Women in Their Place

JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE NEW TESTAMENT SUPPLEMENT SERIES 269

Editor Mark Goodacre

Editorial Board John M.G. Barclay, Craig Blomberg, Elizabeth A. Castelli, Kathleen E. Corley, R. Alan Culpepper, James D.G. Dunn, Craig A. Evans, Stephen Fowl, Robert Fowler, Simon J. Gathercole, Michael Labahn, Robert Wall, Robert L. Webb, Catrin H. Williams This page intentionally left blank Women in Their Place

Paul and the Corinthian Discourse of Gender and Sanctuary Space

Jorunn Økland

Published by T&T Clark International an imprint of Continuum

The Tower Building, 15 East 26th Street, 11 York Road, Suite 1703, London SE1 7NX New York, NY 10010 www. tandtclark .com

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Typeset by Tradespools, Frome, Somerset Printed on acid-free paper in Great Britain by MPG Books Ltd, Bodmin, Cornwall

ISBN 0-567-08075-7 (hardback) 0-567-08407-8 (paperback) CONTENTS

Acknowledgments viii List of Illustrations x

Chapter 1 INTRODUCTION 1 1.1 Background Issues 1 1.2 Overview of the Book 3

Chapter 2 FROM WOMAN TO ‘WOMAN’, FROM CHURCH TO EKKLESIA SPACE, FROM TEXT TO CONTEXT 6 2.1 Feminist Readings of 11.2–16 and 14.33b-36 - the Problem of Paul and Women 6 2.2 Woman 12 2.3 Deconstructing Paul, or: ‘Paul’ from Center to Crossroads 22 2.4 Space and Ritual 31 2.5 Conclusion 38

Chapter 3 GENDER AETIOLOGIES AND THE DISCURSIVE CONSTRUCTION OF SPACES 39 3.1 Introduction 39 3.2 Graeco-Roman Discourses of Gender Aetiology 40 3.3 Discourses of Space 58 3.4 Conclusion 77

Chapter 4 PLACES FOR WOMEN IN EARLY ROMAN CORINTH'S RITUAL AND SANCTUARY SPACES 78 4.1 Introduction 78 4.2 Next to the Goddesses - behind the Walls: Demeter and Kore 80 4.3 A Discourse of Containment 92 4.4 The Frenzied Female 111 vi Contents

4.5 The Wife of the Israelite: The God of Israel 118 4.6 No Place: Apollo 122 4.7 A Discourse of Gender and Ritual/Sanctuary Space in Early Roman Corinth 123

Chapter 5 PLACING THE CHRISTIAN GATHERINGS: PAUL AND THE DISCOURSE OF SANCTUARY SPACE 131 5.1 Introduction: The Corinthian Ekklesia as Sanctuary Space 131 5.2 Traces of Ritual and Sanctuary Discourse in 1 Corinthians 133 5.3 Ekklesia 135 5.4 The Distinction between Ekklesia Space and Oikia Space 137 5.5 Ekklesia as Ritually Constructed Space 143 5.6 1 Corinthians 14.34–35 149 5.7 Ekklesia-Space as Sanctuary 152 5.8 1 Corinthians in the Discourses of Sanctuary Space 159 5.9 Conclusion 166

Chapter 6 CORINTHIAN ORDER 168 6.1 Introduction. Gender in the Sanctuary Space of Ekklesia 168 6.2 Cosmic Gender Hierarchy 170 6.3 Manifestations of the Cosmic Structure in Ekklesia Space 188 6.4 ‘Speech Genders’ (1 Corinthians 14.33-37) 201 6.5 The Antistructure of Communitas 208 6.6 Conclusion of 6.1-6.5 210 6.7 The Representation of Ekklesia as Male Space 211 6.8 Conclusion: Integration and Segregation, Sameness and Difference 217

Chapter 7 PAUL IN THE EARLY ROMAN CORINTHIAN DISCOURSE OF GENDER AND SANCTUARY SPACE: OBEDIENT AND SUBVERSIVE 224 7.1 Sanctuary Space as Representation of Cosmos 225 7.2 Paul and the Discourse of Gender and Sanctuary Space 230 7.3 The Tensions and Contradictions between Ancient Gender Models as Productive Factors and Sources of Subversiveness 235 7.4 Actors in a Discourse: Paul, His Texts, His Readers and Their Culturally Possible Response 241 7.5 Epilogue 245

Appendix 1 MORE ABOUT THE VARIOUS SANCTUARY SPACES 247 Demeter and Persephone in Greek Corinth 247 Contents vii

Isis and Sarapi 249 Imperial Cult 249 Asclepius 250

Appendix 2 MORE ABOUT THE VARIOUS TYPES OF TEXTS 252 Authors from Roman Times 252 Excavated Material 254

Appendix 3 ILLUSTRATIONS 258

BIBLIOGRAPHY 266 Ancient Authors 266 Modern Bible Versions 271 Collections of Non-literary Texts Referred to in Abbreviated Form 272 Main Bibliography 272

INDEXES 318 Index of References 318 Index of Authors 324 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book is based on my doctoral thesis at the University of Oslo, submitted in 2000. As it is impossible to name all the people there and elsewhere who read outlines or discussed the project with me on a more informal basis, a general word of thanks to all of you must suffice. While some will possibly disagree with the final result, I acknowledge my responsibility for the choices made, for mistakes and misjudgments of the present work. There are, however, some people who are more indispensable than others in the final product. Without the hospitable environment offered me at the Norwegian Institute at Athens, many of the arguments of this book could not have been made. I also want to thank the co-director of the Corinth Excavations, Nancy Bookidis, for her generosity, for access to all parts of the Corinth Museum, for helpful discussions, and for carefully reading drafts of Chapter 4. She first made me aware of ritual as a key in the study of Greek and Roman religion. Great thanks also go to the Corinth Excavations and its current director, Guy Sanders, for permission to use illustrations nos. 1–7 in Appendix 3, and James Herbst for providing me with properly formatted materials. I also want to thank Ronald Stroud for lending me an unpublished manuscript on the Corinthian curse tablets. I am grateful to Elizabeth A. Clark and Dale Martin for inviting me to Duke University, and in particular to Dale Martin for reading drafts and for sharing his time so generously with me. He also facilitated a trip to discuss the project on an informal level with Antoinette Wire, Daniel Boyarin, Gina Hens-Piazza, Mary Ann Tolbert, Lynn Stott and Miriam Peskowitz, whom I want to thank for encouragement at a crucial stage. I also thank Bernadette Brooten for reading Chapter 4, and for generously sharing so much of her vast knowledge with me, and for inviting me to discuss Chapter 5 in the Brandeis seminar, where also John Lanci’s comments were very helpful. In Norway I want to thank the participants of the RCN-funded, interdisciplinary project ‘The construction of Christian identity in Antiquity,’ which was my main intellectual environment before I moved to Sheffield. I am particularly grateful to my supervisor Halvor Moxnes, and co-supervisor Ingvild Gilhus. Your confidence, inspiration, patience Acknowledgments ix and open-mindedness created a space where it became possible for me to learn and grow. As committee members, Dale Martin, Ursula King and Turid Karlsen Seim made important suggestions concerning changes to the thesis before publication, and my wonderful Sheffield colleagues, in particular Diana Edelman, encouraged and supported me in the process of transforming the thesis into a book. Thanks! Thanks also go to my family Tor Even, Tora, and Idun Gabrielle, and to my parents Ingrid and Jon for their baby-sitting and practical help: this work is dedicated to them, in gratitude. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

1. Map of the Forum of Corinth in the mid-first century CE, without roads and names of buildings indicated. Drawing by C.K. Williams II, used with the permission of the Corinth Excavations of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. 2. Map of the Forum of Corinth in the second century CE, with roads and names of buildings indicated. Drawing by John Travlos, used with the permission of the Corinth Excavations of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. 3. Map of Corinth and Lechaeum. Drawing by D.B. Peck, Jr, used with the permission of the Corinth Excavations of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. 4. Plan of the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore in the Roman period. Drawing by D.B. Peck, Jr, used with the permission of the Corinth Excavations of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. 5. Plan of Room 7 in its earliest Roman state, with indications of the allocation of curse tablets around the (altar) bases. Drawing by D.B. Peck, Jr, used with the permission of the Corinth Excavations of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. 6. Sculpture from first century Corinth representing a woman, Corinth inv. no. S 986 (from Johnson 1931: 87 no. 164, reproduced by permission of the Corinth Excavations of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens). 7. Drawing of ritualistic (Dionysiac) scenes on Roman relief bowls from Corinth (from Spitzer 1942: 184 fig. 16, used with the permission of the Corinth Excavations of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens). 8. Reconstruction of the Second Temple after Herod the Great’s rebuilding, according to Mishnah Middot and Josephus. 9. Sketch of the Roman Villa at Anaploga, first century CE. Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION

1.1 Background Issues The book takes 1 Corinthians 11-14 as a point of departure. In these chapters, Paul demands that the ritual gatherings (ekklesiai) take place in a certain manner according to a divinely willed order. This section of 1 Corinthians also contains some of Paul's most famous passages concerning women. The thesis of this study is that Paul's exhortations concerning women's ritual roles and ritual clothing in 1 Corinthians 11-14 structure and gender the Christian gathering as a particular kind of space constructed through ritual, a 'sanctuary space'. This way 1 Corinthians 11-14 forms part of a broader Corinthian discourse of gender and ritual/sanctuary space in early Roman Corinth. In this discourse, cultic models of the female are related to the space within which the cult takes place. The premises and presuppositions of this discourse are contained in an ancient universe where gender was a cosmic1 structure that was also reflected at a human level, and where the world would be thrown into chaos if the gender boundaries were disturbed. I could have labeled this discourse 'a discourse of women and sanctuary space' since 'women' occur much more frequently than 'men' on the surface level of the ancient texts that I draw on, and since these texts on 'women' are my primary focus somehow. By still choosing the 'gender'- term, I am aware that I may reproduce the false, but dominant notion that only women are gender, but my point with this choice is to underscore how the texts on 'women' presuppose a gendered universe where there are places for both men and women. The title 'Women in their Place', expresses the centrality of place in this work. It focuses on a particular geographical place, Corinth. It represents

1. According to Chambers' Concise Dictionary, 'cosmos' is 'the world or universe as an orderly or systematic whole - opp. to chaos: order. - adjs. cosmic relating to the cosmos: universal, orderly' (Davidson, Seaton, and Simpson 1990: 216). 2 Women in Their Place

Paul's ekklesia as a place. It is also illustrates how the activity of putting all things in the world into proper places is a way of conferring meaning to even the small things, which point out and above themselves to a larger cosmic order. The title also expresses the centrality of gender in the Graeco-Roman processes of cosmos - and space - construction. To place things in the world also implied to attribute gender to them. Naturally, the common-sense associations of the title in direction of confinement are not out of place, either. The most explicit utterances about women in the section 1 Corinthians 11-14 are found in the introduction and closing of the section.2 It is interesting that Paul both opens and ends this section that deals with the ritual gatherings of the Christians with comments that produce gender asymmetry. He could have made comments on gender hierarchy elsewhere, for example in the section on the relevance of body and sex to the life in Christ (1 Corinthians 7), but in that section, his concern is partly very practical, and partly he is writing himself into a discourse of desire and the dangers of desire.3 In 1 Cor. 11.2-16, if Weiss (1910: 268-70) were correct in his reconstruction of Paul's intention, Paul could have made a similarly short and practical comment about the veiling of women for the sake of decency in order that the Christian gatherings be conceived of as 'public' as possible.4 But he does not, and thereby I am led to assume that the veil is not in itself the main point here: there is more at stake. The vast number of articles and contributions concerning these verses in 1 Corinthians 11 and 14 have probably made most of the suggestions it is possible to make concerning the meaning of every single word and the meaning of the passages as a whole. I have chosen to go out into the broader discourses that produced these verses in order to find out what is at stake in Paul's attempt to set the ritual right. Following my interests, I have chosen two topics - those of gender and of sanctuary space in early Roman Corinth - and I try to present them as fully as possible within the limits of this book. Thus a body of 'texts' related to Corinth is given relatively more space here. I have found gender-critical, ritual and space theories most helpful in reading the Corinthian material, including the Pauline texts. But not all my perspectives are chosen. If there is something in the old hermeneutical truth that our place as readers influences the way we read, it is still too simplistic to present a list of who I 'am' (e.g. mother, white, middle-class etc.) and pretend my way of reading can simply be deduced

2. 1 Corinthians 11-14 is the unit I relate to then, not 12-14 as e.g. Wire (1990). The reasons for this, I hope, will be clear through this chapter and the next one. 3. See Martin (1995: Chapter 8). 4. Many scholars have considered this to be Paul's main intention with the passage 11.2- 16, see for example Weiss (1910: ad loc.) and Schiissler Fiorenza (1983: 230). 1. Introduction 3 from some unstable identity categories to which I have not devoted myself anyway. It is more a question of carrying out the investigation with awareness and responsibility5 in relation to some traditions and discourses, privileges and disadvantages, that have shaped my way of reading myself and ancient texts, for better and for worse: the Lutheran tradition, the discourse of Norwegian 'State-Feminism', the historic-critical discipline, to name the most important in this context. In translations of Paul's letters (not in translations of Hebrew Bible texts), the word eKKXr|aia is often rendered 'Church', which has the potential to create much confusion in this context. First, as with most words, the contemporary semantic field of 'church' is different from the semantic field of its Graeco-Roman equivalent, as the first-century use of the word did neither denote a particular institution, nor, more importantly in this context, a type of material building. However, as implied in the spatial approach of this book, it is no coincidence that it eventually came to do so. In order to avoid a too-heavy later understanding of the term in the direction of 'Church', I most often transcribe eKKXnaia with Latin italics, ekklesia, as a variable to 'assembly' or 'gathering' which are translations that come close to the literal meaning of the Greek word.

