at the time of the Exodus is strangely evoca- tive of the increasing hostility that the Jews of Egypt experienced in Philo’s time, and of the expansion of the animal cults that the Jews so abhorred. Nevertheless, they did not leave Egypt, and they celebrated Passover. The allegorical interpretation alone, clearly favoured by Philo, contributed a satisfying response. Passover must be interpreted as the festival of “joyful crossing,” which suggests “the purification of the soul,” and “the crossing from the body and the passions” (ibid., 147). Each biblical pre- scription concerning the departure of the Hebrews would be interpreted in this light: “with our loins girded”—that is, ready for service; “sandals on our feet”—that is, taking a firm stand; “a staff in our hands”—that is, a symbol of discipline (Sacrif. 63). As for the meal eaten ‘in haste” (Ex. 12.11), it symbolises that “this passage is no mortal passage,” since it evokes divine action which needs no time to manifest (ibid., 64). More simply, the mind carries out “its passing away from the passions without turning back” (Migr. 25). Passing from ignorance to knowledge, intemperance to moderation, cowardice to courage, injustice to justice, such is the profound teaching of this feast of the “passing over” (Quaest. Ex. I, 4). Nor was the sacred figure seven absent from this celebration which occurs at the spring equinox, the fourteenth day of the first month, fourteen being “a number formed of two sevens, thus demonstrating that seven never fails to be present in anything worthy of honour but everywhere takes the lead in conferring prestige and dignity” (Spec. II, 149). In the region close to Alexandria, Philo knew an ascetic community called Therapeutes,45 who celebrated a kind of allegorical Passover every seven weeks. Conforming to the biblical laws, Philo distinguishes Passover itself from the feast of Unleavened Bread, which begins the following day and is also under the auspices of the hebdomad since it lasts seven days. It benefits from the sacred number with a special privilege for the first day which marks “the beginning of the feast and the end of the preceding past”, as also the seventh day marking “the end of the feast and the beginning of the coming future” (Spec. II. 157). The historical explanation for eating unleavened bread cannot be ignored: “Our forefathers, when under divine

45 The treatise on the contemplative life is devoted to them. Cf. infra ch. VIII. 106 chapter five guidance they were starting on their migration, were so intensely hurried that they brought the lumps of dough unleavened” (ibid., 158). Such is indeed the literal teaching of the biblical text, but for Philo the feast also has a universal value: “following the lead of nature and in agreement with the general cosmic order” (ibid., 150). The allegorical explanation that he gives of it is indeed properly cosmic. The spring equinox, date of the festival is to his mind “a kind of likeness and portraiture of that first epoch in which the world was created” (ibid., 151), since the spring “when everything blooms and flowers” is a reminder of the genesis of the world. The middle of the month has been chosen in preference to its beginning, since the moon is full at that time and thus everything is illuminated day and night as the sun and the moon alternate in spreading their light (ibid., 155). It is in this moment that the unleavened bread finds its meaning. This imperfect nourishment, at a time when the wheat is not yet ripe, is a harbinger of the harvest to come. The promise of nature has already been announced and this humble food is transformed into a symbol of comforting hope. Other “interpreters of the Holy Scriptures” had given an explanation that Philo would adopt himself: food, when unleavened, is a gift of nature; when leavened, it is a work of art (ibid., 159). The spring feast must restore man to the earliest times of the Creation and the uncorrupted innocence and frugality of primordial man (ibid., 160). Whatever the explanation, Passover, followed by the feast of the unleavened bread, was celebrated in Egypt and in Philo’s Alexandria, with special fervour. Some doubtless made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem in order to fulfil the biblical injunction on all males to present themselves at the Temple during the Passover festival. According to Philo’s description, however, it seems that in the diaspora the focus of this very popular festival was the Paschal lamb:46 On this day every dwelling-house is invested with the outward semblance and dignity of a temple. The victim is then slaughtered and dressed for the festal meal which befits the occasion. The guests assembled for the banquet have been cleansed by purificatory lustration, and are there not as in other festive gatherings, to indulge the belly with wine and viands, but to fulfill with prayers and hymns the customs handed down by their fathers. (Spec. II, 148)

46 Cf. Spec. II, 145. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 107

These lines reflect intensely experienced moments of which one would like to know more. What were these chants and hymns? From the festal liturgy still in use today, it has been suggested that it could be the recita- tion of the Hallel,47 the corpus formed by Psalms 113 to 118. The comparison of each dwelling to a temple, and the consumption of the Paschal lamb at home, raise a number of much-discussed questions.48 Should one understand that each family might roast the Paschal lamb? We do indeed know—and Philo insists49—that this is the only case where the animal had no need to be sacrificed by a priest, even in the Temple. Philo attests, from personal experience, that a lamb was slaughtered according to Jewish ritual (though without sacrificial rites) and consumed by Jewish households at the joyful family banquet on the Passover-eve, which had not yet assumed the form of the modern Seder.

The Two Other Feasts of Pilgrimage

In his treatise devoted to specific laws, Philo describes other biblical feasts, notably the great pilgrimage feasts following Passover, which are the Pentecost, or Shavuot, and the Feast of the Tabernacles, or Sukkot. In this regard, he simply describes the biblical prescriptions associated with his own allegorical interpretations. In fact, evidence for the way in which feasts were observed at Alexandria in Philo’s time remains scarce. The date stipulated for the beginning of the daily offering of the newly harvested barley sheaf (Omer) in the Temple, between the Feast of the Unleavened Bread and the Feast of the First Fruit (Pentecost), is of a particular interest because of the dissensions it provoked at the very heart of Judaism. According to Leviticus 23.11, this celebration must begin “the day after the Sabbath” following Passover. The Sadducees, who applied a literal interpretation, counted the fifty days separating the Feast of the Pass- over and that of Pentecost, as from the Sabbath following the first day of Passover. The Pharisees, for their part, interpreted “Sabbath” in the broad sense of “rest”, the “non-working feast day” and calculated the period from the sixteenth of Nisan, the day following the first day of Passover.

47 Cf. J. Leonhardt, op. cit., p. 30 and note 39. 48 Cf. ibid., pp. 31–33. 49 Mos. II, 224: “The whole nation acts as priest.”; Spec. II, 45. 108 chapter five

We know that later Christians, like the Sadducees, chose to fix Pente- cost on the fiftieth day after the Easter Saturday, so as to always fall on a Sunday, while the Jewish majority, with the exception of the Karaites, who appeared in the ninth century, followed the Pharisaic tradition. Philo seems to hold that the Feast of the Sheaf begins “immediately after the first day” of the Unleavened Bread. This would confirm that the Pharisees’ point of view had been adopted in the Alexandrian diaspora, no doubt because it had prevailed in Jerusalem. It should be noted that, according to Philo, the sheaf not only comes “from the land given to the Jewish nation to dwell in”, but also from all the earth, which gives him the opportunity to reaffirm the universal vocation of Judaism: Jewish prayers, feasts and offerings are made “for the benefit of the whole of mankind”50 The feast of Pentecost—from the Greek pentacostè, signifying “fiftieth”— provides Philo with a further opportunity for numerological meditation. He also comments on the offering at the Temple of two leavened breads of wheat, attempting on this occasion, to attribute a positive value to the yeast.51 All this remains theoretical and in no way clarifies the local usage in Alexandria. The feast of Tabernacles, lasting seven days, begins at the autumn equinox and appears symmetrically related to the feast of the Unleav- ened Bread. Philo acknowledges its agricultural character: this is a feast of thanksgiving for all the harvests that have just been completed. He also recalls the historical sense it is given in Leviticus 23.43: the tents or tabernacles evoking the wanderings of the Hebrews in the desert. But the moral and universal significance is never distant: And indeed it is well in wealth to remember your poverty, in distinction your insignificance, in high offices your position as a commoner, in peace your dangers in war, on land the storms at sea, in cities the life of loneli- ness. For there is no pleasure greater than in high prosperity calling to mind old misfortunes. But besides giving pleasure, it is a considerable help in the practice of virtue”. For people who having had both good and ill before their eyes have rejected the ill and are enjoying the good, necessarily fall into a grateful frame of mind and are urged to piety by the fear of a change to the reverse, and also therefore in thankfulness for their present blessings they honour God with songs and words off praise and beseech Him and

50 Spec. II, 162, 167, 171. 51 Spec. II, 179–187. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 109

propitiate Him with supplications that they may never repeat the experience of such evils. (Spec. II, 208–209) Through this reminder of the precariousness of the human condition, Philo perceives a means to incite piety. Perhaps he is making reference to the synagogue liturgy when he evokes in his text “songs and words of praises” for the present blessings and supplications designed to ward off evil (ibid., 209). The Feast of Tabernacles ends with the eighth day, “the Closing,” which completes the annual cycle of festivities “since it is the last in the year and forms its conclusion” (ibid., 211). Two ideas may be drawn from this classification. First, Philo deliber- ately ignores those feasts not mentioned in the Pentateuch, but which entered the calendar later, notably Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, commemorating the inauguration of the Temple in the period of the Maccabees, and Purim, the Festival of Lots, or of Queen Esther. There is, however, every reason to believe that they were known in Egypt during Philo’s time, but he clearly did not want to attribute to them the same status as biblical feasts. Moreover, they certainly do not belong with the “Laws of Moses”. Second, the New Year for Philo begins in the spring with the new moon of the month of Nisan, which is named in the Pentateuch the “first month”.

The Great Fast

Philo is only concerned with the liturgical year, so he scarcely mentions (Spec. I, 180) the month of the autumn equinox, Tishri, corresponding to the beginning of the Macedonian year, as the first month of the year. Fla- vius Josephus52 affirms that this last computation was only in force for “purchases, sales and profane business”, while the first of Nisan, marked the beginning of the year “for all that concerns the divine service.” Later the Mishna53 will count up to four “beginnings of the year”, while reserving this name for the first of Tishri. Philo confers on this date the importance attributed to it in the Bible itself. He does not apply the term “new moon” to the beginning of the seventh month, as he does to those of other months, but “hieromenia”

52 AJ I, 81. 53 Mishna, Rosh Hashana I, 1, Gittin VIII, 5. 110 chapter five

(Sacred Month), or even “feast of the Trumpets”, “since it is customary to sound the trumpet in the Temple at the same time as sacrifices are brought there” (Spec. II, 188). Still more pre-occupied with evoking the sacred ritual of the Temple, Philo does not clearly mention whether the habit of sounding the trumpet—or rather the ram’s horn, the shofar—was current by that time in diaspora synagogues. The meaning he confers on the festival probably attests to a tradition prior to that which ultimately prevailed. Indeed, for Philo, the sound of the ram’s horn evokes the revelation of the Sinai when the shofar “pealed from heaven and reached the ends of the universe” (ibid., 189). Later, however, it is at Pentecost that the gift of the Torah will be commemorated while the hieromenia is consecrated as “head of the year” (Rosh Hashana), commemorating the creation of the world.54 Philo must still add a more universal significance to the hieromenia. The horn accompanying it is generally an instrument of war, but the Law has inverted its meaning by designating this festival “as an offering of thanks to God the Maker and peacekeeper” (ibid., 192). The rabbinical interpretation, according to which the sound of the shofar announces divine judgement, seems to have been unknown to Philo. With regard to the Fast (Kippur), which takes place ten days after the hieromenia, Philo abandons all reference to the sacrificial rites of the Temple, preferring to express how he experiences this day. First, it is a feast day, a paradoxical feast “devoid of both drinks and feasting as such, no jovial gathering of hosts and invited guests, neither drop of wine, nor sumptuous tables of dishes, devoid of the slightest trace in those enter- tainments and distractions associated with banqueting.”55 It is nevertheless heralded as the grandest of festivals, since Moses named it the “Sabbath of Sabbaths”, using the Hebrew form for a superlative. The date of this exceptional day places it under the sign of the decade, the all perfect number ten (ibid., 200). On this day, the consumption of food is not permitted to undermine the exercise of reason and spiritual elevation (ibid., 202). The temporary priva- tion will furthermore enhance the sense of piety, encouraging men to turn to God so that He might spare “the experience of lacking the necessary,”

54 Cf. Leonhardt, op. cit., pp. 41–42. 55 Spec. II, 193. This austerity is opposed to drinks accompanying the “Sacred month” of the Greeks in Mos. II, 23. judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 111 and rendering Him grace since it is “amid the lavish supply of gifts” that “they remind themselves of what it is to want” (ibid., 203). Philo attests to the fervour with which this day, “totally occupied in supplication and imploring”, is celebrated amongst his fellow worshippers: But in our fast, men may not put food and drink to their lips, in order that with pure hearts, untroubled and untrammeled by any bodily passion, such as is the common outcome of repletion, they may keep the holy day propi- tiating the Father of All with fitting prayers, in which they are wont to ask that their old sins may be forgiven and new blessings gained and enjoyed. (Mos. II, 24) Already by Philo’s time, the Kippur liturgy in the diaspora must have occupied a whole day without interruption, as it does today. The holy-day is entirely devoted to prayers and supplications and men from morn to eve employ their leisure in nothing else but offering petitions of humble entreaty in which they seek earnestly to propitiate God and ask for remission of their sins, voluntary and involuntary, and entertain bright hopes looking not to their own merits but to the gracious nature of Him Who sets pardon before chastisement. (Spec. II, 196) In this liturgy, the remission of sins must be humbly requested, leaving aside all arrogance and pride.”56 A state of contrition and introspection leads to an awareness of humility in the human condition, of dependence on God: The soul is suppliant to God the tenth, and is schooled to know the humiliation and nothingness of its trust in the sagacity of a created reason, and how transcendent and supreme is the Uncreated in all that is good. (Congr. 107) Philo’s description of the day of Kippur in Alexandria appears remarkably close, in form and substance, to current practice. Indeed, even now, this solemn occasion is the only event in the Jewish calendar that non-practicing Jews observe. Philo describes the fasting that is “carefully observed, not only by those animated with zeal for piety and holiness, but also by those who might never act religiously for the rest of their life” (Spec. I, 186). Of all Philo’s attestations to biblical feasts, those relating to the fast of Kippur is without doubt the most animated. His many references to this day exude warmth of conviction, which suggest a profound confidence in his personal faith.

56 Poster. 48, Congr. 107. 112 chapter five

The Universalist Interpretation

Philo has established his list of feasts so that they amount to ten, a perfect number. He could have limited his list to seven, counting the Sabbath as well as Passover, the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the Feast of Weeks (Pentecost), the Feast of Trumpets, the Fast, and the Feast of Tabernacles, which are observed annually and are marked by periods of at least partial rest. But in order to reach the number ten, he has added the Feast of the Sheaf (although this rather represents an interval between two solemni- ties) and the New Moon, which entails a special sacrifice in the Temple. Neither may necessarily have involved a specific ceremony in the diaspora, as there was no associated rest. There was still one celebration missing, which Philo names in the first place: the “Feast of Everyday”. Philo is fully aware of the surprise he provokes by including the “Feast of Everyday”.57 The very notion of feast risks misunderstanding. But Philo relies on the Scriptures for his astonishing affirmation: was there not a daily offering, the tamid, in the Temple? This would hardly affect the life of a Jew at any distance from Jerusalem, but Philo draws a consequence, which he defends with vigour, by mixing, as he alone knows how, religion and philosophy. The “Feast of Everyday” affects all men without distinction, as all men would prefer their lives to be a perpetual feast. It is sufficient that man distances himself from vice, devotes himself to contemplation of the beauties of nature, takes pleasure in goodness because it is good, and con- ducts himself accordingly, in word and deed. Then, “the time from birth to death would be one continuous feast, and houses and cities, dwelling in security and leisure, would be full of good things with everything tranquil around them” (Spec. II, 42). To the joy and well-being of a society living harmoniously, could be added the individual bliss that virtue brings. This is the opportunity for Philo to demonstrate one of those philosophical paradoxes so dear to him: only the wise man is truly happy. He models himself on divine joy that is pure and unmixed. The joy of the wise man being still that of a creature will be less perfect, but the man who has found wisdom receives as the greatest of gifts this blend in which “the pleasant expedients outnumber the unpleasant” (ibid., 55).

57 Spec. II, 41: “The first, the mention of which may perhaps cause some surprise, is the feast of every day.” judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 113

Without drawing too much on his own intimate interior, it is his entire conception of life that Philo delivers to us: the importance of seeking wisdom and living “without blame and without reproach”, while avoiding agitated people and public places, leading a peaceful and serene existence despite bodily illnesses, vicissitudes of fortune and the outrages of fellow- men. Such is the ideal that he sets himself: through virtue, human life might be a perpetual rejoicing. He suggests that the practice of Judaism, as he conceives it, offers an ideal of life for all men. It is clear that Philo attempts to separate from his vision of Judaism all that could have a national and specific resonance. The absence of the notion of “Covenant” from his commentary has, until now, been insufficiently underlined. Whenever it might have been invoked as a justification for observance, he seems to have systematically avoided this, no doubt, by design. Thus Philo eludes the notion of Covenant with regard to circumcision even when he comes to comment directly on the verse: “And my covenant shall be in your flesh” (Genesis 17.13). In his commentary, the term covenant is to be read as divine word, as if this goes without saying. The explanation is situated at two allegorical levels: circumcision of the soul and circumcision of the body. In other words, domination of the instincts produced by the senses.58 A similar observation concerning the Sabbath may be detected in the verse: “It is a sign between me and the children of Israel forever” (Ex. 31.17), which has no place in the extrapola- tions that Philo devotes to the Sabbath. He apparently prefers celebrating the sacred hebdomad crowning the work of the Creation, the festival of the universe, “belonging to all people and the day of birth of the world” (Opif. 89). In this perspective, the Sabbath is offered to all mankind. Philo cites as proof the appeal of the Jewish sabbatical rest among Gentiles. He exclaims: For who has not shewn his high respect for that sacred seventh day, by giving rest and relaxation from labour to himself and his neighbours, freemen and slaves alike, and beyond these to his beasts? (Mos. II, 20–21). Allowing a period of contemplative life for one day in seven, the Sabbath offers to all men the possibility of living in unison with the created world. It is significant that Philo would eliminate the national historical memory also hinted at in Deuteronomy 5, 15: “And you will remember that you have been slaves in Egypt.”

58 Quaest. Gen. III, 51. 114 chapter five

We have seen the universal value that Philo also confers on the Feast of the Sheaf and the Feast of Tabernacles. When Philo evokes the Temple of Jerusalem, to which he himself must have made pilgrimage, he introduces his earthly description with a philosophical reflection: The highest and, in the true sense, the holy temple of God is, as we must believe, the whole universe, having for its sanctuary the most sacred part of all existence, even heaven, for its votive ornament the stars, for its priests the angels. (Spec. I, 66) The other Temple “made by the hand of man” is only there for men to express their piety in a concrete fashion. Like the universe, it is unique and this is why it is the only legitimate site of the cult. In describing the throng of pilgrims from all over, Philo presents the Temple as a pole of attraction for all parts of the inhabited world: Countless multitudes from countless cities come, some over land, others over sea, from east and west and north and south at every feast. They take the temple for their port as general haven and safe refuge from the bustle and great turmoil of life. (Spec. I, 69) When Philo describes with wonder the costume of the high priest, he attributes to each component a highly symbolic significance, making this costume a representation of the universe, which, he concludes, illustrates the universality of Judaism: The high priest of the Jews makes prayers and gives thanks not only on behalf of the whole human race, but also for the parts of nature, earth, water, air, fire. For he holds the world to be, as in very truth it is, his country, and on its behalf he is wont to propitiate the Ruler with supplication and intercession. (Spec. I, 97) It is indeed the vocation of the people of Israel, “to offer prayers for ever on behalf of the human race that it may be delivered from evil and participate in what is good” (Mos. I, 149), since what the priest is in relation to city, the Jewish nation is to the inhabited world (Spec. II, 163). The only form of chosenness that Philo would recognise for the Jews is that of being a repository of the Law. But, he would argue, by its compatibility with the law of nature, the Mosaic law becomes universal. Moses had gained supreme wisdom and had become a “citizen of the world . . . therefore not on the roll of any city of men’s habitation” (Mos. I, 157). Philo was thus convinced that the laws of Moses were made for the whole of humanity. So he rejoiced in the homage rendered them by judaism according to philo: practice and ethics 115 proselytes in adhering to the laws; he was proud of the initiative of King Ptolemy Philadelphus in having them translated into Greek “by affection and passion” for such an enterprise (Mos. II, 29–31); he was delighted that so many fellow countrymen came each year to mix with the Jews in order to commemorate the miracle of the translation on the Island of Pharos (ibid., 41). Only the difficult political predicament of the Jews, he believed, prevented such precious laws from spreading throughout the world. But he remained confident: If a fresh start should be made to brighter prospects, how great a change for the better might we expect to see! I believe that each nation would abandon its particular ways, and, throwing overboard their ancestral customs, turn to honouring our laws alone. For when the brightness of their shining is accompanied by national prosperity, it will darken the light of the others as the risen sun darkens the stars. (Mos. II, 44)

CHAPTER SIX

THE BIBLICAL COMMENTARY

Philo’s works have not survived in their entirety, but what is known to us affirms that Philo is above all an exegete of the Holy Scriptures. The Biblical text inspires him, liberates his thought, and gives impulse to his reflection. “He does not simply hook prefabricated ideas on to the holy Scripture;”1 his thought is first stimulated by the Bible. This simple fact, established by Valentin Nikiprowetzky, has helped extract Philo studies from the speculation that had bogged them down.

Philo’s Treatises and the Bible

Most of the treatises which have reached us are inspired by passages from the Holy Scripture, particularly in Genesis. We have very few indications concerning the order in which they were written. In any case this would be impossible to detect, since not all of Philo’s writings have survived. A tentative classification was adopted by Cohn and Wendland in the Ger- man edition (Berlin, 1896–1915), followed by the British-American Loeb series (1929–1962) and the French series of Editions du Cerf (1961–1988), as well as the Spanish edition (Buenos Aires 1975–1976). If it cannot be guaranteed that the order adopted was followed by Philo himself, it may be agreed that such a classification clearly reveals the considerable role attributed to the exegetical commentary. Beginning with the first verse of Genesis, it allows us to locate the passages which, for one reason or another, attracted Philo’s attention. Recalling the biblical content of the various treatises also helps to appreciate the mysterious Latin titles which, by a tradition now too old to be dismissed, were attached to the writings of a Greek author. If we take the list of treatises of the Loeb edition, we find that of the eighteen treatises, which step-by-step follow the beginning of Genesis, ten are built around biblical figures or legal ordinances, while two—of which we only have fragments—are questions and answers on Genesis and Exodus. Only

1 V. Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire p. 181. 118 chapter six two historical works, the In Flaccum, and Legatio ad Gaium, are free of biblical influence: they encompass events that Philo witnessed in Alex- andria and Rome. To these might be added those philosophical treatises for which absolute authenticity remains uncertain: Quod omnis probus liber sit (Every good man is free), De Aeternitate Mundi (The Eternity of the World), De Providentia (On Providence), Alexander sive de Animalibus (Alexander or Concerning Animals)

1. The De Opificio Mundi (On the Creation) states from the outset that the world has been created. It deals with God’s work over the six days of Creation followed by the seventh day of rest (Gen. I,1–II,5). Finally it focuses on the creation of man and reflects on the causes of his fall (Gen. II,7–III,19). 2. The Legum Allegoriae (Allegorical interpretation of the Laws), which is contained in three books, is a commentary that follows a step-by-step analysis of chapters II and III of Genesis, accentuating their allegorical meaning. It examines more closely the creation of man, the meaning of the trees and rivers of Eden (book I), then it deals with the creation of woman and the role of the serpent (book II), and finally the punishment of Adam and Eve as well as the serpent (book III). This treatise may have followed a lost allegorical commentary of the first chapter of Genesis, since the De Opificio is not written in the same spirit. 3. The De Cherubim (On the Cherubim) owes its name to those cherubim who, with their fiery spinning sword, according to Gen. III, 24 refused Adam and Eve access to Paradise. It offers an allegorical interpretation of the cherubim as well as of Cain, the first creature born of man (Gen. IV,1–2). 4. The De Sacrificiis Abelis et Caini (On the sacrifices of Abel and Cain) deals allegorically with Abel’s birth (Gen. 4.2) as well as rivalry with his brother Cain concerning offerings (Gen. IV,3–4). 5. Quod deterius potiori insidiari soleat: (The worse has tendency to lay traps before the better) suggests a proverb. It provides allegorical significance to the murder of Abel by Cain (Gen. IV,8–15). 6. The De Posteritate Caini (On the posterity and exile of Cain) explains allegorically—not without a number of digressions—Cain’s punishment (Gen. IV,16) followed by Seth’s birth. 7. The De Gigantibus (On the giants) concerns one of the most mysterious biblical passages (Gen. VI,1–4) where bad angels—“sons of God”— unite with the daughters of man. the biblical commentary 119

8. Quod Deus sit immutabilis (On the immutability of God) poses the difficult question of God’s regret that he had made men, and of His decision to destroy sinful mankind with the Flood. It accords ample space to the problem of biblical anthropomorphism. 9. The De Agricultura (On husbandry) is inspired by Gen. IX,20: “Noah the tiller of the soil” as a starting point. 10. The De Plantatione (On Noah’s work as a planter) allegorically comments on the second part of the same verse “Noah [. . .] planted a vineyard” and discusses the question of the sage’s inebriation. 11. The De Ebrietate (On drunkenness) resumes that discussion on verse of Gen. IX,21: “He drank of the wine and became drunk.” 12. The De sobrietate (On sobriety) evokes Noah recovering his sobriety (Gen. IX,24), the curse on Canaan, the blessings on Shem and Japheth (ibid. 26, 27). 13. The De confusione linguarum (On the confusion of tongues) is entirely devoted to the episode of the Tower of Babel. 14. The De migratione Abrahami (On the migration of Abraham) comments upon Gen. XII,1–4 where Abraham, in accordance with divine order, leaves Haran and receives divine promises and blessings. 15. Quis rerum divinarum heres (Who is the heir of divine things?) is a commentary on Gen. XV,2–18, which questions the promise made by God to Abraham that he will have an heir. It also provides an allegorical interpretation of the sacrifice between morsels. 16. The De congressu quaerendae eruditionis gratia (On mating with the preliminary studies) allegorically develops the intercourse of Abra- ham with the Egyptian servant Hagar, which may be interpreted as a symbol of elementary education (Gen. XII,1–6). 17. The De fuga et inventione (On flight and finding) applies allegorical interpretation to Hagar’s flight into the desert and her encounter with an angel near a spring (Gen. XVI,6–7). 18. The De mutatione nominum (On the change of names) questions the changing of names imposed by God on Abram and Sarai, in Gen. XVII,1–6. Then it comments on the annunciation of Isaac’s birth, pro- voking his father’s mirth (ibid. 16–22).

In the ensuing treatises, also inspired by the Bible, there is no longer systematic allegorical interpretation.

19. The De somniis (On dreams) deals with two examples of dreams inspired by God: Jacob’s ladder (Gen. XXVIII,12–15) and the dream concerning Laban’s flock (Gen. XXXI,11–13). 120 chapter six

20. The De Abrahamo (On Abraham) stresses the theory that there existed two triads of men who observed divine law before it was proclaimed: Enos, Enoch and Noah, then Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Some episodes of Abraham’s life are also evoked. 21. In De Josepho (On Joseph), Joseph is portrayed as the quintessential politician, on the basis of both literal and allegorical interpretations of his life. 22. The De Vita Mosis (On the life of Moses) is a biography of Moses beginning with his birth (book I), followed by a eulogy demonstrating that he possessed the qualities of a law-giver, high priest and prophet (book II). 23. The De Decalogo (On the Decalogue) is devoted to the Revelation on Mount Sinai and the Ten Commandments. 24–25. The De Specialibus legibus (On the special laws) is contained in four books, dealing with the main laws of the Pentateuch re- classified in logical order under each of the Ten Commandments. 26. The De Virtutibus (On the virtues) gives biblical examples of the four virtues extolled by the Mosaic Law: courage, piety, humanity, repentance. 27. The De Praemiis et poenis (On rewards and punishments) contrasts Cain with the two triads mentioned above, as well as with situations which involve curses or blessings.

The introduction to De Praemiis suggests a division of the Pentateuch into three parts. This division may be applied to at least part of Philo’s commentary. The oracles delivered through the prophet Moses are of three kinds. The first deals with the creation of the world, the second with history and the third with legislation. The story of the creation is told throughout with an excellence worthy of the divine subject, beginning with the genesis of Heaven and ending with the framing of man. The historical part is a record of good and bad lives and of the sentences passed in each generation on both, rewards in one case, punishments in the other. The legislative part has two divi- sions, one in which the subject matter is more general, the other consisting of the ordinances of specific laws. On the one hand there are the ten heads or summaries which we are told were not delivered through a spokesman but were shaped high above in the air into the form of articulate speech: on the other the specific ordinances of the oracles given through the lips of a prophet. (Praem. 1–2) Philo confirms this view about the structure of the five books of Moses in the Life of Moses (Moses II, 46–47). There he observes, to the utmost glory of the lawgiver, that “they consist of two parts: one, the historical, the biblical commentary 121 the other concerned with commands and prohibitions [. . . .].One division of the historical side deals with the creation of the world, the other with genealogies”. Other authors have preferred to establish a distinction between such explanatory treatises as the De Opificio, De Abrahamo, De Josepho, De Decalogo, De specialibus legibus2 where the literal meaning occupies a significant place—even if “allegory” is not absent—and the “allegorical commentary” which deepens the study of each text. Sometimes an entire treatise has been devoted to a single verse, thanks to the multiple reflections that allegorical interpretation might introduce. This brief overview cannot take into account the rich and exhaustive scope of Philo’s thought or the full exploitation of his biblical culture. A theme may often stimulate a parallel thought, or a particular situation may, by its proximity, engage with another, a line of verse might find an echo elsewhere. So there is considerably more of the Bible cited in Philo’s study than the superficial description of any specific treatise might suggest. This analysis raises many questions: why would Philo remain specifically focused on the first seventeen chapters of Genesis? His allegorical commentary seems intended to treat the whole of this work, even the entire Pentateuch. How much has survived compared to how much was actually written? Does the type of commentary chosen—whether philosophical demonstration or allegorical exegesis—correspond to the demands of a varied public audience? It has often been said, for example, that the Life of Moses was intended to ensure that Gentiles would not overlook or neglect the “great legislator” of the Jews. To these treatises, it is necessary to add the Quaestiones on Genesis and Exodus. Of this linear commentary, which is treated in a question-and- answer format, a great part has, over time, been lost. The Quaestiones in Genesim and in Exodum owe their survival to an extremely literal Arme- nian translation executed in the 5th or 6th century. The Armenian text of mediaeval manuscripts from the Convent of Saint-Lazarus in Venice was translated into Latin in 1826. Unlike other works by Philo which met the same fate, only tiny fragments of the Greek original of this work survive, conserved for the most part due to more or less faithful citations given by various Christian authors.

2 Such is the order chosen by the Hebrew edition of the works of Philo (Jerusalem, 1986, 1991 and 2000), while the other editions stem from the De Opificio and place in its wake the other treatises following the order of the commented verses. 122 chapter six

In the Quaestiones in Genesim (of which there are six surviving books), the first remaining question deals with Gen. II,4, and the last with Gen. XXVIII, 9. These entail generally brief responses. The text that has been preserved includes lacunae that may sometimes be completed owing to an ancient Latin translation (on Gen. XXVI,20–30 and XXXIV–XXXV). The Quaestiones in Exodum have only preserved commentaries bearing on Ex. XII,2–23 (book I) and XX,25 to XXVIII,32 (book II). Since the study of Valentin Nikiprowetzky (1977), we have been obliged to look at these “questions” with much greater interest than in the past as they may indeed contain the formative kernel of Philonic thought.

On the Necessity of Exegesis

One way or another, all sacred texts ultimately demand closer examination and deeper study for a greater appreciation of their full meaning. This implies the development of commentary—oral to start with and, in the course of time, written. During Philo’s period, in Jerusalem and in Judaea, a group of scholars—according to contemporaries, no less than six thousand—called the Pharisees, were highly reputed exegetes. Josephus claims them to be “the wisest among the Jews and the best interpreters of the ancestral laws, so dear to the people since they instructed youth.”3 Their name, which may be translated as the “separated,” came to them, it is believed, by their secession from the Sadducees, who were devoted only to the written Law. For their part, Josephus tells us, the Pharisees “introduced among the people many customs that they acquired from the ancients”4 and established the legitimacy of an oral Law derived from the written Law as a result of exegesis, enriched over generations. Since the Hebrew verb meaning “to explain”, or “comment on” uses the same root letters, it is not unlikely that the name “Pharisees” would signify “exegetes”. The Pharisees by that time had certainly developed various levels of interpretation. At a later stage, the Jewish tradition distinguished four levels: literal, profound, allegorical and esoteric.5 This persists to the present and is based on the idea that the literal meaning is not the last word because there are dimensions of interpretation that transcend the written word.

3 AJ XVII, 149. 4 AJ XIII, 297. 5 In Hebrew, pshat, drash, remez and sod. the biblical commentary 123

Philo would have known of these Pharisaic masters, respectfully called “rabbis”, but since he hardly mentions them we can only speculate on the possible transmission of their teachings in the Alexandrian diaspora. There is no proof that Philo might have been directly indebted to Phari- saic exegesis,6 as there were other masters among the Greeks. The works of Homer and Hesiod, although not sacred, were indeed venerated. The libraries of Alexandria were full of commentaries on these poets, some strictly philological, others allegorical. As already indicated, the Stoics, tending towards the allegorical exegesis of Hesiod and Homer, were among the final links in a long chain for whom “all in these poets would be impious if not allegorical.” Allegory itself was defined as “a figure consisting in speaking of one thing while designating a second quite different.”7 A Greek author named Heraclitus (1st century?) provides the best example of this approach. The representation of Athena born from the head of Jupiter is clearly symbolic of reason seated in the head; as incorruptible intelligence she therefore remains virginal. In the Iliad (ch. 6 to 15), Apollo unleashing his arrows to ignite the plague is none other than the sun, which, during hot summers, may cause epidemics. When Olym- pian gods assume absurd postures, allegorical interpretation is required. So, when Hephaistos was tossed down from the celestial heights, it should be understood as the celestial fire captured on earth with mirrors. And when Zeus and Hera mated over Mount Ida, their love symbolises the union of air and ether, which enriches the earth in spring. For Philo, the Bible is not simply an ancient and venerable poem. It is the word of God, of which the essential section, the Torah or Pentateuch, with its five books, has been written entirely by the “great law-maker” Moses. It remains divine in its Greek form since its translators have been moved by supernatural inspiration.8 Everything must be justifiable, including its rendition into Greek. One must account for the anthropomorphisms, for tales reflecting mythological fictions, for passages where the heroes do not always behave with honour. Otherwise one might indeed wonder why the peregrinations of a human figure like Jacob, his successive marriages and offspring, remain a matter of such enduring importance. The story must conceal a deeper significance waiting to be extracted from the literal text.

6 This hypothesis has been defended by Wolfson, Philo I, p. 56, but the doubts that might be entertained on Philo’s knowledge of Hebrew render it fragile. 7 Heraclitus, Homeric Allegories, 5, 1. 8 Cf supra, ch. III. 124 chapter six

The inexhaustible wealth of the biblical text is illustrated by the responses that each successive generation brings to the questions it raises. Like the Judaean Pharisees, Philo concentrates on finding answers, with this difference: he has written them himself and in his own name.

The Bible of Philo

Before studying Philo’s exegetical technique, we must first attempt to reconstitute the sections of the Bible which serve, over and above others, to support his reflections. Thanks to the index established by a group of French researchers,9 it is now possible to do so with considerable precision. This valuable list first reveals what constitutes Philo’s preferences: the book of Genesis is cited more than any other (the references occupy more than fifty-eight columns out of almost one hundred and twenty four), next comes Exodus with twenty-eight columns, Deuteronomy thirteen and a half, Leviticus twelve, while Numbers has nine. So the books of the Pentateuch enjoy absolute pre-eminence. Indeed, other Biblical writings, taken overall, only occupy three columns. Some of them—notably “the five scrolls” (Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamenta- tions, Ecclesiastes, Esther) and all the Hagiographs (with the exception of the Book of Psalms)—are quite simply overlooked.10 There are, overall, about forty citations extracted from the historical books (Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings), fifty-eight citations from the Prophets (essentially Isaiah and Jeremiah, more rarely Ezekiel, Hosea and Zechariah) and finally thirty from the Psalms. It should ultimately be acknowledged that these latter categories of texts are never cited for their own worth in specific treatises; they simply represent citations in support of verses from the Pentateuch. In fact, only the Pentateuch constitutes the Law of Moses. Philo is the first known witness of a tradition, which seeks to attribute the composition of its five books to Moses, who was worthy of receiving and transmit- ting the divine word because he himself had attained the perfection of mankind.11 He is “the legislator of the Jews,” “the interpreter of the holy laws”, “a man of great excellence and perfection”.12 Philo notes that at

9 Biblia Patristica, supplement « Philon d’Alexandrie », CNRS , Paris, 1982. 10 Cf. E.H. Ryle, Philo and Holy Scripture, London, 1895, Introduction, § I. 11 Cf. infra p. 145. 12 Mos. I, 1. the biblical commentary 125 the end of Deuteronomy, Moses describes his own death, confirming his prophetic uniqueness. But most wonderful of all is the conclusion of the Holy Scriptures which stands to the whole law-book as the head to the living creature; for when he was already being exalted and stood at the very barrier, ready at the signal to direct his upward flight to heaven, the divine spirit fell upon him and he prophesied with discernment while still alive the account of his own death. (Mos. II,291) The Pentateuch demands greater attention than any other text since, by his sheer virtue, Moses merited divine inspiration: “All things written in the Sacred Books are oracles delivered through Moses”;13 these books have been composed “under God’s guidance.”14 If other inspired men existed, they are only minor prophets, whose teaching simply confirms that of the great Moses. Philo does not even take the trouble to mention the name of Jeremiah when he cites the fine verse: “They have forsaken me, a spring of life, and hewed out cisterns, broken cisterns that hold no water” (Jer. II,13). Indeed, he cites this verse only because it furnishes metaphors of the spring and the cisterns to support his commentary of a passage in Genesis where the word “spring” is encountered: “And the angel of the Lord found her by a spring of water” (Gen. XVI,7).15 Again it is a commentary on the dream of the chief but- ler (Gen.XL,9–11) in the account of the adventures of Joseph, which leads Philo to cite Isaiah (still without naming him): “For the vineyard of the Lord Almighty is the house of Israel” (Is. V,7).16 He then explains that the “most holy vine” of the soul produces virtue, which brings joy. Philo views the prophets as a group, “a prophetical choir” he claims,17 in which individuals remain indistinct, so permitting their sayings to be cited in an approximate fashion. For example, Philo’s version of Jeremiah XV, 10, has a very different significance from both the original Hebrew and the Septuagint translation, so it could be assumed he cited from memory.18 Whether referred to as “canticles” or as “hymns,” Philo attributes the Psalms to companions or disciples of Moses, even to a “prophet”, while

13 Mos. II, 188. 14 Mos. II, 11. 15 Fuga 199–201. 16 Somn. II, 172. 17 Confus. 44. 18 Cf. the treatise De Confusione, Editions du Cerf, pp. 64–65, note 3 of J.G. Kahn. 126 chapter six also admitting the usual attribution to David “the divine psalmist.”19 They often provide a simple poetic citation like Homer’s works, which Philo also quotes regularly. He seems to know by heart both the Psalms and Greek poetry, at times indiscriminately mixing liturgy and school teaching.20 In one instance, at least, he conveys a truly religious sensitivity stimulated through Psalm 36 (“Delight in the Lord” v. 4), “moved by the utterance to an ecstasy of the love that is heavenly and Divine [. . .] while his whole mind is snatched up in holy frenzy by a Divine possession, and he finds his gladness in God alone.”21 The books of the Bible that we generally call historical seem of lesser interest to Philo. If he mentions Gideon the judge, it is only because he threatened to destroy a tower (Judges VIII,9), which is paralleled with that of Babel.22 Rather than real figures, Hannah and Samuel are names whose etymology23 requires clarification. The “historical” books (Joshua, Judges, Samuel and Kings), which the Hebrew Bible places among the “first prophets,” furnish a few citations without any link to the historic context. Some real historical figures may be totally disembodied. When Philo refers to two kings of Judah as “sons of David” although they do not directly descend from this royal figure,24 he explains that “the paternity we find ascribed to the standard-bearers of noble living, whom we think of as the fathers who begat us, is the paternity of souls raised to immortality by virtues, and not that of corruptible bodies”.25 Thus Philo’s thought is a-historical.26 When he finds himself enmeshed in burning reality, our philosopher is obliged to report events, which have become history. But generally Philo’s thought is not related to any particular time. To be sure, the Pentateuch narrative supports his approach, but this shows precisely that Genesis and Exodus are, in his view, not to be regarded as conventional history. They are inspired accounts which speak of man and his relation to God. The remains of the days count for nothing when the soul takes flight.

19 Somn. II, 245; Confus. 39, 149; Agric. 50; Plant. 39. 20 See Migr. 156–157, where two citations from the Psalms immediately follow a citation of the Iliad. 21 Plant. 39. 22 Confus. 128–132. 23 Deus 5–6. 24 This is Asa (I Kings 15,11) and Hezechiah (II Kings 18,3). 25 Confus. 149. 26 Cf. R. Arnaldez, “La Bible de Philon d’Alexandrie”, Le Monde Grec ancien et la Bible under the direction of Cl. Mondésert, Bible de tous les temps, Paris, Beauchesne, 1984, pp. 37–54. the biblical commentary 127

Questions and Answers

The questions a reader of the Bible might have asked in the first century were not fundamentally different from those which are raised today. One expects from a religious authority, whether rabbi or priest, an answer that preserves the sacred character of the text, even when it appears to describe difficult and seemingly profane events. Sometimes the sabbatical or dominical sermon anticipates the flock’s questions. It seems that the situation was quite similar in Philo’s day. Indeed, on several occasions, Philo describes congregations of the faithful assembled in their synagogues on the Sabbath to listen silently to the teaching of a master well versed in Scripture.27 Philo may have been one of those famous masters of his time.28 It has often been suggested that his exegetical treatises could have been based on homilies delivered in the synagogue.29 However, the somewhat capricious meanderings of his treatises do not seem to correspond to a preconceived plan or to sermons reconstituted from memory. Moreover, Philo’s thought seems somewhat too sophisticated to suit oral speech.30 Nevertheless synagogue practice may have been the starting point of Philo’s great opus. His “questions” on Genesis and Exodus follow the biblical text step by step. They are usually introduced by “why” or “what does it mean?” To each question, a more or less brief answer is immediately provided. Only a few samples of the various questions listed by Philo will be found here. Some aim at clarifying terms: “What is this Paradise planted by God?” (Gen. II,8), “What is the tree of life?” or “the tree of knowledge of good and evil?” (Gen. II,9). Others underline some apparent incoherencies: after having said “I will make him a help-mate like himself,” the verse “God formed every beast of the field” (Gen. II,18–19) follows immediately. Others raise exceptions: “Why was woman not made of earth like all living beings, rather than issuing from Adam’s side?” (Gen. II,22). Others wonder: “Did the serpent really speak in the manner of men?” (Gen. III,1). Some question divine dignity in making tunics of skin for Adam and Eve (Gen. III,21). Does God express jealousy in forbidding man rights to the

27 Cf. supra Mos. II, 216; Spec. II, 61–62, Hypoth. VII, 13. 28 See Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire, p. 174 and p. 205, note 19. 29 Cf. Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire, p. 175. 30 Cf. Wolfson, Philo I, p. 122, J. Pépin, “Théorie de l’exégèse allégorique”, Philon d’Alexan- drie, Actes du Colloque de Lyon, 1966, CNRS, Paris, 1967, p. 141. 128 chapter six tree of life (Gen. III,22)? Did He “regret” having created man, when He provoked the Flood? (Gen. VI,6). Does God walk? (Gen. III,8): Does he descend from the sky? (Gen. XI,5) Does He speak like a man? Why does He ask human beings questions if He knows everything? Is it fair that He should deliver good people into the hands of the wicked? (Gen. IV,7). Whether they raise major theological problems relating to evil and theodicy, or concentrate on an apparently insignificant detail, the Quaestiones leave no stone unturned. Everything down to the smallest detail, deserves the question, “Why?”. Everything is worthy of examination, whether it be the name or age of persons, the duration or place of an event, the sequence of episodes, the use of an expression. Nothing is without significance in the Scriptures. The answers provided in these treatises are generally literal explanations, although this need not be the rule. Were they meant for a public less versed in philosophy than the potential readers of the treatises? Did this audience correspond to synagogue-goers? At the synagogue the hom- ily would have consisted of a reading of the text accompanied by explanations, verse by verse. This is, indeed, the way the Midrash proceeds in later Hebrew or Aramaic versions, which also reflect synagogue teaching. Philo would have enjoyed a distinguished role in his synagogue. His knowledge and family repute predisposed him to become a spiritual master, if not a rabbi, in the modern sense of the term. In such a circle, he may have experienced biblical commentary firstly as questions and answers. Even in the later, more elaborate, treatises, one should not lose sight of the quaestio, which is always present even if not explicit. It serves as both “a mother-cell and frame for the reflection”.31 It would be tedious to attempt to summarise all of Philo’s treatises here. He has favorite themes, which he repeats constantly, sometimes in long digressions. In order to remain faithful to him, his commentary will be followed here, subject by subject, according to the biblical order.

The Creation of the World

There is a significant issue underlying the beginning of the treatise De Opi- ficio Mundi. If Moses is, as Greek-speaking Jews agree, o nomothetes (“the law giver”), why does his corpus of five books, known as “the Law” or “the

31 Cf. Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire p. 180. the biblical commentary 129

Laws,” begin with an account of the Creation? The answer seems to be that, before proceeding further, Moses wanted to give us an idea of God’s omnipotence and the universe that He summoned ex nihilo.32 “Thinking it too good and godlike to be confined within any earthly walls, he inserted the story of the genesis of the “Great City”, holding that the laws were the most faithful picture of world-polity”. This way, Moses escapes fanciful cosmic myths as well as dry legislative codes.33 The coincidence of this treatise with many aspects of Plato’s Timaeus, has often been underlined, as well as the Pythagorean or Stoic elements attached to the text. It is naturally somewhat difficult to grasp the essence if the biblical source inspiring it is not taken into account. For Philo, not only had the world been created as Plato declares, but it had been created in six days, as it is written in the book of Genesis; but six is also the perfect number according to Pythagoras. Any literal interpretation should of course be dismissed. How could God act within time when time did not yet exist, when the planets, an aid to measuring that world, were not yet created? One must rather understand that this is about logical order. The first day is called “day one”, while all the following days are accompanied by an ordinal number. This Hebrew syntactical peculiarity retained in the Greek translation suggests that “day one” enjoys special status. The monad is indeed in accordance with the intelligible world. In other words, it is the divine thought in the process of creating34 or the plan of the “Great City”, which is the world. In this case, the Platonic interpretation is grafted on to an anomalous scriptural phrase. Here Philo finds a justification for counting the world of ideas among the articles of faith belonging to the doctrine of Moses. The fact that the earth existing on “day one” was “invisible”35 according to the Greek translation of Gen. I,2, demonstrates that it was not part of the tangible world, which only appeared on the second day. Indeed in the Septuagint tohu bohu is translated by the Greek adjective aoratos; so Philo’s argument is based on the Greek rather than the original Hebrew. Also based on the Greek translation is the explanation of the appearance

32 Mos. II, 52. 33 Opif 1–2. 34 Opif. 24. 35 Opif. 29. Genesis II,4–5: “Here is the book of the genesis of heaven and earth when they came to be, the day that God made heaven and earth and every green plant of the fields before they were born on earth, and all forage of the fields before it began to grow”, is interpreted by Philo as referring to “incorporeal ideas present only to the mind, by which, as by seals, the finished objects that meet our senses were moulded” (Opif. 129). 130 chapter six on the second day of the firmament called ouranos (heaven) because it is the limit (oros) of all and the first visible (oratos) being. The vegetal species created on the third day and coating the surface of the earth, are identified with “spermatic substances” which, according to the Stoics, are “the principles or nuclei of all things” (Opif. 4). This interpretation is inspired by the presence of the Greek word sperma. Philo’s commentary does not, however, systematically cling to Greek words. On the fourth day are created “lights in the firmament of the heaven” to give light upon the earth, while grass and trees were created the day before. Philo finds a theological explanation to justify this order: if the sun and the moon had appeared before vegetation on earth, some people would have asserted that they were the cause of plants and fruit. Concerning the fifth day, when the first animal species were created, Philo links the number five to the five senses. He also points out that the order of their appearance from fish to reptile, then to winged fowl, then to beasts, and finally to man, reflects an evolution towards greater complexity (Opif. 68). Man, the ultimate creature, emerges on the sixth day. Accord- ing to a totally anthropocentric view, he had to come last in order to find everything prepared as befits “the king of all creatures under the moon” (Opif. 84). He is created “after the image of God and after His likeness” (Gen. 1.26); that is, after the pattern of the Mind of the Universe. Conse- quently every man possesses within him a divine spark: reason. The use of the plural “Let us make the man” (Gen. I,26) is one of those textual difficulties, which stimulate exegesis. It implies that God, like Pla- to’s demiurge, had assistants with him when he created man. This could explain human vices, “for it could not be that the Father should be the cause of an evil thing to His offspring” (Opif. 75). Who is God addressing when he uses the plural form, as here or in other instances (Gen. III,22; XI,7)? The answer to this question is clarified through the episode of the Tower of Babel where the text says “Let us go down” (Gen. XI,7). The Father of all things is surrounded with “powers” (dunameis)36 or angels who are continually at his disposal. He has them serve in matters which should not be consummated by God alone, “permitting his subjects powers to fashion some things”.37

36 Cf. infra p. 295. 37 Confus. 175. the biblical commentary 131

Finally the seventh day benefits from the sanctity of the hebdomad; this is why it is commanded to abstain from any material tasks and to devote one’s mind to “philosophy” on that day (Opif. 128).

Man, Woman and the Serpent

The double narrative of the Creation in Genesis I and II nourished exegesis long before the birth of biblical criticism and attributions to different sources. On the one hand, in the first chapter, man is said to have been created “male and female” on the sixth day; in the second chapter, however, Adam is formed from the dust of the earth and reviews all the existing animals without finding a match until a woman was formed out of one of his ribs. There again Plato’s theory of ideas could be invoked to resolve apparent contradictions. Man, created on the sixth day in God’s image, was the idea of man, intelligent man.38 He was neither male nor female, but incorporeal. On the contrary, corporeal man had been formed of an earthly substance, but by the divine breath he had also received an invisible and immortal soul, an emanation of the logos, which endowed him with reason. That first man created by God Himself (Opif. 140) in the youth of this world was by all standards excellent, much superior to his descendants, whose qualities were somewhat weakened. As first citizen of the world, he lived in contact with the intelligible natures, which had preceded him. The creation of woman from Adam’s rib hardly seems to have inspired the author of the De Opificio. In the Legum Allegoriae (II, 20) Philo chooses an allegorical explanation which somewhat derides the literal meaning: why this part of the body rather than another? Was the rib taken from the left or the right side? Derision of literal meaning, however, is rarely encountered in Philo’s writings. In this case, he may be referring to the objections of the free-thinkers of his day. In taking “rib” in the figurative sense of “power” or “faculty,” he cuts short the discussion. The rib taken from Adam in his sleep must be interpreted as sensation: indeed, when intelligence sleeps, sensation takes over. Our daily experience of indulging in pleasure demonstrates that “it is when the mind has gone to sleep that perception begins, for conversely when the mind wakes up, perception is quenched” (ibid. 25). When God created woman in the wake of man,

38 Cf. Nikiprowetzky and his refutation of Arnaldez in « Problèmes du récit de la créa- tion chez Philon d’Alexandrie », Etudes Philoniennes, Paris, 1996, pp. 45–78. 132 chapter six

He completed intelligence by sensitivity, action by sense-perception (ibid. 38). Now sense-perception needs to be captured by intelligence, while intelligence needs perception before taking action. This is what is meant by Adam when he says: “She is now a bone of my bones and the flesh of my flesh” (Gen. II,22–23). Man clings to woman as intellect to sensitivity. There is love at first sight between Adam and Eve, according to Philo’s account of their meeting. Adam recognises in the woman a being similar to himself and welcomes her tenderly, “the woman rejoices and coyly renders herself to him” (Opif. 152). In the love that immediately unites them, Philo seems to suggest the original androgyne39 fancied by Plato, and possibly even admitted, among other opinions, in the Midrash. Philo is not entirely convinced by this theory, but his brief evocation of love at first sight between the first two human beings should be remembered. Paradise is an allegory for the garden of virtues, wherein the tree of life represents piety, while the tree of knowledge of good and evil represents prudence (Opif. 154). Since the soul has proved incapable of finding the path to eternity, it has been expelled from the garden. The serpent tempter symbolises pure pleasure. Pleasure addresses sensation, as symbolised in the female; sensation seduces intellect, as symbolised by the male. On introducing the account of Adam’s sin, Philo declares that “the woman becomes for him the beginning of blameworthy life.” (Opif. 151). However, he does not develop any theory of Original Sin. To Philo, the real woman is modest (Opif. 152) while the allegorical woman is sensation, a faculty inferior to reason but most necessary to mankind. Philo is ultimately quite consistent in his long allegory of the Fall from Paradise.

The Problem of Evil: Cain and Abel

The source of evil should not be sought in a cause external to man, but rather within the human heart: “Adam knew Eve his wife and she conceived and bore Cain” (Gen. IV,1). Thus when the soul unites with tangible perception, instead of working its way up through virtue, it produces an unworthy offspring named Cain. This name comes from a Hebrew root meaning “to acquire”. It is laden with significance (Cher. 52–56). The sensation inseminated by intellect only succeeds in acquiring presumption.

39 “Love overcomes and uniting so to speak the two segments separated from a same animal, he adjusts them as a single being” (Opif. 152). the biblical commentary 133

The spirit believes all that is perceived belongs to it, that it is the master of the world, and in so being, it forgets that all belongs to God. It has the audacity to claim that “I have acquired a man with the help of the Lord” (Gen. IV,2), forgetting that God is the only true cause and may not be reduced to a mere instrument (Cher. 124–130). Cain and Abel are opposites. They represent two different conceptions of man: the former believes that he possesses, the latter refers everything to God. This is why Cain’s offerings are refused while Abel’s are accepted (Sacrif. 52 and 88). The combat between the two brothers on the plain corresponds to the battle that love for God and self-love wage in the human soul (Deter. 1–2). Cain’s victory is only apparent since love for God cannot perish. Cain, who ruined that love in his own soul, did in fact destroy himself (ibid. 75–78). He is the “accursed of the earth” (Gen. IV,11) since the material, earthy part in him, renders him a slave to desires and passions, while stifling his reason (Deter. 96–100). The wicked man does harm to himself; he ends up living “at random” (Gen. IV,13), in fear and sadness, removed from the presence of God. But he has a sign upon him “lest anyone finding him should kill him” (Gen. IV,15), for evil is eternal and cannot disappear. Cain’s death is indeed nowhere mentioned in the Bible (Deter. 178). So the evil symbolised by Cain appears as “a pole of attraction toward the non-being which draws man to death, but never dies itself.”40 Philo never mentions Satan or demons which, in his time, invaded apocalyptical literature and haunted popular imagination. In his view, Cain is the symbol of evil by his fascination for nothingness.

The Models in Humanity

The First Triad and Noah In this new world, Cain’s descendants lived alongside those of his other brother Seth, born after Abel’s death. A constant theme in Philo’s works is that, well before the promulgation of any written law, a few individuals knew how to harmonise their lives with the natural order. They were, as the Stoics would claim, true “living laws” who instinctively respected the unwritten laws leading to perfect life.

40 Arnaldez, introduction to the De Posteritate Caini, Cerf, Paris 1972, p. 12. 134 chapter six

The first is Enos, son of Seth. The Bible does not have much to say about him. It suffices that his name means “man” in Hebrew: Enos would thus be the true man. The biblical text adds that “at that time men began to call on the name of the Lord” (Gen. IV,26). But we should not forget that Philo worked from a Greek text. In the Septuagint is found: “He hoped to invoke the name of the Lord.” So Enos becomes “the first lover of hope” (Abr. 7). “He alone is a true man who expects good things and resides firmly in comfortable hopes”; his hope is “fixed on the Father and Maker of all” (ibid. 9). The second is Enoch whose Hebrew name “Hanoch”, sometimes transcribed as Henoch, includes two letters corresponding to the Hebrew word for “grace” (hen). For Philo, Enoch is the recipient of grace who found his way to repentance of sin and to improvement (Abr. 17). This figure, Methuselah’s father, had an astonishing destiny in the history of ideas. He is indeed the seventh human being in the line of Adam and he seems to have mysteriously disappeared: “Enoch walked with God; then he was no more because God took him away” (Gen. V,24). For that reason, Enoch has become the hero of an apocalyptic tradition in which he receives revelation after being carried off to heaven. In the book named after him, he discovers the secrets of the universe, the general scope of human history and the vision of the “Chosen” or “Son of Man” seated at the right hand of the Lord; finally he himself is invested as “Son of Man”. This text, which is now classed among the apocryphal writings, was authoritative in the early Church and has been quoted in the Epistle of Jude (l. 14–15). Philo is as unfamiliar with this tradition as he remains with regard to the apocalyptic current. Enoch is no more to him than what he was to Jesus (Joshua) son of Sira in Jerusalem circa 200 bce: “The Lord was pleased with Enoch and he was, for generations, elevated as an exemplary testament to repentance.”41 The notion of repentance is not evident in the original Hebrew text. Once again, it comes from the Greek translation, which says that Enoch “was not found because God displaced him.” Philo understands this to mean conversion and reformation. God’s benevolence led Enoch towards a new life in search of perfection. This first triad ends with Noah, a man “loved by God, and a lover of virtue” (Abr. 27). His Hebrew name meaning “rest” reflects the calm, peaceful

41 Ecclesiasticus or Ben Sira 44,16. The Greek version is visibly inspired by the translation of the Septuagint. the biblical commentary 135 life befitting the sage. It also evokes the seventh day devoted to rest, or the seventh faculty in man, that of the sovereign spirit content with itself and seeking calm. Noah is “a just man” (Gen. VI,9), for “the ardent follower after righteousness alone is man” (Abr. 33). He is not yet absolutely perfect but perfect only “in his generation”, in other words, compared to the fel- lowmen of his time. After having escaped the flood that submerged the various parts of the soul, he has become “the father of the new race which would spring up afresh” (Abr. 56), and has “put forth from himself fair roots and great, out of which there grew up, like a plant, wisdom’s breed and kind” (Migr. 125).

The Second Triad and Abraham The first triad is a rough draft preparing for the three kinds of human perfection represented by the three patriarchs. God loved them so greatly that He calls Himself “God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob” (Abr. 51). The three embody all virtues, but each also has a dominant fea- ture. They represent three different types of souls, “all of them of high worth, one which pursues the good through teaching, one through nature and one through practice” (ibid. 52). They are related, like the three virtues leading to perfection. How did Abraham find his way to the Truth? He did not follow unstable and wayward opinion (Praem. 29). He embarked on a consummate journey when, at God’s command, he left his country, his kindred and his father’s house (Gen. XII,11), symbolising respectively body, sense-perception and language which is the house of the “father” i.e. the mind (Migr. 3). Abra- ham distances himself from all them three, but not irrevocably, lest he die. He liberates himself from the prison of the body, from the sense perception symbolised by the name of Haran, which in Hebrew sounds close to horin, the “orifices” through which sensations reach us and pull us in all directions (Abr. 72, Migr. 188). He also separates himself from the words, which are only an illusion of reality (Migr. 10–12). In quitting “the objects of sense perception” to “go after those of the mind”, he becomes “Hebrew” which means “migrant” (Migr. 20). By fulfilling God’s command to embark on this journey, he receives the divine blessings recorded in Gen. XII,3, and blessings for “all families on earth,” “for in truth the righteous man is the foundation on which mankind rests” (Migr. 121). The verse “Abraham journeyed as the Lord spoke to him” (Gen. XII,4) means that he entered the path of virtue and righteousness; he observed divine commandments even before they were revealed by living in harmony with nature (Migr. 128). 136 chapter six

Isaac, for his part, represents innate, effortless virtue. He acquires it “naturally.” This idea is based on the Hebrew etymology of his name, “laughter.” Now “laughter is the outward and bodily sign of the unseen joy in the mind” (Praem. 31). Isaac is free from sadness and fear because he is able to apprehend the order of the universe, “rejoicing in the Father and Maker of all things” whose works “are done for good and serve to preserve all that exists” (ibid. 32). The third type of perfection is represented by Jacob whom Philo calls “the ascetic”, in the Greek sense of “the one who takes exercise” and sometimes also “the athlete.” These appellations are clearly inspired by Jacob’s wrestling with the angel near the ford of Jabbok (Gen. XXXII,25–29). Jacob had indeed to fight in the thick night of the sensible world before the breaking of light and intelligible world. Usually, one apprehends the notion of a creator of the universe through contemplation of the well- ordered city of the world; the earth with its mountains and plains, covered with crops, trees, and fruits, sheltering all kinds of animals; the seas, the lakes and rivers spread over its surface; the air happily tempered, the harmonious succession of the year’s seasons, the sky with its planets and fixed stars (Praem. 41). Jacob needed no intermediary to perceive God. He received direct revelation and was dazzled by divine light. In the wake of his wrestling, he became Israel, “he who sees God.” This second triad comes up repeatedly in Philo’s work in the course of many digressions. However, the deeds of the three patriarchs, as recorded in the scriptures, also warranted individual examination. It is likely that Philo devoted an entire treatise, based on his own declaration, to each (Abr. 48), but only one, the De Abrahamo, has survived. Philo traces the main episodes of Abraham’s life until the death of Sarah, and interprets them allegorically in other treatises: De migratione Abrahami, Quis rerum divinarum heres sit, De congressu eruditionis gratia, De fuga et inventione, and De mutatione nominum. All six writings are focused on the first patriarch. Abraham is, first and foremost, a real figure who left Chaldaea, then Haran, but we must also understand from the two phases of this emigration that he progressively detaches himself from idolatrous doctrines. The Chaldaeans were experts in astrology and had deified the heavenly bodies. Abraham was influenced by Chaldaean doctrines before discovering the true God through His creation, and he ultimately abandoned Chal- daean concepts. He had sojourned for a time at Haran, the place of sense perception, until he comprehended the primacy of the invisible mind, which governs the body in the same way as the invisible God governs the universe: “That the king is invisible need not cause you to wonder, for the biblical commentary 137

neither is the mind in yourself visible” (Abr. 74). By this symbolic change of orientation, Abraham comes to perceive God: “And the Lord appeared to Abraham” (Gen. XII,7). Philo skips the stages of Abraham’s journey, and refers to a second migration in the desert (Gen. XII,9). The desert may have two meanings: this would be the terrifying desert on the way to Egypt but also the solitude indispensable to contemplation (Abr. 87). In Egypt, Sarah, Abraham’s wife, was saved from the king’s desires by divine intervention in order that her descendants would be unstained. There is also an allegorical interpretation to be given to that episode: the king of Egypt represents the mind dominated by the body. He invites virtue only to create illusion, but his hypocrisy is ultimately exposed (Abr. 103). Abraham’s hospitality when he welcomes three unknown strangers also deserves a double interpretation, both literal and allegorical. In the literal sense, Abraham offers a dazzling example of philanthropia, i.e. love of mankind, without knowing that the three visitors were in reality three angels. The angels had only adopted human appearance to honour a perfectly virtuous man. From the allegorical point of view, the number of visitors becomes a focus of Philo’s attention, not least because twice in the biblical text the three angels are described in the singular as though they were one (Gen. XIII,3 and 10). For Philo they represent three persons in one: God, “the Being”, accompanied by two major powers: the Creative and the Kingly. The human soul, depending on its level of purity, is able to conceive of the unity of the superior Being or only His manifestation (Abr. 122). Whether the soul honours the Being, either for Himself or in the hope of benefits or fear of torments, God is always ready to receive it. Only two angels of three set out to find Sodom and its surroundings when the Being stands aside. In that case, the kingly power that deals with punishment is at work: it chastises four cities out of five, symbolising the four senses, which inspire vice. The other compassionate power spares the fifth city, symbolising vision, the superior sense, which leads to philosophy. Philo adopts the very traditional view that the sacrifice of Isaac was a test of Abraham’s submission to God’s will. He tries to demonstrate, however, that Abraham’s motivation was far superior to those of human sacrifices in other civilisations. From the allegorical point of view, what Abraham was ready to sacrifice was joy (which relates to the etymology of the name Isaac), for “rejoicing is most closely associated with God” (Abr. 202). But God loves the sage, and returned him joy in order that his soul “should pass the chief part of his life in glad-hearted contemplation of what the world has to show” (ibid. 207). 138 chapter six

Later when he parts from his nephew Lot, Abraham manifests his love of peace, although this does not prevent him from proving his bravery in war when he confronts the nine kings (Genesis XIV). That war allegorically refers to the struggle of the four passions against the five senses supporting them. Abraham also reveals his noble mind through the dignity with which he mourns his wife Sarah. Abraham, the perfect sage, combined Faith, which he manifests at each moment of his life, and Law, since he instinctively lived in conformity with nature; in other words, to an as-yet unwritten code. This general view of the De Abrahamo does not fully account for the constant inspiration that Philo discerned in Abraham’s character. This treatise is easier to follow than the three treatises of totally allegorical inspiration concerning his descendants. “Who is the heir of divine things” (Quis heres divinarum rerum sit), is not directed at Abraham as the historical figure but as the perfect sage. At the end of a long meditation on God and the world, in which Philo concentrates all of his favourite themes, he not surprisingly concludes that only the sage deserves to inherit “divine things.” Sarah, being without child, finally counsels Abraham to beget from her servant Hagar (this is the theme of the De Congressu). This gesture could be explained purely allegorically: it conveys the generosity of virtue as symbolised in Sarah. If she is unable to give birth, it is because no one may accede to wisdom without first acquiring a general culture. This “middle” education is symbolised by Hagar who is still linked to the senses and the body as determined by her Egyptian origin. Thus, after benefitting during infancy from milky food offered by the servant, the soul will be able to rise to the mistress, Philosophy. Hagar represents the soul progressing and tending towards goodness, although she may not yet be exempt from error (theme of the De Fuga). The changing of Abram’s name into Abraham (Gen. XVII,5) indicates his elevation from the mere study of celestial phenomena towards true wisdom, while in recognition of her virtue, Sarai becomes Sarah, the “princess”, the Virtue (theme of the De Mutatione). The guidelines revealed in these allegorical treatises are based on one or several verses. In addition, there are many other digressions, which establish coincidences between themes, scenes, figures, so that Philo’s thought can be found, almost in its entirety, in each treatise. One may speculate that Philo composed a trilogy, which, in addition to the treatise on Abra- ham, dealt with Isaac and Jacob. The essential elements of the two “lost” treatises may be easily reconstructed: Isaac is laughter, joy in God, natural the biblical commentary 139 virtue; Jacob is virtue fleeing vice represented by Esau, or “the ascetic” who, through continuous effort, becomes Israel “the seer of God”. Philo does not deny the historicity of such biblical figures, but for him, the significance of their lives is that they illustrate the tribulations of the human soul torn between sense-perception and passions on the one hand, and intellect and virtue on the other.