1.2 Overview of the Book In Chapter 2, which deals with previous research and my own entrance into the discussion, I concentrate on feminist readings of 1 Corinthians 11- 14. I discuss problems with the term 'woman' related to language, and also historical problems related to a fixed understanding of the content of the term. I try to show how even feminist readings presuppose that 'woman' is a more or less unified, transhistorical category, and that the content of the term is usually not discussed. I use feminist theory (above all Joan Scott, Denise Riley, Luce Irigaray), to argue that the quest for 'Paul's view of women' which has dominated even feminist studies in Paul, will probably never succeed if we expect to find a unified view of women in his phallogocentric texts.6 I also make explicit my use of the terms 'text', 'discourse' and my way of reading archaeological material. I introduce ritual theory as a fruitful way of approaching the ancient discourse of gender and ritual, since they make

5. By this I mean 'a concept of responsible epistemic activity, where the notion of responsibility itself is amenable to spelling out. Epistemic responsibility can regulate cognitiv activity in much the way virtues, such as kindness or justice, regulate moral activity: not absolutely, but often well' (Lorraine Code in Code, Mullett and Overall 1988: 83). Cf. also Beauvoir (1953: 28). 6. For the meaning of this term, see Chapter 2. 4 Women in Their Place it possible to combine different texts such as literature, architecture, inscriptions, magical texts, religious laws and so on, in the search for ancient discourses and thought patterns. In Chapter 3, I outline very generally the broader discourses of gender and space of the ancient Mediterranean. I present four ancient models of gender in order to understand Paul's very different utterances on woman's place in ritual space. I argue against the use of gender-neutral language in representations of the human ideals of earliest Christianity, since in this period the paradigmatic human was male. In this chapter, I also outline very generally the gendered discourses of place in order to provide a broader context for the discussions in Chapters 4 and 5. I show how, in an ancient Mediterranean context, the gendering of private and public spaces belongs to a literary discourse since other text genres (such as epigraphy and architecture) rather contradict than confirm the image of private as feminine and public as masculine space. I also argue that sanctuary spaces and ritual spaces should not always be identified with the discourse of public space, since ritual discourse in many cases gives a different and often more prominent place to women. In Chapter 4, I list texts from early Roman Corinth (44 BCE - 100 CE with some earlier and later texts providing an adequate context (literary texts, statues, inscriptions, sanctuary architecture and so on). In these texts I first noticed the traits I eventually came to construct as a 'discourse of gender and sanctuary space', and which is outlined in the last part of the chapter. However, the Corinthian discourse only deviated in minor ways from the broader Mediterranean discourse of gender and sanctuary space. In this discourse, masculine and feminine are produced as different, but still constitutive elements. In Chapter 5,1 analyze the arguments, metaphors etc. that Paul uses to set the Christian gathering apart from the daily life of the household as a ritually constructed 'sanctuary space' in 1 Corinthians 11-14. Paul's ekklesia is explored as space - as sanctuary space constructed through ritual, with boundaries and a meaning-full ordered territory, a different hierarchy and a different map of role models from outside the sanctuary space. In Chapter 6,1 show how the sanctuary space described in 1 Corinthians has its own gendered structure, that is, it is organized according to gender, and how gender is a fundamental category in Paul's production of religious meaning. Explicit gender discourse frames the section on the ritual gatherings; the section contains passages outlining a gender hierarchy full of cosmic connotations; the ekklesia is described through a male representation, the body of Christ. Women's ritual dress and ritual speech should serve to differentiate ekklesia space from the household space. I also show how the different gender models (presented in Chapter 3) to which Paul seems indebted, contribute to a certain tension and unsettledness. 1. Introduction 5

In Chapter 7, I conclude that Paul's utterances on women in 1 Corinthians 11-14 serve to structure and define the Christian ritual gatherings as 'sanctuary space'. In this, they share the basic premises of the broader discourse of gender and sanctuary space: such spaces must also be structured with regard to gender. However, Corinthian discourse of gender and ritual/sanctuary space was in a state of transformation in early Roman Corinth. Gender segregation was in many cases substituted by hierarchical integration. In Paul's case this implies that the male is placed closer to the deity than the female, and when the wall or temenos is taken away, the women have to carry the boundary on their own bodies in the form of a veil. Chapter 2

FROM WOMAN TO 'WOMAN', FROM CHURCH TO EKKLESIA SPACE, FROM TEXT TO CONTEXT

Thus from a variety of perspectives, the comfortable notion is shaken that man is man and woman is woman and that the historian's task is to find out what they did, what they thought, and what was thought about them (Laqueur 1990: 13). In this chapter some of the scholarly discourses that run together in this book will be introduced. I will focus in particular on various ways of reading 1 Corinthians 11-14 by scholars with an explicit gender-critical perspective. I will also introduce the types of feminist theory, discourse analysis and ritual theory that I draw on in this re-placing of 1 Corinthians 11-14.

2.1 Feminist Readings of 11.2-16 and 14.33b-36 - the Problem of Paul and Women Biblical scholars are confused by the tensions in Paul's gender-related utterances in 1 Corinthians 11-14. The tendency is to reject or neglect that 12.12-26 for example (which I will discuss in Chapter 6) implies notions of gender. In biblical scholarship as in many other contexts, it seems thatf 'women' do not occur on the surface level of a text, it is seldom considered as gendered.1 Galatians 3.26-28 on the other hand, is considered interesting in discussions of gender, but the passage is often read anachronistically in the context of the modern partnership model of gender, according to

1. 'Gender both was present in past time and is present in modern history writing. The problem is not that gender is absent from either the past or from our renderings of history; even a womanless history is simultaneously and necessarily gendered. The claim of such an absence is possible only when gender is mistakenly used as a simple synonym for women. The problem is not gender's absence, but the absence of a critical analysis of gender. A more powerful project investigates something that is present but hidden, largely through our familiarity with masculinist histories and culture' (Peskowitz 1997a: 33). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Spaceare different.2 In such a modern frame of reference, Galatians 3 turns outepace cee 7 which women are fully human from the outset, even if men and women are different.2 In such a modern frame of reference, Galatians 3 turns out to be a text about gender equality. With this approach, Schiissler Fiorenza, for example, interprets the confrontations between Christian groups and the surrounding cultures as results of the historical reality of the egalitarian community that had this formula as its creed and self- definition (Schiissler Fiorenza 1983: 213).3 But no matter whether the text is read against a modern or ancient gender model, it is difficult to give this text the elevated position as the most authentic expression for Paul's view of gender, as long as it is considered a pre-Pauline baptismal formula. Still, Paul must somehow have shared the view expressed, or he could not have entered the Christian sect - or at least he would not have cited the formula. Lone Fatum also argues that Gal. 3.26-28 cannot be taken as the quintessence of Paul's theology since he wrote 1 Cor. 11.3-9 without making use of Gal. 3.28 (1995: 53).4 Since Paul gives no indication that he considers this formula of such primary importance, modern scholars should reconsider what, in his own view, were the theological and practical consequences of Gal. 3.26-28. If we focus more closely on the two passages mentioning 'women' in 1 Corinthians 11 and 14, we find that these passages were also popular topoi even before feminist exegesis became a strong trend in research, full as they are of exegetical excitements. In the popular 'Woman's Bible', Louisa Southworth, one of Cady Stanton's co-editors, explained away the relevance of 1 Corinthians 11 through a reference to the fact that Paul has picked up 'an absurd old

2. See Meeks (1973-74). Feminist exegetes building on such a view include Schiissler Fiorenza and Wire further down; and also Gundry-Volf (1997b). 3. An early article 'Word, Spirit and Power' (Schiissler Fiorenza 1979) contains in germ Schiissler Fiorenza's historical and hermeneutical reflections which are developed with greater clarity and length in her main works In Memory of Her (Schiissler Fiorenza 1983) and Bread not Stone (Schiissler Fiorenza 1984). In these early works, Schiissler Fiorenza further developed similar ideas to those of Zscharnack, that women were central in the earliest Christian movement, a 'discipleship of equals', in Schiissler Fiorenza (1979: 31) defined as an 'egalitarian countercultural, multifaceted movement' that existed before the later church absorbed the gender hierarchy of its non-Christian cultural environment. I understand her later book But She Said from 1992 partly as an attempt to update her earlier works. She maintains that her new reflections do not cancel those in earlier works - they are to be read as complementary (Schiissler Fiorenza 1992: 7). 4. Also Jewett (1979) is more nuanced, since he contrasts the passage with 2 Cor. 6.16- 18: he acknowledges that the baptismal reunification formula cited in Gal. 3.28 speaks only about the 'sons of God', hence in the text of 2 Corinthians Paul has become more mature and Christian, since he speaks about the 'sons and daughters of God'. 'In Christ they are equal, yet distinct' (Jewett 1979: 69). 8 Women in Their Place myth' that angels got possession of women by laying hold of their hair (Cady Stanton et al. 1898: 158).5 In typical twentieth century receptions of the passages, Paul's words are often taken at face value, and women are either invisible, reproductive tools for the Corinthian men and for Paul, or disorderly and without respect and sensitivity. Their disorderliness is linked with their femininity or with their 'over-realized eschatology'.6 Many scholars within this period have further perceived a certain tension between 1 Cor. 11.2-16 and 14.33b-36, because in ch. 11 it is presupposed that women are active during the ritual through prayer and prophecy, and Paul does not make any negative comments on their activity. In ch. 14 on the other hand, he holds that women should be silent. As I will come back to in Chapter 5, many scholars while accepting that there is a tension, solve it again by explaining away 14.33b-36 as a gloss. However, some feminist exegetes who look less for the word 'woman' in the text, and more for the gendered structures that the text is based on, find that there is no more tension between these two passages than between many other Pauline passages. Also 14.33b-36 fits well in the letter-context and in Paul's gendered theological universe. Paul does not turn out to be less patriarchal if only 14.33b-36 are considered a gloss, according to Mary Daly who labels this move 'particularization': 'Particularization is not uncommon among scholars, who frequently miss the point of the movement's critique of patriarchy itself as a system of social arrange- ments ... The women's critique is not of a few passages but of a universe of sexist suppositions' (1985: 5).7 In his work from 1902, Der Dienst der Frau in den ersten Jahrhunderten der christlichen Kirche, Leopold Zscharnack read 1 Corinthians 11, and Pauline texts more in general, as containing two seeds, of which only one is authentic Christian. The two seeds cannot grow simultaneously. The first seed 'containing' equality between women and men was not taken care of and fell on 'dry' or 'rocky ground', it did not take root and did not bring forth fruit (p. 15) until possibly 1800 years later. This was the Christian seed proper. This seed is visible in 1 Cor. 11.11: 'in the Lord woman is not independent of man nor man of woman'. Had this view been consistently carried through, it would have choked the other seed, which 'contained' the more widely accepted view in antiquity. We find this view in 11.3 and 7.

5. It is noteworthy that Woman's Bible gives more space to 1 Timothy 2 than to 1 Corinthians 11 and 14 together (Cady Stanton et al. 1898: 159, comp. 161-63). See other early readings of 1 Corinthians by women or 'pro-women'-men in Selvidge (1996). 6. E.g. Fee (1987: 497-98), who sees women's disregard for the customary mode of appearance as the problem in 11.2-16. 7. Compare (or rather contrast) Jewett (1979: 57 and 74-75). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 9

According to the latter view, the woman has at best a secondary and deduced form of godlikeness. The veil on her head constantly marks her humbleness and condemned position (p. 16). For Zscharnack these two views of women were mutually exclusive; one of them is specifically Christian, while the other is taken over from the context and hence for Zscharnack non-Christian. The problem is that Paul evidently does not perceive the views as mutually exclusive since he mentions both of them in the same passage! Another way of explaining the tension is attempted by Eriksson 1998b, who reads ch. 14 in light of the broader letter-context, and maintains that Paul's heavier restrictions on women here than in ch. 11 must be understood against the background of the discussion of charismatics earlier in ch. 14: It is only women's claims to esoteric revelations and the following 'disorder in the worship services' Paul wants to bring an end to, not their participation in more sober forms of prayer and prophecy (Eriksson 1998b: 93). In Gordon Fee's view, the discussion of these confusing passages 'has been further complicated by the resurgence in the 1960s of the feminist movement' (1987: 492). Feminist biblical scholarship has indeed complicated the discussion because it has questioned and nuanced previous superficial, naive and gender-blind readings. Within feminist exegesis, one common way of explaining the tension is to say that the two passages are talking about two categories of women with different sexual status: the praying and prophesying women in ch. 11 are virgins, widows or celibate, whereas the silencing of women in 14.33-36 is directed at wives and mothers.8 The assumption behind this interpretation is that Paul considers married women to live more according to the laws inherent in the created world and are more bound to creation, whereas virgins, widows and other celibates have the possibility of living 'in Christ' just like the men. Through an 'in-Christ'-lifestyle they can be made male so that they also can function as mediators. In other words, 1 Cor. 7.25-35, where Paul displays a certain preference for celibates, is read as background also for Paul's judgement on women in a ritual setting. An example of this reading is Elisabeth Schiissler Fiorenza. She reads 14.33b-36 as Pauline, but holds that the verses only concern the non-Christian and probably also Christian women married to Christian men (pp. 230-33). In this way she solves the perceived conflict between what chs. 11 and 14 say with regard to women's speech in the assembly. The speaking and prophesying women of ch. 11 are the unmarried virgins of 1 Cor. 7.32-35.

8. Cf. Schussler Fiorenza (1983: 231-33). See also Fatum (1988: 72-73). 10 Women in Their Place

Another reader along these lines, is Lone Fatum.9 But at a time when Schiissler Fiorenza and most other feminist exegetes had tried to show that biblical texts, including Paul, may leave room for both affirmation and liberation of women, Fatum wanted to move beyond this apologist interpretation that through harmonization, excuse, or even misinterpreta- tion makes Paul appear as women-friendly. In line with her reading of the passage as sexual-moral paraenesis, Fatum thinks that in 14.33b-36, Paul is neither concerned with prayer and prophecy nor with women's idle talk and interruptions. Rather, these verses treat the special issue of married women's participation in the official duty of testing the spirits (cf. 1 Cor. 12.10). Since Fatum believes that such activity involves charismatic authority as well as the right to question and criticize, she understands 1 Cor. 14.34—36 to imply that Paul supports one set of norms for married women, and one set for unmarried women. The problem with reading the conflict between 11.5 and 13 and 14.33b- 36 within this paradigm, though, is that yuvrj is used both places. Therefore such an interpretation cannot beasaid to have any support in the text.10 Of course, it may still be correct, but in my opinion other solutions that I will come back to in Chapter 6, are closer at hand. If we were first to interpret ywrj as semantically different in the two contexts, it would be more in line with the text to read ch. 11 as the passage concerned with married women,11 since 11.11 and the argument from creation can be said only with great difficulty to concern only celibates, male-made women and not the married women. Another way of understanding the tensions in Paul's texts on women in 1 Corinthians, is to read them as rhetorically conditioned. Paul is arguing with his readers and knows he has to give in order to bring the final persuasive victory home. Among the many recent rhetorical interpretations of 1 and 2 Corinthians,12 Antoinette Clark Wire's The Corinthian Women Prophets: A Reconstruction through Paul's Rhetoric (1990) is the most challenging as I see it. Wire observes that many passages in 1

9. Lone Fatum's main publication on 1 Cor. 11.3-9 is the article 'Image of God and Glory of Man: Women in the Pauline Congregations' (Fatum 1995). The article was first published in 1991 (in B0rresen 1991). The work published in 1988 (Fatum 1988) is a shorter version. 10. Cf. Brooten (1990: 78, n. 13): 'I do not see that the silencing is limited to married women... If celibate women have sometimes been granted greater authority than married women in Western history, unmarried women have often been subsumed under married women, since marriage has usually been assumed to normative, even by those allowing or promoting celibacy.' 11. As Keener does (Keener 1992: 19). 12. In particular Betz (1985); Blattenberger III (1997); Bunker (1983); Engberg-Pedersen (1991); Eriksson (1998a, 1998b); Schussler Fiorenza (1987); Mitchell (1989, 1992); Siegert (1985); Stowers (1996); Wuellner (1986); Yeo (1995). I have discussed some of these interpretations further in one of my cand.theol. theses (0kland 1990). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 11