From Joseph to Moses: The Ideal Leader

Among the “biographies” written by Philo, two treatises were devoted to the profiles of two leaders, Joseph and Moses. It is notable that both personalities have connections with Egypt: Joseph, taken there against his will, would remain and ultimately fulfil a prestigious destiny. Moses, born there and raised in the royal palace, leaves of his own free will to join his brethren and give them liberty and the Law. These two paths are of particular significance when we recall the allegorical manner in which Philo interprets Egypt. The author attributes special significance to the destinies of both men as ideal profiles for examining what constitutes true leadership. Contrary to the idealised images of other biblical heroes, Joseph the “politician” is deeply ambiguous in Philo’s eyes. Joseph’s garment, this magnificent tunic of many colours bestowed by his father, reflects the fluctuations of political life. For political life is a thing varied and multiple, liable to innumerable changes brought about by personalities, circumstances, motives, individualities of conduct, differences in occasions and places. ( Jos. 32) Philo’s tone turns somewhat acrimonious when he exposes the hypocrisy and sloppiness of political behaviour, which is no more than, “a robe richly variegated, containing a most meager admixture of truth but many large portions of false, probable, plausible, conjectural matters.” (Somn. I, 220) Nothing contrasts more with the “all white and gleaming vestment of virtue” (ibid. 220) than this garment of politics, costly and showy, under which lies hidden an “insidious and dangerous ugliness” (ibid. 224). Thus, Joseph’s tunic reveals trickery, a man “who moulds his theories with an eye to statecraft rather than to truth,” who incorporates three kinds of good things quite different by nature—“those pertaining to the outside world, to the body and to the soul” (Deter. 7). 140 chapter six

Philo sometimes reveals himself to be less severe. The politician clad in a multi-coloured garment can be more acceptable when he adapts to circumstances and shows his intelligence and know-how: He must be a different man in peace from what he is in war, another man as those who venture to oppose him are few or many, resisting the few with vigorous action but using persuasion in his dealings with the many and when danger is involved he will, to effect the common good, outstrip all others in his personal activity, but when the prospect is one of labour merely, he will stand aside and leave others to serve him. ( Jos. 34) Philo cannot help but observe in Joseph from an early age the arrogance typical of the political personality. To Philo, this is confirmed by his two dreams, their meanings quite transparent. For that reason, Philo, remaining close to the literal sense of the text, justifies the animosity of Joseph’s brothers (Somn. II, 93–113), while of course condemning their criminal behaviour ( Jos. 13). Then, returning to allegorical explanation, Philo seeks to underline that, like Joseph, the political man is “sold” . . . “for when the would-be orator mounts the platform, like a slave in the market, he becomes a bond-servant instead of a free man, and through the seeming honours which he receives, the captive of a thousand masters” ( Jos. 35). He is even “sold three times over,” since those who buy Joseph sell him again (ibid. 36). Such is the fate of the inconstant political figure, who submits himself to several masters in succession. In Egypt, the land of the body—of matter as opposed to spirit—Joseph is exposed to strong temptation. In the service of Potiphar, Pharaoh’s chief cook—a eunuch in the Greek translation—, Joseph lays himself open to the worst of influences, in the same manner as any politician exposed to demagogy. The eunuch deprived of generative organs symbolises the inconstant and capricious crowd, while the chief cook, busying himself with the pleasures of the body, symbolises the populace raised on flattery. Potiphar’s wife symbolises the popular passion which makes the politician oblivious to all principle and even blackmails him.42 For that reason, Philo sometimes presents Joseph as a figure capitulating to seduction by external influences or acquiring “citizenship of the body” (Somn. I, 78). However, his virtuous resistance to pleasure proposed by the wife of Potiphar also justifies developing certain positive aspects of his personality. Philo’s portrayal then tends towards that of the ideal political figure.43

42 Jos. 40–48 and 64–66. See an interpretation of a more spiritual order in Migr. 19. 43 Philo is inspired by the verse commented without taking account of contradictions. Goodenough asserts that in the allegorical commentary, Joseph represents Roman pride the biblical commentary 141

Joseph is also a political figure of considerable courage by asserting his freedom of action: he refuses to hypocritically flatter the people and scrupulously avoids the slightest susceptibility to corruption—“neither gifts, nor requests, nor craving for honours, nor desire for office, nor self- pretension, nor longing for reputation, nor incontinence, nor unmanliness, nor injustice, nor any creation of passion or vice” ( Jos. 70). Guided only by his intelligence, he will be a fair judge, dispense counsel for the common good, and seek frankness devoid of arrogance (ibid. 72–74). He nonetheless may be exposed to the ingratitude of the population “who chastises as an enemy he who is friend and well -wisher” (ibid. 79). When he is thrown into prison, Joseph charms the jailor by his virtue, offers a model to his companions in their distress and finally reveals his capacity to interpret dreams, which Philo perceives as the art of the politician: Since then human life is full of this vast confusion and disorder and uncertainty, also the statesman must come forward and, like some wise expounder of dreams, interpret the daytime visions and phantoms of those who believe themselves awake. And with suggestions commended by reason and prob- ability, shew them the truth about each of these visions: that this is beautiful, that ugly, this just, that unjust and so with all the rest; what is prudent, courageous, pious, religious, beneficial, profitable, and conversely what is unprofitable, unreasonable, ignoble, impious, irreligious, deleterious, harmful, selfish. ( Jos. 143) Thus the intelligent and virtuous politician deserves the ring offered by the king, “the clearest sign of the good faith which the king-people places in the statesman and the statesman in the king-people” (ibid. 149). Joseph also sometimes represents a less lofty, more pragmatic ideal. After all, virtue is often defined as the happy medium. Joseph is torn between two directions “for he is indeed one who is not oblivious to the excellence of the soul, while also aware of the well-being of the body and has a keen desire to be well off in outward things” (Somn. II, 11). He mixes rationality and self-control with physical pleasure and vainglory (ibid. 16). In such a way, says Philo, he stands between Pharaoh’s house which, like all Egypt, symbolises the domain of the body, and Jacob’s family which symbolises the domain of the soul (Migr. 160). Indeed the politician belongs to the earthly realm, “for passion’s welfare is dear to it” (ibid. 163).

and that in the Exposition of the Law, he incarnates the true politician whose portrait owes much to the ideal of the Hellenistic sovereign. Thus would be explained the apparent contradictions. Cf. The Politics of Philo Judaeus, New Haven 1938, p. 43. 142 chapter six

As a leader, Moses stands so much higher than Joseph that it is difficult to compare them. Joseph exerts the power of an ordinary leader: his destiny is no doubt exceptional but his qualities remain purely human. Moses is unique; his greatness has no equal. He transmitted the most excellent laws to his people. Philo found it appropriate to devote a two-part treatise to him—The Life of Moses—which is quite different in tone from all his other “biographies” of biblical figures, including Joseph. The first part of the De Vita Mosis, is strictly narrative and faithfully follows the beginning of the book of Exodus. A number of modern commentators have been sufficiently surprised by its tone to doubt the authenticity of the treatise. The explanation ultimately proposed is that this is an apologia intended to persuade non-Jews of the greatness of the leader of the Jewish nation. Two generations later, Flavius Josephus would discover in Roman libraries the slanderous anti-Jewish writings of some Alexandrians. He answered by exalting Moses’ greatness, ironically noting that Egyptians even considered him to be one of their own, “remarkable, indeed divine.”44 Like Philo, he is convinced that Moses appeared well before all known legislators in the Greek world.45 Thus, contrary to malevolent claims, the Jewish nation did indeed give great men to mankind. Philo is even ready to demonstrate that it gave the greatest of all men. For that purpose, he writes a biography hoping “to bring the story of this most perfect of men to the knowledge of such as deserve not to remain in ignorance of it, for while the fame of the laws which he left behind him has travelled throughout the civilised world and reached the ends of the earth, the man himself as he really was is known to few” (Mos. I, 1–2). The first aspect of Philo’s hero is that of a “king,” although Moses never actually possessed this title. Moses was indeed prepared for the highest destiny by his parents lineage, his belonging to the seventh generation46 of Hebrews in Egypt, his exceptional beauty which was evident from birth, the divine solicitude which allowed him to be drawn out of the waters and nursed by his own mother, and his kingly education at the royal palace since Pharaoh’s daughter passed him off as her son.47 Philo is particularly interested in describing this education: unbothered by anachronistic details, he contends that the young Moses was trained by Egypt’s best

44 C. Ap. I, 279. 45 Ibid. II, 154. 46 Cf. Infra, ch. VII. the importance of the figure “seven”. 47 Philo adds a detail probably taken from oral tradition: the princess would have “at an earlier time artificially enlarged the figure of her womb” (Mos. I, 19). the biblical commentary 143 masters in mathematics, music, philosophy of symbols, and the best Greek masters in general (encyclical) education. Moses also studied the Assyrian language and astrology, and the science of the Chaldaeans. Teaching may fail where it does not encounter natural intelligence, but Moses would prove himself to be abundantly gifted so that “this seemed a case rather of recollection48 than of learning” (Mos. I, 21). Furthermore Moses possessed not only supreme intelligence but also great virtue. Just emerging from childhood, he assumed total self-control. He knew how to moderate his desires and live for the soul rather than the body. He was guided only by truth, harmonising his life and his speech, without becoming intoxicated with his elevated social position. Even when Pharaoh chose him as heir-presumptive, he remained faithful to his own natural family. Respectful of the rights of foreigners who remain sup- plicants, he attempted to alleviate the hardships endured by the enslaved Hebrews. Nevertheless, in a fit of anger, he killed a brutal Egyptian who was persecuting his brethren and had to flee the hostility of the Court. On reaching Arabia, Moses adopted a contemplative life. Moved by his noble nature, he continued to protect the weak and vulnerable, defend- ing Jethro’s daughters when they were harassed by shepherds. Jethro, the Midianite priest, immediately recognised his superior nature and offered him his most beautiful daughter in marriage. So Moses himself became a shepherd, although in his case this hardly implied loss of prestige: indeed “the shepherd business is a training ground and a preliminary exercise in kingship” (Mos. I, 60). He thus prepared himself “to command the herd of mankind” (ibid.). Did the Greeks not call their kings “shepherds of the people”? As justification for this metaphorical expression, Philo draws a parallel between the two functions, underlining Moses’ vocation as a king: “The only perfect king [. . .] is one who is skilled in the knowledge of shepherd- ing, one who has been trained by management of the inferior creatures to manage the superior. For initiation in the lesser mysteries must precede initiation in the greater” (Mos. I, 62). However, Moses was superior to ordinary kings. At all stages of his life, he was under God’s protection.49 From the episode of the burning bush, there was direct communication between Moses and God. Moses was informed that he would “not be merely an assistant to the liberation” of

48 Wolfson (Philo II, p. 8) detects a difference in the meaning of this notion for Plato as compared with its meaning for Philo: Here it would be a memory from before creation, not before the association of the soul with the body. 49 Cf. Mos. I, 12, 19, 47, 56, 57. 144 chapter six his people but “the leader who would shortly take them from Egypt to another home” (ibid. 71). Although somewhat lacking in eloquence, he would be “God’s interpreter” (ibid. 84) and learn to perform miracles. Ulti- mately, he would become his people’s leader, “invested with this office and kingship, not like those who thrust themselves into positions of power by means of arms and engines of war, and maintain the strength of infantry, cavalry and navy, but on account of his goodness and his nobility of conduct and the universal benevolence which he never failed to shew” (Mos. I, 148). Through Moses, Philo portrays the ideal statesman: a man devoted to the common good, who, with perfect honesty, resists vulgar temptations to transmit his power to his children, to amass a fortune, to seek luxury, to enlarge his land, his herds, the number of his servants or the amount of his revenues. This man dismisses wealth in favour of simplicity and frugality. The only wealth of value to him is that “which can see,”50 that is, the wisdom leading to the pursuit of nature. It is he that receives divine treasures and inherits the earth, for he is “the true citizen of the world”. He even has the privilege of contemplating God. Compared to Moses, Joseph is simply an ordinary man. His name might awaken suspicion, for it suggests all the defects usually found in the politician: indeed the name “Joseph” derives from a Hebrew root meaning “addition”. He “adds” everything that Moses avoided and above all “vainglory”, which is ceaselessly acquisitive: “to what is genuine it adds what is counterfeit, to what is appropriate what is alien, to what is true what is false, to what is sufficient what is excessive, to vitality debauchery, to life’s maintenance vanity” (Somn. II, 47). Political life is fundamentally an “addition to nature”. Only the Law of Nature, in the Philonic sense, should govern man, for it is none other than universal reason. There should be a single law for all of mankind, instead of the diverse forms of government found among various peoples: “The true cause they never mention, and that is their covetousness and mutual mistrust, which keeps them from being satisfied with the ordinances of nature, and led them to give the name of “laws” to whatever approves itself as advantageous to the communities which hold the same views” ( Jos. 30). Thus, Philo concludes that “particular politics are rather additions to the single polity of nature, for the laws of the different states are additions

50 Platonist expression (Laws 631 c); cf. Abr. 25. the biblical commentary 145 to the right reason of nature, and the politician is an addition to the man whose life accords with nature” (ibid. 31). Moses, being the best of all the legislators, showed men the authentic Law, the Law of nature, written in the sacred books he had composed “under God’s guidance” (Mos. II, 11). Therefore, the Law is “firm, unshaken, immovable, stamped as it were with the seal of nature herself ”, and will remain “for all future ages . . . so long as the sun and moon, and the whole heaven and universe exist” (ibid. 14). Moses reaches the absolute. He comes close to the divine by his prophetic inspiration and he has been loved by God “as have been few others” (Mos. II, 67). Philo even asks the following probably rhetorical question with regard to Moses’ nature: “whether it was human or divine or a mixture of both, so utterly unlike was it to the majority, soaring above them and exalted to a grander height” (Mos. I, 27). He sometimes recalls that, according to Scripture, Moses had been made “a god to Pharaoh” (Exodus VII,1).51 One must understand that the owner of supreme wisdom is a god compared to the fool, but for the Being, he is “man of God”. God alone attended Moses’ funeral: “he was buried with none present, surely by no mortal hands but by immortal powers,”52 and “no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day” (Deuteronomy XXXIV,6).

The Decalogue and the Laws of Moses

According to Philo’s indications on the structure of his major work, the discussion about written laws should have immediately followed that concerning the living laws of which the De Abrahamo is an example. Philo begins that part with the Ten Commandments, divided into two groups of five, in his treatise De Decalogo. The ten “words,”53 as they are called in Greek and in Hebrew, correspond to the perfect number, ten,54 reflecting the divine pleroma that Philo so often seeks to glorify. These are godly “words” uttered by God himself, in contrast to other biblical laws, which are annunciated by Moses.

51 Sacrif. 9, Deter. 161–162, Leg. I, 40o, Mutat. 19. 52 Mos. II, 291, cf. Sacrif. 10. 56 Spec. I, 85–97. The costume is also evoked at length in Mos. II, 109–135. Mos. II, 291, cf. Sacrif. 10. 57 53 The term “Decalogue” did not exist at the time of Philo. The Greek title reads Peri ton deca logon. 54 cf. Infra, ch. VII. 146 chapter six

God’s voice is heard in the desert. In the Bible, the desert is linked to faithfulness: the period in the desert represents the betrothal of God and Israel before entering the land of Canaan and being exposed to the idolatry of neighbouring peoples. For Philo, the desert has something “philosophic”, remote from the inescapable vices of the cities which breed vanity, prejudice, arrogance, inequality and polytheistic impiety. Thus the desert offers a transitional space, which enables purification, an indispensable stage, which prepares the people for receiving the sacred laws and organising their future society. In Philo’s eyes, the miracles, which allowed the Hebrews to survive in the desert already presaged the giving of the laws and ensured their divine origin. “They should no longer wonder whether the laws were actually the pronouncements of God” (Decal. 16), since they had unexpectedly received evidence of Providence watching over them. “For mere life, they needed food and drink which they found without making provision; for the good life, they needed laws and ordinances which would bring improvement to their souls” (Decal. 17). Although delivered before a multitude, the Ten Commandments are addressed in the singular. From this apparent anomaly, Philo draws high spiritual teachings: God speaks to each individual in particular, because He cares as much for each as for all; He prefers personal exhortations which have a better effect than collective ones; He wants to give a lesson to kings: never despise the humblest subject, respect the orphan, the widow and the aged, never forget their own human condition (ibid. 36–43). Words of fire sprang up from the midst of the lightning; the fire both gives light and burns; it illuminates the soul ready to accept those words, and burns the soul which rejects them. For Philo, the Decalogue is a corpus of basic laws, from which is derived the whole of biblical legislation, detailed in the last four books of the Pen- tateuch. The various laws could be classified under ten headings following the Ten Commandments, which express the principles underlying detailed laws (ibid. 19). Thus after examining those guiding principles in a brief, well-defined treatise, the De Decalogo, Philo continues with a long treatise in four parts on “Special Laws”; that is, particular laws which fall under the heading of each commandment. The first commandment gives Philo occasion for repeatedly condemning all forms of idolatry,55 including the cult of the heavenly bodies and divinatory practices, and for re-affirming the existence of only one God.

55 In the De Decalogo, he insists rather on the naturalist religions deifying the universe or the four elements, as well as on the animal cult of the Egyptians. the biblical commentary 147

The true temple of the only God is the universe but mankind needed a terrestrial copy of it. This is why there is only one Temple, which is the focus of pilgrims from all parts of the world. Philo takes this opportunity to briefly describe the Temple in Jerusalem as he must have known it. He recalls that the half-shekel paid by every Jewish male over the age of twenty (based on Exodus XXX,12) funded maintenance of the building and performance of its ceremonies. This leads Philo to detail all the rules of priesthood and to describe at length the high priest’s costume,56 every part of which corresponds to a cosmic symbol. In this exhaustive section on priesthood, Philo also assembles the rules relating to marriage, mourning, the levies and privileges of the priests, and the cities of refuge appor- tioned to the Levites. He links to it all categories of sacrifices and rules of bodily and spiritual cleanliness demanded of the officiating priests, which excludes the impious, depraved and materialistic. Having dealt with the two first commandments in Book I, Philo devotes Book II to the three following commandments of the first Table of the Law. From the prohibition against taking the name of the Lord in vain, he moves on to oaths and vows (Spec. I, 1–38). He devotes particular attention to the signicance of the Sabbath. From the rules concerning the seventh day, he progresses to rules pertaining to the seventh year, the year in which land lies fallow, the year of the remission of debts and the liberation of slaves. He continues with the fiftieth year, the jubilee year, when alienated land returns to its original owner. The celebrated number seven also provides the key to most of the biblical festivals: Passover falls on the fourteenth of the first month, the feast of the unleavened bread has a duration of seven days, the offering of the sheaf at the Temple lasts forty-nine days before celebrating on the fiftieth day the first-fruit festival called in Hebrew “feast of the weeks.” There is another series of celebrations on the seventh month: the opening of the sacred month, the Fast (Kippur) and the feast of the Tabernacles which lasts seven days, plus a closing day. Although Philo may add some reflections of his own, he generally remains very close to the biblical sources.57 He scarcely needs to insist on the honour due to father and mother, ordered by the fifth commandment. Parents deserve to be honoured by their children, being their elders, their educators and benefactors. They should be venerated almost as God because procreation is an imitation of

56 Spec. I, 85–97. The costume is also evoked at length in Mos. II, 109–135. 57 In Spec. II, 39, the fourth commandment and the rules derived from it are put together. 148 chapter six divine creation (Spec. II, 225). For that reason, the fifth commandment is placed at the end of the first Table of the Law, as it “stands on the border- line between the human and the divine” (ibid. 224). The sixth commandment provides Philo the opportunity to enumerate all illicit unions mentioned in Leviticus (XVIII,7–22) and to deal with adultery, prostitution, rape, calumny against brides and divorce (Spec. III, 8–81). The seventh commandment forbids murder, an act that is not only abominable but also sacrilegious because it involves the destruction of God’s image (Spec. III, 83). In the legal domain, Philo follows Exodus XXI, in making a distinction between voluntary and involuntary murder. He also draws up the principles of penal law, which forbids the transfer of individual responsibility to others (ibid. 153–168); the lex talionis is intended to ensure that punishment is proportionate to the crime (ibid. 181–183). Dealing with the prohibition against theft expressed in the eighth commandment, Philo distinguishes, as in the Bible, between theft with violence and theft from need, or burglary. He also records the laws of compensation concerning stolen cattle. The “theft of human beings” by those selling victims into slavery draws categorical condemnation. He compares to theft the annexation of grazing rights belonging to another, damage caused by fire left unattended, and the non-restitution of a deposit of money. One who borrows utensils and animals, which are then stolen must demonstrate good faith and show that he himself had been the victim of theft. Apart from a few allegorical transpositions, all this is in accord with biblical rules. The ninth commandment is related to bearing false witness. Combining Exodus XXIII,1–8 with Deuteronomy XVI,19–20, Philo recommends that a judge be vigilant, indifferent to rumour and popular opinion, impervious to bribery, and upholding strict impartiality in all legal proceedings. The tenth commandment, which deals with covetous behaviour, allows Philo to develop one of his favourite themes: the tyranny of passions. Envious desire remains the most cruel of afflictions, it consumes the soul and leads to many evils (theft, breach of trust, adultery, murder). It is the source of all vice, the impulse most remote “from reason’s royal seat”, since it resides far from the head, in the belly and lower abdomen “where food-taking and copulation dwell” (Spec. IV, 94). Here Philo emerges as a moralist, requiring no scriptural support. However, he returns to Mosaic laws when he considers, as a training in frugality and consequently in virtue, the dietary laws and the practice of first-fruit offerings, which delay the consumption of agricultural products. The dietary laws indeed protect the biblical commentary 149 mankind because they prescribe eating only clean animals to ensure the preservation of bodily and spiritual health; the allegorical interpretation of their characteristics clearly reveals that they develop knowledge and self-control. With the addition of a brief dissertation on justice appended to the tenth commandment, it may be said that the treatise on “Special Laws” embraces all of Mosaic legislation, logically classified, as it would be later in the Mishna, the Talmud and the writings of Maimonides, with a somewhat modified point of view.

The Exegetical Invention of Philo

The Variety of Ways Philo is the earliest ancient author to write a continuous biblical commentary. In this single-handed corpus, some modern readers have sought to affirm a single method if not two, namely the literal and the allegorical. Philo’s treatises have been classified according to the priority given to one or other of these two methods. The general view58 remains that one should distinguish between, on the one hand, “the exposition of the Law,” which includes the narrative of Creation, immediately followed by the De Abrahamo, and other narratives concerning biblical figures (some of which are lost), and, on the other hand, the commentary, from the Legum Allegoriae onwards, in which the allegorical interpretation is immediately evident. However, if one considers the content rather than the method, Philo’s commentary could be divided into three parts: the creation of the world, the succession of human generations up to Moses, and the legislation of Moses. This division will be used here for the sake of clarity. Valentin Nikiprowetzky contributed significantly to research which demonstrated that many questions raised by the biblical text were left unformulated in the treatises—contrary to Quaestiones et Solutiones— and that those questions should be recovered in order to follow the main thread of each treatise. He himself showed the way in examining two consecutive commentaries, De Gigantibus and Quod Deus immutabilis sit. Nikiprowetzky convincingly demonstrated that these were formed of

58 Cf. L. Massebieau and E. Bréhier, « Essai sur la chronologie de la vie et des œuvres de Philon », Revue de l’histoire des religions 53, 1906. 150 chapter six fourteen questions and responses to some verses from Genesis. However, we should acknowledge that this does not account for the structure of all the exegetical treatises, or at least it clearly needs to be nuanced. When Philo examines the life of a biblical figure, Abraham, Joseph or Moses—the only “lives of illustrious men” to survive—the narrative is clearly dominant: Philo simply follows the Bible. For each passage he systematically offers two explanations,59 the literal account and the underlying meaning, “for broadly speaking, all or most of the law book is an allegory” ( Jos. 28). To Philo, the biblical figures are, indeed, real people, incontestably historical, but at the same time their lives represent time- less truths. What happens should be interpreted both literally “as applied to the man” and allegorically “as applied to the soul” (Abr. 88). Some treatises have clear central themes indicated by their titles. De Somniis relates Jacob’s dreams (the vision of the ladder, or the story of Laban’s flock, Somn. I), the dreams of Joseph, Pharaoh and various other Egyptian dignitaries (Somn. II), with mostly allegorical interpretations. Jacob rests his head on a stone, a symbol not only of his ascetic life, but also of the divine word on which life must depend (Somn. II, 120–132). The De Virtutibus, treatise on the virtues (courage, humanity, repentance, and nobility) is, of course, preoccupied with ethics; a typology of biblical figures is associated with various Mosaic laws which did not find their place in the De Specialibus Legibus. In this case, the allegory is absent. The De Praemiis, treatise on rewards and punishments, provides examples of virtues rewarded (that of the two triads of Genesis and Moses) combined with a fragment on the punishment of Cain and on observable cases of blessings and curses. Hagar’s flight into the desert and her encounter with an angel near a spring inspires a treatise (De Fuga) based on three themes—flight, discovery, spring—having various other parallels. In the treatises concerning Cain or Noah, Philo indeed follows the biblical text, but he progresses very slowly. Each work revolves around a small number of basic verses, growing in volume through multiple digressions until the original verse is virtually lost from view. In fact, Philo adopts here a kind of association of ideas, dictated by some keywords; he invents

59 This is clearer in the De Abrahamo and the De Josepho, but the symbolism intervenes often in the Life of Moses, for example concerning the burning bush (I, 67–70) or the dress of the high priest (II, 109–135). the biblical commentary 151 unexpected links and original symbols. The biblical verse is no more than a starting point for a tissue of harmonised coincidences. This may explain the contradictory judgments on Philo’s commentary: both the admiration of those who find in it clarity and richness, and the perplexity of those who see in it simply “pious rhetoric”.

“God is not like man” Thus Philo constantly adapts his exegesis to the subject. When he encounters a difficult point, he may devote a disproportionate place in the treatise to its explanation. He moves to the next verse only when he is sure that he has adequately answered the difficulty. A good example of this method is found in the Quod Deus immutabilis sit, where one third of the treatise deals with the title “God is immutable”: that He is not subject to change implies, in this context, that He is incapable of regret. All commentators have, at one time or another, felt the necessity to explain biblical anthropomorphisms, but Philo anticipated them all. The belief that God may have “regret” for having created the human race, as might be understood from the passage preceding the account of the Flood, strikes him as impious, if not “atheistic.” Repentance in the case of Enoch was a virtue, but God’s regret in such circumstances would be totally incompatible with His divine infallibility. God, being all-knowing, does not change with circumstance; only mankind wavers in its tastes and opinions, or is uncertain about the future. God knows His creatures and penetrates the innermost recesses of their hearts. He is not subject to time, which He has created; divine eternity is a permanent present, without past or future (Deus 27–32). Nothing in human nature escapes God’s knowledge. Consequently, He could not have changed His mind after discovering the evil in man. Philo has to explain a Greek text in which two verbs seem to refer to God’s regret for having created man. He attempts to attenuate their meaning into “He has in His mind and bethought”: in other words God had no regret, “He thought of what nature” He had made man (ibid. 49). It has always been more acceptable to attribute thoughts rather than feelings to God, still less movements and physical attributes. Philo does not hesitate to confront that question (Deus 60). In fact, he cannot escape it when, with regard to the Tower of Babel, he must comment on the verse: “And the Lord came down to see the city” (Gen. XI,5). Philo rebels against any literal interpretation, which would be “an impiety that may be said to transcend the bounds of the ocean and of the 152 chapter six

universe itself ” (Confus. 134). Indeed, according to a verse that Philo likes to quote independent of its context,60 “God is not as man” (Numbers XXIII,19). The Bible uses wording accessible to man “because we cannot get outside ourselves but frame our conceptions of the Uncreated from our own experience.”61 As a matter of convenience, it applies a human language to God, who has no human form. Otherwise it would not be possible to speak of Him.62 Any anthropomorphic representation of God would be absurd.63 Like- wise, one should not attribute to Him anger or envy. Speaking of God in such terms has only a pedagogic purpose, as intelligent people know. For the majority incapable of reaching higher truths, they will at least slake their thirst with some useful lies which will help them mend their ways.64 They will obey God out of fear while “those into whose conception of the Existent no thought of human parts or passions enter, who pay Him the honour meet for God for His own sake only” will obey by love.65

Are there Myths in the Bible? Philo also protests against a no-less “atheistic” claim than anthropomorphic literalism: should the biblical accounts be considered as in some way mythological? In Philo’s time, there were free thinkers, who “made it their constant study to denounce and decry the Laws” (Confus. 2). They made a parallel between the Tower of Babel and the piling up of the two mountains, Ossa and Pelion, as narrated by Homer (Odyssey XI, 315–318). Was it not evident that the two accounts had the same purpose: to expose the folly of man trying to build an easy road to heaven and access to the divine abode. As for the idea that there existed a common language of mankind prior to Babel, did this not equate with ancient myths according to which “in old days all living beings whether on land, on water or winged, had the same language” (Confus. 6)? Men envied the serpent, which periodically restores its youth by casting off its skin, so they had impudently asked for immortality and had been punished with the confusion of tongues.