Corinthians concern women directly or indirectly. Instead of regarding these addresses as incidental and sporadic, directed to single persons, she interprets such passages as forming a coherent whole because they are directed to one 'party' in Corinth, 'the Corinthian women prophets', that Paul focuses for his inner eye when writing the letter (Wire 1990: 8). These were some, most, or all of the Christian women, 'as the spirit moves them to prophesy' (Wire 1990: 156). Where Paul argues particularly intensely, 'struggling for their assent, one can assume some different and opposite point of view in Corinth from the one Paul is stating' (Wire 1990: 10). This opposite point of view Wire consistently locates within the group of women prophets. Like Schiissler Fiorenza, Wire is open to the possibility of gender equality in the early Christian groups, and she presupposes that historical women can be recovered through Paul's text, since they were part of the rhetorical situation of the letter. But she also shares with Fatum a view of Paul as non-affirmative of the women in the congregation, but while Fatum holds that the women are not part of Paul's discussion with the Corinthians, Wire thinks that he feels threatened by the women. In Wire's picture, it was possible for the women to contest Paul's authority because his writings first became canonical much later. Paul's hierarchical way of thinking is put in sharp relief by her reading of 1 Corinthians 11 as a display of male honor problems. Behind Paul's presentation of a theology of cosmic competition between man and God, Wire assumes a male experience of tension between self-glory associated with woman's uncovered head and God's glory associated with undis- tracted worship. For her own part, she could have glorified God without conflict or distraction since she has no glory of her own. But 'woman is interpreted as a factor in the problem that man has with God, or God with man' (Wire 1990: 122). In his hierarchy of heads, women are denied direct participation in Christ. Thus, Paul locates the threat to God's glory in the woman. Wire considers 14.34 35 (-38) as the climax of Paul's argument in chs. 12-14: 'Paul's forcing a spiritual vote of confidence at exactly this point shows that the women's silencing is not a parenthetical matter but the turning point in his argument concerning the spiritual. Once he has called for their silence he has done all he needs to do' (Wire 1990: 155). She discusses the structural similarities between his regulation of women and his previous regulations of tongue speakers and prophets,13 and emphasizes the differences: His regulation of the tongue speakers and prophets comes within discussions of these gifts, and are regulations. In the case of women,

13. First noted by Dautzenberg (1975). 12 Women in Their Place

'he introduces people not apparently under discussion and immediately requires silence' with reference to law and shame (Wire 1990: 153). Of these different solutions to the problem of Paul and gender in 1 Corinthians 11-14, this book follows most closely in the steps of Wire and Eriksson. Like them, I will try to understand the 'woman-passages' within their local letter-context. Building on their rhetorical-critical readings I will focus more on what is the topic of this local letter context, namely ritual. I will also use other theories that will be presented soon. This book will not attempt to solve the tension between passages. Partly it will attempt to explain why contradictions in statements on women occur - partly it will put the statements into a ritual framework where tensions and contradictions are not symptoms of lack. Rather, the ritual gives the firm frame needed for dealing with and playing out the contradictions of life. They are the 'fuel' that runs the ritual process.

2.2 Woman 2.2.1 ywr\- What Is Hiding behind Paul's Use of the Word? A problem in all the discussed contributions is that the scholars take for granted that they know what Paul means by yvvr\ in 1 Corinthians 11 (cf. the citation of Laqueur as epigraph of this chapter), and that the word is a relevant and innocent signification of people with female bodies (biologically and/or culturally marked). This confidence might be well founded, but it still needs to be discussed. Few feminists today would hold that there is any female or male essence or transhistorical substance. The belief in static substances behind the words 'feminine'/'woman' and 'masculine'/'man' is abandoned as the result of an epistemological development starting with Descartes. According to philosopher Kjell Soleim: Descartes may be credited... [with] destroying the microcosm-macrocosm model and thus getting rid of man's double out in space. As Descartes refused to see human reason as an imitation of divine reason, or universal reason, man could no more look at himself in the mirror of the universe in order to find his own properties reflected out there;... And although Descartes may not have been much concerned about it, by the same token he ruined the gendered system of the universe. Since the ancient Greek philosophers, all through the Middle Ages and Renaissance, the elements constituting our world were female and male, thus heat was considered male and humidity female; in Aristotle, form was male and matter female. In substituting mathematical measurement for Aristotle's final causes and substantial forms, Descartes desexualized our world (Soleim 1996: 137-38). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 13

The post-Cartesian model of gender, where gender instead is entrenched in human bodies (and particularly female bodies and sexual organs), was reinforced in modernity through psychoanalytical discourse. Thus the ancient identification of sexuality with 'woman' and 'body' was repeated, but within a different epistemological framework. Because of the change in framework, we cannot take for granted that Paul's uses of terms denoting human gender refer to the same things as we today put into these terms. In other words, if there is no constant entity behind the word 'woman' in the text with whom modern people can identify, neither can we easily borrow their perspective and draw on it in an evaluation of 1 Corinthians as 'positive' or 'negative' for 'women'. We must first try to find out what Paul puts into the term yuvrj in each particular text. In the 1970s and 80s there was a tendency to locate the patriarchal elements in the social structures behind the text, on a level that we strictly speaking do not have access to through Paul's text.14 Schiissler Fiorenza, for example, was an alert reader of the texts' empty spaces, cracks and fissures. Thereby she prepared the ground for more recent feminist critiques maintaining that in phallogocentric texts, women can only be visible in the 'gaps, contradictions or margins'.15 But she did not question the language categories themselves and the way they work. The relationship between the word 'woman' and the character of the reality it denotes was not questioned. Therefore, in contrast to more recent trends, she did not surrender to pessimism with regard to the possibility of historical recovery of ancient women. She used the fragility of the texts as open possibilities to postulate women's activity,^ thus reading the New Testament as a historical record, although a fragmentary one. Women can be represented in patriarchal texts; the problem is only that they are often not represented. But not only the social structures behind the text are gendered. Gender is also present in the language of the text itself and in the author's way of employing it. Wire thinks that the more determined the speaker is to persuade, the less he can afford to misjudge or misrepresent the audience (Wire 1990: 4). She can discuss whether his use of language was premeditated or intuitive (Wire 1990: 154), landing mainly on the 'premeditated' side. Since she presupposes that the women prophets could disagree with Paul over content, but still be representable in the structures

14. See, e.g., Theissen (1982) and his concept of love patriarchalism' in Theissen (1978). See also Schiissler Fiorenza's creative way of building on this research tradition (1983: 76-84). 15. This was first pointed out by the French feminist philosophers (see Moi 1987: 5). 16. Cf. her own statement in the introduction: 'since historical knowledge is inferential, historians have to construct some frame of reference within which to discuss the available historical evidence' (Schiissler Fiorenza 1983: xvii). 14 Women in Their Place of his language, she must still somehow assume that language is 'innocent' and unambiguous. But gender is present in the structure of our language, and probably to a greater extent in Greek than in for example English. Grammar, namely grammatical gender, synonyms and antonyms, idioms and expressions carry notions of gender and reproduce these notions in the reader. I do not distinguish between 'male'/'masculine' and 'female'/'feminine', and I use 'gender' as a translation of the Norwegian 'kj0nn', which includes both Anglo-American 'sex' and 'gender'. Such a non-oppositional understanding of sex and gender is also promoted by historian Joan Scott (1986: 1056). But since Scandinavian languages as well as French do not distinguish between sex and gender from the outset, it is unnecessary for feminists with such linguistic backgrounds to go via Anglo-American poststructuralism to deconstruct the distinction between sex and gender and related concepts (Moi 1998: 31, n. 15).17 It is also unnecessary to state again and again how the gendering of spaces, veils and other entities in the world may have its legitimizing origin in a metaphorical interpretation, or rather appropriation, of the biological body - this possibility lies in the word 'kj0nn' from the outset. When dealing with ancient Greek texts, it is important to remember that even if yuvr| is often translated 'woman', the two words are not semantically overlapping. Nor is yvvr\ a semantically equivalent term to dvf|p, 'man', in ancient Greek usage. 1 am thinking here of the fact that for dvf|p, dvGpwTTos (human being) is sometimes used, whereas avOporrros is never used synonymously with yuvf|.18 ywrj is often translated 'woman' but there was no other, separate word for 'wife' as there is in English and Norwegian. The Greek usage is not fully consistent, but it seems to be a tendency that 'wife', 'newly married woman', 'daughter', 'whore', 'slave', 'servant girl', 'widow' and so on, to a less extent are different roles that a yvvr\ could have, yvvr\ is, to begin with, a wife. A modern way of saying it is that the role essentializes, or that female gendered individuals are completely defined from their sexual status, while a man is a man and can have different roles. When yuvr| is also used as the main, collective designation and therefore has to be translated 'woman', it is because 'wife' was the paradigmatic and privileged modus of female genderedness of which the other realizations were imperfect, distorted or potential versions. In a similar vein, gender-mixed gatherings can be addressed in grammatical masculine form even if women are present (cf. Paul's use of the term

17. Concerning Joan Scott's gender, see Moi (1999: 31). 18. Neither was there a female equivalent noun to d6r]vaios. One had to talk about the wives of Athenians or use similar expressions, which led Nicole Loraux to state that 'female Athenians do not exist' (Loraux 1993: 114, 116-17 and 247). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 15

'brother'), because masculine is the paradigmatic and privileged hu-man that feminine is an imperfect or secondary version of.19 The apriori confidence that yui/rj is compatible with what we identify as 'women' today must therefore be challenged - particularly if one first has left the essentialist position. It is not possible to make any statements about historical women and their experiences and 'point of view' if one first concedes that the texts are 'androcentric' (see next point) and that there is no female essence that makes it possible to speak transhistorically about women. Then, neither is it possible to transport today's judgements about 'positive', 'confirming', and so on, to the past.

2.2.2 The Representation of 'Woman' in Phallogocentric Ideologies According to the French philosopher Luce Irigaray, woman is not not-yet- represented, but rather 'non-representable' within the phallogocentric20 paradigm since she transgresses the possibilities of representation within it (Irigaray 1985).21 Irigaray reads the canonized philosophers of the Western civilization - Plato,22 Aristotle, Plotin, Descartes, Kant, Freud and others. In her paraphrases of the texts of these philosophers, she focuses and plays out their phallogocentrism in a way that decenters central terms - the idea, the subject, the truth, and so on. She depicts not only the 'oblivion' or omission of the feminine as the non-representable basis for the representation of male activity - but also oblivion of sexual difference altogether. Sexual difference - that the female is not necessarily compatible or complementary to the male - must be wiped out if phallogocentrism is to look convincing. Therefore, in their texts, sexual difference has been turned into 'sexual indifference', by which she means that these texts are indifferent to sexual difference. Irigaray concludes that 'woman has not yet taken place - woman is still the place, the whole of the place in which she cannot take possession of herself as such', that is that femaleness within their discourse is produced as a basis for the exposition of the male/human. 'She is not uprooted from matter... still, she is already scattered into x number of places that are never gathered together into anything she knows of herself, and these remain the basis of reproduction - particularly of discourse - in all its forms. Woman remains this nothing at all' (Irigaray 1985: 227).23

19. See further Songe-M011er (1999a: 28-31). I will be referring regularly to this work, which is the Norwegian original of Songe-M011er 2002. Cf. Loraux (1993: chapter 3). 20. See next paragraph. 21. Cf. Egeland(1999: 86). 22. For an important evaluation of her reading of Plato's myth of the cave (and comparison with Foucault), see Songe-M011er (1999a: 233-34 and 276-77). 23. Cf. Plato, Timaeus, 50d-51a: 'Moreover, it is proper to liken the recipient to the Mother, the Source to the Father, and what is engendered between these two to the Offspring;... So likewise it is right that the substance which is to be fitted to receive 16 Women in Their Place

Irigaray here plays with the platonic notion of xwpa (Timaeus 52b), a Greek word meaning 'space' or 'place', area (in contrast to TOTTOS, a particular, defineable place), that is also crucial for my understanding of woman's place and woman as place. The feminine connotations of xwpa are very explicit, particularly in Plato's Timaeus, and even where the term is not used, the notion of woman as ground and ground as woman pervades much ancient thinking, see for example the discussion of mundus in chapter 3.3.5 Sanctuary space. Discussions about x^pa are also important in recent French philosophy.24 Phallogocentrism can be explained as an ideology, adjusted to the value - and power - structures of patriarchal societies, that identifies phallus with penis and logos. 4>aXX6s is a Greek term for the generative power of humans and nature (Liddell, Scott, and Jones 1940: '4>aXX6s', 1014).25 As the emblem, above all in cultic, but also in other symbolic or artistic representations, it took the shape of the erected penis, since only the male was thought to possess such powers. The term was not used as designation of the penis, but functioned as an apotropaic and cultic symbol, above all in connection with Dionysiac rituals.26 The point is that the identification of the generative powers of nature, phallus, with penis, is an ideological move. When the male is norm, the world is interpreted according to a logos that is defined by the masculine, whereas the feminine can only be represented insofar as it stands in relation to the masculine through identity or likeness, through opposition, or through complementarity. The male defines what the human consists of, what is right and wrong, and the female is automatically subsumed under the male categorizations. Woman/the female does not have any independent existence outside its relation to the male.27 In a certain sense one has to conclude then that women do not have a history, and that the representations of woman in phallogocentric texts need not have anything to do with the 'women', however defined,

frequently over its whole extent the copies of all things intelligible and eternal should itself, of its own nature, be void of all forms; ... Wherefore, let us not speak of her that is the Mother and Receptacle of this generated world... by the name of earth or air or fire or water ... rather if we describe her as a Kind invisible and unshaped, all-receptive ... ' (dvopaTov ei86s TL Kai duop^ov, TTavSexe?. 24. It is a key term also in the writings of Julia Kristeva. Jaques Derrida's writing on 'place' in Derrida (1998: 19-21; 1997) is another example of this French philosophical discourse. For overview and comparison, see Grosz (2000) and 0kland (2004). 25. Cf. Lewis and Short (1879: 'phallus'). 26. Both in Latin and Greek a variety of terms were used for the penis (penis, pdXavos, veupov, 6\ia|3o5 etc.), but Adams (1982: 64) cites one exceptional Pompeian graffito where the term is used on the human male penis. 27. For Irigaray, the 'female' is only a different hypostasis of the male, and not in itself positive or negative. 'For Beauvoir, women are the negative of men, the lack against which 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 17 they sought to represent.28 The word 'woman' only functions within such discourse as an empty category with changing content.29 When not referring to particular theories of other scholars, I will use the term 'phallogocentric' instead of 'androcentric' because it is necessary to distinguish between an ideological position and the gendered situation that none of us can surpass (yet), corresponding to a distinction between 'feminist' and 'woman'.30 Women can promote phallogocentric ideology, as men can be feminists. It is not because men have been speaking out from and for themselves (i.e. which is insinuated as the problem in the more common term androcentric], that gender asymmetry has occurred. In a European context, the problem has been that men and women have confused the male position with the human position, or a universal and objective position. This confusion has only been possible because the ideology that has governed our culture, and that men have profited from, has placed the man closer to the perfectly human, and considered the woman as an imperfect version of the same, 'the weaker vessel'. According to this ideology, the female is excluded from the human from the outset, but secondarily subsumed under the 'universal' (but now male-defined) categorizations of the human subject.31 To appreciate Irigaray's analyses of the gender indifference and phallogocentrism of philosophical texts, it is not necessary to follow her into her own metaphorizations of the female biological body and psyche. I do not believe that male writing must be phallogocentric.32 But Irigaray's thinking in spatial categories33 and her readings of the ancient philosophers