60 Cf. Confus. 98, Somn. I, 237, Deus 53. 61 Cf. Confus. 98. 62 Cf. Confus. 135–139. 63 Deus 57–60. 64 Deus 63–68; Somn. I, 236–237. 65 Deus 69. the biblical commentary 153

Otherwise, one can find here and there instances which are reminiscent of mythical tales, like the serpent tempter endowed with speech (Opif. 157) or the giants appearing on earth after the union of fallen angels with the daughters of men (Gig. 58). Aware of such blasphemous interpretations, Philo vigorously combats them, and sometimes in his zeal to refute them he discovers new exegetical inventions. Allegory offers Philo an escape from myth. The original common language reflects the chorus of mischievous ill-doings in which mankind daily engages or the collection of physical, psychic, and exterior evils which cause the human soul to fall apart. The bricks are symbols of the impious projects of the wicked; the land of Shinar, which means shaking as in “earthquake,” refers to the agitated and unstable soul (Confus. 69). The wicked construct a city from which equality and justice will be banished, a tower delivered to the tyranny of vices which challenges Heaven by denying God, Providence or Creation (ibid. 114). Their only ambition is to “make a name for themselves” (Gen. XI,4). Their shameless impudence signifies that they are inveterate sinners, the authentic offspring of Cain (Confus. 122). But their arrogant undertaking fails and the tower is left unfinished. When the guilty builders are thrown into confusion this signifies that all the elements of evil are destroyed. Philo also fears that the role of the serpent as tempter in the book of Genesis might be confused with mythology. Using allegorical interpretation, he seeks to convey the serpent as a symbol of pleasure in all its forms, from gluttony to sexual excess. Just as the serpent crawls on its belly, the pleasure-lover is enslaved to the desires of his belly; just as the serpent consumes clods of earth, the glutton stuffs himself with the produce of the earth, neglecting the celestial nourishment provided by wisdom; just as the serpent transmits venom by its fangs, so his human equivalent suf- focates from excesses of food (Opif. 157–159). Moreover the movements of the serpent are complex: it has five ways of coiling its body, just as humans use their five senses to excite pleasure (Leg. II, 74), and just as the serpent emits a human voice, so human pleasure finds thousands of defenders (Opif. 160). When Philo deals with the verses, “And when the angels of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair” (Gen. VI,2), he immediately warns: “Let no one suppose that what is here said be a myth” (Gig. 7). Are not all the parts of the universe inhabited by various kinds of beings? The angels would be those invisible beings living in the air: “Souls, demons and angels are but different names for the same one underlying object” (ibid. 16). The fall of the angels which follows their union with the daughters of men 154 chapter six corresponds to the fall of the soul: in contact with flesh, it separates from the divine spirit, while “souls that are free from flesh and body spend their days in the theatre of the universe, with a joy that none can hinder, see and hear things divine (ibid. 31). The story of the giants appearing on earth risks being compared to “the myths of the poets about the giants” (ibid. 58). But Philo considers that Moses, like Plato, banished artists from his commonwealth “because their craft belies the nature of truth and works deception and illusion.” Far from proposing a fable about giants, the Bible rather shows that there exists an inferior species of mankind, “the earth born” (ibid. 65) “who indulge in the pleasures of the body,” and divert intellect from the straight path. As reason vanished, the false angels coupled with effeminate passions (“the daughters of men”) and made children for themselves, not for God, because selfishness, mother of all vices, had taken the upper hand in them. This commentary of chapter VI in Genesis shows how distant Philo’s inspiration lies from the apocalyptic idea. The first book of Enoch, which belongs to the apocalyptic genre, preserves the mythological style of the original text: fallen angels coupled with the daughters of men, would have instructed mankind in a variety of wicked behaviours so that their sons, the giants, would have given themselves up to all aberrations. This explains the origin of evil on earth.66

Philo and the Midrash

Philo’s exegetical work was probably not radically new in his own time. He does not cite specific names, but he acknowledges predecessors, “divinely gifted men who made deep research into the writings of Moses”.67 Did his models belong to an Alexandrian tradition developed in the synagogue or were they influenced by Judaean schools? In Jerusalem, at the time of Philo, the Pharisees, as we have seen, were considered the best exegetes of the Torah, while the Essenes produced commentaries on the Prophets, the pesher rediscovered among the Dead Sea Scrolls. One of the most prestigious Pharisaic masters from Jerusalem, the great Hillel, was still alive in Philo’s youth, as was his rival, Shammai. It is known that Hillel maintained relations with Alexandria, but it is more difficult

66 I Enoch VI–VIII, Ecrits intertestamentaires, La Pléiade, Paris, 1987. 67 Spec. I, 8; Mos. I, 4 (« the elders of the nation »); Migr. 89. the biblical commentary 155 to confirm that his teachings were known outside Judaea. Commentaries were not committed to writing; they had to remain as “oral law.” It is only much later—at least one century after the destruction of the Temple— that oral traditions began to be collated for what would later constitute the Talmud and the Midrash. These traditions are generally transmitted in the name of the master who elaborated them, but in the 3rd century ce and beyond, it was difficult to gather traditions as ancient as that of the period of Hillel. Thus, in spite of the prestige attached to the identity of a few great masters, their teaching is almost entirely lost. Since ideas travel, it is somewhat tempting to assume that Philo, always ready to listen to new teachings, might have appropriated in another form and another language, some of these notions in the interest of his own works. If such a hypothesis stands, might we detect within Philo’s literal or allegorical explanations, the earliest traces of what was to become the Midrash. In other words, Philo could be the author of a Midrash in the Greek language, as a result of which, we might trace the “archaeology”68 of the later Hebrew-Aramaic Midrash. Philo’s use of the expression “unwritten law” (agraphos nomos) has sometimes served to strengthen this hypothesis. He would so describe the oral Law,69 which includes ancestral traditions as well as interpretations of the Holy Scripture, known in Hebrew as midrash, “research” It is difficult to overlook common points between Philo’s reflection and the Midrash, in spite of the more philosophical orientation of Philo’s commentary. However it is equally problematic to specify the influence of an ancient tradition hypothetically reconstituted. Would Philo owe to the Midrash his allegorical interpretation of names from their etymology? For example, Besaleel “in the shadow of God”, or the names of the descendants of Cain,70 all interpreted in a negative fashion, as in the Midrash Rabba on Genesis XXII, 2. Philo sometimes suggests an etymology justifiably founded in the Hebrew: Ishmael “he who hears God”; Amalek, “the people who lick”; Noah “resting”. He might sometimes retain only a single part of the word. For example, he reads the new name of Jacob, “Israel”, as if it designated “he who has seen God.” In this, Philo

68 The expression originates from S. Belkin who published himself a Hebrew translation of the Quaestiones entitled Philo’s Midrash Yeshiva University, New York 1989, p. 14. 69 Cf. Ritter, Philo und die Halacha, and Wolfson, op. cit. p. 191. However neither indicates that the expression is also well-known to the Greeks, since it is in the context of this type of law that the heroine Antigone is mentioned facing the tyrant Creon. 70 Cf . E. Stein, Philo und der Midrash, Giessen, 1931, pp. 12–15. 156 chapter six certainly shows that he knows the theophoric value of the name ending “–el” but at the same time he very approximately connects the name “Israel” with the verb ra’ah “see”, instead of sarah “be strong”. It is true that philological rigour is unknown in antiquity and very often the pho- netic similitude triumphs over grammatical analysis, as in the explanation of various biblical names. This is also seen in the fanciful etymologies of Plato in his dialogues or those of the rabbis in the Midrash. What counts is not the real etymology but what one seeks to say in the word. That is why Philo only retains in the name Eshkol, signifying “cluster”, the beginning esh “fire” or even in Hanokh (Enoch) the root hen “grace”, which applies only to the first syllable. Some of his explanations remain irresolvable, as that of Abraham, “elected father of voice” or Rebecca “constancy”. Sometimes even Philo commits errors which can only be explained through the Greek. For example, he has the giant Shishai (Numbers XIII,22) represent a symbol of external goods, since his name signifies “beyond me”. This is an error which can only originate from the Greek ektos: Instead of reading the word with initial aspirate in the sense of “my sixth” (shesh—six, in Hebrew), he has read the word without aspiration to mean “exterior”. This example is highlighted by all those who minimise Philo’s knowledge of Hebrew. Might he have used lists of Hebrew-Greek equivalents? There has been speculation about this. He is, after all, working from a Greek text of the Bible. When the names of Abram and Saraï are transformed into Abraham and Sarah (Mutat. 66–80), Philo does not explain the modification of the Hebrew, but rather that of the Greek, with the doubling of letters—Abraam and Sarra—as found in the Greek translation of the Bible. This is evident, too, in the terms he uses when he explains that the earth created on the first day was “invisible”71 or that God “reflected” on human nature before deciding on the Great Flood, but that he did not “repent” for having created man.72 The result of this observation is that Philo based his commentaries on the Greek Bible. Nothing permits the assumption, quite apart from the difficulty in obtaining and handling the parchment scrolls, that he used a Hebrew Bible to make direct comparisons with the Greek text. A further possible link between Philo and the Midrash is the fine attention devoted to the slightest nuance of the text. Why, he queries, would

71 Opif. 29, aoratos; cf. supra p. 129. 72 Deus. 21 s.; cf. supra p. 151. the biblical commentary 157

Moses speak of the Nile alone as having “lips” (banks) and refrain from doing so in the case of the Euphrates and other rivers? (Somn. II, 300). How may we justify the plural “Let us make man”? There is no detail that would be insignificant in the sacred text. According to Philo, the word theos, as the Greek form of Elohim, refers to God’s compassion and creative power, while kurios, for the tetragrammaton, corresponds to God’s authority and royal power. In the Midrash, these equivalents are inverted. Might Philo, in this precise case, attest to an early phase of the tradition? The idea that the patriarchs observed the Law even before it had been given, recurs in rabbinical literature as it does in Philo’s work, probably inspired by a same text: “because Abraham has heard my voice and he has observed my orders, my precepts and my laws” (Genesis, XXVI,5). Refuta- tions of anthropomorphism have always been an obligatory requirement for theologians for fear of accusations of a major heresy. There are, however, more differences than similarities between Philo and the Midrash. This is mainly due to the philosophical content of Philo’s commentary and his systematic use of allegory, whereas the Midrash retains the human dimension of the biblical figures. If there are some resemblances, it is because they both comment on the same text and with the same respect; so the text becomes, for both, “a tool of spiritual invention.”73 Confronted with such lacunae in our knowledge concerning the state of the oral Midrash during Philo’s time, the question of influences must remain open. Paradoxically, the most ancient example of Midrashic technique could be that of Philo, working from a Greek translation of Scripture, which was, in his eyes, equal to the Hebrew original in divine inspiration.

73 Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire p. 181.

CHAPTER SEVEN

PHILO AND PHILOSOPHY

If Philo had had the opportunity to go his own way, he would have spent his life immersed in philosophical contemplation. Only philosophy provided him the true happiness he longed for: There was a time when I had leisure for philosophy and for the contemplation of the universe and its contents, when I made its spirit my own in all its beauty and loveliness and true blessedness, when my constant companions were divine themes and verities wherein I rejoiced with a joy that never cloyed or sated. I had no base or abject thoughts nor grovelled in search of reputation or of wealth or bodily comforts, but seemed always to be borne aloft into the heights with a soul possessed by some God-spent inspiration, a fellow traveller with the sun and moon and the whole heaven and universe. (Spec. III, 1) For Philo, the practice of philosophy seems to have constituted an almost mystic experience allowing him to rise above all things contingent, ephem- eral, daily, vulgar, material; to transcend earthly realities in the search for heavenly realms. For him, the practice of philosophy was the consuming struggle to acquire a pure soul immersed in the contemplation of eternal verities. The image of the soul as a winged chariot, which Plato evokes in his Phaidrus (247 c-e), obviously inspired him. However, for Philo this is more than a mere literary device: in moments of pure meditation, he seems to have experienced a liberation from his temporal himself as he encountered an incorporeal world.

Contemplation and Philosophy

Thus for Philo, philosophy is often identified with contemplation of the universe. Therefore, vision is the most precious of all five senses, as it gives a man access to insight born of contemplation: “Now as for the services and benefits which the eyes render to the human race, it would take a long time to enumerate them, but one, the best, should be mentioned. Philosophy was showered down by heaven and received by the human mind, but the guide which brought the two together was sight, for sight was the first to discern the high roads which lead to the upper air” ( Spec. III, 185). 160 chapter seven

The eye is nourished by the uninterrupted spectacle presented by nature, thereby offering the soul an ineffable pleasure, which propels it to investigate the “visible beings” that sight captures: Were they engendered by nature or had they begun at their genesis; how did they move and what causes regulated the economy of the movement of each of them? In examining these problems, the philosophical habit was born, and entered human life, by comparison with which there is no more perfect wealth. (Opif. 54) More than any other sense perception, vision relates most closely to the soul. Always moving, always in a state of awareness, vision requires light, that finest of gifts, in order to contemplate the universe. In this way, the eye is the stimulus of thought and, therefore, of philosophy. But the eyes leave earth and in an instant reach heaven and the boundaries of the universe, east, west, north and south alike, and when they arrive draw the understanding to the observation of what they have seen. And the understanding affected in like manner is not quiescent, but, unsleep- ing and constantly in motion as it is, takes the sight as the starting-point for its power of observing the things of the mind, and proceeds to investigate whether these phenomena are uncreated or had some beginning of creation, whether they are infinite or finite, whether there is one world or more than one, whether the four elements make up all things, or whether, on the other hand, heaven and its contents enjoy a special nature of their own and have been given a substance which differs from the others and is more divine. Further, if the world has been created, who is the Creator? What is His essence and quality? What was His purpose in making it? What does He do now and what is His occupation and way of life? And all the other questions which the curious mind, with good sense ever at its side, is wont to explore. But these and the like belong to philosophy, whence it is clear that wisdom and philosophy owe their origin to none other of our faculties than to the princess of the senses, sight. (Abr. 161–164) All the questions raised by the spectacle of the world give birth to philosophy since they awaken a love of knowledge and a quest for wisdom: We might well ask what title we can give to research into these matters, if not philosophy, and what more fitting name than philosopher to their investigator. For to make a study of God and the Universe embracing all that is therein, both animals and plants, and of the conceptual archetypes and also the works which they produce for sense to perceive, and of the good and evil qualities in every created thing—shews a disposition which loves to learn, loves to contemplate and is truly wisdom-loving or philosophical. (Spec. III, 191) philo and philosophy 161

Philosophy as described by Philo is not linked to any system. Any man can work his way up towards her, if he possesses a “winged” soul capable of carrying him aloft.

Philo and the Greek Philosophical Schools

It would be an illusion to believe that a philosopher in a city like Alex- andria, which benefitted from the entire legacy of Greek thought, would have spontaneously devoted himself to contemplating the world without reference to any of his predecessors or to the founders of great philosophical schools that still existed in his time. Indeed, higher education required the study of philosophy. It was compulsory to learn about the various schools of thought, each exposing its own conception of the world. The debate and the choice between these schools could then follow. Books had probably taught Philo more than the observation of nature, but their diversity rendered him perplexed. In Philo’s time, it was usual to divide philosophy into three categories:1 logic, physics (in the sense of reflection on the nature of the universe) and ethics. Logic was essentially devoted to examining the precision of language and probably played a secondary role to the other two disciplines. On essential questions pertaining to man and the world, philosophers defended widely different, if not opposing, conclusions: When some assert that the universe is infinite, others that it is finite, and some declare it to be created, others uncreated; when some refuse to con- nect it with any ruler or governor, but make it dependent on the automatic action of an unreasoning force, while others postulate a marvellous providence caring for the whole and each part, exerted by a deity who guides and steers it and makes safe its steps, it is impossible that the substance of things should be apprehended by them in the same form.2 They no more agreed on ethics than on physics since they could not find a common definition for the nature of good. For some hold that the morally beautiful is the only good and make the soul its repository, while others split up the good into subdivisions and extend it to include the body and things outside the body. These persons say that fortunate circumstances are the guards and attendants of the body, and that

1 Philo develops this Stoic distinction in Leg. I, 57, Agric. 14–16, Ebr. 202, Mut. 74, Virt. 8, Spec. I, 336. 2 Ebr. 198 and 199. Cf. Her. 246. 162 chapter seven

health and strength and soundness and exactness of perception in the sense- organs and all other things of the kind serve the same purpose to sovereign soul. The nature of the good, they hold, divides itself into three classes, of which the third and outermost protects the weakness of the second, which again proves to be a strong bulwark and safeguard of the first.3 Within the same cultural background, there was no need to underline details. Philo addressed an audience sufficiently informed to be able to rapidly distinguish the various philosophical schools. Likewise, in the treatise on the creation of the world (Opif. 7), when Philo criticises people “who, holding the world in admiration rather than its Maker, pronounced it to be without beginning, and everlasting, although with impious falsehood they postulate in God a vast inactivity,” there is no need to explicitly identify the Aristotelians. In more didactic treatises, the authenticity of which was sometimes contested, various philosophical systems are more explicitly opposed.4 Among the partisans for a world created and corruptible, significant differences may be distinguished. On the one hand, Epicurus and Democri- tus imagine multiple universes, created by the encounter of atoms and dismantled when colliding. On the other hand, the Stoics hold that the divinity presides in the formation of a unique universe, but that in the course of time, a conflagration occurs from which emerges a whole new world. Both of these two systems, the first of which is mechanist and the second providential, hold that the world is, simultaneously, both corruptible and eternal. Aristotle, on the contrary, believes the world to be uncreated and eternal. Plato holds the world to be created, while its creator, the demiurge, chooses to maintain it since he refuses to let his work disintegrate. The opinions quoted by Philo are rarely supported by precise references to texts. Only once, in the case of the Aristotelian theory, does he mention a work by Ocellus of Lucania, entitled the Nature of the Universe. As for Plato, Philo cites only a single paragraph from the great dialogue on Creation, the Timaeus, although this work continues to inspire him elsewhere, even when it is not cited. From those few examples, we may comprehend the wide range of Philo’s reading. Philosophy certainly derives from the contemplation of nature, but contemplation still requires guides to help orientate reflection. Such

3 Ebr. 200–201. 4 Aet. 7. philo and philosophy 163 guides are found among the well-known philosophical schools. While the philosophers might have various opinions, it is sufficient that they do not betray their listeners with vain speeches. Among the charlatans are the Sceptics, “who do not concern themselves with the best things in nature, whether perceived by the senses or the mind, but spend themselves on petty quibbles and trifling disputes.”5 Those “word-hunters” do not seek truth and good, therefore they are no more than despicable sophists, who in fact use philosophy against philosophy.6 In Philo’s day, there were still thinkers who, like Protagoras in the period of Socrates, held that “man is the measure of all things.”7 To Philo, the idea of giving priority to a terrestrial creature, subject to sense perceptions and illusions, is particularly impious. But he also condemns the idea that human weakness does not allow man to reach any kind of knowledge.8 There is another category of pseudo-philosophers—the “sophists”— who do not reflect their ideas in their way of life or even acknowledge that there are practical consequences to their philosophical positions. In fact, they appear to set little value at all on their own disingenuous rhetoric. This is the way of the sophists, for as they spin out their discourses on sound sense and endurance they grate on the ears of those most thirsting to listen, but in the choices that they make and the actions of their lives we find them going very far wrong.9 This hypocritical behaviour is actually most common, as may be observed: What city is not crowded with those who hymn virtue the ever virgin? They tear to pieces the ears of all they meet with such disquisitions as these: prudence is necessary, imprudence is harmful, temperance deserves our choice, intemperance our hatred; courage is worthy of perseverance therein, cowardice of avoidance; justice is profitable, injustice unprofitable; holiness is honourable, unholiness disgraceful. What is by nature the most appropriate to man is to deliberate graciously, to act graciously and to speak graciously.10 In Philo’s eyes, no man can be deemed worthy, no philosopher authentic and respectable, if he does not demonstrate his sincerity by harmonising thought with action.

5 Congr. 52. 6 Mos. II, 212. 7 Cited in Poster. 35. Cf. Plato, Cratylus 386a; Theaetetus 152a and Laws IV, 716c. 8 Her. 246. 9 Poster. 86; Congr. 67. 10 Mut. 197. 164 chapter seven

Having discounted “Sophists” of all kinds, Philo expresses admiration for some of the great Greek philosophers, most notably Plato, Pythagoras and the Stoics.

When Philo “Platonises”

There is a famous saying from Jerome, translator of the Vulgate: “Either Plato philonises or Philo platonises.”11 But it is only with the development of modern scholarship that Philo’s debt to Plato has been more precisely analysed.12 Does Philo acknowledge this indebtedness? Probably less than he should. Plato is, of course, cited by name here and there, but his thought is much more prevalent than his name in Philo’s works. As we shall see, Plato was more likely than any other philosopher to find an echo in Philo’s work. In one of his last dialogues, the Timaeus, Plato dares to confront, in an almost mythical manner, the vast problem of the creation of the universe. He first demonstrates by reason that this world is, by definition, in the process of creation, for all visible and tangible things are created. He then acknowledges the role of God, modestly called o demiourgos, that is, the craftsman. Motivated by pure benevolence, the demiurge organises the shapeless matter and uses it to fabricate a unique living being, the world. This world is perfect, spherical and is animated by a circular movement; it possesses a soul which extends from the centre to all its parts. It is everlasting, as is its Creator. The planets provide a measurement of time, “a mobile image of eternity”. As a concession to Greek beliefs, Plato leaves room for mythological divinities along with the celestial bodies, “visible gods”. To these deities, the demiurge entrusts the making of living beings, amongst whom is man. In the De Opificio Mundi and the Legum Allegoriae, where Philo follows in principle the account of Genesis, elements from the Timaeus can be discerned at every step. Only a critical, scholarly edition with many footnotes13 can account for the multiple parallels and modifications that Philo brings to his main source. God creates out of benevolence. He exerts

11 De viris illustribus 11. 12 Cf. Fabricius, Exercitatio de platonismo Philonis Judaei (12 pages), Leipzig, 1693, repr. Hamburg 1734. J. Horowitz, Untersuchungen über Philons und Platons Lehre von der Weltschöp- fung, Marburg, 1900; Th. Billings, The Platonism of Philo Judaeus, Chicago 1919, and most recently D. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, Brill, Leiden, 1986. 13 See D. Runia’s edition, Leiden, 2001. philo and philosophy 165

Providence over His creation and will not allow it to be destroyed. As an architect—this image is preferred to that of “craftsman” in Plato’s works— He planned, and then created, the intelligible world. Thus Philo revisits the most famous of Platonic theories, which is developed in the Timaeus and elsewhere: the existence of a world of ideas. This world must exist before material creation: it is the plan in the architect’s mind, the logos, through which the universe is suffused with divine intelligence. As for the creation of man, Philo distinguishes between sense and intelligence; between physical man and the spiritual man of the mind. This is somewhat different from Plato’s idea that the demiurge only makes souls and leaves to subordinate deities the task of uniting those souls with bodies. Philo has the same preoccupation as Plato, although his explanation is not identical: to exonerate the creator from any responsibility for the evil of man, Philo also has auxiliaries intervene to form that imperfect being, man. Philo had no doubt read the Timaeus and meditated over it. He may also have read books or heard lectures about it, for there was a resur- gence of interest in Plato during his lifetime. Middle-Platonism, which appeared a little later in the course of the first century, makes intensive use of the Timaeus. This trend, which expanded throughout the eastern Mediterranean was born in Alexandria.14 Its beginnings are barely known, but became most intense about a century after Philo. However, it might be said that Philo accurately anticipated that trend in the importance he attached to Platonic doctrines in his works, particularly to the Timaeus, which was to occupy a central position in Middle Platonism.

“Everything is Number” (Pythagoras)

From Antiquity, Philo has been called both Platonist and Pythagorean15 without the slightest contradiction between the two appellations. In fact, Plato himself was regarded as a disciple of Pythagoras, and in the Timaeus, he introduced a Pythagorean as his spokesman. In the period of Middle Platonism, Pythagorism would rapidly come to be included in the Platonist tradition. Neo-Pythagorism had a parallel development in the second century, with oriental authors like Nicomachus of Gerasa (ca 120)

14 D. Runia, Philo of Alexandria and the Timaeus of Plato, p. 49. 15 Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 2, 4, 2. Clement of Alexandria cites Philo twice as the « Pythagorean »: Stromateis 1.72.4 and 2.100.39. 166 chapter seven and Numenius of Apamea (ca 150). This school analysed reality from a mathematical point of view. In this, too, it may be said that Philo was a precursor. Several of Philo’s treatises contain numerical reflections, but in the De Opificio mundi, their place becomes more central. Indeed, numbers govern the laws of the physical world and are cited as the cause of order, or cosmos, in the existing universe. The incorporeal, purely intelligible world is placed under the auspices of the One, the unit, which constitutes, for Pythagoras, the very essence of the divine.16 He then accords great significance to all the subsequent numerals up to ten. The numeral two, an image of divided matter, has a feminine nature; the numeral three, recalling three-dimensional solid bodies, is by nature masculine. Their union gives birth to six, the perfect number corresponding to creation. It is considered to be perfect because it is equal to the sum of its parts: its half (three), its third (two), and its sixth (one). All living beings are governed by the number six, for they are able to move in six directions: forward, backward, up, down, right and left.17 The properties inherent in the figure four entitles it also to be described as a “perfect number.” It is the first number, which can be squared and the only number in which the addition and product of the parts are equal. A geometrical explanation may be added to the arithmetical: the number four defines the principle of solid bodies because it contributes the point (one), the line (two) and the surface (three), as well as the notion of depth. It also functions in the relation between musical chords: fourth, fifth, octave and double octave. Above all, the number four is one of the foundation stones of the universe, which is created out of the four elements (earth, water, air, and fire), and of the year, which is divided into four seasons. So enthusiastic was Philo over the virtues of the number four that he even promises to devote a full treatise to it.18 This surprising veneration of the number four should be attributed to Pythagoras, who considered the number four to be sacred, the very “source of nature, whose flow is everlasting.”19 The most inspiring number for Philo is undoubtedly seven. His celebration of the dignity conveyed by the number seven is “beyond all words”. It occupies at least forty paragraphs in the De Opificio (89–128), while also

16 Opif. 15, 35. 17 Leg. I, 3–4; Opif. 13. 18 Opif. 52. 19 Golden Verses, l. 47. philo and philosophy 167 treated at length in other treatises.20 The holiness of seven is, to an extent, based on Pythagorean arguments. According to Greek tradition, the number seven was intrinsic to Athena, “the motherless and eternal virgin”, born from the head of Zeus. Alone among the first ten numbers, it is by nature neither giving birth nor having been given birth. The seven may be seen as the essence of immutability. That is why the Pythagoreans, like Philolaos, who was cited by Philo,21 prefer ascribing the hebdomad to God, “since there is a supreme ruler of all things, God ever One, abiding without motion, Himself like unto Himself, different from all others”. Curiously, the hebdomad ends by being characterised like the divine monad as “the only one thing that neither causes motion nor experiences it.” Apart from its arithmetical properties and that of the seventh numbers in the geometrical progression 2 (64) or 3 (729), the seven, composed of three and four, is the principle of Geometry and Stereometry. It is indeed the norm for each body, since each possesses three dimensions and four limits (point, line, surface, volume). The number seven also provides a key to the cosmos. The lunar cycle embraces twenty-eight days; that is, a multiple of seven equal to the sum of its divisors (1 + 2 + 4 + 7 + 14), as well as the sum of its parts. Seven circles may be counted in the sky. There are seven planets, according to the cosmology of the time, seven stars in the Great Bear, and seven in the Pleiades. Moreover, the two equinoxes each fall on the seventh month. The number seven also determines the life of man, since the ages of man are divided into ten periods of seven years each, according to the Athenian legislator Solon. Hippocrates held that there are seven ages: infant, child, adolescent, young man, mature man, elderly man, and old man (Opif. 105). The seven-month embryo becomes viable, whereas the eight month embryo22 may fail to survive. Most sick- nesses reach crisis-point on the seventh day. The entire human body is subjected to the number seven. It comprises seven exterior parts (head, breast, belly, two hands, two feet), as do the seven interior parts (stomach, heart, lung, spleen, liver, and two kidneys). In the same way, the head consists of seven most essential parts (two eyes, two ears, two nostrils and a mouth). The body also produces seven kinds of secretions (tears, mucus, saliva, urine, perspiration, sperm). There are five senses as well as the faculty of speech and that of generation: a total of seven faculties.

20 Leg. I, 8–15, Spec. II, 56–59. 21 Opif. 100. 22 This notion current in the Greeks stems from the play on words in: zè ta èpta “the seven lives”. 168 chapter seven

Where do we not find the number seven? There are seven visible forms (body, extension, shape, size, colour, movement, repose), seven varieties of sounds (acute, grave, circumflex, aspirated, non-aspirated, long, short), seven directional movements (upward, downward, right, left, forward, backward and circular). The lyre has seven strings, there are seven Greek vowels. The number seven may be said to be truly “august” (sebastos) and “worthy” (semnos). Thus it justifies its Latin name of septem, which begins with an ‘s’ (as do the two Greek adjectives just described), although the ‘s’ has been lost in the Greek hepta. So even philology is employed to reinforce praise for the hebdomad, which Philo advocates so tirelessly. At the same time, the number eight should not be neglected, for it contains much beauty.23 Its properties are mainly mathematical: it is the first cube, it is the number of the perfect solid, it generates the number 36, which the Pythagoreans call “proportion” because it is formed by adding four odd numbers (1 + 3 + 5 + 7 = 16), and four even numbers (2 + 4 + 6 + 8 = 20). This is a union suited to procreation. The square of eight—sixty four—is also a cube. It is constituted by numbers sequenced in doubling: 1 + 2 + 4 + 8 + 16 + 32. Otherwise, the eight (ogdoad) is akin to the holy number seven because its half, its fourth and its eighth make a total of seven. Although nine was also considered a sacred number in Antiquity, Philo found no reason to praise it in his commentary of the Bible. Rather, he emphasises the importance of the decade.24 The number ten is indeed perfect as it develops the potentialities of the four, being formed by adding the first four units (1 + 2 + 3 + 4 = 10). The number ten contains the two, which is even, three which is odd, and the six which is both odd and even. It also contains the properties observed in geometrical figures or in harmonic intervals. The number ten contains seemingly infinite mathematical properties but it also offers a key to the universe, for ten categories are found in nature: substance, quality, quantity, relation, activity, passivity, state, position, time and space. This supreme perfection of ten was also asserted by the Pythagoreans, who saw in it “a physical balance, a measure and a totality”.25

23 Quaest. Gen. III, 49. 24 Decal. 20–31; cf. Opif. 47, Spec. II, 200. See bibliography in the complementary note 2 of the French edition (V. Nikiprowetzky, De Decalogo). 25 Nicomachus of Gerasa II, XIII, 1. philo and philosophy 169

Thus, Philo undoubtedly follows the Pythagorean tradition when it comes to numbers: mathematics is simply a point of departure leading to a better understanding of the universe, for “numbers are, from Philo’s point of view, perspectives opened on the nature of things.”26

Philo, A Stoic?

Philo’s Stoicism has been no less strongly asserted than his Platonism by modern readers. This may be corroborated by various aspects of the cosmology found in the De Opificio, as well as by Philo’s ethical theories, or the principle of allegorical exegesis, which pervades so much of his writings. Indeed, three treatises generally attributed him (Quod omnis probus liber sit, De Providentia, Alexander) are clearly of a Stoic orientation. Even the De Opificio, usually considered the most Platonist of Philo’s treatises, are, according to some, influenced by Stoicism. The Timaeus may have provided a literary model, but the main metaphysical concepts come from the Stoa.27 At the origin of the universe, there is God and matter. Was this uncreated, as Platonist doctrine seeks to assert, at the risk of rendering it co-eternal to God? Philo is not explicit on this, but he describes creation as the ordering of matter. Thus, in Philo’s view, two principles are involved in the Creation— one active, the other passive.28 God alone, as the active principle, truly deserves to be “Cause”. This terminology is typically Stoic. The created universe is administered by Providence as a great city, the megalopolis, which is another familiar Stoic expression. The only true citizens of this universal city are those beings which are endowed with reason, the “visible gods”—that is the heavenly bodies—and man, for whom this world has been ordered as it is. Indeed, the universe, in its created state profits, above all, men. Of all the philosophical schools, it is the Stoa which has developed furthest towards the expression of an ultimate anthropocentric concept, and it is to this that Philo owes most of the arguments he develops in the De Providentia. It is also in Stoic texts that Philo finds the themes developed in the De Animalibus; that is, the perfect adaptation of

26 V. Nikiprowetzky « Problèmes du récit de la Création chez Philon », REJ 124, 1965, republished in Etudes philoniennes, Editions du Cerf, 1996, p. 77. 27 Cf. J. Leisegang article « Philon » in the Real-Encyclopädie der classische Altertum- swissenschaft by Pauly-Wissowa-Kroll, vol. XX, I. 28 Opif. 8–9 cf. SVF II 299–301 and 346a. 170 chapter seven the animal organism as well as the superiority of man, which confers on him, master of the world, the use of his hands, speech and reason.29 For Philo, as for the Stoics, man is a microcosm copying the macrocosm of the universe. There is a “sympathy” between celestial and earthly realities which imply a unity of the whole and a solidarity of the parts. Again, for Philo, as for the Stoics, the parts of the universe are comparable to the parts of a living being, and what is true of the parts is true of the whole. Thus, the reason found in man is found, too, in the universe ruled by Providence. The universal reason pervading nature is none other than the divine logos, which is the law of the world.30 Neither the Stoics nor Plato hold God responsible for the obvious evil in the world. Philo borrows arguments from both to explain physical or moral evil, careful to spare divine responsibility.31 However, the Stoics chose to apply an allegorical interpretation to the immoral gods of Greek mythology to avoid having to reject the much-admired works of Homer and Hesiod. In De Providentia, Philo—if he is indeed the author—offers a typical example of this kind of exegesis: “What is said of Hephaistus under the appearance of a fable, link it to fire, what is said of Hera you must relate to the nature of the air, what is said of Hermes to the logos, and so on for all the other gods, according to the method of theology.”32 As a general rule, Philo challenges this type of exegesis, which seems to imply ascribing divinity to the elements. However when he addresses difficult texts from the Bible, it is the allegorical model developed by the Stoics, which permits him to satisfy his own aspirations to piety. In the domain of ethics, Philo is also indebted to the Stoics. The sage should master the four passions (sorrow, fear, desire and pleasure),33 which naturally affect all human beings, while scorning false gods, in order to achieve that unique richness, which is virtue. According to the Stoic conception, virtue is synonymous with reason, the logos, which pervades the universe. Philo, in total accordance with the Stoa, maintains that wisdom consists of “a life led agreeably to nature.”34 The sage who has abandoned

29 Cf. Cicero, De Natura Deorum, book II. 30 Opif. 143; Jos. 29, cf. SVF III, 316. 31 See my edition of the De Providentia, Introduction pp. 98–117. 32 Prov. II, 41, cf. SVF II 1066–1067 and 1075 but in Decal. 54, Philo refuses to admit this interpretation as his own. 33 This Stoic enumeration (SVF I, 211–DL VII 110) is frequently re-examined in Philo (Opif. 79, Leg. III, 133, Deter. 110, 119, Agric. 83, Migr 60, Abr. 236, Prov. II, 16, Prob. 159). 34 Celebrated Stoic precept currently attributed to Zeno in Prob. 160 and cited in Plant. 49; Migr. 120; Abr. 6, Virt. 18. philo and philosophy 171 the passions achieves a state of freedom, which cannot be taken away. The well-known Stoic paradox developed in the treatise Quod omnis probus liber sit holds that “every good man is free.” Other more specifically Stoic themes may be found in Philo alongside the ethical theory inherited from Plato, which has become common to both. By temperament, Philo opts for austerity, censuring luxury, gluttony and sensual pleasure, while exalting simplicity, frugality and self-control.

Barbarian Wisdoms: Essenes and Therapeutes

While convinced of their own superiority, the Greeks sometimes acknowledged that Barbarians (i.e., non-Greeks) possessed an ancient and venerable wisdom. Of course, they had no access to the literary sources; they simply imagined an “alien wisdom” from afar.35 Clearchus of Soli,36 a disciple of Aristotle (ca. 300 bce) provides an adequate example, even linking two little-known oriental cultures: “The philosophers, they say, are in India called Calani, in Syria by the territorial name of Jews for the district which they inhabit is known as Syria.” This tendency is more accentuated at the beginning of the Christian era. Thus the neo-Pythagorean philosopher Numenius of Apamea (2nd century) counsels not only connecting Plato with Pythagoras, but also, “appealing to nations of good repute, bringing forward their rights and doctrines and their institutions which are formed in agreement with those of Plato, all that the Brahmins and Jews, and Magi and Egyptians arranged.”37 Diogenes Laertius, the third century historian of philosophy, even quotes Clearchus declaring that Gymnophists (Brahmins) and Jews are said to be descended from the Magi. So Greeks seem to have been aware of what might be termed “barbarian wisdom.”38 It would not be exceptional if Philo encountered these ideas in Alexandria some centuries earlier. In his most Stoic treatise, the Quod omnis probus liber sit, Philo unhesi- tatingly relies on contemporaneous Greek examples to illustrate the celebrated paradox, later superbly affirmed by Epictetus, which holds that the sage is free in all circumstances, even in the condition of slavery, since

35 Cf. A. Momigliano, Alien Wisdom, Cambridge 1975, p. 8, 142. 36 Cited by Flavius Josephus, Against Apion I, 179. 37 Fragment 9a p. 130. Cited by A. Festugière, La Révélation d’Hermès Trismégiste, I, p. 19. 38 Festugière, ibid. p. 21. 172 chapter seven true slavery resides only in subjection to the passions. What holds our attention here is that Philo also mentions three classes of oriental sages: the Persian Magi, the Indian Brahmins and the Essenes, who belong to “the very populated nation of Jews”. It is hardly astonishing that no Egyp- tian sages are included in this listing, given Philo’s limited esteem for the indigenous population of the land in which he lives. The Greek world did not expect theoretical principles from oriental sages, but rather models of behaviour, since they were considered to lead lives of purity that brought man closer to the divine. Among the Persians there is the order of the Magi, who silently make research into the facts of nature to gain knowledge of the truth and, through visions clearer than speech, give and receive the revelations of divine excellence. In India, too, there is the order of the Gymnosophists, who study ethical as well as physical philosophy and make the whole of their lives an exhibition of virtue. (Prob. 74) The Magi, the priestly followers of Zoroastra, were said to have the power of divination owing to their superior wisdom. According to a Greek tradition, Pythagoras was one of their disciples. The Brahmins, whom the Greeks called “Gymnosophists” (the naked sages), had a reputation for exceptional virtue. Their emblematic representative in the Hellenistic world was Calanus. Philo cites him as being in the first rank of virtuous figures who achieved a state of sublime freedom. Calanus is believed to have refused to follow Alexander the Great despite the promise of glory in Europe and the rest of Asia. A letter, which is likely to have been of Philo’s invention, has Calanus declare: “There is no king, no ruler, who will compel us to do what we do not freely wish to do. We are not like those philosophers of the Greeks who practice words for a festive assembly. With us, deeds accord with words and words accord with deeds (Prob. 96).39 Philo incessantly promotes such conformity of speech and behaviour. In order to make his point, Philo is inclined to idealise a figure who had been introduced by earlier authors in a somewhat less favourable light (an “arrogant, slave to Alexander’s table”).40 These authors nevertheless agreed that Calanus voluntarily committed suicide, burning himself to death in Alexander’s presence. Philo, in the “letter from Calanus”, alludes to the Indian practice of suicide by fire: “Immense are the sufferings that fire occasions in the living organisms it consumes. But in our case, we take

39 Prob. 96. 40 Cf. Strabo, Geography XV, 1, 64 and 68. philo and philosophy 173 hold of ourselves: we all burn alive”. Philo attests elsewhere41 to a certain admiration for the Indian Gymnosophists who, he says, “even now, when the long incurable disease of old age begins to take hold of them, before they are completely in its clutches, make up a funeral pyre and burn themselves on it.” These preambles are a concession to conventional wisdom of the time, and a clever way of introducing that irreproachable model of virtue embodied by the Essenes. Philo devotes a lengthy passage to them in the Probus (75–91) and, briefly, in an apologia of the Jews, known by the title Hypothetica. The discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls in Qumran, has awoken new interest in this Jewish sect. On the basis of Philo’s descriptions and those of Josephus, the inhabitants of Qumran, located south of Jericho, have generally been identified as Essenes. This is the name given them by Josephus, though Philo prefers to call them Esseans, which suggests a Greek etymology from the adjective osioi “pious.” These saintly people lead an exemplary life. They preferably, but not always, live in communities far from cities where souls become polluted. They own no individual property. They live in the same place, eat meals together and pool resources. They take care of the old and the sick, and offer hospitality to journeying members of their brotherhood. Convinced of the fundamental equality of all human beings, they condemn slavery and work with their own hands, whether in the fields or elsewhere. Their activities are strictly peaceful and are not disposed to making profit. These true philosophers, who need no bright discourses, give priority to ethics over other philosophical issues because acquiring virtue is the only thing, which counts for them. They master ethics through the ‘ancestral laws’ read in their synagogues every seventh day, commented by a master who provides allegorical explanations. In this way, they learn to practice love of God, love of virtue and love of men. They also on some occasions acquire the freedom befitting the sage, by their behaviour in the face of tyrants, so engaging their respect.”42 The sanctity of the Essenes has therefore no parallel among Greeks or barbarians, but it has an equivalent among other Jews. At the gates of Alexandria, near Lake Mareotis, lived another Jewish community devoted

41 Abr. 182. 42 Philo mentions several cruel sovereigns as having reigned over Judaea. It is not known whether he is speaking of Hasmonaeans, Herodians, or whether he is reiterating a commonplace notion. Some particularly atrocious details have us believe they concern Ptolemy’s behaviour during the invasion of Judaea. 174 chapter seven to the contemplative life, which Philo calls the Therapeutes, a name deriving from the Greek verb therapeuein, meaning “to cure” or “to serve”. The word, says Philo, could be interpreted as “servants of God” or “healers of the soul.”43 The Therapeutes accumulated long experience44 by the time they decided to retire from worldly interests and devote themselves to meditation in what they call the “desert”—a rather pleasant spot on a hill where they might benefit from the salutary effects of the lake and the sea. These men and women “dedicated their own lives to knowledge and the contemplation of the verities of nature.” They are free from material needs. The Essenes engage in active life since they exercise a variety of occupa- tions and must manage all the possessions they share in common. The Therapeutes and the Therapeutrides on the other hand, exercise no activity and are liberated from all attachment to the goods of this world by distributing them to their family or others in their circle. They inhabit small houses neither too close nor too distant from each other, which permits them to live in isolation during the week and meet each other without difficulty every seventh day. Each house includes two rooms, providing separation between sacred and profane: one room, “the monastery” (the first appearance of the term as a site of solitude), is reserved for meditation and elevation of the soul; the second is that where care is taken of the body with the most frugal daily nourishment excluding meat and wine, “which acts like a drug producing folly” (§74). Every seventh day they gather to study in common, the men on the right, the women on the left, separated by a low dividing wall. In fact, all their existence follows the rhythm of the number seven. They not only celebrate Pentecost on the fiftieth day after Passover, that is a week of weeks (forty-nine days), but also organise a banquet every seventh week.45 All dress in white, they sit at the table while young, free men offer them voluntary service; indeed, the Therapeutes, like the Essenes, do not permit

43 See a survey of erudite polemics over the meaning of the term « therapeute» in J. Riaud, “Les Thérapeutes d’Alexandre dans la tradition et la recherché critique jusqu’aux découvertes de Qumran,” ANRW II 20, 1244–1249. 44 Cont. 64. According to V. Nikiprowetzky, “Les suppliants chez Philon” REJ 122, (1963) pp. 241–278, reprinted in Etudes Philoniennes, Editions du Cerf, 1996 and J. Riaud, « Quel- ques réflexions sur les Thérapeutes, » Studia Philonica Annual III (1991), p. 188, they would have exceeded fifty. 45 Cont. 65. This day would be the forty-ninth day and not the fiftieth day as demonstrated V. Nikiprowetzky in “De Vita Contemplativa revisité,” Etudes philoniennes, p. 212. philo and philosophy 175 slavery.46 “Banquet” is really too grand a name for this meal of leavened bread, salt, water and hyssop. They then celebrate, in song and dance, their “exodus from Egypt,” which allegorically signifies their spiritual exodus, their liberation from bodily servitude. Thus, the Therapeute community lives “by the soul alone”. They are the beloved of God because they worship “the Self-existent who is better than the good, purer than the One and more primordial than the Monad.”47 In his admiration for the Essenes and the Therapeutes, Philo offers a clearer appreciation of his moral and intellectual principles. Allegorical exegesis stimulates his thought. Like these communities, he believes that within the literal text resides a symbol of concealed truth and underlying meaning,48 more spiritual than plain philosophy. The spiritual exodus he finds among Jewish ascetics seems to him the route leading to the supreme felicity of “God’s friendship”, true excellence of life, a benefit greater than all good fortune.49

Is Philo A Philosopher?

In examining the various philosophical influences found in Philo’s writings, it should be remembered that they generally appear in the context of his biblical commentary. Philosophical doctrines are never set forth for their own sake. When the scriptural text calls for a philosophical interpretation, Philo borrows elements from the most appropriate doctrine for the occasion. So, he constantly uses philosophy although his priority is not in fact philosophy—unless, as we see later, this term is defined in a different sense. So, all previous debates about where Philo belongs—Platonism, Pythago- rism, Stoicism or others—seem to have been in vain. Eclecticism has sometimes been invoked to explain Philo’s approach, but its definition is imprecise. The Eclectic school was founded in Alexandria in the 2nd century ce by Potamon. He had the habit of rummaging among the doctrines of previous schools and adding a pinch of Indian wisdom, on the basis that there are many paths to truth. More than a century earlier, Philo might have

46 Nikiprowetzky « Quelques observations sur la répudiation de l’esclavage par les Thé- rapeutes et les Esséniens », Etudes Philoniennes, pp. 242–291. 47 Cont. 2. 48 Cont. 28. 49 Cont. 90. 176 chapter seven been exposed to the earliest traces of this new tendency in Alexandria. But it is hardly necessary to attach a label to Philo’s approach. In 19th century France, Victor Cousin would attempt to create an Eclectic school although it had no real successors. Eclecticism was a “grammar of thought” rather than a doctrine, a history of ideas as taught in academic circles. So it is not surprising that by way of the “eclectic,” Philo’s works came to be denigrated as mere “school books”. This has indeed been asserted with regard to his philosophical works which do not refer to the Bible and which are introduced as Greek treatises, as in the Quod omnis probus liber sit, the De Aeternitate mundi or dialogues in the manner of Plato, like the De Provi- dentia and De Animalibus. Their form and content are philosophical, but they have sometimes been treated as “undigested compilations” consisting of “a mass of fairly gross extracts, somewhat mechanically juxtaposed.”50 Philo’s explanation might be that he wrote those “school exercises”51 in his early years. However, in his two dialogues, Philo, speaking with a certain Alexander, presents himself as an elderly man, nourished by philosophy from youth. Ultimately, the character of these works must be explained by the identity of the interlocutor. In the guise of an academic treatise, the debate in fact reveals a serious family conflict. “Alexander” can be none other than Philo’s apostate nephew, who might have been attached to philosophical doctrines, whether Aristotelianism or New Academy, which alienated him from his ancestral religion. Therefore, his uncle, being a philosopher, would not use arguments based on biblical texts unpalat- able to his nephew’s rebel mind. Rather, he would defend Providence, the creation of the world, theodicy and the superiority of human reason on purely philosophical grounds.52 The treatise on the eternity of the world raises even more difficult questions: in the condition in which it has reached us, it seems to support Aristotle’s theory of the eternity of the world, while Philo strongly affirms creation in the rest of his works. That treatise although traditionally attributed to Philo has often been considered spurious. The problem is that the philological analysis of the text leads to contradictory conclusions: terms and phrases remain throughout reminiscent of Philo’s style.53 The literary

50 D. Amand, Fatalisme et liberté dans l’Antiquité grecque, Louvain 1945, p. 81. 51 W.B. Bousset, Jüdisch-christlicher Schulbetrieb in Alexandria und Rom, Göttingen, 1915, ch. 8 “Die Jugendschriften Philos”. 52 See introduction to my De Providentia, Editions du Cerf, 1973. “Ad Alexandrum? ” pp. 40–46. 53 Cf. F. Cumont, Philonis De Aeternitate Mundi, Berlin, 1891, ix–xii. philo and philosophy 177 analysis might suggest that the treatise as it has survived is incomplete.54 Philo could have presented a doctrine of which he scarcely approved, as preliminary to exposing his own in a section now lost, in which he would have adopted Plato’s arguments in favor of creation. The transmission of Philo’s philosophical works also merits consideration. They have been dealt with scornfully, while their content might in fact have suffered posterior alteration. The dialogues on Providence and on animals are only available, with the exception of a few fragments in an Armenian version, which was translated into Latin in the 19th century.55 Even if the various versions respected the overall meaning, the negative judgments may possibly have been unfair to a work which at least reflects the philosophic culture of a period, no less than Cicero’s philosophical writings which, for their part, meet with favorable judgment. In this chapter, we have seen that Philo’s writings in general, and not only the philosophical works, may be considered the first witnesses of the later evolution of Alexandrian schools. The New Academy and its founder Carneades would deviate away from Platonism toward Scepticism. In the second century, Middle Platonism56 would develop, but already with the beginning of the first century from which no Alexandrian writing survived, Philo might be seen as the swallow announcing the forthcoming spring. However, one should not forget that Philo sought to be Moses’ disciple even more than Plato’s. When he speaks of “genuine philosophy,” he does not mean any Greek doctrine, but wisdom inspired by the study or practice of Moses’ laws or contemplation, which orients “the soul’s eyes” toward the Creator.57

The “True” Philosophy

The notion of “true” or “genuine” philosophy implies a level superior to what is generally considered “philosophy.” As the Greeks well know,58

54 This idea developed by Leisegang, “Philons Schrift über die Ewigkeit der Welt”, Philo- logus 92 (1937), pp. 156–176, has been re-examined and improved by Colson (1943) in his edition and above all by Runia in the study inspiring the work here: “Philo’s De Aeternitate Mundi: The Problem of its Interpretation” in Exegesis and Philosophy Studies on Philo of Alexandria, Variorum, 1990, ch. VIII. 55 Aucher, Philonis Judaei Sermonis tres hactenus inediti, Venice, 1822. 56 Cf. J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists, London, 1977. 57 Cf. Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire, pp. 100–116. 58 The theory of the encyclical studies “servants” of philosophy for Stoics, cf. Wolfson, Philo I, p. 145. 178 chapter seven there is the philosophers’ philosophy; that which can only be reached after making one’s way through the whole cycle of general education. This preparation is symbolically represented in the De Congressu by the figure of Agar who is the servant of Sarah, the princess. Now Sarah who represents virtue and wisdom is beyond philosophy considered as a school subject. Coupling with her calls for preliminary rites:59 And indeed just as the school subjects contribute to the acquisition of philosophy, likewise philosophy to the begetting of wisdom. For philosophy is the practice or study of wisdom, as wisdom is the knowledge of things divine and human and their causes. And therefore just as the culture of the schools is the bond-servant of philosophy, so must philosophy be the servant of wisdom. (Congr. 79) “The knowledge of things divine and human, and their causes” herein named “wisdom,” lies within theology. Sarah embodies ethics as well, being also the symbol of virtue. The highest “true” philosophy includes both, “wisdom” (sophia) for the service of God, prudence (phronesis) for human behaviour in life (Praem. 81). By placing wisdom at the service of God, and drawing on virtue from the study of the Law, Philo is quite different from the philosophers from whom he borrows. Philosophy must be subordinate to Scripture, which means for Philo subordinating reason to faith. For what the disciples of the most excellent philosophy gain from its teaching, the Jews gain from their customs and laws, that is, to know the highest, the most ancient Cause of all things and reject the delusion of created gods. For no created being is God in reality, but only in men’s fancies, bereft as it is of the essential attribute of eternality. (Virt. 65) “Living laws” like Abraham (Mut. 70) or Moses (Opif. 8, Prob. 43) deserve to be called “philosophers”, (Decal. 121, Confus. 1, Fug. 68, 77, 120). “Philoso- phy” should not be contented with the literal meaning of the texts, it is only allegorical explanation which permits penetrating their philosophical depth. Therefore, the assemblies of the seventh day, when the Jews gather in their synagogues to listen to the commentary of the holy laws, are considered as schools of philosophy dedicated to “the acquiring of knowledge and the study of the truths of nature” as well as schools of virtue (Mos. II, 216). Those who really merit the name “Israel,” “he who sees God,” lift their vision to the heavens and receive “the manna, which is the

59 M. Alexandre, Introduction to De Congressu, Cerf, p. 65. philo and philosophy 179 word of God, the heavenly incorruptible food of the soul which delights in the vision” (Her. 79). As Wolfson would point out, “between ancient Greek philosophy which knew not Scripture, and the philosophy which, ever since the seventeenth century has tried to free itself of the influence of Scripture, there was a philosophy which placed itself at the service of Scripture and was willing to take orders from it.”60 Philo could well be the first representative of that medieval philosophy which is said to have begun with the Church Fathers in the 2nd century. Far from marginalising Philo as a kind of Greek philosopher in apprenticeship, Wolfson renders him totally original as the first Jewish philosopher and the founding father of a religious philosophy in which “philosophy is the servant of theology” (philosophia ancilla theo- logiae). Philo would then become a figurehead in the history of human thought. He would be the founder of Jewish, Christian and Muslim medieval philosophy, which only came to an end with Spinoza. This grand vision needs discussion,61 but it is certain that one cannot reduce Philo’s essentially exegetical writings to a mixture of school philosophical recollections. What makes his work valuable, undoubtedly original in his time, and finally philosophically creative, is the interaction of philosophy with the Holy Scripture.

60 Philo II, p. 439. 61 Cf. D. Runia “History of Philosophy in the Grand Manner: The Achievement of H.A. Wolfson,” Philosophia Reformata 49, 1989, reprinted in Exegesis and Philosophy, Studies on Philo of Alexandria, Variorum, 1990, pp. 112–113.

CHAPTER EIGHT

PHILO’S DOCTRINE

Some scholars of Philo have provided a fragmented understanding of his thought at the cost of a clear overview. But having examined Philo’s treatises and his exegetical choices, we are better able to take stock of the core elements of his work. Three themes constitute the very essence of his doctrine: God, the Law, and spiritual advancement, about which Philo engages in a subtle combination of philosophy and biblical exegesis. To these he also adds reflections on life and death inspired by personal experience.

God, Logos and Powers

What human being would be capable of capturing the essence of God? For this, that is better than the good, more venerable than the monad,1 purer than the unit, cannot be discerned by anyone else; to God alone it is permitted to apprehend God. (Praem. 40) It is in these terms that Philo affirms divine transcendence. No human spirit is capable of grasping the essence of God, since even Moses himself could not see His face: “You will see what is behind me, but my face you will not see” (Exodus XXXIII,23). All we can know of God is that He exists.2 Did He not also say to Moses: “I am He who is”? (Ex. III,14). “Being” (on in Greek), such is the most appropriate appellation for God. When man takes stock of the organisation of the cosmos, he must, if he possesses the slightest glimmer of wisdom, turn in wonder towards the Great Organiser to conclude that: Surely all these beauties and this transcendent order has not come into being automatically but by the handiwork of an architect and world maker; also that there must be a providence, for it is a law of nature that a maker should take care of what has been made.3

1 To be understood here, “the intelligible world”. 2 Cf. Mut. 9, Spec. I, 41–49, Post. 16, Deter. 160. 3 Praem. 42. Cf. Leg. III, 99. 182 chapter eight

This argument is certainly not of Philo’s invention. The proof of God’s existence, based on the order of the world, had already been expressed in comparable terms by Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics.4 Philo does not fail to acknowledge his predecessors: The first men sought to find how we came to conceive of the Deity. Those whose philosophy was reputed to be the best declared that it was from the world and its constituent parts and the forces subsisting in these that we gained our apprehension of the First Cause. (Leg. III, 97) The quest for the cause invokes the idea of God, “since the universe has been created, and without doubt created by a particular cause”.5 The analogy with the things of this world supports the argument. Should a man see a house carefully constructed with a gateway, colon- nades, men’s quarters, women’s quarters, and the other buildings, he will get an idea of the artificer for he will be of the opinion that the house never reached that completeness without the skill of the craftsman; and in like manner in the case of a city and a ship and every smaller or greater construction. (Leg. III, 98) Philo’s originality stems from the fact that he develops these ideas, not for themselves, but rather in accordance with a biblical verse. Thus it is written that “the world of our senses” is God’s foot-stool,6 “to show that not in creation is to be found the cause which made it” (Confus. 98). In other words, God, the Cause, exists outside this world. The figure of Bezalel, the artist-builder of the Tabernacle—his name in Hebrew means “in the shadow of God”—was endowed with both wisdom and science; he is portrayed by Philo as a kind of Hebrew “philosopher.” Indeed, Philo attributes to him the kind of reasoning, which, from studying the world, gives rise to an appreciation of its Creator. However, this does not endow Bezalel with superior knowledge for it is “as if from a shadow” that he perceives the Maker of all things. On the contrary, the words of Moses: “Show yourself to me that I see you distinctly”7 (Exodus XXXIII,13), as well as the etymology of the name Israel, understood as “he who sees God”, clearly show that both Jacob-Israel and Moses have the

4 Cf. Wolfson, Philo II, p. 76. Wolfson, ibid. chap. X develops four proofs of the existence of God according to Philo which appear closely linked and could be reduced to two. 5 Fug. 12, cf. Timaeus 28 a. 6 Adaptation of the celebrated verse of Isaiah LXVI,1: “The heaven is my throne and the earth my footstool.” 7 Leg. III, 101. philo’s doctrine 183 more direct intuition of God, by-passing “the beings of the becoming”. This most cogently demonstrates the way Philo employs the sacred text to move beyond philosophy to mysticism. According to the Stoic conception, God is for Philo the “active cause” of the creation and as such “the perfectly pure and unsullied Mind of the Universe transcending virtue, transcending science, transcending the Good and the Beautiful” (Opif. 8). While Plato’s God is Beauty and Goodness, Philo’s God goes beyond such concepts. To the proof of His existence through causality, Philo often adds an analogical proof: Your reason will shew you that, as there is mind in you, so there is the universe, and that as your mind has taken upon itself sovereign control of all that is in you, and brought every part into subjection to itself, so too He that is imbued with lordship over all, guides and controls the universe by the law and right of an absolute sway. (Migr. 186) In so doing, he adapts a Stoic demonstration, which adduces the whole from the part, while his own interpretation of man made in the image of God is simply suggested in the background. It is in respect of the Mind, the sovereign element of the soul, that the word “image” is used; for after the pattern of a single Mind, even the Mind of the Universe as an archetype, the mind in each of those who successively came into being was moulded. It is in a fashion a god to him who carries and enshrines it as an object of reverence; for the human mind evidently occupies a position in men precisely answering to that which the great Ruler occupies throughout the world. It is invisible while itself seeing all things, and while comprehending the substances of others, it is as to its own substance unperceived. (Opif. 69) Comparison of the divine intellect with the human intellect no longer refers to God the Creator, but rather to the Providence by which He governs the universe. God also exercises forethought on the world’s behalf. For that the Maker should care for the things made is required by the laws and ordinances of Nature, and it is in accordance with these that parents take thought before- hand for children. (Opif. 172) Philo frequently uses biblical examples to express the Creator’s solicitude for His creatures, as the Father’s for His children. Philo’s conception of Providence is not strictly that of the philosopher, it extends to the very least of men: 184 chapter eight

He that is imbued with lordship over all guides and controls the universe by the law and right of an absolute sway, taking forethought not only for those which are of greater, but for those which are of lesser importance in our eyes. (Migr. 186) God is not only a “universal intellect”, a cosmic force, He is also a personal god whose “eternal name” is “God of Abraham, God of Isaac and God of Jacob” (Exodus III,15). And yet, observes Philo, God has no need of a name. However, he proffered the human race the grace of parentage with his name, these men would thus find refuge in their supplications and prayers, and would not be deprived of the benefit of hope. (Agr. 51) Philo forcefully affirms the oneness and uniqueness of God. Polytheism is, in his view, outright “atheism” since it distracts man from God. All anthropomorphic representation is an insult to the divine incorporeal state. God’s existence “needs nothing in its unique solitariness, it is free from all admixture and composition in its absolute simplicity” (Deus 56). Philo sometimes adds, on the basis of the verse: “But my own name I have not revealed to them” (Exodus VI,3),8 that God is above being named. He obviously refers to the ineffable nature of the Divine Name under its Tet- ragrammaton form YHWH in the Jewish tradition.9 For lack of a “proper name” for God which has been revealed to no one, Philo makes recourse to the two designations most common in the Septuagint—theos “God” and kurios “Lord”—which are translations of the Hebrew Elohim and the Tetragrammaton, pronounced Adonai (my Lord). These two appellations are substitutes for the ineffable Name. They correspond to that which, depending on circumstances, appears as aspect, manifestation, instrument, or attribute of the divinity, namely God’s “potencies” (dunameis). While being Unique, God in fact acts in contradictory directions by the intermediary of his two potencies: one is bounty, mercifulness, and benevolence; the other is authority, sovereignty, and rigour. Divine immanence is manifested thus. By the one, (theos relating to the Greek tithemi, “to place, or to found”), God is the Creator and Father; by the other (kurios, “lord” or “master” in Greek), He is the king and the judge.10 The later Jewish tradition also knows of these two aspects, but

8 Mut. 13. Here Philo must transpose the word kurios, within the Exodus verse VI,3 to realise its meaning. 9 Mos. II, 114–132; Decal. 93–94. 10 Cf. Cher. 27–28; Sacr. 59; Plant. 86; Her. 166; Abr. 124–125. philo’s doctrine 185 it inverts the roles of Elohim and the Tetragrammaton, and calls them “measures” (midot) instead of “potencies”. An older version of this tradition however corresponds to Philo’s division. It is, in this case, a matter of speculation whether Philo was introducing into his philosophy a teaching coming from Judaea.11 Philo’s terminology is not always of irreproachable rigour since myriads of “powers” (dunameis) are also encountered in his texts. In certain cases, these are confused with angels, those rational, incorporeal and immortal beings who, according to Philo, populate the air and constitute an “army” in the service of God.12 In other cases, the “Powers” are simply another name for the “Ideas” of Plato.13 Such you must conceive My powers to be supplying quality and shape to things which lack either and yet changing or lessening nothing of their eternal nature. Some among you call them, not inaptly, ‘forms’ or ‘ideas,’ since they bring form into everything that is, giving order to the disordered, limit to the unlimited, bounds to the unbounded, shape to the shapeless, and in general changing the worse to something better. (Spec. I, 47–48) The existence of the world of Ideas is indeed an integral part of Philo’s credo; he even turns it into a fundamental element of Judaism itself.14 The Ideas are understood as both the model of things created and as their causes. It is in this latter sense that they are assimilated to the Powers and become auxiliaries to the creation: When, out of that confused matter, God produced all things, He did not do so with his own handiwork, since His nature, happy and blessed as it was, forbade Him to touch the limitless chaotic matter. Instead He made full use of the incorporeal potencies denoted by their name of Forms to enable each kind to take its appropriate shape. (Spec. I, 329) From the equation between angels and Powers on the one hand, and Pow- ers and Ideas on the other, it may not necessarily be deduced that the Ideas coincide with the angels. The latter, as has been mentioned, populate the air. The Ideas for their part constitute an immaterial world, “the intelligible world”, created as a prelude to the material world on “day one”, but they also appear as thoughts of God existing from all eternity in the

11 Wolfson, Philo I, pp. 224–226. 12 Cf. Wolfson, Philo I, pp. 366–385. 13 Ibid. pp. 217–226. 14 Those who deny Ideas are relegated among the impious and sacrilegious, cf. Spec. I, 327. 186 chapter eight divine Logos: “the universe that consisted of ideas would have no location other than the Divine Reason, which was the Author of this ordered frame” (Opif. 20). We touch here another key notion in Philo’s thought, the Logos. As the “site of Ideas,” the Logos blends with the spirit of God which has planned “the great city”15 of the world. From this point of view, it is co-eternal with God and so uncreated. But Philo also presents the Logos as the totality of the Ideas or Powers. He speaks of it as the most ancient creature, created differently from the rest of the universe (Her. 206), “the First-born Son of God” (Agric. 51), “the invisible image” of God (Confus. 147), the elder among the angels and “their ruler as it were” (Confus. 146, Her. 205), “the archetype for further creations” (Leg. III, 96), the Verb, instrument of the creation (Cher. 125) or “the eldest and most all-embracing of created things” (Leg. III, 175). Taken as both “reason” and “word,” the Logos also sometimes appears as a link which unites the two major divine powers, goodness and sovereignty, since “it is through Reason (Logos) that God is both ruler and good” (Cher. 27). This kind of trinity is symbolised by the flaming sword associated with the two cherubim who chase Adam from Paradise. For this cause is the sword, a sword of flame, because in their company reason the measure of things, must follow, reason with its fierce and burning heat, reason that ever moves with unswerving zeal, teaching thee to choose the good and eschew the evil. (Cher. 30) Yet, in the “trinity” which has been revealed to Abraham by the three angelic visitors, it is God himself who is “the central Being with each of His potencies as His squire” (Abr. 122). That an identical role be attributed sometimes to God, sometimes to His Logos, proves the intimacy of the relation between Logos and Creator. This is again the case when Philo evokes the Ark of the Covenant, from the top of which the invisible Divin- ity speaks between the wings of the two cherubim decorating the lid.16 The divine Logos is taken here as “word.” The Divine Word, Who is high above all these, has not been visibly portrayed, being like to no one of the objects of sense. Nay, He is Himself the Image of God, most chief of all Beings intellectually perceived, placed nearest, with no intervening distance, to the Alone truly existent One. For we read: “I will talk with thee from above the Mercy-seat, between the two Cherubim”

15 Wolfson, Philo I, p. 230. 16 Exodus XXV, 21; cited in Fug. 101, and Her. 166. philo’s doctrine 187

(Ex. XXV, 21), words which shew that while the Word is the charioteer of the Powers, He Who talks is seated in the chariot, giving directions to the charioteer for the right wielding of the reigns of the Universe. (Fug. 101) Philo has other figurative methods to describe the relation between the Logos and the Powers or the Logos and the world. The Logos is still compared with the priest’s sacrificial knife, since it “cuts” and “separates” all things in the universe. This universal divider (Her. 130) is the instrument presiding over the separation of contraries throughout the universe. Thus God sharpened the edge of his all-cutting Word, and divided universal being, which before was without form or quality, and the four elements of the world which were formed by segregation from it, and the animals and plants which were framed with them as materials. (Her. 140) But this division is “through the middle”. The Logos is therefore “both what separates and what unites: the realities that it relentlessly divide, nonetheless, form a coherent and harmonious whole”17 The everlasting Word of the eternal God is the very sure and staunch prop of the Whole. He it is, who extending Himself from the midst to its utmost bounds and from its extremities to the midst again, keeps up through all its length Nature’s unvanquished course, combining and compacting all its parts. For the Father Who begat Him constituted his Word such a Bond of the Universe as nothing can break. (Plant. 8–9) The mediating Logos also establishes a relation between the world and God: To His Word, His chief messenger, highest in age and honour, the Father of all has given the special prerogative, to stand on the border and separate the creature from the Creator. The same Word both pleads with the immortal as supplicant for afflicted mortality and acts as ambassador of the ruler to the subject. (Her. 205) Thus the Logos assures God that the created world “will not rebel against the reign and choose disorder rather than order”, so providing creation with “the fine hope that the merciful God will never forget His own work” (ibid. 206).