28. Neither is it possible to take for granted any identity between the phallogocentric representation of masculinity and men outside of the text. However, even if both women and men internalize this discourse, men have obviously felt more at home in this discourse than women have (probably because they have profited more from it), since they have not used their right to speak to express experiences of being suppressed or misrepresented by it. 29. Cf. Nicole Loraux's observations in her discussion of the race of women in Hesiod and Simonides (Loraux 1993: in particular, 97-98). 30. The comparison is queer, since terminologically 'gynocentrism' would be the equivalent term to 'androcentrism'. However 'gynocentrism' is in current usage 'occupied' as an ideologically loaded term too, as one particular form of feminism. 31. Cf. Irigaray (1985: 133): 'Any Theory of the "Subject" has always been appropriated by the "Masculine"'. 32. Cf. the criticism of her 'globalizing reach' in Butler (1990: 13). I fully agree with Butler's criticism, however, the textual basis on which Irigaray's universalizing statements rests, is partly the same Graeco-Roman discourse that I work on. Therefore 1 can agree with Irigaray's readings without agreeing with her view that the ideology of these authors represents something universal and transhistorical. 33. Cf. Grosz (2000). 18 Women in Their Place who are partly Paul's contemporaries, are very useful. Her analyses make it possible to understand how, and partly why, named women are only occurring in the margins, postscripts and cracks of ancient texts even if notions of 'woman'/'female'/'femininity' can be used for a variety of other purposes. Further, she undermines any confidence that we know very well what 'woman' signifies in 1 Corinthians 11-14. If 'woman' cannot be substantially defined, we are led to state with Denise Riley that 'women' is an unstable category:

'Women' is historically, discursively constructed, and always relatively to other categories which themselves change; 'women' is a volatile collectivity in which female persons can be very differently positioned, so that the apparent continuity of the subject of 'women' isn't to be relied on; 'women' is both synchronically and diachronically erratic as a collectivity (Riley 1996: 18).34 Accordingly we cannot consider the definition of 'woman' historically nor synchronically constant, but always particular. The concepts of both man and woman have been part of different conceptual nexuses throughout the history, for example nexuses involving concepts of 'the social' and 'the body', 'nature', 'subjectivity', 'reason' and so on.35 Still, it is not necessary to be veering between transcendence and deconstruction. The instability of the category of 'women' 'has a historical foundation, and that feminism is the site of the systematic fighting-out of that instability - which need not worry us' (Riley 1996: 20-21).36 The way Schiissler Fiorenza, on the one hand, criticizes essentialist notions of femininity and, on the other hand, makes herself dependent on a static concept of woman in her critique of androcentrism, has been pointed out and criticized already by Anne-Louise Eriksson (1995). Schiissler Fiorenza (1983) criticizes the androcentric notion of eternal feminine values; at the same time social gender, women's social role, seems to be as firm in her text as the female essence is in previous scholars such as Zscharnack (1902). But Schiissler Fiorenza only exemplifies particularly early and succinctly a dilemma that concerns all forms of feminist scholarship,37 the dilemma

34. Clark (1994) argues for the same point, but along different lines, and shows how stereotyping, universalizing, naturalizing and the appeal to the past are important ideological components in the construction of 'woman' in late ancient Christianity. 35. Cf. Riley (1996: 23). 36. Cf. Scott (1996a: 3-5). 37. Fatum says that in some places the women in the Pauline communities are inaccessible to us, because the text that speaks about them is androcentric. Simultaneously, however, her understanding of the self-conscious Corinthian women forms the basis for her criticism of Paul. She presupposes that they had a 'self (1995: 81), that there existed something like a 'point of view of the women themselves' to which Paul was negative: 'Many seem almost too 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 19 of, on the one hand, criticizing a static concept of woman in patriarchal ideologies and, on the other hand, basing the feminist critique on such a static notion. This dilemma has been most sharply formulated by the historian Joan Scott. In her book Only Paradoxes to Offer: French Feminists and the Rights of Man, (1996b) she describes the struggle of the post-revolutionary French feminists for a true democracy where 'les droits de rhomme', 'rights of man\ also would be rights of women. Scott shows how Olympe de Gouge and the others made themselves dependent on the same dichotomized way of considering gender that they criticized: Feminism was a protest against women's political exclusion; its goal was to eliminate 'sexual difference' in politics, but it had to make its claims on behalf of 'women' (who were discursively produced through 'sexual difference'). To the extent that it acted for 'women', feminism produced the 'sexual difference' it sought to eliminate. This paradox - the need both to accept and to refuse 'sexual difference' - was the constitutive condition of feminism as a political movement throughout its long history (Scott 1996b: 3-4). I seem to find the same dilemma in all the discussed contributions and also in my own work. All the time, as feminist interpreters we make ourselves dependent on the same foundation we criticize. But this shows exactly that women - feminists included - do not have a different language and other thought structures to speak in and from than those given us by contemporary discourse. We cannot inhabit our father's house.38 There is no inner feminine source or feminine language, independent of time, place and culture from which we can draw our patriarchal critique. It is exactly the language and the inherent inconsistencies in the phallogocentric discourses that give us the means to criticize it. Therefore, 200 years after Olympe de Gouge, feminist critique still has 'only paradoxes to offer'.39 In this perspective, accusations exchanged back and forth of scholarly inconsistency, essentialism or bias, appear irrelevant. As we criticize and move further from the paradoxes of the last generation, we inevitably seem to end up in new ones. Inconsistencies and paradoxes are everywhere;

willing to settle for too meagre a result when they ought to be asking again and again whether the inferences on Christian women's involvement in the Pauline congregations can in fact and actual practice be said to be positive and affirmative from the point of view of the women themselves'1 (Fatum 1995: 53-54, my italics). 38. Cf. Spivak (1993: 284): 'Favorite sons and daughters who refuse to sanctify their father's house have their uses. Persistently to critique a structure that one cannot not (wish to) inhabit is the deconstructive stance'. 39. 'It is precisely because feminism embodies paradox that it has been trivialized or consigned to marginality by those seeking to protect the foundations of whatever status quo they represent. Such protection involves denying contradiction by rendering it invisible and by displacing the source of the problem onto those who would point it out' (Scott 1996b: 17). 20 Women in Their Place which of them are seen as legitimate or illegitimate depends on how they relate to core issues in the hegemonic discourse. Feminist historians have to a great extent read the past through the lens of modern gender with its fixed notions of 'woman', 'man' and 'sexuality'. It is this reading strategy that Irigaray, Riley and Scott disturb. But whereas Denise Riley (and Joan Scott) are in practice most concerned about the diachronical discontinuity of 'woman', I use Irigaray to underscore also the synchronical discontinuity which she puts more in relief than they do.

2.2.3 Paul's 'View' of Women In a reading of Paul, this means that his texts cannot be read as sources to women's history. Also in his letters the word yvvr\ is an empty 'place' in and by itself, that can be inscribed with the likeness, opposition or complementarity of the male, all according to purpose.40 It is no wonder that reflections or theologizing about women that have the male body (i.e. of Christ, as for example 1 Corinthians 11-14 and Gal. 3.27-28) as a central, normative metaphor, are inconsistent and diffused. In this light, 1 Corinthians 11 comes out not as atypical, but typical in its location of woman partly as subjugated, partly as complementary to man. That Paul's 'women passages' are open to an inconsistent reading, is confirmed by the fact that it evidently is possible to read so many different 'views of women' out of Paul's texts! Exegetes meet what they find are contradictory notions of women in biblical texts. This does not mean that there is something, for example, in the world behind the text, or in New Testament theology that they have missed. Neither must contradictions be explained away (e.g. gloss theories) or leveled out through a harmonization of various texts. Rather, contradiction is what we must expect as a symptom of phallogocentrism, instability, conflicting discourses), which in turn creates new problems and possibilities. Modernist historic-critical exegesis can be characterized by Irigaray's term 'indifference sexuelle\ indifference towards the fact that Paul is not constructing his anthropology from a symmetrical view of women and men. The indifference towards sexual difference lasts until women become an explicit problem in Paul's text. The strategy of the feminist exegetes

40. That Paul was not alone in antiquity either, can be seen e.g. in Vernant (1991: 111): 'for a historian, and a historian of religion in particular, the problem of alterity or "otherness" in ancient Greece cannot be limited to the representation the Greeks made of others, of all those whom, for the purposes of reflection, they ranked under different headings in the category of difference, and whose representations always appear deformed because these figures - barbarian, slave, stranger, youth, and woman - are always constructed with reference to the same model: the adult male citizen.' 2. From Woman to Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 21 protesting against this indifference has been to show that Paul indeed had a view of women - 'positive' or 'negative', liberating or misogynist. But following Irigaray, we have to ask whether Paul had 'a view of women' at all. Within his phallogocentric framework, what could he possibly see? At most, he could see 'women' as a category of otherness in relation to 'men'. If we focus on 1 Corinthians 11-14 that deals with the ritual gatherings, and that touches on many gender issues - these gender issues do not necessarily have to be linked to any 'real' women in the ritual gatherings. To continue Wire's analogy of vision, when Paul with his inner eye focuses on the problems in the Corinthian ritual gatherings, I am not so sure that the women are even in his wider field of vision.41 His filtering gaze only sees lack of unity, chaos and disorder. However, in the discourse Paul was part of, notions of chaos and disorder were related to notions of femininity, as unity was to masculinity. In this dichotomizing discourse, male and female belong on separate sides. In many cases therefore, it was unnecessary for Paul and other speakers to categorize phenomena as masculine and feminine explicitly - in most dichotomies, it was 'given' which pole was masculine and which pole was feminine.42 This makes it possible for modern readers to read the problems of disorder and splitting as also related to his discussion of 'woman' in the ritual gatherings. On the other hand, this perspective implies that when Paul was talking about 'women', he need not have been inspired by concrete happenings and actions by Corinthians produced as women through ancient gender discourse: he just wanted peace, order and unity in what he perceived as a chaotic assembly. If 'woman' as a location of man's opposite - in this case 'cosmic' femininity - was also a location of disorder and chaos, he had to put 'her' in her cosmic correct place. Thus I am not sure that Paul thinks that the problems he discusses are 'women issues', except where he mentions women explicitly, or very clearly leaves them out (as in 12.13). I rather think that in 1 Corinthians 11-14 we meet a phallogocentric way of thinking: women are seen as carriers of particularity, sex and gender, men's genderedness is hidden behind claims of representing the universal humanity and non-gender. To conclude, before modernity, 'male' and 'female' were more like cosmic entities. When first the feminine as a transcendent or at least transhistorical essence was abandoned, and next the concept of woman was demonstrated to be historically contingent, it means that 'woman' is a term

41. Cf. Wire (1990: 154). 42. "Philo uses sexual language on the cosmic level to depict interactions between certain forces which are strong, superior and active, and others which are weak, inferior and passive' (Sly 1990: 219). Cf. Aristotle on masculine and feminine, under 3.2.4 in the next chapter. 22 Women in Their Place with changing content, an instable category. 'Woman' is nowhere a topic in its own right for Paul. Any attempt to construct 'Paul's view of women' must be heuristic, and therefore it is not 'given' as the only way of studying gender in Paul. 'Gender' is also a heuristic, etic term when applied to ancient texts.

2.3 Deconstructing Paul, or: 'Paul' from Center to Crossroads Peskowitz (1997a) has pointed out the extent to which post-Enlightenment European 'Geisteswissenschaften' are dependent on the European figure ofA the unified, white male subject.43 She illustrates how it has consequences for our reconstruction of the past if the historiographer does not identify with such a subject and ceases looking for such unified subjects in the past. In much feminist and malestream scholarship on Paul and his view of women, the broader intertextual perspectives have often been lacking. Focus has been on the author of the text, construed as one who is free to compose his occasional letters according to whatever discourses he wishes. Broader discourses are rather consulted as 'background', used to fill those gaps and cracks in his text that cannot be explained satisfactorily on text- internal grounds.44 Only this way has it been possible to present 'Paul's view of women' as 'better' or sometimes 'worse' than the view of women found in contemporary Judaism or Graeco-Roman culture. This view also partly presupposes that Paul's Christianity can be singled out as an independent entity comparable to Judaism or Graeco-Roman culture - a presupposition I do not share since Paul was a Jew and since Jewish religion was also an important part of Graeco-Roman culture. As long as Paul is read as a unified subject apparent contradictions in the text must be leveled out or explained. But this reading strategy fails when it comes to 1 Corinthians 11. It is significant that most of the scholars

43. This enormously powerful metaphor is shaped in the image of the Western 'man of letters'. The autonomous, unified subject is seen as unrestrained by the body with its point of view and other spatial limitations (Benhabib 1987: 84; comp. Fox Keller 1985: 7-10). That feminist biblical scholars have clung to this Enlightenment metaphor and withdraw it from feminist criticism, is understandable since the dream of becoming a 'man of letters' has nourished the feminist struggle from the beginning (Scott 1996b). See a clear example in Beauvoir (1953: 720): 'Art, literature, philosophy, are attempts to found the world anew on a human liberty: that of the individual creator; to entertain such a pretension, one must first unequivocally assume the status of a being who has liberty... what woman needs first of all is to undertake, in anguish and pride, her apprenticeship in abandonment and transcendence: that is, in liberty.' 44. An example is Schiissler Fiorenza's reading of 1 Corinthians 11 in Schiissler Fiorenza (1983). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 23 23 discussed above keep a strict focus on the author of the text, and comment on his inconsistent and obscure way of speaking in ch. II.45 Another possibility for making sense of the obscurity of the chapter, and of 1 Corinthians as a whole, is to start in the broader discourses. These can be philosophical, ritual or social, and 1 Corinthians is only brought in secondarily to throw light over these discourses. Within one and/or the other of such broader discourses, a passage can be meaningful, at the same time as its inconsistencies are not leveled out: in this way of reading they offer more possibilities than problems. Participation in different discourses that build on different presuppositions can create inconsistencies in a text that the author may perceive as a problem, or he may not even realize it. So if Paul does not have to come out as a producer of seamless texts, the instances where he is inconsistent can rather be seen as opportunities to a better grasp of the discourses of which he formed part. Other stories, other questions, other images of the past come into view if we cease first to construct Christianity - or Paul - as an independent entity which only secondarily is compared to Judaism or Graeco-Roman culture. Paul does not speak as a unified subject, at least not when the topic is women. In my view, what 1 Corinthians 11 (or 1 Corinthians 11 held together with Gal. 3.26-28 and 1 Cor. 14.33-36) shows, is exactly that Paul is not in supreme control of his own utterances, but is constrained by different, contradictive discourses that are confluent in his texts. Therefore it does not suffice to use the broader discourses of which an ancient or modern author takes part as 'background' which are not given independent life outside of Paul's use of them. In this book these discourses are rather seen as determining what he or she says, although it is possible to act subversively to these constraints. In studies of Paul that try to make sense of what he says through reference to other, contemporary texts, it is not only and not always a question of the number of extra- Pauline citations that makes a difference, but at least as much a question of how the Pauline and non-Pauline texts are put in relation to each other through theoretical perspectives and presuppositions on authorship, text production, ideology and discourse. What we are looking for then, is a different way of combining texts and the broader discourses of which their authors are part.