17 M. Harl, introduction to the French edition of the Quis Heres p. 72 and note I. Cf. also E. Bréhier, Les Idées philosophiques et religieuses de Philon d’Alexandrie, Paris, 1950, p. 84 sq. 188 chapter eight

Through its organising and pacifying role, the Logos relates to wisdom (sophia).18 As the Wisdom of the Book of Proverbs (VIII, 22 ff.) to which Philo refers,19 the Logos was created before the divine works. Formed since eternity, it has presided over the division of the elements of the world; it has played the role of God’s architect. The fusion of the Jewish and Greek conceptions has the Logos appear under different forms: Wisdom, Word, Ideas, Powers, leader of the angels . . . With Philo, however, it is a unique notion, close to hypostasis without ever becoming so.20

Law of Nature, Law of Moses

The Logos continues to act within the world even after it has been created. Philo in fact distinguishes a first Logos, forming the intelligible world, from another Logos, “that of visible things which are imitations and copies of these ideas, and of which this sensible world has been constituted” (Mos. II, 127). From this passage, it may be concluded that the Logos is also to be taken as governing the world and assuring its conservation, whether it is identified as the Law of Nature or Providence. Since the world’s “immense city” possesses “a single constitution and a single law” ( Jos. 29), this imposes immovable and unalterable rules. This function of the Logos is not dissimilar to the role attributed to it by the Stoics, who understood it as the soul of the world, which in their view renders it identical to God. The immanent Logos of Philo is simply an instrument of God assuring the cohesion of the whole; it is “reason” pervading the universe, and in this way, assimilating with the Law of Nature. However, for Philo there is another Law which also emanates from God, a law which is Logos both in the sense of the “Word,” and in the sense of “reason”—“wisdom”. That is the Law of Moses. By the ten words (deka logoi) directly heard by the people, thanks to “a visible voice”, and the rest of the laws transmitted through Moses—king, legislator, priest and prophet—it is again the Logos which is at work. This Logos generally finds tonalities appropriate to its audience, but it has only one source: God, for it is the holy Word (hieros logos).

18 Cf. Leg. I, 65; Somn. II, 242–243. 19 Cf. Ebr. 31. Cf Wolfson, Philo I, p. 256. 20 Cf. Wolfson, Philo I, pp. 282–289. philo’s doctrine 189

The sacred Word deals with some as a king, commanding what they are to do; with some as a teacher, instructing pupils what will be for their good; with some as a counsellor providing guidance on the best actions, and greatly benefitting them since of themselves they do not know the advantageous course to take. Towards others it acts as a friend with winning compassion, imparting many secret truths which may not reach the ears of the uninitiated. (Somn. I, 91) The Law of Moses is therefore the Logos, as is the Law of Nature. What connection is there between these two laws? Is there a hierarchy between them? In other words, as has sometimes been deduced from passages in Philo’s text, must the Law of Moses be interpreted as a copy of natural law, although the copy is always inferior to the original? This idea has occasionally been sustained on the basis of expressions such as “the Law follows nature” (Virt. 18), but when the same passage also asserts that the Law is “Divine” (Spec. II, 129), the Law could clearly not be considered inferior. Philo’s repeatedly affirmed belief in revelation,21 moreover, prevents him from considering the Mosaic laws as merely national customs founded on opinion like the laws of other peoples. The Laws of Moses, contrary to the laws of Jethro or Laban,22 so closely conform with the laws of nature that they may hardly be distinguished from them; they relate to reality and not to appearances, they lead “the whole people of the soul to piety and to honouring God” (Ebr. 37). After a eulogy on Moses the Lawgiver, Philo affirms in the preamble to his treatise on creation that, the world is in harmony with the Law, and the Law with the world, and that the man who observes the Law is considered thereby a loyal citizen of the world, regulating his doings by the purpose and will of Nature, in accordance with which the entire world itself also is administered. (Opif. 3) This law is, of course, the Law of Moses. Philo claims that Moses began with the account of the Creation in order to frame the Laws within the most august context, refraining “from stating abruptly what should be practiced or avoided” (Opif. 2). It is from the world, in other words from nature, that the Law holds its universal and eternal character:

21 For example Decal. 15. 22 Ebr. 37, 47. 190 chapter eight

Moses is alone in this that his laws, firm, unshaken, immovable, stamped, as it were, with the seals of nature herself, remain secure from the day when they were first enacted to now, and we may hope that they will remain for all future ages as though immortal, so long as the sun and moon and the whole heaven and universe exist. (Mos. II, 14) The unshakeable faith of the Jews in their laws and the appeal exercised by Judaism on many proselytes constitute for Philo the proof that these laws contain nothing artificial or conventional, but that they are “the most faithful picture of the world-polity”. Thus whoever carefully examines the nature of the particular enactments will find that they seek to attain to the harmony of the universe in agreement with the principles of eternal nature. (Mos. II, 52) The deep meaning of the mosaic laws in harmony with nature is, for Philo, best revealed by allegorical exegesis. But we have already recognised that he does not reject observance of these laws in daily life, even if ritual gesture would appear somewhat distant from the cosmic significance allegorically attributed to it: Exactly as we have to take thought for the body because it is the abode of the soul, so we must pay heed to the letter of the laws. If we keep and observe these, we shall gain a clearer conception of those things, of which these are the symbols. (Migr. 93)

“Migration” and Spiritual Progress

The patriarchs had been able to observe the Law before it was formally promulgated because they themselves were “living laws”, wise men whose reason (logos) was spontaneously in unison with nature. Moses himself is a “living law”, but there was no man after him such as he. It may be concluded that the Written Law has been entrusted to an imperfect humanity in order to teach it how to recover the lost universal harmony and, through observance of the laws, reproduce the model of the patriarchs: For they were not scholars or pupils of others, nor did they learn under teachers what was right to say or do: they listened to no voice or instruction but their own: they gladly accepted conformity with their nature, holding that nature itself was, as indeed it is, the most venerable of statutes, and thus their whole life was one of happy obedience to law. They committed no guilty action of their own free will or purpose, and, where chance led them wrong, they besought God’s mercy and propitiated Him with prayers and supplications, and thus secured a perfect life. (Abr. 6) philo’s doctrine 191

The Law of Nature followed by the patriarchs coincides with revealed Law, since “Nature” is a way of designating God, so that “living in conformity to nature” is nothing but obeying God’s will.23 What Abraham, Jacob or Moses did individually, the people of Israel, inheriting from the “one who sees God”, did collectively through the Exo- dus. This explains why the Therapeutes, in their retreat—although in Egypt—periodically commemorated this Exodus from Egypt, this “passage” toward spirituality. Intelligent study of the Pentateuch, without neglecting practice, should also assure the spiritual and moral progress symbolised by migration. The theme of migration is a favourite of Philo. Most often applied to Abraham, it represents a variant of the mystical marriage of Abraham with Sarah, or Wisdom, since she leads her husband towards contemplation of the world, which is not a simple science of nature, but “the metaphysical manifested by the universe:” “From mathematician Abraham has become the sage who sees God.”24 In the same way, Jacob, following his combat with the angel, became Israel. The model of progression that their example implies must lead the individual to distance himself from the snares of sensations, passions and vain rhetoric in order to discover the life of the spirit and thus allow himself to be transported by encounter with the Divine. “The Saviour of the universe” opens “the celestial reserves” to assuage us. “So then, brooking no delay, should we essay to march by the king’s high road, we who hold it our duty to pass by earthly things” (Deus 159). “The Migration is the spiritual journey leading the soul of the wise man, or the people consecrated in its assembly, from flesh to spirit, from the material world with its dark ways and passions, towards the light of the intelligible world; from the slavery of Egypt to the liberty of Canaan, land of virtue or city of God”.25 It may be understood then that Philo, by his will to disengage himself from the sensible world and accede to higher truths, could sometimes appear as a precursor to Gnosticism.26 But this would simply overlook the fact that the created world remains good in his eyes and, through it, divine illumination should be sought. Learning to live well in the world as it is, also remains among Philo’s preoccupations.

23 Cf. Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire, p. 128. This formula is of Stoic origin. 24 Nikiprowetzky, Commentaire, p. 104. 25 Ibid. p. 239. 26 Cf. H. Jonas, Gnosis und Spätantike Geist II, Göttingen, 1954, pp. 70–121. 192 chapter eight

Political Theory: In Praise Of Democracy

Philo’s doctrine does not possess the abstraction that tends to be attributed it. In his time, philosophy also embraced reflection on the art of governance: Plato is not only the author of the Timaeus, he is also that of The Republic. Biblical examples of both good and bad kings may have inspired Philo, but they were too deeply anchored in history. Moreover, apart from the Pentateuch, Philo does not comment on other biblical books directly. This explains his neglecting the two passages of Judges IX (7–15) and I Samuel VIII (11–18), whose scathing criticism of the abuse of power would have endorsed his own political ideas. Instead, he prefers to represent politics through a figure of the Book of Genesis who had connections with ancient Egypt: Joseph. It must be said that the treatise devoted to Joseph has nothing to compare with Plato’s Republic or Aristotle’s Politics. Philo occasionally reflects on politics elsewhere, often by lengthy metaphors in which either the government of the soul or that of the universe are compared with that of the city. He does not resile from evaluating different forms of government, although asserting an outright preference for democracy. Democracy, Philo tells us, “is the most law-abiding and best of constitutions” (Spec. IV, 237), by far the most preferable to any other (Confus. 108, Deus 176), since it has the best laws (Virt. 180); democracy alone guaran- tees “law and justice in place of lawlessness and injustice” (Abr. 242). Philo does not stop at this observation. He searches for a philosophical foundation as much as a political basis for the absolute superiority of democracy and finds it in “equality, mother of justice.” Equality to his mind is a truly cosmic principle, ruling the movement of the stars in the sky, the seasons of the year, and the good functioning of bodies and souls on earth. For all that goes amiss in our life is the work of inequality, and all that keeps its due order is of equality, which in the universe as a whole is most properly called the cosmos, in cities and states democracy. (Spec. IV, 237) The democratic regime is then in harmony with the world order, it relates to the example provided by the triads, those “living laws” which lived “according to nature.” Philo is also convinced of natural equality among men. He admires the Therapeutes for having constituted, amidst a vast society where slavery was so common a small micro-society where slavery was banished.” In philo’s doctrine 193 the extension of sabbatical rest to the slaves, he applauds a return to the original equality among men,27 that is, a form of democracy. Philo, however, is conscious of the fragility of democracy as a political system. He knows that Plato fears it could engender civil disobedience, judicial laxity and the rise of incompetence and demagoguery. “A regime built on pleasure, deprived of authority, gaudy, indifferently distributing to the unworthy as to the worthy in the name of equality”,28 such a “gaudy” democracy, in his view, is open to too many potential contradictions as it attempts to embrace “the greatest number of political systems and individual ways of life”.29 Excessive liberty necessarily generates anarchy, loss of respect in family, city and school. Youths become accustomed to being flattered rather than taught, and women begin to claim equality.30 “Exces- sive liberty”, then, swiftly becomes “excessive servitude.” Democracy ultimately introduces tyranny that is, “the most brutal servitude.”31 So Philo fears for the future of the democracy which he loves, knowing that tyranny may be lying in wait (Agric. 46). But to his mind the most immediate danger seems to be the ochlocracy—mob rule—, a “counterfeit democracy” produced by an excess of indulgence: We gain nothing from the rule and governance of men who are too good and gentle. For kindness is a quality open to contempt, and injurious to both sides, both rulers and subjects. The former, owing to the slight esteem in which they are held by those placed under their authority, are powerless to set right anything that is wrong either with individual citizens or with the commonwealth. In some instances they are actually compelled to abdicate. Their subjects, as the result of habitual contempt for their rulers, have come to disregard their moral suasion and, undeterred by fear, have, at the cost of incurring a great evil, made the acquisition of stubbornness. (Agric. 47) From Philo’s point of view, ochlocracy is not only a degenerative form of democracy, but is, indeed, antithetical to it. Of the soul-city there are two kinds, one better, the other worse. The better adopts as its constitution democracy, which honours equality and has law and justice as its rulers—such a one is as a melody which sings God’s praises. The worse, which corrupts and adulterates the better, as

27 Spec. II, 68. Cf. supra, p. 101. 28 Republic 558 c. 29 Ibid. 562 e. 30 Ibid. 563 a–b. 31 Ibid. 564 a. 194 chapter eight

the false counterfeit coin corrupts the currency, is mob-rule, which takes inequality for its ideal, and in it injustice and lawlessness are paramount. (Confus. 108) The stakes are situated almost exclusively between the two, since mob- rule is certainly “the vilest form of misgovernment” while democracy is “the government in which good order is best observed” (Virt. 180). It may seem curious that Philo does not mention other possible political systems, notably monarchy, which he could find in the Bible. He is led to examine that system only when systematically studying Mosaic legislation in his treatise on the “special laws”. However, it should be noted that Philo always speaks of “a ruler” (archon) as the bearer of power, never of a king (Spec. IV, 183–188). Moses very wisely did not institute a system for choosing the ruler by drawing lots, as was done in certain Greek cities, but by election. Indeed, addressing the people, Moses declares: “You will place him at the head” (Deut. XVII,15). Would one permit a man chosen by lot to cure the ill or pilot a ship? All the more so, when this man will have “in his hands great and populous cities with all their inhabitants . . . and the management of matters private, public and sacred, a task which we might well call an art of arts and science of sciences” (Spec. IV, 156). It is commanded not to crown a foreigner as king “but one of your brethren” (Deut. XVII,15). This advice is born from experience. A foreigner is more likely to accumulate wealth at the expense of his subjects, and persecute his potential rivals, which swiftly leads to tyranny. He who is elected and shares with his brothers the same laws—the Torah—is commanded to copy them in his own hand, the better engrave them on his spirit, then read and practice them daily (Deut. XVII,18).32 The constant support of the Law will enable a Jewish king to find the right way and develop his sense of equality. Thus he will not fall into foolish arrogance, and will be paid in return by the devotion and loyalty of his subjects.33 The ruler is invited to “be law abiding, to honour equality, to be impervious to bribes. He should deliver fair judgement and indeed exercise himself in the laws” (Spec. IV, 169). He needs lieutenants to share the burden of power and must choose the best people “for their sagacity, their capacity, their justice, their piety”. These assistants—sufficiently wise to be free of arrogance—will relieve him and lighten his burden (Spec. IV, 171). The

32 Spec. IV, 158–164. 33 Ibid. 165–166. philo’s doctrine 195 leader for his part will concentrate on the important issues. He will not waste time on disputes between important people, but rather he should rule where there is social justice to be rendered, equality to be re-established, “where the commoner or the poor or the obscure are disputing with others more powerful, and where their one hope of escaping a fatal disaster lies in the judge” (ibid. 172). He who holds power may strive for good or for evil; setting sights on the divine model, the good prince will be truly a father for his people (ibid. 184). The monarchy such as defined in the Mosaic Law, as read by Philo, is ultimately a collegial, constitutional system of government, founded on justice and equality. This is a real aristocracy, in the sense that it is the government by the best, as Plato understands it, and a democracy in the sense maintained by Philo. It is not government by the people, since the people do not know how to govern themselves. A flock cannot remain without protection, it needs a good shepherd (Agric. 44). Otherwise anarchy and mob rule will reign, a condition that Philo has reason to dread more than any other. In his elevated admiration for the state of democracy, Philo distances himself from Plato. In the Republic, Plato gives us a typology of political men according to different regimes. He thus successively addresses the psychological portrait of men in the various systems: aristocracy, timocracy, oligarchy, democracy and, finally, tyranny. Plato’s portrait of the democratic man may scarcely be considered idealised; the democracy represented by this man is a “variegated” regime which includes individuals of all species: Like a garment of many colours of every shade and variety, this constitution will be variegated with every character, and be most fair to look upon; and possibly just as children and women admire many-coloured things, so many people will judge this city to be fairest of all. (Rep. 557 c) Guided by the biblical text, Philo reserves this gaudy state for the ambiguous political man exemplified by Joseph. He does not associate it with democracy, which remains for him the ideal regime. According to Philo, democracy is what we would now call the “rule of law.” As such it could even exist in the Roman Empire, on condition that he who “steers the common ship of mankind” would not “rejoice and delight in anything as much as in benefitting [his] subjects” The fittest contribution for a ruler is to put forth good proposals for the benefit of his subjects and to execute these proposals in the best way possible and to bring forth good gifts with a bountiful hand and will, reserving 196 chapter eight

nothing save what is held in provision for the uncertainty of the future may fitly be stored in safe-keeping. (Legat. 50)34 In other words, the art of governing consists, above all, of promoting the common good (ibid. 47). It implies a moral disposition that excludes ego- ism. For Philo, altruism is a cherished theme. In quite another context, he launches an outright attack on all those who pursue only their own profit and think not of others. For they think themselves born for themselves only and not for the innumerable others, for father, for mother, for wife, for children, for country, for the human race, and if we must extend the list, for heaven, for earth, for the universe, for knowledge, for virtues, for the Father and Captain of all. (Deus 19)

The Destiny of the Soul

The perspective of a life “illuminated by truth” (Somn. II, 133) is the only reward in this world that Philo could envisage for the sage. In his treatise on Providence, where he poses the problem of the theodicy, he contributes a standard philosophical response with regard to the suffering of the just and the prosperity of the wicked: real worth is not that of the body, nor that of wealth or glory; misfortunes often serve as tests; appearance does not permit judging the true moral quality of individuals (Prov. 60). Finally, “wisdom is itself the pedestal of wisdom and justice, and each of the other virtues is its own reward” (Spec. II, 259). Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics, in accord on this point, may have inspired the response,35 but the Rabbis more or less contemporary to Philo did not teach otherwise when they warned against all conduct that involved vested interest. So Antigo- nos of Sokho declared (100 BCE) by means of a parable: “Do not be like servants who serve their master in anticipation of reward” (Abot I, 3). This implied the idea that “the good action is in itself its own reward, just as the bad its own punishment” (ibid. IV, 2). The dual Jewish/Greek heritage was, however, not unequivocal on this point. The “myth of Er”, developed in Plato’s Republic, could be read as a revelation of the world to come. Er the Pamphylian, son of Armenios, died in combat, was resuscitated twelve days later and related what he had seen of the after-life. He recalled seeing souls gathering in a great meadow

34 Legat. 51. Such is the counsel that, according to Philo, the praetorian prefect, Macro, would have given to the young Caligula without great results. 35 Cf. Wolfson, Philo II, p. 285. philo’s doctrine 197 and submitting to judgement. The just were ordered to take the road to the right leading to a contemplation of the celestial beauties, while the wicked were directed to the road on the left in order to receive their punishment in the bowels of the earth. After a thousand years, these souls would be reunited and permitted to select a new earthly destiny for their reincarnation. This Platonist text which no doubt had a considerable influence on notions of Hell and Paradise, is never cited by Philo. Among Jews of his time, the notion of retribution in the after-life was still vague. Some prophetic passages announcing the “day of the Lord” or the dies irae were interpreted as referring to “doomsday”, which would take place at the end of time. At that point individuals must retain their uniqueness until the day of Judgment. This implies the concept of the resurrection, inspired by Ezekiel’s vision of the dry bones (ch. XXXVII), the original significance of which was metaphorical.36 This belief spread among the people of Judaea under the influence of the Pharisees although the Sadducees ironically rejected it, as is attested in the Gospels.37 Such speculation has little appeal for Philo. Convinced that man is composed of a material body and an immaterial soul, he envisages death as the separation of these two elements, a concept that was current in the Hellenistic period (Leg. I, 105, and II, 77). While the body decomposed into its four elements, “the soul whose nature is intellectual and celestial, departs to find a father in ether, the purest of substances” (Her. 283). Is the soul not indeed a fragment detached from Divinity (Leg. III, 161, Somn. I, 34), or from the soul of the universe (Mutat. 223)? Sometimes, Philo distinguishes between souls—those which selflessly serve God by pure love and those which do so in the hope of reward. He is sure that God will welcome all those who recognise Him, whatever their motivation, “without judging that anyone deserves rejection” (Abr. 127). But it is difficult to be sure that this concerns the after-life. What will be the fate of each after death? Philo hardly seems interested by the fate of the impious, probably because they permitted the irrational to dominate within them, carrying them off in a violent whirlwind where they drown. As for the soul of the just, endowed

36 This concerns the return of the exiled in Babylonia called to rebuild Jerusalem (Eze- kiel XXXVII,12–14). The habit of gathering the bones of the dead in ossuaries at Jerusalem at the beginning of the 1st century attests to belief in the resurrection from dried bones. 37 Matt. 22,22–23; Mark 12,18–22; Luke 20,27–40. Cf. Acts 23,8: “The Sadducees claim that there is neither resurrection, nor angel, nor spirit, while the Pharisees confess both.” See also BJ II, 162–166 and AJ XVIII, 12–17. 198 chapter eight with incorruptibility, it rejoins the heavens from whence it came (Gig. 13), it becomes similar to the angels “for angels—those unbodied and blessed souls—are the host and people of God” (Sacrif. 5). According to Philo, such is the meaning of the biblical expression “He was gathered to his people”, which marks the death of each of the three Patriarchs:38 their people being the “people of God.” In heaven, Moses seems to have reached a still higher level. Thus Philo interprets the verse: “For you, stay here with me” (Deut. V,31). By a word, by the Logos, God “has the perfect man return alongside Him” (Sacrif. 8). If ordinary men conform to the Divine laws, Philo promises the scriptural blessings: a long life and a joyful posterity: Each will rise as by stepping-stones from infancy through the successive terms appointed to every age, fulfilling its allotted tale until he reaches the last, the neighbour of death or rather immortality, and pass from that truly goodly old age to leave a great house of goodly children to fill his place. (Praem. 110) Nevertheless we should not overlook that, for Philo, wisdom is real life, since Moses calls living “those who have wisdom as their life-mate”, the dead are “those who rejoice in folly” (Somm. II, 234). Virtuous man is a source of happiness for himself and those within his entourage. For such men, when the end of their life arrives, a light is extin- guished in the world of those who survive him. Their only hope lies not in any paradise, but rather in a new virtuous generation: For my own part, when I see a good man living in a house or city, I hold that house or city happy and believe that their enjoyment of their present blessings will endure, and that their hopes for those as yet lacking will be realized. (Sacrif., 124–125) Did Philo believe in a collective salvation? Did he share the Messianic expectation39 which, since the end of Herod’s reign, had gripped many minds in Judaea? Nothing suggests that this is so. The texts that might be invoked on this subject are hardly convincing. Only once in all his work does Philo exclaim, in encountering an obvious reference to the prophecy of Isaiah XI: “We need not give up

38 Gen. XXV,8, XXXV,29, XLIX,33. 39 Cf. E.R. Goodenough. and H.L. Goodhart, The Politics of Philo Judaeus, New Haven 1938, pp. 115–119, Wolfson Philo II, pp. 395–426; R.D. Hecht, “Philo and Messiah”, Judaism and their Messiah (Neusner, Green, Frerichs eds.), Cambridge, 1987; P. Borgen in J. Charles- worth, The Messiah, Minneapolis, 1992, pp. 341–361. philo’s doctrine 199 hope that when the wild beasts within us are fully tamed, the animals too will become tame and gentle” (Praem. 88). Elsewhere, speaking of the conversion of “those who would have scorned the holy laws of justice and piety,” he promises them divine pardon for their repentance, apparently referring to the prophetic promise concerning the ingather- ing of the exiles, a promise which history had once already confirmed with the return from Babylon. In these two cases, there is no personal Messiah.40 For Philo, God is the only one in whom the “orphaned people” may place their hope: For even though they dwell in the uttermost parts of the earth,41 in slavery to those who led them away captive, one signal, as it were, one day will bring liberty to all. This conversion in a body to virtue will strike awe into their masters, who will set them free, ashamed to rule over men better than themselves (. . .) When they have gained this unexpected liberty, those who but now were scattered in Greece and the outside world over islands and continents will arise and post from every side with one impulse to the one appointed place, guided in their pilgrimage by a vision divine and superhu- man unseen by others but manifest to them as they pass from exile to their home”. (Praem 164–165)

The Sojourner on Earth

At the end of his reflection, Philo has more questions than answers. All he knows is that the earth and all that it contains belong to God. Is it not written: “For the earth is entirely mine since you are foreigners and sojourners with me” (Leviticus XXV, 23)? God has placed all at man’s disposal and has arranged that all parts of the universe have need of each other, and are drawn the one to the other by the law of love (Cher. 111). Man possesses nothing of his own, and must be prepared to make restitution one day. It is in such a meditation, with so many questions unanswered, that Philo seems to reveal to us his innermost self. I am formed of soul and body, I seem to have mind, reason, sense, yet I find that none of them is really mine. Where was my body before birth, and whither will it go when I have departed? What has become of the changes

40 A Messianic saviour figure does not fit easily in his theological system”, L.L. Grabbe “Eschatology in Philo and Josephus” Judaism in Late Antiquity 4 (Avery, Peck, Neusner edd.) Brill, Leiden, 2000. 41 Cf. Praem. 117. Expression inspired by Deut. XXX,4. 200 chapter eight

produced by life’s various stages in the seemingly permanent self ? Where is the babe that I once was, the boy and the other gradations between boy and full-grown man? Whence came the soul, whither will it go, how long will it be our mate and comrade? Can we tell its essential nature? When did we get it? Before birth? But then there was no “ourselves.” What of it after death? But then we who are here joined to the body, creatures of composition and quality, shall be no more, but shall go forward to our rebirth, to be with the un-bodied, without composition and without quality. Even now, in this life, we are the ruled rather than the rulers, known rather than knowing. The soul knows us, though we know it not; it lays on us commands, which we must fain obey, as a servant obeys his mistress. And when it will, it will claim its divorce in court and depart, leaving our home desolate of life. Press it as we may to stay, it will escape from our hands. So subtle is it of nature that it affords no grip or handle to the body. Is my mind my own possession? That parent of false conjectures, that purveyor of delusion, the delirious, the fatuous, and in frenzy or melancholy or senility proved to be the very negation of mind. Is my utterance my own possession, or my organs of speech? A little sickness is a cause sufficient to cripple the tongue and sew up the lips of the most eloquent, and the expectation of disaster paralyses multitudes into speechlessness. Not even of my sense-perception do I find myself master, rather, it may well be, its slave, who follows it where it leads? to colours, shapes, sounds, scents, flavours, and the other material things. All this surely makes it plain that what we are the possessions of another, that nor glory, nor wealth, nor honours, nor offices, nor all that makes up body or soul are our own, not even life itself. And if we recognise that we have but their use, we shall tend them with care as God’s possessions, remembering from the first, that it is the master’s custom, when he will to take back his own. The thought will lighten our sorrow when they are taken from us. But as it is, with the mass of men, the belief that all things are their own makes their loss or absence at once a source of grief and trouble. And so the thought that the world and all that therein is, are both the works and the possessions of Him that begat them becomes not only a truth but a doctrine most comfortable. But this work which is His own He has bestowed freely, for He needs it not. Yet he who has the use does not thereby become possessor, because there is one Lord and Master of all who most rightly will say, “all the land is mine” (which is the same as “all creation is mine”), “but ye are strangers and sojourners before me (Lev. XXV, 23)”. (Cher. 113–119) CHAPTER NINE

PHILO, ‘FATHER OF THE CHURCH honoris causa’

Philo’s work should have percolated through the Greek-speaking Jewish world, migrating from Alexandria to Antioch and other major Jewish centres, while stimulating a response within Judaism itself. That should have been its natural destiny, but history had another fate in store. When Philo died, around the year 50 ce, Jews stood on the threshold of events which would change the world: the capture of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple (70 ce), following the first major revolt of Judaea against Rome. The later uprising of Jews in Egypt, Cyrenaica and Cyprus resulted in the eradication of centuries-old communities (115–117 ce).1 At the same time, a new religion was growing out of Judaism, which would rapidly spread beyond the Jewish world. Its followers, increasingly recruited among pagans in the 2nd century, were known as “Christians”, after the Greek word christos “anointed”, corresponding to the Hebrew mashiah (Messiah). It is thanks to early Christianity that Philo’s writings, like those of another Jewish writer in Greek, the historian Flavius Josephus, have survived. From the end of the 2nd century, Philo Judaeus provided the early Church fathers with an exegetic model, which led to Philo being hailed, for a while at least, as Philo Christianus.

Philo and the Beginnings of Christianity

The dates generally attributed Philo (about 20 bce to about 50 ce) make him a contemporary of, and scarcely older than, Jesus. Neither tradition nor legend suggests that there was any meeting between the Alexandrian notable and the young Galilean rabbi, although Philo had heard of Pontius Pilate, under whose authority Jesus was crucified. Of Pilate, Philo records only the pillage and depredation for which he was notorious throughout his protracted rule in Judaea (from 26 ce to 36 ce). It is probable that,

1 Cf. M. Pucci-Ben Zeev, Diaspora Judaism in Turmoil 116–117 ce, Ancient Sources and Modern Insights, Peeters, Leuven 2005. 202 chapter nine unlike Josephus who witnessed the beginnings of the Christian sect without appreciating its future, Philo knew nothing of Christianity. On the other hand, is it likely that the newly born Christianity would have been aware of Philo’s ideas? There is no definitive response to this question, which is often posed by modern researchers.2 The legend of his meeting with the community which the Apostle Mark founded in Alexan- dria, cannot be cited as proof. Moreover when scholars attempt to demonstrate a connection between Philo and the New Testament, the three synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke) are excluded, while all their research is focused on Paul, the “Epistle to the Hebrews”, and the Fourth Gospel, that of John. An ancient Armenian tradition of the 6th century, little concerned with historicity, places Philo among the Alexandrians of Jerusalem who opposed the preaching of Stephen “the Hellenist”. This, at least, has the merit of emphasising the role that Greek culture played in the reactions, whether positive or negative, towards Philo. If academic studies attempt to establish parallels between Paul and Philo, this is obviously because both represent two Greek-speaking diasporas, those of Alexandria and of Tarsus in Asia Minor.3 Without doubt, Paul does not master a philosophical culture as vast as that of Philo. It is very likely Paul had not heard speak of Philo, his elder by about twenty years, as Paul’s travels, although extensive, never took him to Alexandria. Both, however, were inspired in their exegesis and their terminology, by the Greek Bible. Some more advanced studies suggest that the common terminology may, in fact, conceal significant differences between the two regarding to what superficially appears to be an analogous concept of man, of the Law and of Grace. Paul also sometimes makes use of allegorical interpretation, even if he accords Hagar and Sarah (Galatians 4,24–26) a quite different significance from that of Philo in the De Congressu. Ulti- mately, however, there is no conclusive evidence of a direct influence by Philo on Christianity, other than the impact on Paul of the spirit of the Greek-speaking diaspora, tempered by Paul’s studies in Jerusalem “at the feet of Gamaliel” (Acts 22,3) and modified by his new faith. Affinities with Philo’s thought in the “Epistle to the Hebrews”, which modern criticism does not attribute to Paul, have also been noted on

2 Cf. Runia, op. cit. 1993, p. 64: “More has been written on this subject than on Philo and the rest of the Christian tradition put together.” 3 Cf. Runia, op. cit., pp. 66–74. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 203 thematic, exegetical and linguistic grounds, without however concluding an influence more specific than that of the Judaeo-Greek cultural milieu. They are founded on the interpretation of the priesthood “according to the order of Melchizedek” (Heb. 7.11) and particularly on the description of the Son (Heb. 1. 2,4) which evokes the Philonian Logos. It is evidently the doctrine of the Logos which is the main element in the parallel that has been mooted between Philo and the prologue of the Gospel of John. The comparison founders on the question of incarnation, a notion unknown to Philo. Indeed, it is the differences that are immediately obvious when authors start dealing with Christology. Some recent critics, however, detect a certain dependence on Philo’s idea of the status of Moses. On the theme of the manna, “bread from heaven”, the convergences between John and Philo can be explained by an oral Jew- ish tradition, later consigned in the Midrash.4 As there is no agreement regarding the real identity of John, it is all the more difficult to establish the authenticity of a relation between Philo and John. To suggest that Philo influenced early Christianity, it would be necessary to assume that the founders of the Church had access to work that was written in Alexandria, even though it was certainly extant when Chris- tianity was emerging. This is why we should not assume that Philo influenced the apostolic fathers (Clement of Rome, Ignatius of Antioch, the Pseudo-Barnabe) or even the apologists, who, from the mid-2nd century, had recourse to philosophical arguments in defence of Christianity, such as Aristide, Justin (born in Samaria), Athenagoras, Theophilus of Antioch, Irenaeus of Lyons (born in Asia Minor). One may only point to a continuity between the Christian apologetic and the earlier Jewish Alexandrian apologetic dating back to at least Aristobulus.5 It would appear that Philo’s writings took time to spread beyond Alex- andria. A 4th century tradition6 claims that Philo himself brought his works to Rome during the mission to Caligula. Nevertheless, in view of the perilous circumstances, it seems doubtful that he would have had the opportunity to distribute dozens, even hundreds, of papyrus scrolls to Roman libraries. At most, he might have brought one or two to cor- respondents and friends. The Judaean historian Flavius Josephus seems

4 Cf. P. Borgen, Bread from Heaven: an Exegetical Study of the Concept of Manna in the Gospel of John and the Writings of Philo, Leiden, 1965. 5 Cf. M. Alexandre. “Apologétique judéo-hellénistique et premières apologies chrétiennes,” in Les Apologistes chrétiens et la culture grecque (Pouderon and Doré edd.), Paris, 1998. 6 E. Lucchesi gives it some credibility in his article cited below, note 34. 204 chapter nine to have borrowed from Philo’s commentary for his Jewish Antiquities, written in Greek, in Rome, around 90 ce. One possible example is Jose- phus’s description of the symbolism of the High Priest’s temple vestments, although this might equally have been drawn from an earlier orally transmitted tradition. Josephus is also well informed about the “pogrom” in Alexandria and the Jewish embassy to Caligula without necessarily having read the Legatio. It is he who, in recounting these events, declares that Philo was head of the Jewish delegation (although Philo himself does not say so) and who refers to Alexander the alabarch and his family, as described earlier. Josephus’s brief sojourn in Alexandria while on his way to Rome after witnessing the siege of Jerusalem, suggests he was able to gather this information or acquire certain books there. So it is from Alexandria that one should attempt to retrace the influence of Philo’s works.

The Septuagint, an Inspired Text

The Septuagint conceived in Alexandria, which was the basis for Philo’s commentaries, became the foundation of Christian preaching in Greek- speaking circles. Certain Greek terms would form the heart of Judaeo- Christian debate. The first glimpse of this debate appears in Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho (ca 150). One example concerns the term parthenos, which permits a Christian interpretation of Isaiah 7, 14 as, “This is how the Virgin will be pregnant and give birth to a son”. Emergent Christianity followed Philo’s model7 regarding the Septua- gint as a Divinely-inspired text and, therefore, dispensed with the veritas Hebraica. It revived the legend of the miraculous translation of the Hebrew Bible into Greek, a legend which could be traced back to the Jew- ish community of Alexandria. The legend would continue to be embellished by the early Christian Church long after the death of Philo. This process can be observed from Justin (mid-2nd century) up to Augustine early (5th century) and, well beyond that, among lesser-known authors.8

7 Cf. M. Harl, in M. Harl, G. Dorival, O. Munnich, La Bible grecque des Septante du Judaïsme hellénistique au christianisme ancien, Editions du Cerf, Paris, 1988, pp. 294–295. 8 See a detailed documentation on the question by A. Pelletier in his introduction to the Letter of Aristeas XII, Cerf, pp. 78–98. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 205

A complete account of the miraculous translation appears as early as Irenaeus of Lyons (120 ce–203 ce). According to this account, the seventy translators were separated, without any possibility of communication between them. But when their individual translations were compared they were identical, an outcome which could only be explained by intervention of the Holy Spirit, who had Himself inspired the Old Testament and the Gospel. An anonymous writer of the 2nd or 3rd century goes a step further: he claims to have seen, in Alexandria’s Lighthouse quarter, remnants of “small cabins”, ordered by Ptolemy II, for the seventy elders. Clement of Alexandria (150–216), who also recounted this legend, could thus claim that the translation was “a kind of prophecy in Greek”, while Cyril of Jerusalem (313–386) declared that “the translation of Holy Writings dictated by the Holy Spirit also originates within the Holy Spirit.” Epipha- nius (310–403) modifies the legend somewhat, asserting that the translators worked in pairs, from thirty-six tiny houses and that the conformity of their translation leaves no doubt that the Holy Spirit had intervened. John Chrysostom (347–407) finds proof in the legend to confirm the superiority of the Septuagint version over all Greek translations which were later made by Jews. Not surprisingly, the first to question the excessive honour accorded the Septuagint was Jerome, author of the 4th century Vulgate, who preferred to refer to the veritas Hebraica when translating the Bible into Latin. He was willing to accept the Aristeas account, slightly tainted with marvel, which confirmed that only the Pentateuch—and not the Books of the Prophets—had been translated during the reign of Ptolemy II. The later legend would arouse his bitter irony: “I cannot imagine which liar was the first to fabricate from nothing the myth of the seventy cells of Alexandria.” While he did not totally reject the inspired nature of the Septuagint, he was irritated by the “barkings” of those who harassed him for preferring to work from the Hebrew text. But the legend, whether in Philo’s version or those of Irenaeus or Epiphanius, was perpetuated. Jerome’s posthumous revenge, though not one he necessarily sought, was the declaration by the Catholic Church at the Council of Trent in the 16th century that the Vulgate was the only “authentic” version of the Bible. More than the Letter of Aristeas, it is Philo’s view of the Septuagint as an inspired text which ultimately secured its place in the Church. According to M. Harl, “this historical fact is undeniable: the Fathers of the Church who first practiced the catechism, assured teaching and preaching, those who would define faith and combat heresies, those founding fathers of 206 chapter nine the Christian theology, all have worked with the Septuagint as ‘Old Testa- ment’ and only with it.”9

Philo and the Development of Christianity in Alexandria

While we may trace the diffusion of Christianity, via the travels of Paul, in Asia Minor, Greece and as far as Rome from the middle of the 1st century, it is not until the end of the 2nd century that there is mention of Chris- tianity in Alexandria. The legend that Mark the Evangelist founded the Church in Alexandria does not appear until the 3rd century. The silence which surrounds the earliest Christians of Egypt remains puzzling. Were they destined to oblivion because, as heterodox Gnostics, they desired salvation by knowledge (gnosis) of a superior world opposed to the wicked world resulting from the Creation? This hypothesis is not to be excluded since the earliest known Christians in Egypt before the end of the 2nd century are Gnostics, like Basilides and Valentine. Moreover, an entire collection of Gnostic writings has been found in Nag Hammadi in Egypt, while the anti-Gnostic reaction is also represented there in the Teachings of Silvanus. A recent additional explanation10 is that both Jews and Christians of Jewish origin would have been caught up in the Jewish Revolt (115 ce– 117 ce) during the reign of Trajan. Christianity would have to start again, recruiting from among the Pagans. Gnosticism then waxed, but finally waned due to external influences. Whatever the circumstance, the earliest known Christian manuscript in Egypt was found in the Fayyum region: a fragment of the Gospel of John, dated ca 125 ce (the Rylands papyrus 457). The earliest bishop of Alexandria whose name is known to us is Demet rius (189–231). A Christian school, the Didaskaleion, flourished in his period. It was directed by Pantene, a former Stoic from Sicily who had converted to Christianity. It is through the two most brilliant students of this school, Clement of Alexandria and Origen, that we recover a trace of Philo. According to tradition, Clement (145–217) was born into an Athenian pagan family and was attracted to philosophy even before his conversion.

9 M. Harl, op. cit., p. 289. It is this observation which lies at the base of the translation of the Greek text executed under the direction of M. Harl since 1986, La Bible d’Alexandrie, Paris, Editions du Cerf. 10 Cf. Mélèze, The Jews of Egypt, p. 184. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 207

He became a priest in Alexandria in 190 ce and, as assistant to Pantene, his eloquence lifted him to prominence throughout the Orient. Beginning with Plato and concluding with Jesus, he distinguished the common points between the two doctrines before affirming the majesty of Christianity. In demonstrating Christianity’s links with Greek philosophical schools, he asserted that the Gospel was the crown of philosophy. In reading Philo, Clement must have discovered a precursor to his ideas. Here there is no question of transmission. The works of the Jewish philosopher had survived the destruction of his community and were still to be found in the libraries of Alexandria. Clement cites Philo by name four times in the Stromateis (tapestries), which is considered the most elaborate part of his writing. This is a miscellaneous treatise in eight books where he deals with ethics and theology, combined with maxims drawn from the Scriptures and sayings borrowed from Greek philosophers. Philo appears twice as “Pythagorean”, but this categorisation should not be taken literally as the Pythagorism of this period includes much Platonism. A recent study of the Stromateis11 shows that Clement makes over three hundred references to Philo’s work without always giving explicit attribution. Clement borrows much from Philo’s description of Moses to illustrate the theme of “philosophers’ theft,” but he substitutes Jesus for Philo’s hero as the model of perfection. Clement also borrows heavily from Philo’s treatise on the virtues to demonstrate that Law and Faith are not opposed, and that the Law leads to Christ. For Christians, who distrust philosophy, Clement employs Philo’s allegory of Hagar and Sarah, although he links wisdom with Christ. For Clement, the symbolism of the High Priest’s vestments is no longer of an essentially cosmic significance, but underpins the doctrine of Incarnation and Salvation. To these major themes may be added many references, partial or brief, including etymologies of the names of the patriarchs. Clement’s other works (Protreptics, Pedagogue), written before the Stromateis, also contain citations or paraphrased fragments from Philo, but these have not yet been systematically examined. The loss of an earlier work, the Hypotyposes (Instructions), which offered a philosophical exegesis of the Bible, particularly Genesis and Exodus, prevents us from fully appreciating Philo’s influence on Clement throughout his career. Having studied philosophy before becoming a Christian, Clement learned from Philo “how to link his

11 A. Van den Hoek, Clement of Alexandria and his Use of Philo in the Stromateis: an Early Christian Reshaping of a Jewish Model, Leiden, 1988. 208 chapter nine

Platonism to Biblical thought.”12 That is the basis for the claim that Clem- ent hellenised Christianity, as Philo hellenised Judaism.13 Origen (185–253) remains a central link in the transmission of Philo’s work. To his religious and philosophical studies he added the Hebrew language, which might be considered a rare approach for a Greek. The list of his writings is lengthy, although only a small part survives in the original Greek. Some have survived in Latin translation, thanks to Rufinus and Jerome. Apart from treatises (Treatise on Principles, Treatise on Prayer) and apologetic writings (Against Celsus), he devoted his work, above all, to biblical exegesis in the form of commentaries, homilies or scholia. This encouraged him to establish a more reliable text of the Bible. The Church had inherited the Septuagint, and Origen undertook the immense task of comparing this with both the Hebrew Bible and other Greek versions—by Aquila, Symmachus and Theodotion—which had been written in the 2nd century. This masterpiece in textual criticism is known as the Hexapla because it is composed in six columns: Hebrew, transliteration in Greek characters, and then the four Greek versions, including a revised Septuagint based on the original Hebrew. Only fragments of this great work survive. It is likely that Origen’s interest in the Holy Scripture led him to Philo. Indeed, the scholars note “singular analogies” between them.14 There is, however, no existing in-depth study on this subject. But what is clear is that Philo led Origen to the path of allegorical exegesis. While references to Philo are not very numerous in what survives of Origen’s text, those that exist are extremely favourable. In his work Against Celsus, Origen cites Philo twice by name and makes explicit references to the allegory of the Laws and also to the treatise on dreams with regard to Jacob’s ladder (4.51 and 6.21). In his Commentary on Matthew (15.3), he refers to Deter. 176 and introduces Philo as “a man who, by numerous volumes on the Law of Moses, has merited the esteem of men of science”. These three citations may appear somewhat limited, but in other anonymous references, the context leaves no doubt as to whom he is alluding in his recurring formula, “one of our predecessors.15” Else where in his work, Origen uses the same formula to designate Clement as his master. We should not suspect Origen, as have others, of seeking

12 Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature, p. 155. 13 Cf. SCR. Lilla, Clement of Alexandria. A Study in Christian Platonism and Gnosticism, Oxford, 1971, p. 232. 14 J. Daniélou, art. “Origène”, Supplément au Dictionnaire de la Bible, col. 898. 15 Cf. list ap. Runia, op cit., pp. 161–162. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 209 to hide an embarrassing debt to a Jewish author. It is certain that some examples, drawn from homilies on Genesis and Exodus, suggest a close proximity between the two Alexandrian exegetes.16 Origen’s debt to Philo, whether under-estimated or over-exaggerated, has been regarded negatively by certain modern theologians who attribute what they perceive as heterodox tendencies in Origen’s work to the pernicious influence of Philo. Origen’s use of allegory has been seen as a “deformation” imitated from Philo, which inclines him to detach Christian typology from history. In future, however, a closer study of the surviving treatises might lead to a clear identification of themes, images and philosophical interpretations, thus tracing a spiritual continuity between Origen and Philo. In 231, Origen fled to exile in Caesarea where he was ordained a priest (prevented until that time by an act of self-mutilation). He brought with him his entire library, of which Philo’s work were an important component. Origen’s departure from Alexandria does not imply that Philo was then forgotten in his native city. Arius (270–336), father of the Arian heresy, developed a theology of the Son, synonymous with Wisdom, and created Logos, not consubstantial with the unknowable Father. The influence of Philo has been detected here. It extended into the 4th century within the Catechetic school of Alexandria. Didymus the Blind (313–398), who taught there, venerated Origen and continued to cite Philo. This has been known only since 1941, with the discovery of Greek manuscripts from Didymus at Tura, near Cairo. They were probably hidden by his followers in the 6th century, when Didymus’s works, judged as too influenced by Origen, were anathematised. Seven nominal references to Philo are found here, as well as a specific reference to “one of the sages committed to Mosaic studies”; not surprisingly, four are found in a commentary on Genesis. Didymus borrows from Philo’s etymologies, numerical symbolism, thematic and, of course, allegorical interpretations. He warmly commends Philo, without concern as to whether or not he was Christian. After this, Philo’s name is no longer encountered, apart from five letters from Isidorus of Pelusium who, in fleeing the corruption of the local clergy, became an anchorite in the desert. Isidorus is convinced that a man, wise and educated as Philo, had understood the doctrine of the Trin- ity before it was fully revealed.17

16 Cf. Daniélou, article cited, col. 901–902. 17 Cf. Runia, op. cit., pp. 205–207 and note 114. 210 chapter nine

Beyond this point, all trace of the posthumous Alexandrian career of Philo disappear.

Philo in Caesarea

In fact, Philo’s writings had already been given a new lease on life in Cae- sarea. This magnificent Greek city, founded by King Herod, had, by the 1st century been chosen as a Roman administrative seat and subsequently became a major ecclesiastical centre. By the end of the 3rd century, it was a flourishing cultural centre where Jews took their place alongside Greeks and other peoples.18 Pamphilius, priest of a noble Phoenician family, who had studied in Alexandria, recovered Origen’s library in Caesarea and applied himself to cataloguing and preserving the precious manuscripts. He was aided in this task by the young Eusebius, his disciple, who later became bishop of Caesarea. Eusebius was to play a major role in the transmission of Philo’s works. The bishop, sometimes called Eusebius of Pamphilius in homage to his master, was a prolific writer, and the library at his disposal fed his inspiration. Eusebius is the author of historical writings, particularly the Chronicle, in which history, sacred and profane, is for the first time placed in parallel, and the ten-volume Ecclesiastical History (HE), which cover the beginnings of the Church. His apologetic works are even more extensive: the fifteen-volume Evangelical Preparation (PE), followed by Evangelical Demonstration in twenty volumes, which was a response to attacks on Christianity by the Pagan philosopher Porphyry. The method adopted by Eusebius excludes anonymous references. Philo, as other authors, is cited by name and extensive passages of his work are reproduced in the Ecclesiastical History and the Evangelical Prep- aration. The reason for his interest in Philo doubtless stems from Euse- bius’s predecessors, Clement and Origen, but Eusebius finds an explicit place for Philo in the history of the Church. In the view of Eusebius, the Therapeutes, as described in Philo’s treatise on the contemplative life, could only have been Christians of Jewish origin who had been converted by Mark the Evangelist in Alexandria.19 Furthermore, in recounting the misfortunes of the Jews during the reign

18 Cf. L. Levine, Caesarea under Roman Rule, Brill, Leiden, 1975. 19 HE II, 16 and 17. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 211 of Caligula, he asserted that Philo had unwittingly foretold “the manner in which effects of Divine Justice reached the Jews for what they had dared do against the Christ”20 The most valuable inheritance from Eusebius is undoubtedly the list of works by Philo21 which presumably corresponded to those in the new library of Caesarea. There we find all the exegetical texts divided between the treatises based on Genesis and those based on Exodus, as well as a brief enumeration of philosophical writings. The list is certainly not complete. Notably, it omits De Opificio, although this is often cited by Euse- bius. On the other hand, it indicates some works that have been lost. In quoting these, Eusebius has contributed to preserving certain passages from Philo’s lost works, such as extracts from the treatise De Providentia and from a lost apologetic text, the Hypothetica. In accordance with his tendency to rely on lengthy citations, Euse- bius reproduces entire pages of the De Opificio to show that the world has been created and that an intelligible world pre-existed the sensible world;22 from the De Plantatione, he borrows from Philo a conceptual development of man created in the image of God;23 he turns to the De Providentia to defend the theory of Providence and refute that of pre- existing eternal matter;24 he cites the Special Laws to mock the cult of the stars.25 The theme which particularly keeps his attention, however, is that of the Logos—“the second God,” “the second Cause”—gathering several passages from various treatises.26 To illustrate the “pious life according to Moses”, he cites, alongside Aristeas and Josephus, an extract from the Probus (75–91) and long passages from the Hypothetica where, he says, Philo “speaks in favour of the Jews against their accusers.” The preservation of these texts is owed exclusively to Eusebius. These texts include eulogies to Moses and his Laws, as well as a significant description of the virtuous life of those Jewish “philosophers”, known as the Essenes.27

20 HE II, 16.8 Flavius Josephus is also used in this chapter. 21 HE II, 18. 22 PE VIII, 13, 1 and XI, 24, 1 (cited Opif. 7–12 and 24–27n 29–31, 35–36). 23 PE VII, 18, 1–2 (cites Plant. 18–20). 24 PE VIII, 14, 1 (cites Prov. II, 3, 15–33, 99–112) and PE VII 21.1 (cites Prov. II, 50–51). 25 PE XIII, 18, 12 (cites Spec. I, 13–17, 20). 26 PE VII, 13.1–4 (cites Quaest. Gen. II, 62, Agric. 51, Plant. 8–10), XI, 15, 1 (cites Conf. 97, 146–147, 62–63, but referring in error to Deter.) PE VIII, 12. 1 (cites Prob. 75–91). 27 PE VIII, 6–7 and 11–12. 212 chapter nine

Eusebius certainly owes more to Philo than the borrowings he acknowledges. Describing the pre-Mosaic figures, including those of the Patriarchs, who were veritable “living laws”, Eusebius fuses the content of several treatises by Philo in book VII of the Praeparatio. “The influence is striking and incontestable”, but “where Philo attempted to introduce the continuity of a spiritual allegory, the history of a soul, Eusebius sees only a succession of Sages, upholding Wisdom each in his own way.”28 He does not seek to integrate them into a coherent construction of spiritual mankind for which, according to Philo, they are symbols. Following Eusebius, a practical intervention contributed to preserving Philo’s works in Caesarea. A successor, Euzoios, who was bishop from 376 to 379, found the library of Origen and of Pamphilius in a lamentable state and ordered the texts to be transcribed from the fragile papyrus to parchment.29 His fellow disciple at the school of Caesarea was Gregory, future bishop of Nazianza in Cappadocia (330–390). Even though the name of Philo never appears in the writings of Gregory, it is found in the works of two other great representatives of the Cappadocian Church, Basil of Caesarea in Cappadocia (330–379) and his brother, Gregory of Nyssa. Basil cites Philo only once, but the Philocalia, an anthology of Origen, attributed to Basil in collaboration with Gregory of Nazianza, attests to his interest in the Alexandrian tradition. The similarities in their accounts of the six days of the Creation are also worth noting—those in Basil’s Homelies on the Hexaemeron and those of Philo in the De Opificio. Gregory of Nyssa also mentions Philo in his polemic against the heresy of Euno- mios, when he expresses indignation that his adversary quite simply pillaged the Alexandrian exegete. Parallels have also been found between Gregory’s treatise on virginity and Philo’s De Vita Contemplativa. It might also be speculated whether Gregory’s treatise on the creation of man is indebted to De Opificio and whether his De Vita Moysis, which bears the same title as a treatise by Philo, is in fact inspired by this work.30 Theodore of Mopsuest (350–428), the most prominent member of the School of Antioch, rejects allegorical exegesis. He accords Philo barely any interest, as demonstrated in a long text against Origen.31 Philo is a vic-

28 J. Sirinelli, Les Vues historiques d’Eusèbe de Césarée durant la période prénicéenne, Paris, 1961, pp. 149–150. 29 Cf. Jerome, De viris illustribus, 113. 30 Cf. J. Daniélou, “Philon et Grégoire de Nysse”, Philon d’Alexandrie (Colloque Lyon 11–15 Sept. 1966), CNRS, Paris, 1967, pp. 333–345. 31 Cf. French translation by Van Rompay cited by Runia, op. cit., p. 267. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 213 tim of the bitter polemic which pits two rival exegetical Christian schools against each other. Theodore reproaches “the virtuous lord Origen” for having failed to find better inspiration than Philo, who, by his allegorical interpretation, “was bold enough to change all that was written.” No such attack on Philo is found elsewhere. Jerome, the translator of the Vulgate (347–420), is a contemporary of Theodore. He belongs to the Latin world by both origin—Stridon, at the frontier between Pannonia and Dalmatia—and writings. But it is certain Jerome discovered the Philonic corpus in the library of Caesarea, after his arrival in Bethlehem in 386. It is less certain that he actually read Philo in the original since the notice he devotes him in De viris illustribus appears to be inspired by Eusebius. It is in his conclusion of this work that is found the celebrated adage,written in Greek: “Either Plato philonises or Philo platonises.” References to Philo are rare in Jerome’s immense corpus, but they elicit exuberant appreciation. Philo is described as “the most knowledgeable among the Jews,” “the most eloquent”, “a second Plato”, “the Jewish Plato”. Philo’s influence is suspected in Letter 64 from Jerome to Fabiola regarding an allegorical interpretation of the part of the sacrificed animal that is reserved for the High Priest. However Origen’s influence, or even that of contemporary rabbinical exegeses (since Jerome consulted rabbis for his Latin translation of the Bible), seems a more likely source than Philo himself.32 So, in the course of time, traces of Philo becomes blurred as the indirect impacts on the direct tradition.

Ambrose, the “Latin Philo”

It was not Jerome, but Ambrose, bishop of Milan (339–397), who really introduced Philo to the Latin world. At least five of Ambrose’s treatises may, to varying degrees, be considered “Philonian”33—De Paradiso, De Cain et Abel, De Noe, De Abraham II and De fuga saeculi. We also encounter the influence of Philo in a number of didactic letters. Over six hundred references have been found in the Ambrosian textual corpus. Among the fathers of the church, he seems to have been the major consumer of

32 Cf. H. Savon, “Ambroise et Jérôme, lecteurs de Philon”, ANRW II, 21.1, pp. 745–759. 33 Cf. H. Savon, article cited, pp. 732–744 and Id. Saint Ambroise devant l’exégèse de Phi- lon le Juif, I–II, Paris, 1977, as well as E. Lucchesi, L’Usage de Philon dans l’œuvre exégétique de Saint Ambroise, Leiden, 1977, pp. 53–88. 214 chapter nine

Philo’s thought, way ahead of Clement, with three hundred citations. How might Philo’s works have reached Italy? By way of Caesarea? Or via some other route? Nominated as bishop in a province where he had held a consular post, Ambrose needed to enhance his standing as a scholar and exegete. Given his perfect knowledge of Greek, he would have encountered the writings of Philo, Origen and Basil which enriched his own biblical commentaries. The bishop of Milan, however, is highly circumspect about his sources. He confines himself to vague formulae: “certain”, “some people”, “others”, “the most” (aliqui, quidam, nonnulli, alii, plerique). Nonetheless, Philo’s De Sacrificiis is evident throughout Ambrose’s treatise on Cain, as is the Quaestiones in Genesin in his dissertations on Noah and Abraham. Specialists have much debated about the extent of Ambrose’s reliance on Philo. It is evident that, like others, Ambrose adapted Philo’s work to conform to Christian doctrine, changing the meaning of the same terms. Ambrose expresses hostility to the Judaism of his time and accuses Philo of Judaicus affectus (Jewish sympathy). This does not, however, prevent Ambrose from drawing inspiration from Philo without naming his source. The belated discovery of the Quaestiones from which he borrows so much, earned the bishop of Milan the sobriquet of Philo Christianus, or Philo Latinus.34

Philo as a “Christian Source”: from Translations to Printed Editions

It is not by chance that some Church Fathers modified their attitude towards Philo during the 4th century. Following the conversion of Con- stantine, the century witnessed the great synods and the establishment of the Dogma. Heresies, the first of which was the Arian, were condemned. Philo’s theory of the Logos might appear to have inspired this Arianism. Two of the greatest masters of Alexandria, Origen and Didymus, who referred to it, were anathematised. As a result, a large part of their works was swept away. Philo, the Jew, is nevertheless considered to be a virtual Christian by Eusebius because of his admiration for the Therapeutes, who, in Eusebius’

34 The first expression is from the translator from Armenian into Latin, Aucher (1826), the second is found in the introduction to the edition by Cohn and Wendland (1896), I, LXII. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 215 view, are the first Judaeo-Christians of Alexandria. Jerome classifies “Philo the Jew of Alexandrian origin” amongst the ecclesiastical writers (a nobis inter scriptores ecclesiasticos ponitur) since “writing on the first church of the evangelist Mark in Alexandria, he praises the Christians, affirming that they are not only found there but also in many provinces, and calling ‘mon- asteries’ their lodgings”35 (DeViris Illustr., 11). Jerome also cites the legend, transmitted by Eusebius, of a meeting between Philo and Peter in Rome during the reign of Claudius.36 He embellishes the legend by describing a close friendship that developed between the two men. This would explain Philo’s admiration for the Therapeutes, whom Jerome believes to be disciples of Mark. Further consolidation of the respect which Philo enjoyed in the Western Church was the attribution to him by Jerome of a semi- canonical Alexandrian work, the Wisdom of Solomon. The christianisation of Philo was completed in the 5th century when the author of Acta Johannis, incorrectly attributed to Prochorus, related the legend of an encounter between Philo and John. Their debate was uncon- clusive, however, when the evangelist miraculously healed Philo’s wife, who was afflicted with leprosy, the Jewish philosopher demanded to be baptised.37 A Syriac author, ca. 600, places Philo at the head of the Chris- tian school of exegesis in Alexandria. At the same time, he reproaches Philo’s excess of allegory and accuses him of responsibility for the later Arian heresy.38 In the 9th century, Photius reports that “Christian Philo” ended as an apostate. Nevertheless, Philo’s name appears in the “chains”39 (from the Latin catenae), which developed in the Byzantine period. These “chains” are commentaries on the Holy Scripture cited from various ecclesiastical authors. In manuscripts, the scriptural passage occupies the centre of the page, with citations by exegetes placed around the central text, generally preceded by an author’s name, the lemma written in red ink. Extracts from Philo cited in the catenae are often attributed to “Philo the bishop”.40

35 This term in Contempl. 25 designates in fact the cell of each Therapeute reserved for meditation and prayer. 36 HE II, 17.1 It is on the basis of Eusebius that Epiphanius bishop of Salamine (315–403), reports in a somewhat confused manner (Adversus Haereses I, 29, 5) a visit from Philo to the “Iessaioi of the lake Mareotis”. 37 Cf. J.E. Bruns, “Philo Christianus: the Debris of a Legend”, Harvard Theological Review 66, 1973, pp. 141–145. 38 Cf. Runia, op. cit., pp. 269–270. 39 See list in appendix to the book of Runia already cited pp. 354–356. 40 There is perhaps here confusion with Philo of Carpasia (Cyprus, beginning of the 5th century). Philo is sometimes cited anonymously as in the Procopius document from 216 chapter nine

The consecration of Philo as being close to Christianity, if not actually a Christian, finds expression in the translations which began to circulate, first in Latin, from the 4th century. It is probably through such translations that Augustine, little versed in Greek, would have access to Philo’s texts, but the teachings of Ambrose must also have played a role. In his refutation of Faustus the Manichaean (398), Augustine mentions how much more pertinent Philo’s exegesis on Noah’s Ark would have been if he had known how to apply it to Christ. Passages of the Confessions and the Commentary on Genesis seem to prove that Augustine was familiar with Philo’s De Opificio and the Quaestiones in Genesin. Towards the end of the 6th century, the Quaestiones also awoke the interest of the Armenian hellenising school. The Armenian translation includes about a quarter of Philo’s corpus. Apart from the Quaestiones in Genesin (I–IV) and Exodus (I–II), as well as the De Providentia and the De Animalibus (for which the original Greek is lost), it includes treatises preserved in Greek: Legum Allegoriae I–II, De Abrahamo, De Decalogo, Special Laws I, 79–161, III, 1–63, De Vita contemplativa, as well as two unattested fragments, De Deo and a fragment on the numbers. The Armenian translator presents Philo as a sage who might have taken part in the debates of Alexandrian Jews with Stephen (Acts 6, 9). He knows of the embassy to Caligula, but claims that Philo was a prefect of Alexandria. A partial Latin translation of Philo enjoyed lasting success under the title Liber Philonis. It includes a part of the Quaestiones IV (among which are eleven questions missing from the Armenian version), a reference to the treatise on numbers and the De Vita Contemplativa, the whole accompanied by a note by Jerome and a book of Antiquities, erroneously attributed to Philo. A manuscript from this collection, probably brought from Italy, is mentioned in 831 as being at the abbey of Saint-Riquier in France. The destiny of Philo in the mediaeval West still requires study. This would necessitate following not only the manuscripts but also representa- tions on reliquaries or frescoes in cathedrals, such as at Le Puy in central France, where Philo is found in the company of prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah and Hosea at the foot of a cross. Like Flavius Josephus, whose writings were also preserved by the Church, Philo was one of the first Greek authors to be published in the 16th cen-

Gaza (465–529) which reunites extracts of the Quaestiones, which could thus be preserved in Greek. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 217 tury, in an edition by Turnebe (Paris, 1552). A new Latin translation by the German scholar, Sigismund Gelenius (1554), for its part, enjoyed several reprints. It is through this translation that many men of the Renaissance discovered Philo. Among them was Joseph Scaliger,41 who was also a great admirer of Flavius Josephus. The Protestant humanist attempted to establish, on the basis of Philo, that the Therapeutes were not Christians, as claimed by the Patristic tradition. The polemic, which placed Scaliger in opposition to his unyielding detractor, Cardinal Cesar Baronio, inspired a debate that raged across Europe for more than two centuries. The argument between Catholics and Protestants over De vita contemplativa alone engendered a vast literature.42 Translations of Philo’s work, generally partial, published in various European languages followed the Latin translation. That of the Oeuvres de Philon Juif autheur très éloquent et philosophe très grave, by the French author Pierre Bellier in 1588, omits several allegorical passages which, in his opinion, were of no interest to a non learned public. The translator considers the Turnebe edition to contain many errors, preferring the Greek manuscripts found in the Royal Library of Francis I or in the library of the Vatican. For its part, the library of the Mechitarist Saint-Lazarus Convent in Venice conserved Armenian manuscripts of Philo. The Latin translation of these manuscripts published by Dom Pascal Aucher in 1826, brought to a European public some of Philo’s previously unknown writings. By the end of the 17th century, the interest of theologians in Philo’s work had become somewhat muted because of its Platonist character and resurgent doubts about the Christian identity of the Therapeutes. But in the course of the 19th and 20th centuries, Philo regained scholarly attention. The contemporary bibliography concerning the author runs to thousands of titles, in articles or books, treating various specific aspects of his works. The 1742 edition by the English scholar-clergyman Thomas Mangey revived interest in Philo in Western Europe. The first major critical edition of the complete works (Cohn and Wendland), appeared in Germany between 1896 and 1915. This inspired scholarly interest in other countries and renewed Philonian studies. It is significant that the complete works of Philo published in a bilingual edition in France (Editions

41 In his De emendatione temporum, ch. 6, Paris, 1583. 42 Cf. J. Riaud, “Les Thérapeutes d’Alexandrie dans la tradition et dans la recherche critique jusqu’aux découvertes de Qumran”, ANRW II, 20 Berlin – New York, 1987, pp. 1189–1295. 218 chapter nine du Cerf, 1961–1988) has been included in a specific series within a larger collection, entitled “Sources Chrétiennes”.