45. From a different perspective, Malina observes more generally that changes in ancient theology did not derive 'from the demands of logical "scientific", consistency or the demands of some philosophical system ... Concern for some abstraction such as "truth", was of little value unless it were convertible to some more socially significant symbol. Therefore "truth" was not the outcome of a concern for consistency in dogma or moral probity' (Malina 1986: 98; cf. 95). 24 Women in Their Place

2.3.1 Text I have already used the term 'text'. According to different definitions, a text can be a window to an external reality, or there may be nothing outside the text at all. I will not deny the existence of non-inscribed matter in antiquity, too, but in my view, we do not have access to it. What we have access to, are texts from antiquity - texts then understood in the broadest possible sense as referring to 'any interpretable cultural object, document, or artifact' (Peskowitz 1993a: 9, n. 2). All of these can be understood both as ideologically laden and as reality-reflecting, and the two levels cannot be separated from each other in the texts. The material texts are also influenced by ideology even if they are not as filtered as a literary work. As Miriam Peskowitz points out: 'My strategy has been to assume that all of the cultural texts available for interpretation report "realities" [... ] because ideology is as real as artifacts in that it shapes people's lives and the way they experience them' (Peskowitz 1993b: 304). Some historians and archaeologists would argue that architecture and topography are not textual enough to be analyzed by textual methods - a text has to be composed of letters or pictograms. But in a study of broad discourses of gender and sanctuary space, it is most relevant to also keep a broad definition of 'text', embracing all signs encoded with cultural meaning.46 Analyses and analytical tools for sifting out cultural meaning are equally applicable to a broad range of texts. I read archaeological material as texts, and even a simple stone can be a text under certain circumstances: if the stone is picked up, brought to a sanctuary and offered there as some kind of votive gift, it is a text. In the context of ancient ruins, it is of course difficult to determine whether stones lying all around are 'texts' carrying cultural meaning, or whether they are just stones dropped around arbitrarily through the hundreds of years that have passed since the sanctuaries were in use. It is a question of determination from stone to stone. In most cultures, the human body is read as text and is also encoded with cultural meaning from birth (Laqueur 1990: 12-14), but what this meaning is, more precisely, varies. Although everything from a stone to a religious treatise can be defined and treated as text, there are different kinds of texts. They are more or less nuanced, more or less loaded (inscribed) with cultural meaning, and more or less loaded with power to integrate and impregnate the 'readers' with the 'correct' cultural norms and values.

46. A text can be regarded as 'the primary element (basic unit) of culture. The relationship of the text with the whole of culture and with its system of codes is shown by the fact that on different levels the same message may appear as a text, part of a text, or an entire set of texts' (Lotman et al. 1975: 62). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 25

Since I am most accustomed to reading text composed by letters and words, I find it easiest to find nuances of meaning in such texts. But such texts were not available to many people of the past, who were either illiterate or did not have access to libraries or other collections of books and documents. Non-written-texts (e.g. sanctuaries, votive offerings, public statues) say more about the environments most people lived and worked in than literary texts do. A house, for example, that people lived in is a text in this meaning. Through the way houses were built, other values than the ones verbalized in public discourse also become visible: we learn more about how powerful public discourse of women was in relation to house-builders, and how women could possibly have inhabited the houses. Excavated texts are increasingly used to throw light on Paul's letters to the Corinthians and the Early Christian group in Corinth.47 Instead of giving an overview of the presentations of archaeological material in exegetical scholarship on 1 Corinthians 11-14, I will only mention Miriam Peskowitz's dissertation, 'The work of her hands: Gendering everyday life in Roman-Period Judaism in Palestine (70-250 AD), using textile production as a case' (Peskowitz 1993b), which is a model of how one can make gender-critical readings of non-literary texts, including artifacts/ archaeological texts.48 Even if Peskowitz concedes that material culture is often ambiguous and does not always allow for a precise correlation of

47. I will come back to Blattenberger III (1997) and Thompson (1988) in Chapter 6. See also DeMaris (1995); Gill (1990); Gooch (1993); Lanci (1993); Murphy-O'Connor (1984, 1990); Oster Jr. 1988, 1992 and Winter 2001. One question is how relevant is the archaeological material in interpretation of 1 Corinthians. Oster criticizes the uncritical use of archaeological material because biblical scholars are not trained enough in archaeology to use the material in a scientifically sober way. He further states that 'the archaeological materials cannot fully supply the final answers to the questions posed by the historian and exegete concerning the extent and nature of the Jewish presence in Julio-Claudian Corinth. This is a very important conclusion methodologically, since it demonstrates the limitations of archaeological materials in certain instances and underscores the fact that the mere presence of absence or artifacts cannot be the final court of appeal. Rather, artifacts can be used only after answers have been given to questions regarding their date, the specific location of their discovery, and their significance in light of the archaeological record at other appropriate sites' (57-58). In relation to this discussion, I will say that I do not use the archaeological material to throw light on 1 Cor. 11.2-16, rather I view both 1 Cor. 11.2-16 and the archaeological texts listed in Chapter 4 as products of a broader early Roman Corinthian discourse of gender and ritual space. Contributions from archaeologists open up different perspectives on the text since they are less dependent on the biblical text and the genre of New Testament research, and more familiar with other material. An example is Oscar Broneer, who put together New Testament information about Paul and archaeological material in a new and interesting way (Broneer 1951, 1962, 1971). 48. Related attempts at integrating archaeological texts into broader feminist readings o early Christian and Jewish texts, can be seen in Abrahamsen (1994); Baker (1997); Brooten (1982, 1991); Portefaix (1988); Sawicki (1994). 26 Women in Their Place artifact and sex (Peskowitz 1993b: 268), she shows how it is possible to create the broadest possible picture of ancient gender discourse by also drawing on material texts. When she discusses artifacts mainly from Roman-period Palestine and reads these artifacts together with comments in rabbinic literature concerning textile production to trace ancient everyday gender discourse, the point is not to confront the male author with sources that demonstrate that his construction was wrong. Rather she explores the tension between the stories the artifacts tell and the story the Rabbis tell, even if both genres testify to the highly (feminine) symbolic meaning of textile production.

2.3.2 Discourse Through his various writings, Michel Foucault has been central in the formation of more recent notions of what 'discourse' is and does. Foucault can be interpreted to mean that an individual text or subjective uttering always enters into and is governed by a pre-existing order that was there before the text occurred and that is a presupposition for its taking place and its being understood as a meaningful text. Foucault names this order 'discourse'. Helge Jordheim, who 'exercises' for a 'New Philology', describes Foucault49 as following Saussure in holding that there is a structure or system that regulates all historical utterances: 'But whereas structuralism tends to understand these categories as transcendental, or at least ahistorical, it is Foucault's project to root them again in the materiality of history. "Discourse" does not belong to the level above history. The opposite is the case: it is first as part of a discourse that speech points beyond itself and its subjective origin and becomes historicar (Jordheim 1998: 15; my translation). The outcome of such an approach is a different way of understanding the relationship between text, author, and the context within which s/he speaks. A particular author or text may be seen as a place where different discourses coalesce, and in order to analyze how they coalesce it can be interesting to look for seams, gaps, and contradictions in the text. Among the scholars discussed above, Wire is the only one who seriously attempts to situate the Pauline text as one voice among many in some kind of broader discourse, although she uses different theoretical tools and models. She chooses the broader discourse of Early Christianity. On a theoretical level, this choice is reflected through Wire's consistent description of Paul not as a center, but as one out of many voices of this discourse, even if her references to this broader discourse are not very numerous. This choice is reflected in her book through the insertion of sub-

49. Mainly as expressing himself in Foucault (1972, 1995). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 27 chapters on the social status of early Christian (Corinthian) men and women. Dale Martin is a closer example of such a 'de-centering' reading of Paul as authorial subject in his book The Corinthian Body (1995), where he insists that ascertaining Paul's authorial intention is not an adequate goal for interpretation, even if it were possible (Martin 1995: 244). Rather as interpreter he searches to reconstruct the ideological matrix in which Paul's statements could be thought necessary. He places the body language (both individual and collective bodies) of 1 Corinthians, as well as Paul's drawing on notions about pollution and disease, within the broader discourse of elite medical writers and (popular-) philosophers. I understand this attempt to reconstruct the 'ideological matrix' or discourse as an attempt to discover and follow the threads in a synchronic, 'hypertextual' web.50 The idea that any text always enters into a pre-existing order that determines both how it is shaped and how it is perceived as meaningful, is the background for my choice of Corinth-related, material texts as a frame for reading Paul: it was within an early Roman Corinthian discourse that Paul's letters had to make sense, thus it is adequate (although not the only possible way of reading) to read them within a cultural-textual frame that was accessible to broader layers of the people he wrote to. Even if this Corinthian discourse probably shared many common traits of early Roman urban discourse elsewhere,51 we cannot presuppose that this discursive order was the same all around the ancient Mediterranean. I will talk about discourses on different levels, some very broad and general (for example Graeco-Roman gender discourse) others more specific (first-century Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space). The ideology52 governing a particular discourse can do so only through some kind of power-exercise. For those in power, the goal is to make the discourse support their power-exercise in a veiled manner. Still, 'we must make allowance for the complex and unstable process whereby discourse can be both an instrument and an effect of power, but also a hindrance, a stumbling-block, a point of resistance and a starting point for an opposing strategy' (Foucault 1978: 101). As will be clear further on, I read the 'becoming male' of early Christian women or their acting as men 'under cover' in ekklesia as one such kind of opposing strategy. This approach also comes close to what Daniel Boyarin labels 'the new historicist stance' in his book Carnal Israel: Reading Sex in Talmudic

50. Cf. Jordheim (1998: 22). 51. Roman urban spatial discourse is most clearly expressed in Vitruvius On Architecture book 5 (from the Augustan era). 52. '... the particular set of terms that people took for granted as they organized and interpreted themselves, their relationships, and their worlds' (Scott 1996a: 11). 28 Women in Their Place

Culture: 'literature and art are one practice among many by which a culture organizes its production of meaning and values and structures itself (Boyarin 1993: 12). From this follows first, that the study of a literary work cannot be pursued in isolation from other concurrent socio- cultural practices; second, that so-called high culture has no essential privilege over 'popular' and 'mass' culture, nor do the latter more truly reflect society than the former; third, that some kind of materialism must be assumed; fourth, that the rigid barrier between the current humanities and social sciences must be dismantled (Boyarin 1993: 13). I find these postulates a fruitful point of departure for combining literature, artifacts, architecture and documents and so on in studies of ancient religion. Particularly noteworthy is the second postulate, that different texts produced within the same culture reflect the same society or cultural dynamics,53 since many students of the cultural context of Paul's letters have used mainly the classical canon as a frame of reference and overlooked the less significant texts. Therefore, putting together different 'texts' (widely understood) that were read or reread in first-century Corinth is for me an aim in itself. From such a co-reading of different kinds of texts through a lens of 'cultural dialectics', it is possible to discover the generative dynamism of a culture: 'By cultural dialectics, I intend a mode of analysis that compares related cultural formations by showing that they represent complementary "solutions" to given cultural "problems'" (Boyarin 1993: 22). Thus Boyarin has a view of culture circulating around certain 'problems', unresolved tensions (1993: 18) and paradoxes that it is constantly negotiating and attempting to regulate, solve or work out release from. The aim is not to recover a golden age in the past, but to historicize cultural formations and to expose their contingencies and specificities. Applied on early imperial gender, this aim leads us to look at how phallogocentrism takes different shapes within, for example, Jewish, Christian-Jewish and pagan discourses, and how attempts to fix the value and meaning of gender generate new paradoxes and new problems - every solution implies only the move of 'the locus of contradiction'.54

53. Further the theories of Jurij Lotman are important in this regard. In the view of Lotman and his colleagues, culture can be viewed as a process where all kinds of text participate, but all texts are not equally well integrated or influenced by the dominating, harmonizing discourse that seeks to order all texts hierarchically. Thus culture can also be viewed as a 'hierarchy of particular semiotic systems, as the sum of the texts and the set of functions correlated with them' (Lotman et al. 1975: 73; cf. 82). 54. Cf. Scott (1996b: 171). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 29 29

One example of such an intertextual reading of Paul, is Bernadette Brooten's Love between Women (1996).55 The book demonstrates how it is possible to read different texts (including artifacts), to trace some fundamental axioms of the discourse that Paul is drawing on (in Rom. 1.18-32). In bringing together such different genres as astrology, medicine, vase paintings, funerary reliefs, poetry, philosophical and theological treatises, erotic spells, and biblical law, this book gives high culture-texts no essential privilege over 'popular' texts in its reconstruction of ancient discourse. Already Brooten (1982) is an example of this type of co-reading of biblical, rabbinic, inscriptional, architectural and archaeological texts in an attempt to trace to roles of women in the ancient synagogue. Boyarin himself, to a certain extent, follows this up in his later book on Paul: A Radical Jew: Paul and the Politics of Identity (1994). He argues that 'Paul lived and died convinced that he was a Jew living out Judaism. He represents, then, one option which Judaism could take in the first century' (Boyarin 1994: 2).56 However, as Boyarin himself states, Jewish culture is always in contact with and in the context of the rest of the world. With Paul's Jewishness as a point of departure, Paul's Hellenism also becomes more visible and makes more sense.57 The two discourses cannot be dichotomized - Judaism was also part of Graeco-Roman culture, and Paul was a Hellenistic Jew. With Boyarin's Paul as a point of departure, it is possible to analyze how Paul betwixt and between these discourses combines them, howhe is able to say two things at one time.58 Paul is a figure who stands 100 percent within one cultural matrix where different conflicting and converging discourses are taking place. In his analysis of Jewish sects in the Maccabean era, Albert Baumgarten has pointed out that all the different sects that flourished in the Second Temple period shared some basic ideological and terminological similarities. In spite of their mutual hatred,59 they were all 'competing answers to the same sets of questions raised by the circumstances of their era', namely the encounter of Judaism with Hellenism (Baumgarten 1997: 57). Even if 1

55. For a broader presentation, abstract and discussion of some themes in Brooten's book see 0kland (2002). 56. Cf. Boyarin (1994: 137). 57. E.g. Boyarin exposes how Paul uses Biblical terms in a way quite foreign to Jewish discourse outside of Hellenistic Judaism. He criticizes Christian-exegetical misreadings of Paul intended at making Paul more 'Old-Testament-like' and less Hellenistic and dualistic (Boyarin 1994: 65-57). 58. Boyarin's Paul manages to be part of many conflicting discourses without ending up with inconsistent views (1994: 190, 199)! 59. Baumgarten explains the mutual hostility of the groups by precisely the fact that they were similar but competing entities who recruited from the same pool. Many Jews 'shopped around' (Baumgarten 1997: 56), being Pharisee one period and Christian the next. Baumgarten does not mention him, but the figure of Paul is close at hand. 30 Women in Their Place

Corinthians addresses a mainly pagan audience who lives in a city where Jewish presence is only sporadically evidenced before the second century CE,60 it can be seen to participate in Baumgarten's 'discourse' or 'cultural dialectics' too. But Paul's writing is also governed by the broader discourses he is writing himself into, his Jewish way of thinking responds to concerns within the broader Roman colonial discourse in various ways. Paul's letters are therefore also part of the non-Jewish discourse of first- century Corinth, and that non-Jewish discourses also influences Paul as author is clear from the way one of his letters differs from the other. Even if his comments come from within a Jewish discourse (which was severely Romanized!), what he comments upon in the case of Corinth are pagan cultural practices that may not have been perceived as problematic at all by the pagan Christians who participated in them (e.g. dinner parties in the sanctuaries). I therefore think that the 'meaning' of his Jewishness was different for the recipients than it was for Paul himself in his textual production. If Paul is read in this way as participant in various discourses other possibilities of reading his text will open up. Of the many discourses that are confluent in Paul's text, it is difficult to tease out more than one at a time in a focused way, however this does not imply that only one such contextual or 'discursive' reading can be correct. I expect any reading that focuses the broader discourse of early Christianity and Paul as one voice within this (Wire) and a reading that focuses the ritual discourse of first- century Corinth (this book) will overlap in many ways. By 'discourse' I will mean a set of texts that share a basic, common set of presuppositions, questions or unsolved tensions, that are governed by the same unspoken order even if they do not directly relate to each other. Participants (such as Paul) can disagree with the hegemonic ideology or order governing the discourse in question, but then they have to argue from premises given within the discourse itself. Thus, the participants are not free to express themselves in an unlimited number of ways on a topic. The given order in the discourses in which they participate narrows their overview of possible options. Of course, if one participates in many discourses, as Paul does, it is fully possible to place an utterance within one discourse into another discourse, perhaps even without being aware of this re-location.

60. See the subchapter on 'the God of Israel' in Chapter 4. 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 31

2.4 Space and Ritual 2.4.1 Ritual Space The Pauline scholars I have discussed until now treat more or less all 'women passages' in 1 Corinthians as belonging to the same genre or they read texts on ritual and gender simply as any text on social gender.61 I agree that ritual cosmologizes and reinforces the ideals also valid in private and public spaces, and that hierarchies constructed through ritual reflect social hierarchies. But in such co-readings the texts about ritual are reduced to fit into the general socio-sexual scheme, and any possible specific features of gender in ritual discourse related to ritual space are missed. MacDonald (1990) has made the common connection between 1 Corinthians 7 and 11-14 in a more sensitive manner: she is conscious that these texts have different foci, and she shows how Paul tries to disconnect the issues of sexual abstinence and cult as a response, she believes, to the way the Corinthian women, the recipients, connect the two. Since worshipping women are Paul's opponents in Corinth, in ch. 7 he is particularly concerned with their celibacy.62 I will not make the common connection between chs. 11-14 and ch. 7. Not that celibacy has nothing to do with ritual, as MacDonald has pointed out, but the reading of 11-14 with ch. 7 constantly in mind, has in my opinion blurred the specifics of the ritual discourse going on in 11-14.63 As mentioned already, I try to take as seriously as possible that in 1 Corinthians 11-14 Paul is prescribing how the ritual gatherings of the

61. This connection is particularly current in feminist readings inspired by social history, e.g. Schottroff (1994: 182-199), Fatum (1995), Gundry-Volf (1994a), MacDonald (1996: 146- 47). 62. MacDonald believes that the women themselves probably saw celibacy in the Christian group as a cultic celibacy like in other religions. She holds that cultic celibacy was offensive to the Graeco-Roman society, and therefore that Paul was under double pressure in his letter. He saw celibacy as the best option on religious grounds, but could not ignore that celibate female members of the Christian group could be perceived as a threat in a society where marriage, the virtue of women, and the stability of the state were seen as interrelated. 63. Weiss named this part of the letter 'Uber einige MiBstande in den Gemeinde- Versammlungeri (Weiss 1910: 268, my italics), Barrett 'The Christian Assembly' (Barrett 1971: 246), Conzelmann 'Questions of Divine Worship' (Conzelmann 1975: 181). Also Wuellne 1979 who views 1 Corinthians as a piece of epideictic rhetoric, treats 11.2-14.40 as an argumentative unit (the others are 1.1-6.11 and 6.12-11.1). Mitchell and Betz (1992) and Mitchell (1992: 258) read the letter as a deliberative rhetoric urging concord, and this colors their title of the section (Third Proof Section'; 'Manifestations of Corinthian Factionalism when Coming Together'). The idea that the content of this part of the letter deals with the ritual gatherings of the Christians, is therefore reflected in the main reference works, although they do not emphasize the ritual or sanctuary aspect of the gatherings as much as this work does. 32 Women in Their Place

Christians should take place.641 want to find out what hides behind Paul's use of the term yvvr\ in a ritual context without letting the texts where he speaks about marriage and sexual life determine the outcome, because what is said about yuvf) in a ritual setting is not necessarily compatible with family planning and sexual ethics. Part of my hypothesis is that Paul's utterances on women here form part of a broader Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space. But how is it possible to think that the ekklesia and Corinth's sanctuary spaces or ritual spaces can partly be influenced by a common discourse? How is it possible to read ritual as space at all? In the discipline that I am shaped by, a protestant historical-critical discipline of biblical interpretation, any emphasis on sacred buildings, rituals, places and times used to be easily dismissed as 'catholic' or 'Jewish', primitive and far from Paul.65 The idea that true Christianity (^protestantism) is not a religion (in contrast to Catholicism and Judaism), but something far more pure and advanced, seems to lie under much of this discourse. Since pure, spiritual Christianity is seen as irreconcilable with focus on places and buildings, 'empty habits' and other forms of 'superstition', Paul's God is represented as a hyper-autonomous male who can show his sanctity and grace anywhere and anytime according to his free will. He is not bound or limited to particular times, rituals or places, neither in Jerusalem, Corinth nor Rome. I partly agree with this reading of Paul's God as a God who can reveal himself and be present anywhere, anytime; this image of God will most likely be recognizable to any adherent of a monotheistic religion. At the same time I read the God of 1 Corinthians as a God of order, and in the human realm two primary ways of making order are through separating different spaces and different times, and through structuring the relationships between different temporal and spatial entities.66 In other letters Paul may well argue against ritualism, but there is no skepticism against ritual order in 1 Corinthians. In the section of 1 Corinthians where Paul deals with the ritual gatherings (chs. 11-14), he rather criticizes the Corinthians for their lack of order, boundaries and proper rituals, and he maintains that there is, and should be, difference between the space of the ekklesia and household space. This shift in focus from time as primary category of analysis and space as contingent,67 to space as the category in focus may seem counter-

64. Other works applying ritual theory on 1 Corinthians are, in addition to Meeks (1983), also Stowers (1996), Gruenwald (2001). 65. See e.g. Jonathan Smith's analysis of Zwingli (Smith 1987: 99-100.). 66. See e.g. Gen. 1.4-5, Mt. 21.12-13, Rom. 1.16 (The ]ew first, then the Greek), 1 Cor. 11.22 and 14.34-35 (in this context read together with 14.37). Cf. Barton (1986: 226). 67. Jameson (1984) gives the broader economic and political perspectives on the 'recent' shift in analytical emphasis from time to space in postmodernism. On the basis of the 'new 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 33 intuitive in an analysis of Paul. New Testament scholars have for many years used social theories as a prime source of inspiration. According to Harvey (1989), such 'theories (and here I think of traditions emanating from Marx, Weber, Adam Smith, and Marshall) typically privilege time over space in their formulations. They broadly assume either the existence of some pre-existing spatial order within which temporal processes operate, or that spatial barriers have been so reduced as to render space a contingent rather than fundamental aspect to human action' (Harvey 1989: 205). The focus on time that followed the social theories, has sharpened analyses of, for example, Paul's eschatology, a temporal category. But contradictory sayings in Pauline literature were too easily attributed to different periods, presuming a period in-between them of social processes or change.68 Social theories give theoretical tools to analyze temporal processes and put events along a temporal axis, but they have left the spatial categories in Paul's thought invisible. Jonathan Smith's theory of ritual action as central in the construction of sacred places can help bring the spatial and ritual aspects of 1 Corinthians 11-14 back into focus (Smith 1987), and in Chapter 5, I will use Smith's theories to analyze how ritual constructs the ekklesia as such. Smith holds that it is not the unique features of a particular place that turns it into sacred place,69 rather it is the ritual playing out the human act of 'recollection' (Smith 1987: 13). Thus ritual is a mode of action that 'makes a difference'.70 As Smith himself states: 'Ritual precises ambiguities; it neither overcomes nor relaxes them. Ritual, concerned primarily with difference, is, necessarily, an affair of the relative. It exhibits, in all its forms, what Arnold van Gennep terms the "pivoting of the sacred". As such, ritual is systemic hierarchy par excellence' (Smith 1987: 110, my

wave of American military and economic domination throughout the world' (p.57), he understands this superstructure analytical shift as a crisis in our experience of time and space. The consequence is a 'new spatial logic which effaces what used to be historical time' (pp.58, 66). In contrast to modernism, spatial categories now come to dominate those of time. 68. This is not only the case for New Testament scholarship inspired by social-scientific theories, but also for the more traditional exegetical project, cf. Moxnes (1998: iii). A clear example are the explanations and reasons given for the different partition theories of 1 Corinthians (for an overview, see Merklein [1984]). 69. Smith borrows the distinction between space and place from geographer Yi-Fu Tuan, who stated that ' "Space" is more abstract than "place". What begins as undifferentiated space becomes place as we get to know it better and endow it with value. Architects talk about the spatial qualities of place; they can equally well speak of the locational (place) qualities of space' (Tuan 1977: 6). 70. In the same vein, Smith's student Catherine Bell has programmatically stated that she wants to 'carve out an approach to ritual activities that is less encumbered by assumptions about thinking and acting and more disclosing of the strategies by which ritualized activities do what they do' (Bell 1992: 4). 34 Women in Their Place italics). Ritual then, cannot be understood as something people do when they come to a sacred place, but rather as an activity that creates and defines the place as such, that turns any place into a sacred place with a meaningful, hierarchically ordered territory (Moxnes 1998: ii).71 In Latin, the language of many of the texts dealt with here, sacra can also mean 'rituals' (e.g. sacra Cereris, rituals of Ceres). So although the terms are not completely synonymous, stating that rituals construct sacred space, would be to state the obvious.72 In many definitions of ritual, the notion of 'setting apart' is central. People are talking, eating and drinking everywhere, but if they do these things as part of a ritual, it means something special. Ritual is powerful because it puts very ordinary activities into an extraordinary framework which presents things or activities how they should be, in tension with how they are.73 That verbal ritual actions are 'set apart' from ordinary talk, we see in 1 Corinthians in that women are not denied the right to speak generally, only in ekklesia (1 Cor. 14.34). According to Roy Rappaport, rituals are profoundly performative, they construct what they declare,74 and they are tautological. If the saying of Jesus in Mt. 18.20 ('I am in their midst.') is read aloud in a ritual setting, Jesus is present. Through a ritual performance of these words, any place is made a sacred place because Jesus is made present, as I will come back to in Chapter 5. In the ritual, ethos and world-views (which are related to particular views of world order - cosmology) become one, and models for become models of: 'In a ritual, the world as lived and the world as imagined, fused under the agency of a single set of symbolic forms, turn out to be the same world, producing thus that idiosyncratic transformation in one's sense of reality' (Geertz 1973: 112). Paul is writing about ritual, chs. 11-14 are not as a whole a 'liturgy' or ritual text,75 even if he is relating to a commonly known ritual discourse by citing such as the baptismal formula (12.13) and the words accompanying bread and wine during the eucharist (11.23-26), but - if Paul really succeeds with his argument in chapter 11-14, the Corinthians will enact

71. Cf. Smith (1987: 28): 'Human beings are not placed, they bring place into being... place is best understood as a locus of meaning'. 72. But see further on these distinctions, and on the term ritus as denoting activity in Scheid (1995: 18). 73. See Smith (1987: 108) drawing on Levi-Strauss; cf. Mack (1996: 255): 'Rituals are the way humans have of concentrating attention on some activity or event of some significance to a group, and observing its performance apart from normal practice.' 74. Cf. Rappaport (1979), in particular the chapter The Obvious Aspects of Ritual' (173). Rappaport builds on the speech-act-theories in Austin (1962). 75. Unless we suppose that his addressees read and reread Paul's text on the ritual gathering during the ritual gathering, as later Christians did - and still do. 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 35 ritually the words, acts and bodily gestures he prescribes in these chapters. And through their enactment, his words will become true. Nothing less than the resurrection or reincarnation of Christ in the midst of ekklesia is at stake, and since he has so much to lose there are good reasons for the strong words towards the end of the section. What I gain with a ritual approach, is that it makes it possible to focus on gender in 1 Corinthians 11-14 in a new, and in my opinion fruitful manner. The ritual approach makes it possible to draw on the contemporaneous Corinthian texts, particularly archaeological texts. It makes possible a comparison of utterances concerning women in the texts of Corinthian cults, rituals and sanctuaries including the ekklesia, and thus finding traces of a discourse on 'women' and ritual space where cultic models of the female are related to the space the ritual takes place within.

2.4.2 Materialization or 'Monumentalization' of Sanctuary Space Eliade and other historians of religion used to think that a particular physical place is considered as holy in essence and pointed out as such through epiphany or some kind of cosmogonic event. Because the place is sacred, a sanctuary may be built, or a cult develops there. However, ritual may also be seen as prior to sanctuaries or worship buildings, so that worship buildings are materializations of a particular ritual discourse. Fine (1997, particularly ch. 1) demonstrates how synagogue buildings developed in antiquity after a period when the prayer worship had constituted the synagogue. In a parallel move, Sourvinou-Inwood (1993) analyzes older, Greek material. She shows that historically, the essential religious part of a Greek sanctuary was not the temple, but the altar and the sacred space surrounding it, often marked off by a temenoslb or alsos (sacred grove). In the eighth century BCE votive offerings become very common (Sourvinou Inwood 1993: 11). Thus from this period on, where boundary stones, sacred groves or temenae cannot any longer be found, we can read sacrificial pits or the heaping up of votive offerings as pointers to the existence of a sacred place: when a space is readable as sacred, people start to make offerings there. And vice versa by ritually bringing gifts to a place, people make it sacred. Similarly, Stambaugh (1978) confirms concerning the Roman period that the essential furnishings of the Roman sanctuary were the 'fence or wall to define the area sacra and an altar for sacrifices' (Stambaugh 1978: 568). Thus we see that the process starts with first a ritual, then a physical definition of space, and that worship buildings or monuments are more the results of this process. The church buildings occurring in the fourth century should therefore not only be read as signs of the new position of Christianity in the Constantinian era, but also as the

76. Wall 'cutting off a sacred space (of the word reuvoj - to cut). 36 Women in Their Place visible result of a long process parallel to the development of houses of worship in early Greek religion and in Judaism. When the space made sacred this way takes on physical forms, 'a crucial factor affecting the physical appearance of the sanctuary is its worshipping group, the size, needs and aspirations of the (developing) polls and the images of itself it created in the local and the pan-Hellenic sanctuaries' (Sourvinou-Inwood 1993: 10). When the more spectacular temple developed in Greek religion, it was for sure functional, but its importance was also to speak out a language of power to the surrounding landscape:7^ 'the emergence of the temple was not the result of a religious change involving a change in the articulation of sacred space indicative of a change in the relationship between men and the sacred. It was part of monumentalization - and eventual codification - of Greek sanctuaries in the eighth century' (Sourvinou-Inwood 1993: 10, my italics). I will borrow this expression 'monumentalization' to refer to the process of constructing monuments and buildings apt to the ritual needs or power pretensions of the donators. If we stay in the first century CE, the difference between a sanctuary space and ekklesia space, is that a ritual constructing a sacred place in a sanctuary can draw on a mass of physical text, a sanctuary is a materialized text in itself, drawing on notions of cosmology, city space, gender, hierarchy, order, the place of humans in relation to the gods, and so forth. A ritual that is supposed to turn a non-sanctuary place into a sanctuary place is more dependent on other types of texts to express the same spatial discourse. But through speech, tools, meals, clothing, cultic roles, movements and gestures, and so on, any place can become sanctuary space.