Philo Judaeus

It might be assumed that Jewish Alexandrians, above all, read Philo during his lifetime. But from the appearance of Christianity in Alexandria and continuing to the 19th century, Philo’s readers were almost exclusively Christians.43 So, with a few rare exceptions, Philo has been ignored for more than eighteen centuries by his fellow Jews. This does not signify censure or anathema. The Jews did not reject Philo; they did not read him because they did not know Greek, or if they did, they did not have access to the Alexandrian manuscripts. The potential Jewish readers of Philo no longer existed. In the ancient Roman province of Judaea, renamed Palaestina by Hadrian after the Jewish revolt of 132–135, Greek was the prerogative of a small elite group which had contact with the authorities, since it was the administrative language of the Roman Empire. Greek was also known to the rabbis;44 indeed, they considered it to be the only tongue into which the Bible could be translated. The adoption of the Septuagint by the Christians explains that the rabbis preferred other Greek translations, particularly that of the proselyte Aquila, who was faithful to the exegetical method of Rabbi Akiba. It nevertheless took Origen’s arrival in Caesarea to bring Philo’s name to the attention of the rabbis. There is reason to believe that, in his work on the Hexapla, Origen received Jew- ish help in transcribing the non-vocalised Hebrew of the first column into Greek characters for the second. It has been suggested that the Jewish hand was that of Hoshayah (Hosea), author of exegeses on Genesis in the Midrash Rabba, as there are close similarities between this and Philo’s commentary.45 It may be assumed that Origen had introduced Hoshayah

43 The traces of his reading by pagan authors such as the neo-Pythagoraean philosopher Numenius of Apamea (2nd century) or the great neo-Platonist Plotinus are very uncertain. 44 Cf. M. Hadas-Lebel, Jerusalem against Rome, Peeters, Leuven 2006, pp. 269–275. 45 W. Bacher, Die Agada der palästinensischen Amoraer, vol. I, Strasbourg 1892. Accord- ing to the hypothesis of D. Barthélemy the same would have retouched the allegorical commentary of Philo in the relation to the translation from Aquila. Cf. Philon d’Alexandrie (colloque de Lyon, 1966), pp. 45–78. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 219 to Philo’s work.46 Indeed, this single section of the vast Midrash is the only one where such coincidence may be discerned (although this does not exclude a common root prior to Philo). For centuries, Jewish awareness of Philo remained the exclusive preserve of a handful of scholars. In the East, the Karaite sect, which appeared in the 9th century, rejected the Talmud. Some of its adherents might have found parallel thoughts in earlier Judaism, which might have reached them by an indirect tradition.47 In the West, the famous astronomer, mathematician and historian Abraham Zacuto (1452–1515?), who fled the Iberian Peninsula in 1457 to escape forced conversion, at least knew of Philo. In discussing the development of the Oral Law in the Second Tem- ple period, Zacuto cites “a great Jewish sage” who wrote “a book on the soul in Greek”.48 Scaliger also notes that Zacuto is the first Jewish scholar to mention the Essenes. The Latin translation of Philo’s works by Gelenius filtered through the Jewish communities of Italy, the only ones in Europe which were exposed to the humanist spirit of the Renaissance. Philo’s commentary kindled the enthusiasm of Judah, David and Moses Provençal, sons of a rabbinical family in Mantua, who were inclined towards mysticism. Among their friends, Azariah de Rossi (1513–1578), an erudite citizen of Mantua, was the first Jewish author to accord Philo a significant place in his work. As a result of his contacts with a Christian humanist from Ferrara, he discovered and translated the Letter of Aristeas into Hebrew.49 This led him to an interest in Jewish works written in Greek, including those of Philo and Josephus. His admiration for the Alexandrian is not without reservation, although he translates the Greek name of Philo into that of Yedidiah (“friend of God”): he detects Philo’s weak knowledge of Hebrew and his divergence from the Oral Law that De Rossi erroneously attributes to his being an Essene (De Rossi develops a thesis of his own in which he identifies the Essenes as a variant of the Sadducees, the Boethusians, mentioned in the

46 W. Bacher, Die Agada der palästinensischen Amoraer vol. I, Strasbourg 1892. Accord- ing to the hypothesis of D. Barthélemy the same would have retouched the allegorical commentary of Philo in the relation to the translation from Aquila. Cf. Philon d’Alexandrie (colloque de Lyon, 1966), pp. 45–78. 47 Cf. S. Poznanski, “Philon dans la tradition judéo-arabe,” REJ 50 (1905), pp. 10–31. 48 Sefer Yuhasin published by Samuel Shalom at Constantinople in 1566, p. 148. The edition is accompanied by a Hebrew translation of the Against Apion of Josephus. It has been reprinted at Cracow (1581) with notes from Rabbi Moses Isserles. 49 The translation is included under the title Hadrat Zeqenim (Glory of the Elders) in Rossi’s great work Meor Einayim (Light of the eyes), Mantua, 1573–75. 220 chapter nine

Talmud).50 This does not prevent him from appreciating the specifically Platonist elements in Philo’s doctrine and particularly the belief in the immortality of the soul. But he reproaches Philo for having also adopted the theory of the eternity of matter, which, in fact, is not certain. Philo’s allegorical interpretation of the Scriptures is also considered to be replete with danger. By what authority does Philo impose his own readings of the texts? Here, de Rossi may have been influenced by observations from the Fathers of the Church whose works he regularly studied, an unusual practice amongst the Jews of his time.51 Invoking a particular conception of orthodoxy, de Rossi questions Philo’s approach, but ironically de Rossi himself was marginalised for two centuries because of his heterodox views on Talmudic legends and on what he considered to be a recent innovation of dating the Jewish calendar from the creation of the world. At the end of the 18th century, the Haskala, the Jewish Enlightenment movement, rediscovered de Rossi and published his Me’or Einayim, already partly translated into Latin in the 17th and 18th centuries by Christian Hebraists (Berlin 1794, Vilna 1863–66). Through this work, Jews who left the ghettos also rediscovered Aristeas, Philo and Josephus. By the mid-19th century, European Jewish studies—the Wissenschaft des Judentums—had become as interested in Philo’s writings as were Christian scholars, as can be seen in the vast bibliography. A final chapter remained to be written on the history of the transmission of Philo’s works: the translation of the original Greek into the Hebrew language. Such a project was instigated in Jerusalem in 1986.52 So the circle is closed and Philo has returned to a reborn Israel. The translation now fulfils the wish of the Venetian Rabbi Simone Luzzatto, who observed in 1638: “The works of Philo have been translated from Greek into Latin, but to date they have yet to be translated into Hebrew.”

50 On the basis of interpreting the Hebrew transcription of the term “Boethusian” as “house of the Essenes”. On this subject see the courses of Charles Touati (AEPHE Ve section 97, 1988–89, p. 215). 51 Cf. J. Weinberg, “The Quest for Philo in Sixteenth-Century Jewish Historiography,” in Rapoport-Albert and Zipperstein (ed.) Jewish History: Essays in Honour of Chimen Abram- sky, London, 1988, pp. 163–187. 52 Under the direction of Suzanne Daniel, three volumes published, each grouping several treatises. The style chosen is that of the Mishna, in which the Greek of Philo more or less contemporary to it, flows with ease. philo, ‘father of the church honoris causa’ 221

Conclusion: The Philonic Heritage

The preservation of Philo in patristic literature has had a considerable impact on the history of Christian ideas. As Photius the patriarch acknowledged in the 9th century: “Right from this Philo, all the allegorical method in the reading of the Scriptures began to be diffused throughout the Church”.53 Doubtless, the patristic exegesis would have existed without Philo, but it would not have enjoyed so central a role, nor highlighted the same texts, nor succeeded in establishing equilibrium between literal meaning and allegorical interpretation. Without Philo, it may be doubted that Western theology would have made such use of philosophy, even as a simple servant. Our philosopher whom Edouard Herriot calls the “glory of the Jewish school of Alexandria54 doubtless influenced Christian thought directly or indirectly—and, by extension, European thought—in reconciling reason and revelation and in creating a fruitful synthesis between those two pil- lars of our civilisation: Athens and Jerusalem. Contemporary Jewish or Christian commentators who find new meanings in the Bible inspired by modern thought, whether sociological or psycho-analytical, are the intellectual descendants of Philo of Alexandria, even if they are unaware of the debt.

53 Bibliotheca 105; cf. Runia, Philo and the Church Fathers, p. 13 and “L’Exegèse philoso- phique et l’influence de la pensée philonienne dans la tradition patristique” in C. Lévy (ed.) Philon d’Alexandrie et le langage de la philosophie, Brépols, Turnhout 1998, pp. 327–348. 54 This famous French political figure wrote in his youth a work entitled Philon, le Juif. Essai sur l’école juive d’Alexandrie, Paris, 1898.

REQUIEM

Following his difficult mission to Caligula, we lose trace of Philo. He must have returned to Alexandria where he wrote the long account accompanied by reflections that have reached us, incomplete, under the title of Legatio ad Caium. It is not known whether other works followed. Shortly after, on the 24th of January 41 ce, Caligula was assassinated and, to the surprise of the Senate, the army offered the empire to Caligula’s uncle, Claudius. According to Josephus,1 the Jewish king Agrippa I might have played a significant role in the accession to the throne of his old study companion, Claudius, who immediately gave Herod’s former kingdom to his grandson Agrippa. Claudius also inherited the Alexandrian question. He, in turn, had to welcome two rival delegations who sought his intercession in the inter-communal conflict, which was still unresolved.2 The new emperor sought a compromise. In a “Letter to the Alexandrians”, posted in the city by edict of the prefect on the 10th of November 41, he asked the Greeks to “behave with kindness and humanity towards the Jews living such a long time in the same city” and “allow them to live in conformity with their customs”. Then, turning to the Jews, he ordered them “not to seek more than they already possessed”. On pain of severe penalties, he also ordered them not to encourage co-religionists to move to Alex- andria. One of the formulae used by the new emperor dashed all hope that the Jews had placed in him: “Living in a city which is not their own, they must be satisfied to enjoy what belongs to them.” Thus, all efforts to achieve equality with the Greeks had been in vain. But, at least, the Jews were assured of imperial protection destined to end “troubles, uprisings or rather, to call a spade a spade, the war against the Jews”. Philo must have heard this edict with death in his soul. It is not clear whether he survived his nephew Marcus, who perished in 44 ce, shortly after his marriage to the very young Berenice. Agrippa I died in suspicious circumstances in the same year, when Judaea came under the direct control of Rome. Tiberius Alexander, Philo’s other nephew, was appointed as one of the procurators in Judaea from 46 to 48, from where he rose to occupy the prestigious post of prefect of Egypt. The apostate Tiberius

1 AJ XIX, 230–247. 2 Cf. Mélèze, The Jews of Egypt, p. 142 sq. 224 requiem

Alexander had no compunction about crushing his former co-religionists, demonstrating that the modern concept of jüdischer Selbsthass (Jewish self-hatred) has even examples in ancient history. Philo’s greatest failure lay in not having had sufficient influence over the closest members of his family. The anti-Jewish uprisings, which shook Alexandria in 66 ce, coinciding with the Judaean Revolt against Rome, clearly showed that the old hatred which embittered Philo’s last days had not disappeared. It had simply awaited a propitious climate to erupt anew. Alexandrian Judaism survived for a while and may have continued absorbing refugees from Judaea. But the worst was yet to come. A Jewish revolt, perhaps sparked off in Cyrenaica, spread to Egypt and to Cyprus in 115 during Trajan’s reign. The causes of the revolts are obscure, but it is known they ended within two years with the annihila- tion of the three communities. Of the flamboyant Alexandrian Judaism that Philo had known, nothing survived. Only the papyrus rolls remained, conserved in a library and waiting, perhaps, to bring their author and his community back to life in an unknowable future. BIBLIOGRAPHY

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1. Classical Authors and Texts

Arrian Petronius Anabasis of Alexander III, 1, 5 6 n. 13 fragment n° 37 95 n. 14 Aristotle Satyricon 68 95 n. 14 Constitutiones 1267 b 7 n. 16 Satyricon 102 95 n. 14 Plato Cassius Dio Cratylus 386 a 163 n. 7 37, 17 32 Leges 631 c 144 n. 50 Cicero Leges 716 c 163 n. 7 De Natura Deorum liber II 170 n. 29 Phaidrus 247 c-e 159 Clearchus of Soli Respublica 558 c 193 n. 28 ap Josephus C. Ap. I, 179 171 Respublica 562 e 193 n. 29 Respublica 563 a–b 193 n. 30 Diodorus Siculus Respublica 564 a 193 n. 31 Bibliotheca Historica XVII, 51 4 n. 9 Respublica 377 d 42 Bibliotheca Historica XVII, 52 6 n. 12 Respublica 557 c 195 Theaetetus 152 a 163 n. 7 Heraclitus Timaeus 28 a 182 n. 5 Homeric Allegories 5, 1 123 n. 7 Pliny the Elder Homer Natural History XIX, 1, 3 10 n. 27 Iliad VI–XV 123 Plutarch Odyssey IV, 355 4 n. 8 Life of Alexander XXVI, 7 6 Odyssey XI, 315–318 152 Life of Alexander XXVII, 9 4 Horatius Pythagoras Satires I, 9, 69 99 n. 24 Golden Verses 47 166 n. 19

Juvenal Seneca Satires XIV, 96–106 99 n. 24 Epistles 95 99 n. 24 Fragment ap. Augustinus De Civitate Dei Lucian VI, 11 103 n. 40 The Ship 10 n. 24 Stoicorum Veterum Fragmenta I, 211 170 n. 33 Martial II 299 169 n. 28 Epigrammata IV, 7 99 n. 24 II 301 169 n. 28 Epigrammata VII, 30 95 n. 14 II 346 a 169 n. 28 Epigrammata VII, 35 95 n. 14 II 1066 170 n. 32 Epigrammata VII, 82 95 n. 14 II 1067 170 n. 32 Epigrammata XI, 94 95 n. 14 II 1075 170 n. 32 III, 316 170 n. 30 Nichomachus of Gerasa Strabo II, XIII, 1 168 n. 25 Geography XIII, 608 14 n. 34 Numenius of Apamea Geography XV, 1, 64 172 n. 40 fragment 9a 171 n. 37 Geography XV, 68 172 n. 40 Geography XVII, 1, 6 9 Persius Geography XVII, 1, 7 6 n. 12 Satires V, 176 99 n. 24 Geography XVII, 1, 10 15 232 index of ancient authors and texts

Geography XVII, 1, 12 23 Theophrastus ap. Porphyriys Geography XVII, 79 7 n. 18 De Abstinentia II, 26 66 n. 32 Suetonius Timon ap. Athenaeus Life of Augustus 73 94 n. 9 I, 22 D 13 n. 29 Life of Augustus 93 94 n. 9 Life of Caesar 52 22 n. 46 Varro ap. Augustinus Life of Caesar 84 48 n. 76 Stern I, 72 a–d 66 n. 33 Life of Caligula 12 81 n. 27 Vitruvius De Architectura II, Preface 7 n. 14

2. Hellenistic Jewish Authors and Texts

Ben Sira 24 65 n. 28 XX, 100 28 n. 2, 30 Prologue 24–25 65 n. 29 XX, 147 51 n. 89 Prologue 26–35 38 n. 36 44,16 134 n. 41 Bellum Judaicum II, 162–166 197 n. 37 Flavius Josephus II, 383–386 10 n. 25 Antiquitates Judaicae II, 487–498 48 n. 75 I, 81 109 n. 52 II, 488 17 n. 38 XI, 326–339 54 n. 2 III, 560 46 n. 64 XIII, 297 122 n. 4 V, 169 9 XIV, 12 103 n. 39 V, 201 36 n. 28 XIV, 20 103 n. 39 V, 205 36 n. 30 XIV, 23 103 n. 39 VII, 45 45 n. 61 XIV, 25 103 n. 39 VII, 433–436 35 n. 23 XIV, 63–65 94 n. 7 XIV, 117 17 n. 37, 49 n. 78 Contra Apionem XIV, 185–267 69 n. 2 I, 223 50 n. 87 XV, 320 39 n. 37 I, 224 41 n. 41 XV, 391–419 36 n. 27 I, 179 171 n. 36 XVI, 4 103 n. 39 I, 194 33 n. 16 XVI, 144 9 I, 239 41 n. 42 XVI, 163 69 n. 3 I, 279 142 n. 44 XVI, 166 69 n. 5 I, 288–303 68 n. 41 XVII, 149 122 n. 3 I, 304–320 68 n. 40 XVII, 164 39 n. 38 II, 3–7 79 n. 20 XVII, 339 39 n. 38 II, 21 68 n. 42 XVIII, 12–17 197 n. 37 II, 22–23 132 XVIII, 159–160 29 n. 3 II, 29 79 n. 19 XVIII, 211–223 81 n. 26 II, 33 79 n. 21 XVIII, 257 78 n. 17 II, 34–35 17 n. 37 XVIII, 259 78 n. 18 II, 36 17 n. 38 XVIII, 260 87 II, 41 79 n. 19 XVIII, 261–288 85 n. 29 II, 49 34 n. 21 XVIII, 289–300 86 n. 30 II, 55 44 n. 54 XVIII, 309 88 n. 32 II, 95 68 n. 43 XIX, 16 88 n. 33 II, 135–136 80 n. 24 XIX, 230–247 223 n. 1 II, 154 142 n. 45 XIX, 277 29 n. 4 II, 168 66 n. 31 XIX, 283 50 n. 82 II, 177 62 n. 23 XIX, 297 38 n. 38 II, 282 45 n. 58, 94 n. 11 XX, 17–45 45 n. 60 index of ancient authors and texts 233

I Henoch Maccabees VI–VIII 154 n. 66 I—Mac. 1, 13 s. 57 n. 20 Letter of Aristeas 1, 14–15 92 n. 2 16 42 n. 49 15 33 n. 17 22–26 33 n. 18 16–21 33 n. 17 39 60 2, 32–38 94 n. 6 109–111 16 n. 35 128 93 II—Mac. 128–171 60 4, 11 s. 57 n. 20 129 93 4, 12–15 92 n. 2 138–142 94 6, 18–31 93 n. 3 144 93 n. 5 145–146 93 III—Mac. 153–157 93 3, 4 44 n. 55 158 95 n. 12 3, 8–10 44 n. 56 169 94 4, 1–1 b 43 n. 53 176 60 4–5 79 n. 22 187–292 61 301 60 Wisdom of Solomon 307 60, 63 XV, 18 42 n. 43 310 60 313 61 315 61 317 60

3. Rabbinic Sources

Jerusalem Talmud Gittin VIII, 5 109 n. 53 Sukka V, 1, 55 a 38 Middot I, 4 36 n. 28 Rosh Hashana I, 1 109 n. 53 Babylonian Talmud Shabbat VII, 2 102 n. 37 Pesahim 57 a 39 n. 39 Yoma III, 10 36 n. 28 Yoma 38 a 36 n. 28 Tosefta Mishna Menahot 13, 21 39 n. 39 Abot I, 3 196 IV, 2 196 4. Early Christian

Clement of Alexandria VIII, 11, 12 211 n. 27 Stromateis I, 72, 4 165 n. 15 VIII, 12, 1 211 n. 26 Stromateis II, 100, 39 165 n. 15 VIII, 13, 1 211 n. 22 VIII, 14, 1 211 n. 24 Epiphanes of Salamine XI, 15, 1 211 n. 26 Adversus Haereses I, 29, 5 215 n. 36 XI, 24, 1 211 n. 22 XIII, 12 67 n. 34 Eusebius of Caesarea XIII, 18, 12 211 n. 25 Praeparatio Evangelica Historia Ecclesiastica VII, 13, 1–4 211 n. 26 II, 4,2 165 n. 15 VII, 18, 1–2 211 n. 23 II, 16 210 n. 19, 211 n. 20 VIII, 6–7 211 n. 27 II, 17 210 n. 19 234 index of ancient authors and texts

II, 17, 1 215 n. 36 Origen II, 18 211 n. 21 Commentary on Matthew 15, 3 208 Contra Celsum 4, 51 208 Jerome Contra Celsum 6, 21 208 De viris illustribus 11 164 n. 11, 215 Photius Bibliotheca 105 221 n. 53 INDEX OF PHILONIC PASSAGES

Alexander sive De animalibus De Cherubin 3–4 30 nn. 6–7 27 186 27–28 184 n. 10 De Abrahamo 30 186 6 170 n. 34, 190 52–56 132 7 134 81 57 n. 18 9 134 105 56 n. 12 17 134 111 199 25 144 n. 50 113–119 200 27 134 124–130 133 33 135 125 186 48 136 51 135 De Confusione linguarum 52 135 1 178 56 135 2 152 72 135 6 153 74 137 39 126 n. 19 87 137 44 125 n. 17 88 150 62–63 211 n. 26 103 137 69 153 122 137, 186 97 211 n. 26 124–125 184 n. 10 98 152 nn. 60–61, 182 127 197 108 192, 194 161–164 160 114 153 182 173 122 153 202 137 128–132 126 n. 22 207 137 134 152 236 170 n. 33 135–139 152 n. 62 242 192 146 186 146–147 211 n. 26 De agricultura 147 186 14–16 161 n. 1 149 126 nn. 19, 25 18 56 n. 12 175 130 n. 37 44 195 46 193 De congressu eruditionis gratia 47 193 15 56 n. 10 50 126 n. 19 17–18 56 n. 12 51 184, 186, 211 n. 26 52 57 n. 17, 163 n. 5 62 71 n. 8 64 56 n. 14 64 71 n. 7 65 56 n. 16 83 170 n. 33 67 163 n. 9 89 71 n. 7 74–78 55 n. 8 114–115 57 n. 18 76 56 n. 11 131 99 79 178 133–145 99 n. 23 107 111 148 56 n. 10 De aeternitate mundi 7 162 n. 4 236 index of philonic passages

De Decalogo 64–66 140 n. 42 15 189 n. 21 70 141 16 146 72–74 141 17 146 79 141 19 146 143 141 20–31 168 n. 24 149 141 36–43 146 54 42 n. 46, 170 n. 32 De migratione Abrahami 76–80 42 n. 43 3 135 93–94 184 n. 9 10–12 135 97 101 14 71 n. 7 98 104 18 71 n. 7 100 101 19 140 n. 42 102–105 100 n. 26 20 135 121 178 25 105 156 42 n. 46 60 170 n. 33 62 89 n. 35 De ebrietate 89 154 n. 67 31 188 n. 19 90 91 n. 1 37 189 91 101 47 189 n. 22 92–93 97 177 58 n. 21 93 190 198 161 n. 2 120 170 n. 34 199 161 n. 2 121 135 200–201 162 n. 3 125 135 202 161 n. 1 128 135 156–157 126 n. 20 De fuga et inventione 160 141 12 182 n. 5 163 141 68 178 186 183, 184 77 178 188 135 101 186 n. 16, 187 120 178 De mutatione nominum 199–201 125 n. 15 9 181 n. 2 13 184 n. 8 De gigantibus 19 145 n. 51 7 154 66–80 156 13 198 70 178 16 154 74 161 n. 1 31 154 197 163 n. 10 58 153, 154 223 197 65 154 De opificio mundi De Josepho 1–2 129 n. 33 13 140 2 189 28 150 3 189 29 170 n. 30, 188 4 130 30 144 7 162 31 145 7–12 211 n. 22 32 139 8 178, 183 34 140 8–9 169 n. 28 35 140 13 166 n. 17 36 140 15 166 n. 16 40–48 140 n. 42 20 186 index of philonic passages 237

24 129 n. 34 De providentia 24–27 211 n. 22 II— 29 129 n. 35, 156 n. 71 3 211 n. 24 29–31 211 n. 22 15–33 211 n. 24 35 166 n. 16 16 170 n. 33 47 168 n. 24 41 170 n. 32 52 166 n. 18 50–51 211 n. 24 54 160 60 196 69 183 99–112 211 n. 24 75 130 103 57 n. 19 79 170 n. 33 107 35 n. 24 89 102 n. 35, 113 108 42 n. 44 89–128 100 n. 27 100 167 n. 21 De sacrifiis Abelis et Caini 105 167 5 198 128 104, 131 8 198 140 131 9 145 n. 51 143 170 n. 30 10 145 n. 52 151 132 52 133 152 132 n. 39 59 184 n. 10 154 132 63 105 157 153 64 105 157–159 153 88 133 160 153 124–125 198 172 183 De somniis De plantatione I— 8–9 187 34 197 18–20 211 n. 23 78 140 39 126 nn. 19, 21 91 189 49 170 n. 34 205 56 nn. 10, 12 86 184 n. 10 220 139 224 139 De posteritate Caini 236–237 152 n. 64 16 181 n. 2 237 152 n. 60 26 88 n. 34 35 163 n. 7 II— 48 111 n. 56 11 141 86 163 n. 9 16 141 47 144 De praemiis et poenis 93–113 140 1–2 120 120–132 150 13 88 n. 34 123 103 29 135 124 103 31 136 133 196 32 132 172 125 n. 16 40 181 234 198 41 136 242–243 188 n. 18 42 181 n. 3 255 71 n. 7 81 178 300 157 88 199 110 198 117 199 n. 41 165 199 238 index of philonic passages

De specialibus legibus 147 105 I— 148 106 1–38 147 149 105 2 95 n. 13 150 106 5 96 n. 18 151 106 6 96 n. 19 155 106 7 96 n. 16 157 105 8 96, 154 n. 67 158 106 9–11 96 n. 20 159 106 13–17 211 n. 25 160 106 41–49 181 n. 2 162 108 n. 50 47–48 185 163 114 51 46 n. 66 163–164 96 n. 18 52 46 n. 70 167 108 n. 50 53 42 n. 48 171 108 n. 50 65 64 n. 27 179–187 108 n. 51 66 114 188 110 68 35 n. 25 192 110 69 114 193 110 n. 55 69–70 36 196 111 71–75 36 n. 26 200 110, 168 n. 24 79 42 n. 43 202 110 85–97 145 n. 52, 147 n. 56 203 111 97 114 208–209 109 180 109 211 109 186 111 224 148 305 96 225 148 309 46 n. 67 229 55 n. 3 316 47 n. 73 259 196 317–318 47 n. 71 327 185 n. 14 III— 329 185 1 159 336 161 n. 1 3 51 8–81 148 II— 83 148 39 147 153–168 148 39–222 162 70 41 112 n. 57 181–183 148 42 112 185 159 45 107 n. 49 191 160 55 112 56 100 n. 26 IV— 56–59 167 n. 20 61 67 n. 38 59 100 n. 30 94 148 61–62 127 n. 27 97–99 97 62 103 n. 42 100–101 98 64 104 103 98 65 102 107–109 99 n. 23 66–68 101 n. 31 113 98 68 193 n. 27 119 98 129 189 122 98 142 n. 43 123 98 145 106 n. 46 124 98 146 105 131 99 index of philonic passages 239

156 194 II— 158–164 194 n. 32 11 125 n. 14, 145 165–166 194 n. 33 14 145, 190 169 194 20 45 171 194 20–21 94 n. 11, 113 172 195 22 102 179–180 89 22–23 45 n. 59 183–188 194 23 110 n. 55 184 195 24 111 237 192 27 63 n. 26 29–31 115 De virtutibus 34 64 8 161 n. 1 37 64 18 170 n. 34, 189 38 64 65 178 40 65 102 46 n. 65 41 45 n. 62, 115 103 46 n. 69, 66 42 65 180 192, 194 44 115 46–47 120 De vita contemplativa 52 129 n. 32, 190 2 175 n. 47 67 145 8–9 42 n. 43 109–135 145 n. 52, 147 n. 56, 150 n. 59 25 215 n. 35 114–132 184 n. 9 28 175 n. 48 127 188 64 174 n. 44 188 125 n. 13 65 174 n. 45 205 42 n. 47 74 174 210 100 n. 26, n. 29 90 175 n. 49 211 103 n. 41 212 163 n. 6 De vita Mosis 216 38 n. 34, 103 n. 42, 127 n. 27, 178 I— 219 102 n. 34 1 124 n. 12 224 107 n. 49 1–2 142 291 125, 145 n. 52 4 154 n. 67 12 143 n. 49 Hypothetica (Apologia pro Iudaeis) 19 142 n. 47, 143 n. 49 VII, 11–14 103 n. 42 21 143 VII, 13 37, 127 n. 27 23 42 n. 43 27 145 In Flaccum 47 143 n. 49 4–6 72 56 143 n. 49 17 50 n. 86, 71 n. 8 57 143 n. 49 19 72 60 143 20 72 62 143 29 50 n. 87 67 88 32 73 67–70 150 n. 59 36 73 71 144 39 73 n. 10 84 144 41 71, 74 148 144 45–46 33 149 114 46 31–32 157 114 48 74 205 102 51 77 207 100 n. 29 53 74 65 75 240 index of philonic passages

66 75 302 70 68 75 n. 14 311–316 69 n. 5 70 75 n. 15 330 84 74 50 nn. 81, 83 352 86 76 50 n. 85 357 87 76 74 n. 12 359 87 78 76 366 57 80 76 82 76 Legum allegoriae 85 76 I— 95 76 3–4 166 n. 17 96 46 n. 63, 77, 77 n. 16 8–15 167 n. 20 97–101 72 8–16 100 n. 26 103 74 n. 12 18 101 116 78 40 145 n. 51 118 78 57 161 n. 1 121 78 65 188 n. 18 135 77 105 197 172 77 108 67 n. 36 176 88 n. 34 II— Legatio ad Caium 20 131 3 89 n. 35 25 131 8 70 74 153 15 80 n. 25 77 197 47 196 50 196 III— 51 196 n. 34 96 186 56 81 98 182 76 82 99 181 n. 3 114 82 101 182 n. 7 115 82 133 170 n. 33 116 82 n. 28 161 197 125 75 175 186 127 75 n. 13 130 75 n. 14 Quaestiones et solutiones in Exodum 131 75 n. 15 I—4 105 132 75 139 42 n. 43 II—2 97 147 70 158 69 n. 4, 99 n. 25 Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesim 160 70 II—62 211 162–170 74 n. 11 163 42 n. 43 III— 164–165 74 5 67 n. 36 166 82 21 56 n. 12 182 80 33 57 n. 17 184 83 46–48 96 n. 20 189 84 47 96 n. 17 190 80 48 96 nn. 15, 17, 19 194 84 49 168 n. 23 205 83 51 113 n. 58 215 85 51–52 96 n. 20 276–329 86 index of philonic passages 241

V—152 67 n. 36 Quod Deus sit immutabilis 5–6 126 n. 23 Quis rerum divinarum heres it 19 196 12 56 n. 15 21 156 n. 72 79 179 27–32 151 130 187 49 151 140 187 53 152 n. 60 166 184 n. 10, 186 n. 16 56 184 205 186, 187 57–60 152 n. 63 206 186, 187 60 151 214 67 n. 36 63–68 152 n. 64 246 57 n. 17, 161 n. 2, 163 n. 8 69 152 n. 65 283 197 159 190 176 192 Quod deterius potiori insidiari soleat 1–2 133 Quod omnis Probus liber sit 7 139 26 57 n. 19 75–78 133 43 178 96–100 133 57 67 n. 37 110 170 n. 33 74 172 119 170 n. 33 75–91 173, 211 160 181 n. 2 96 172 n. 39 161–162 145 n. 51 141 58 n. 21 176 208 159 170 n. 33 178 133 160 170 n. 34, 181 n. 2 By the Same Author

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