2.4.3 Ritual and Gendered Order Gender was crucial in the construction of ritual- and sanctuary-spaces in the ritual discourses in which Paul partook. One could think of the gendered division of space in the sanctuary in Jerusalem (Hultgard 1995: 41-44),78 or women's religious festivals in ancient Greece and Rome.79 Ritual should stand in tension with, but still confirm, things as they are in the culture that the ritual functions within.80 Ritual space both reflects social reality and is a place where reality (in the sense 'view of reality', cosmology) is produced. Thus we can assume even less that we know what is meant by the term 'woman' in a ritual text or a text on ritual than we can

77. Cf. Burkert (1988: 44). 78. Cf. Josephus, The Jewish War, 5.198-200 and Against Apion, 2.102-104. 79. See next chapter. 80. See, e.g., Geertz (1973: 112). On Ancient Greece, cf. Zeitlin (1982: 148-49). 2. From Woman to 'Woman', from Church to Ekklesia Space 37 in other texts (as discussed in 2.2 above), such as texts dealing with sexual practices or in a documentary list.8' But even if we want to avoid mixing everything Paul says about women into one soup, gender in ritual space and gender in public and private spaces are not constructed in isolation from each other.821 concentrate on ritual space only to bring more clearly into light the nuances and particularities of that particular space. Evan Zuesse has denned ritual as 'those conscious and voluntary, repetitious and stylized symbolic bodily actions that are centered on cosmic structures and/or sacred presences' (Zuesse 1987: 12, 405).83 Even if the main approach to ritual in this book is that it constructs and defines space, Zuesse's perspective is helpful because it brings into focus the cosmic order that the ritually constructed space takes as its model. It helps us understand why prescriptions about ritual and ritual order are so important and are legitimated constantly through cosmological claims. Ritual confirms that there is a place for everything and everything has its place.84 My aim is not to reconstruct the Christian ritual in its fullness. The focus is on a limited aspect of ritual, namely that it constructs and structures a space, also called sanctuary space or ekklesia space all according to where, when and how the construction takes place85 by drawing on a particular gendered cosmology that is both imitated, negotiated and compromised through the ritual activity. 'Sanctuary space' and 'ekklesia space' as opposed to, for example, 'household space' are thus purely pragmatic, not essential designations. 'Sanctuary space' is a ritual space that can 'incarnate' into walls, buildings and material spaces, and that draws on these material texts during ritual performances. However, I acknowledge that there are also some differences between sanctuary space and ritual and ekklesia spaces: if 'sanctuary space' makes less claims about quality or essence than for example 'holy space', it is also more open to the fact that

81. E.g. Romans 16. 82. See below p. 68 and Zeitlin (1982: 148-49). 83. Anne-Louise Eriksson has utilized Zeusse's definition (cf. Eriksson [1995: 58]) to tease out how crucial gendered cosmic structures and/or sacred presences are in the Swedish high mass. 84. Cf. Neyrey (1990: 16). Ritual reflects this structure even if the reflection may come out as antistructure. Precisely because the space constructed through ritual is firm and set, the possible antistructure can take place without a collapse of the world order altogether, cf. Turner (1969). Few of Turner's examples of limiality or 'communitas' situations take place in non-defined settings. 85. If I sometimes use the term 'sacred' on this place, it is in accordance with Smith's understanding of it as constructed through ritual (see above). Ritual space is for me just the space that is constructed through ritual, whether it is conceived of as sacred or not. See also important nuances in the notions of the relation between sanctuary space and sacred space in Sourvinou-Inwood (1993: 9). 38 Women in Their Place much business that was going on within the temenos of a sanctuary could not be labelled 'sacred' or 'holy'. Many household things took place in a sanctuary, such as shopping and washing up; whereas I have defined ekklesia space in opposition to household space. The point here, which 1 will argue further in the next chapter, is only that the private-public distinction is not always very apt when describing different kinds of ritually constructed spaces, and that ritual spaces cannot be identified with either private or public space.

2.5 Conclusion From a glance at feminist readings of the 'women passages' in 1 Corinthians 11-14, I went on to question the feminist discourse of 'Paul's view of women', and argued instead for a broader, discursive approach where focus is still obtained, but in other ways: this book studies in detail the intersection of the discourses of gender and ritual space. It focuses on the views and presuppositions 1 Corinthians 11-14 share with the broader discourses of which the text is part - in fact, I will continue by tracing these discourses before I return to Paul. To use an image, I will view 1 Corinthians 11-14 as a kind of 'hypertext' participating in a web of other texts that are linked together in many ways. This way of reading builds on the scholars mentioned, who read Paul with less focus on his authorial intention. I will construct Paul not as an independent, autonomous author who fully controls his own text, and who - once his autonomy is established - can be compared with Judaism or Graeco-Roman culture. Still I acknowledge the author as implied in the text. I consider the necessary choices in this particular combination of different discourses that is 1 Corinthians as traces of a historical subjectivity. Particularly in Chapter 6 I will read Paul with a focus on what he chooses and what he rejects in the gender models that were available. Within a framework of historical-critical philology it is fully adequate not to take the meaning of 'obvious' terms such as 'woman' or 'religion' for granted. Thus I see as the historical part of this project not to reconstruct some kind of text-external reality, but to reconstruct what certain gender terms may have connoted in their ancient discursive contexts. On the other hand, in 1 Corinthians 11-14 there are many passages where gender is less visible on the textual surface level, still gender is not absent from the structures that the text draws on in its production of meaning. I will therefore read 1 Corinthians 11-14, including the women passages, as focusing on the ordering of ritual space. Chapter 3 GENDER AETIOLOGIES AND THE DISCURSIVE CONSTRUCTION OF SPACES

'(Gen. 2.22) Why does Scripture call the likeness of the woman "a building"? The harmonious coming together of man and woman and their consummation is figuratively a house. And everything which is without a woman is imperfect and homeless. For to a man are entrusted the public affairs of state; while to a woman the affairs of the home are proper.'1

3.1 Introduction In an attempt to trace a Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space, the broader assumptions of gender and space around the ancient Mediterranean are also of importance, since Corinth was not an isolated place, but a central crossroads and a Roman colony. In the last chapter I cited Jordheim (1998) who had read Foucault and concluded, 'it is first as part of a discourse that speech points beyond itself and its subjective origin and becomes historical'.2 Accordingly, here I will make Paul's letter 'historical' by briefly mentioning a few basic notions in the discourses of gender and of spaces that we must assume shaped his ways of speaking, as well as the Corinthian discourse that will be outlined in Chapter 4. The first part of this chapter shows how there were different, and partly conflicting aetiologies of gender at work, and how before Clement of Alexandria the incorporation of women into Christ implied that they in some sense had to become male. The second part of the chapter will activate the 'space- constructionist' perspective of the previous chapter, and show how ideologies of space and of gender are overlapping and interacting in the ancient discourses.

1. Philo, Questions and Answers on Genesis, 1.26. 2. Jordheim (1998: 15), cf. above p. 26. 40 Women in Their Place

3.2 Graeco-Roman Discourses of Gender Aetiology First it should be repeated that gender is a heuristic, etic designation, not an emic designation when applied to ancient materials.3 The concept helps us to gather under one umbrella a variety of ancient assumptions and views of the origins of the world, cosmos, women, men and to analyze their relation to each other and to the divine. The dominant gender ideologies of our present time can be summed up in a general way in the view that women and men are different (the difference is interpreted in various ways), but should have the same status, rights, possibilities and duties. Together with other historians of sexuality and gender,4 I am not convinced that Paul and the first-century Corinthians shared this late-twentieth-century view of equality between the sexes that presupposes modern discourses of democracy and individual autonomy. I will present briefly four models of ancient Mediterranean ways of thinking gender which are partly in conflict, but which also, with a certain creativity, can be seen as different answers to one set of fundamental presuppositions and tensions. Three of them are emic, and expressed in myths and stories of rituals, and the fourth is etic, and mainly constructed from philosophical and medical texts. The models are first, the 'Adam and Eve'-model on which Paul draws explicitly; second, the 'Pandora'-model; third, the 'woman as fertile sou"-model, and fourth, the 'one-sex'-model which seems to underlie Paul's idea that both men and women can become one Man in Christ (see Chapter 6). In my view, Thomas Laqueur over- simplifies when he presents the one-sex-model as the gender ideology of antiquity (Laqueur 1990: ch. 2). I believe that ancient gender discourse was much messier, which made it possible for the participants to draw on many conflicting and converging gender models at the same time. Therefore, I find that it is the interplay and tensions between the different models that is interesting and explains any development. In many of her works, Froma Zeitlin discusses the figures of Eve and Pandora, and emphasizes their difference, but she does not link them with the one-sex-model.5 Boyarin (1994) brings Zeitlin into the discussion of Paul and Philo, but without a full discussion of the various gender models and their interactions.

3. Concerning the terms etic and emic, see Parker (1997: 63, n. 1): emic (also called experience-near) categories in a culture correspond to the phon-emic level of analysis, vs. etic categories (experience-far), which correspond to the phon-etic level. Emic categories, like phonemes, are those which are of significance (literally make a difference) within the culture itself, specifically those systems of classification which are used to divide the universe of discourse. Etic categories are those of the analyst or interpreter. 4. E.g. Brooten (1996); Halperin (1990); Laqueur (1990). 5. Most profoundly in Zeitlin (1996). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 41

The aim here is not to find the ultimate message in the myths and models that are discussed, but to see what they have in common, where they differ, how they could have interacted and how one could affect the understanding of the other under specific circumstances. From the outset they seem to have a certain androcentrism in common in the sense that they privilege a view of the world from a male perspective, and men are predisposed to set the tables. Further, they all negotiate the male dependency on women for procreation.

3.2.1 Adam and Eve Among the ancient Mediterranean models of gender, the first I will present is Israelite, which means that it is related to a different narrative complex than the Pandora model or the 'woman as soil'-model. It is found in Genesis 2. In this context, what the author(s) of the passage may have meant is irrelevant; only the understanding of the passage in the Roman era in terms of gender is of importance here. I do not start with Genesis 1 because, as Daniel Boyarin has pointed out, in Paul's Hellenistic context it was probably read as the story of the creation of the primal, body-less man or man as idea, who first in Genesis 2 is incarnated in actual bodily human form:6 Ginzberg gives more details: It was believed that Adam's soul was created on the first day, and his body on the sixth. Souls enter bodies at the will of God (1909: 56-60). There are interesting similarities to Aristotle, in the shared view that sperm is seen as the carrier of soul. God put a soul into Adam's body, and only much later woman is created. In early rabbinic Judaism, on the other hand, Genesis 1 was sometimes understood as the story of the creation of the primal, bodily hermaphrodite Adam, who in chapter 2 is split so that woman can be constructed: 'R. Jeremiah b. Leazar said: When the Holy One, blessed be He, created Adam, He created him an hermaphrodite; for it is said, Male and female created He them and called their name Adam (Gen. 5.2). R. Samuel b. Nahman said: When the Lord created Adam He created him double-faced, then He split him and made him of two backs, one back on this side and one back on the other side'.7 Similar views are found in Leviticus Kabbah: 'R. Levi said: When man was created, he was created with two body- fronts, and He sawed him in two, so that two backs resulted, one back for the male and another back for the female.'8 According to Genesis 2, God creates the earth by constructing a garden. First he creates man out of dust, and then he constructs a garden for the

6. Boyarin 1993, 31-32, 78-79; 1994: 185-91; and Chapter 6 below. 7. Genesis Kabbah 8.1 (Freedman). 8. Leviticus Rabbah 14.1 (Israelstam), a similar view is presupposed also in Genesis Rabbah 8.11. Ginzberg (1909: 66; 1953: 88, n.42) gives further sources with similar views. 42 Women in Their Place man and creates animals to put in the garden. The man is looking for an animal that resembles himself, but he does not find any. Then God creates the woman from the rib of the man and all is fine. In the beginning then, man is complete, but lonely. In contrast to the man and the other animals, woman is not created from dust,9 but from a member of the male body that is surgically cut off and built out until it becomes a full woman. Since the man is now lacking a rib, which is the basic material in the woman, he is not a complete, organic unity alone. In order not to suffer from a lack, the two have to be one, first when they come together as a pair the man restores his original completeness: 'R. Eleazar sagte: Ein Mensch, der keine Frau hat, ist kein Mensch, denn es heiBt: Mann und Weib erschufer sie und nannte ihren Namen Mensch''.10 The woman is of the same substance as the man, but deduced from and subordinated to him. Since the text is written from a male perspective, it does not say anything about whether a woman could be complete alone. A rib is an important body part, but it was probably not lacking a rib that ancient Israelite and Jewish men experienced as the significant bodily lack. More probably it was their lack of reproductive organs. In a certain sense then, I perceive 'rib' as a euphemism for womb and breasts.11

3.2.2 Woman as Fertile Soil The second model is the idea of 'woman as fertile soil'.12 In the 'orthodox' tradition of Greek representation of fertility, the good yvvr\ is determined to imitate the earth: 'It is not the country (f] yfj) that imitates the woman in the matter of conception and birth, but the woman the country'.13 The man is the sower who sows his seed in the woman and in the earth - which is conceived of as feminine. This tradition also expresses itself through ancient conception theories. Both the earth and the woman are to

9. This fact is in the later Lilith traditions read as a sign of Eve's secondariness. Lilith, Adam's first wife, was created from dust, just like Adam. Because of their identical origin she claimed equality with him (Ginzberg 1909: 65). 10. b. Yevamoth 63a (Goldschmidt). Further Genesis Kabbah 17.8 (Freedman): '"And why does the man make demands upon the woman, whereas the woman does not make demands upon the man?" "This may be compared to a man who loses something", replied he, "he seeks what he lost, but the lost article does not seek him.'" 11. It is worth noting that in Genesis Kabbah 18.2, R. Joshua of Siknin in R. Levi's name makes many suggestions concerning which part of the man's body the woman should be taken from: head, eye, ear, mouth, heart, hand, foot, or 'the modest part of man'. The modest part is modest, 'for even when he stands naked, that part is covered'. Other commentators suggest that the Holy One cut off Adam's tail and constructed woman from it (Berakot 61a [Kasher 1953: 115]). 12. Cf. Delaney (1991) who understands this notion as a permanent, basic structure in Mediterranean mentality. 13. Plato, Menexenus 238a (Bury). Cf. Loraux (1993: 84). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 43 represent a hospitable environment for the seed and be fertile (Zeitlin 1996: 60). The epithet of Gaia, the Earth-goddess, is 'the giver of all gifts'. Interesting in this context is how Hesiod's Theogony depicts the world as gendered long before men understood themselves as male, which did not happen until they were confronted with the difference of Pandora and the race of women who came into the world with her (Theogony 591). The Earth-goddess Gaia emerged after Chaos, the first space that came into being (Theogony 116). The term Chaos (xaog) carries notions of space and infiniteness, something that is not properly bounded in and structured (Liddell, Scott, and Jones 1940: 'xaos', 1976).14 Chaos is grammatically neuter, but Vigdis Songe-M011er argues convincingly that Chaos is still loaded with female symbolism (Songe-M011er 1999b: 13),15 an interpretation of Chaos which is underscored by Thomas Kratzert who behind the terms Chaos and chora sees the same concept, although in two different stages (Kratzert 1998: 100). Thus Chaos and Gaia can both be said to represent the feminine, in its 'destructive' or threatening, and in its 'constructive' forms. The relationship between these two can be depicted as a struggle between the void, unlimited and unstructured Chaos-space and Gaia who is the firm and structured foundation of everything in the world, even the Olympic gods (Theogony 117; Carson 1990: 160). Songe-M011er convincingly reads this, or more precisely the search for a stable and safe foundation of everything, as the leitmotif in the Theogony (Songe-M011er 1999b: 13). Zeitlin states that with Gaia, the female cosmic principle was established once and for all, 'and indeed is the source of the male principle (Ouranos) derived from it. From that time on, the idea of biological (genealogical) reproduction had coincided with the grammatical distinctions between male and female, so that all the various entities that came into being were automatically endowed with a gendered identity'' (Zeitlin 1996: 83, my italics).16 Thus we learn that, to begin with, space is gendered, even if Chaos is gendered in an ambiguous way. The creation from a gigantic body resulted in a world consisting of places containing particular gender essences, therefore masculinity and femininity so to say emanate from different

14. Cf. Paul Mazon's translation of the term with 'le Vide' with the comment, 'x

3.2.3 Pandora Zeitlin (1995a) has noted how central the myth of Pandora is as an expression of ancient mentality on gender and sexuality, as for example Foucault has reconstructed it. It is a recurring theme in Greek iconography and literature, but Hesiod's two versions are the oldest and set the agenda for the following discourse.18 In Nicole Loraux's words, It is important also to note that the subsequent tradition did not modify Hesiod's account in any way: from Semonides to Euripides, and from Amorgos to Athens, woman is Zeus' creation, and the genos gynaikon, in its cohesion, threatens the unity of a masculine society. Does this stability indicate a kind of loyalty to Hesiod? Perhaps, but it is much more than that; it is the encounter of a text and a political practice. Indeed, the reference to Hesiod allows us to raise a perennial question in the Greek ideology of citizenship: that is, the exclusion of women, the paradoxical 'half of the Greek polis, an exclusion that is necessary and impossible at the same time (1993: 75, my italics). Zeus has the artisan deity Hephaistos make an irresistibly beautiful but parasitic and lazy artefact that sits in the house of the man and eats everything he is able to grow from the soil: the race of women are 'filling their bellies up with the products of the toils of others' (Theogony 598- 599). Hesiod's '-rrav-owpa' (Works and Days 81) is probably a pun and a twist on the epithet of Gaia, 'giver of all gifts', for Pandora is not presented as the giver of all gifts, but the receiver of all gifts from the gods and the consumer of all gifts from men. The woman's presence empties him and

17. Another way of interpreting 'woman as fertile soil' for the male as a source of conflict, is explored in Timaeus 50-52. There it is the female element, the substance/space/ earth/mother that prevents the imitation from being identical with its source, its father. 18. Theogony 570-612 and Works and Days 59-105. See Reeder (1995), cf. Loraux (1993: 73). Loraux, who presents the most nuanced reading, analyzes the differences between Hesiod's two versions (73-89) and Semonides' version (89-110). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction oj Spaces 45 wears him out, so that he becomes sick and old, and dies an early death. 'She introduces death, woe, and evil into the world, along with the laborious toil of human existence' (Zeitlin 1996: 53). This state makes him dependent on her, for without the children she can produce for him, there will be no one to take care of him when he becomes old and weak. The alternative is to live without a woman in the house. Such a man will surely become much richer because no woman consumes his property. But then the man has to die old, rich and lonely, knowing that his belongings will be shared among foreigners after his death. This option, to live without heirs, is also held up as an impossible one. If Gaia is described as the constructive feminine principle, Pandora, an unsatisfiable, unstructured void, must be an embodiment of Chaos. When Zeus created Pandora, he ordered her clothed, girdled, and veiled even before he breathed life into her. Her clothing keeps her embodiment of Chaos within bounds. Unwrapped, and unbounded, chaos will, so to say, be let loose just like all the diseases and sorrows contained in her jar: 'Her sexuality is a disaster waiting to happen' (Stewart 1997: 41). Feminist commentators note that Hesiod leaves out the constructive aspects of sexual pleasure, fertility and nourishment represented by Gaia and other goddesses in his description of Pandora and mortal women (Songe-M011er 1999b: 14). Thus, the Pandora-aetiology of the relation between mortal men and the race of women is a conflict model, where women can only represent the negative aspects of the cosmic feminine principle. If, according to Genesis, man and woman are an organic unity and therefore in the end of the passage are admonished to 'be one',19 the Greek Pandora remains 'a separate and alien being' (Zeitlin 1995b: 59) in relation to the man. By dvOporrros' is unequivocally meant a (male) man in Theogony. After Pandora is first introduced to the dvOpunroi (586-590), it says that the tribe/race (yevos) of women descends from this recently introduced Pandora.20 No parallel account of how man came into existence is given. Pandora, the artifact, is construed as a revenge from the gods, placed into man's OLKOS after he rather innocently (i.e. without seeking it) had received the fire from Prometeus against the will of Zeus. The man thereby had something that could make him independent of the gods. According to Loraux, this is the danger that Semonides takes more seriously than Hesiod: 'Because the introduction of women in to the world separated men from gods, Semonides refuses Hesiod's mythic discourse - in which,... man is still too close to the gods' (Loraux 1993: 109). The lesson to learn is that the origin of femininity is not in the woman who is introduced in the world somewhat secondarily, but in Gaia who provided a hospitable

19. Gen. 2.24. 20. Comp. Works and Days 90-105. 46 Women in Their Place foundation for men before the race of women came and ended the harmony (Theogony 591). The Pandora- and the Adam-and-Eve-models are combined in Augustine's On Genesis Literally Interpreted, 9.5.(9): women are there a burdensome necessity because of their reproductive functions. He argues that if God created a helper for Adam for any other than reproductive reasons, Adam would be better off if God had created a second man for him. They are also combined in Genesis Rabbah 19.10, which compares Eve's eating from the tree with a curious woman who put her hand into a cask that the man of the house had forbidden his wife to approach. The structural similarities include the woman's curiosity, the cask, the evils inside the cask (the cask was full of snakes and scorpions). Any comparison between Eve and Pandora is difficult. They are both constructed as discontinuous 'others',21 not as coherent literary characters. Froma Zeitlin emphasizes the striking differences between the stories of the Greek Pandora and the biblical Eve because of the emphasis on essential continuity between man and woman in the biblical story, whereas in Hesiod, Pandora is an artifact and not part of the human race (Zeitlin 1995a; 1995b; 1996: 60). If Pandora is to be compared with anything in the Hebrew myth, it is not Eve, but the expulsion of both Adam and Eve from the garden, since it is the expulsion, and not the creation of Eve, that separates the human race (also understood gender-inclusively in Genesis) from the original bliss where God and humans lived in intimacy and harmony. Both Pandora and the expulsion bring mortality and pain. But in the Hebrew myth both the man and the woman have eaten fruits from the tree that gives knowledge of good and bad, whereupon both of them are driven out of the garden.

3.2.4 The One-Sex-Model A fourth model, the hierarchical one-sex-model, is most explicitly expressed in philosophical language, even if some myths also presuppose this way of thinking. It is most clearly reconstructed in Thomas Laqueur's Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud (1990). This model construes gender as two poles on one continuous axis (1990: 5-6).22 The male pole was the fully and perfectly human, while the female pole was lacking perfection. There was no fundamental difference between female bodies and male bodies: According to one proponent, Aristotle in Generation of Animals, the genitalia were the visible results of many

21. I.e. they are constructed as 'others' in relation to the male, without any inner essentially female continuity with each other. Loraux (1993: 110) puts it most clearly: The race of women: a contradictory unity of disparate things'. 22. See also Gleason (1995: ch. 3) and Martin (1995: 32-34). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 47 coincidences prior to birth, such as wind direction, which direction the copulating couple were looking, the area, the thickness of the sperm, and so on. He also believes that feminine parents (i.e. when the male is moist and cold as the female) produce female offspring. Male genitalia were thus more developed, but not fundamentally different from female genitalia. Aristotle says that the young boy and the woman are bodily similar, and that the woman is an infertile man.23 The woman is woman exactly because of her lacking the capacity to ejaculate sperm even under optimal conditions (with regard to nourishment, moisture and temperature). Because of her inability to ejaculate this noblest of all fluids, the moisture leaves the body in other ways, as blood or diarrhea. Menstruation is thus sperm in unpure form, in that it lacks the constituent, namely the principle of the soul, TT]V rfjs ^ux^is otpxr|v (737a). Even if Aristotle is often considered as somewhat extreme on this point, his view that the male body is the best representation of the human form, was broadly shared. Other theorists would hold that both males and females produced sperm in some form. The flip-side of the one-sex-coin is that it did not support an understanding of the still crucial categories of male and female as fundamentally different. If male and female bodies and minds are in continuity with each other, gender difference cannot be established with reference to bodies, since these are always in a state of flux, and can be placed at any point along the male-female axis. But an understanding of gender as mutually exclusive opposites could still be retained via other routes. Aristotle chooses essence and principle to establish male and female as clear, mutually exclusive opposites: 'I have already said that the male and the female are 'principles' (ctpxcd) of generation, and I have also said what is their dynamis and the logos of their essence (oixria)'.24 In this respect, the route from Aristotle's principles to Paul's theologies is very short indeed, as we shall see later on. The one-sex-model was not only an aetiological medical theory of sexed bodies. The theory was used to explain phenomena within the bodily sphere of the body-soul-dualism (as in the case of Aristotle), but it was also a helpful model to understand analogous views related to the spiritual sphere, or the relation between bodies and spirits/souls. Thus ancient authors thinking in polarities seem to imply that degrees also of spiritual manhood constitute a continuous axis, and that bodily and spiritual manhood follow each other.25

23. Generation of animals 728a, cf. 737a. 24. Generation of animals 73 Ib (Peck, LCL). 25. Seneca, Ad Mar dam de consolatione, 1.1 and 16.1; cf. Seneca, Ad Helviam, 8.1 and 16.1-5. See further below pp. 51-55. 48 Women in Their Place

The one-sex-model puts in relief the gender system implicit in a culture where gender distinctions were seen as so vulnerable that it was important that babies with female genitals were raised by women as women and with feminine role models, and that their nourishment was not too rich and their physical activity not too heat-producing. This way, it was hoped, girls were prevented from becoming masculine.26 Vice versa it was seen as damaging for boys to stay too long in the 'women's quarters', they could become feminine: Greek and Roman authors never tire of making fun of men who have remained feminine as adults. This vulnerability of sex was possible because bodily sex was not thought to have its origin in the body: rather the body was a 'symptom' of powers external to the body, also powers belonging to the higher level of existence. A modern way of putting it is to say with Laqueur that 'in these pre-Enlightenment texts, and even some later ones, sex, or the body, must be understood as the epiphenomenon, while gender, what we would take to be a cultural category, was primary or "real"' (Laqueur 1990: 8). The unsolved tension that all the models negotiate from their androcentric perspective, is the problem that women are different from men. More than one of the models presented here are also found in the mouth of different characters in Plato's writings, as they are found in the different letters of Paul.27 Even if the one-sex-model was current from 'classical' times onwards, it seems that it did not nourish greater plurality in representations of men and women. It existed within the same discourse as the 'Pandora model' or the other 'orthodox' Greek model of gender where women were considered as fertile soil or nature that 'man the farmer' was obliged to plow and fertilize in analogy to his field. Such models of gender seem to have conceptually narrowed in the possibilities of moving back and forth on the gender-continuum of the one-sex-model, so that these possibilities were made culturally and politically unavailable.28 A case in point is that of the artistic love of hermaphrodites. One the one hand, they illustrate the fluidity of gender and how humans placed around the middle of the male- female axis would be like. On the other hand, since gender integration as an equal mix of male and female elements was not an ideal, the hermaphrodite is far from a bodily coagulation of the androgyne, which is more understood like an ideal, bodyless, omnipotent male. Hermaph-

26. Martin (1995) shows how different doctors and philosophers viewed the significance of food, heat, and sex on gendered bodies (e.g. 32-34 and 200-202). 27. A brief, gender-aware presentation of Plato's story of the original humans in the mouth of Aristophanes (in Symposium), is given by Brooten (1996: 41), a brief overview over Plato's views of women in Timaeus and Republic, is given by Sampson (1999). For a broader overview over Plato and gender, see Songe-M011er (1999a: chapters 4-5). 28. Cf. Laqueur (1990: 19). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 49 rodites were often depicted as hypersexual, frivolous, less-than-ideal, but still alluring: 'there is little doubt that in the Hellenistic and early Roman periods at least, he was seen as an erotic figure, combining the physical beauties and attractions of both sexes' (Johns 1989: 105). Thus the Graeco- Roman hermaphrodite does not confirm the poststructuralist idea that the simplistic characterization of humans as male or female is automatically brought into a 'category crisis' once other gender categories are introduced. Rather the ancient hermaphrodite confirms the binary gender-opposition by negotiating and playing with the boundaries, playing out the inherent possibility of maleness in women and femaleness in men, more along the lines of Toril Moi: 'Yet a concept ("man", "woman") that is blurred at the edges is neither meaningless nor useless... Hermaphrod- ism, transvestism, transsexuality, and so on show up the fuzziness at the edges of sexual difference, but the concepts "man" and "woman" or the opposition between them are not thereby threatened by disintegration' (Moi 1999: 39).29 It is within the web of these gender models that my reading of Paul will take place. Even if I do not think that Paul had these stories and models in mind when he wrote to the Corinthians, and even if many of the texts I have referred to predate Paul by several centuries, I think these stories and models in many ways functioned as the master narratives Zeitlin describes: I have already pointed to my perception of the significance of paradigms or 'master narratives' as the foundation of gendered identities and their lasting influence in shaping what came after. In a deeply traditional culture, whatever its propensities to innovate or rewrite, certain story patterns and role attributions regularly recur for rethinking or for profiling other stories. Story as exemplum has a vital function in techniques of rhetorical persuasion; the past is both separated from the present and reabsorbed into it, bearing the weight of authority and the familiar ring of recognition (Zeitlin 1996: 13). Even if I believe that Paul is drawing mostly on the one-sex-model and the Genesis model, his view that the female needs to stay in a particular, confined place is difficult to trace back to these models. Also, the Pandora model was probably strongly alive among first-century Corinthians. But what happens when the one-sex-model meets Genesis 1 as it did in early Judaism and Christianity? Genesis 1 was apparently read as the creation of the perfect(-ly) male pole, and Genesis 2 does confirm (in contrast to the myth of Pandora) the essential continuity between women's and men's bodies. New and unexplored possibilities of movement between the poles emerge...

29. Contra e.g. Garber (1992: 16), Fausto-Sterling (2000: chapter 4). For a more psychological interpretation, see Clarke (1998: 50-54). 50 Women in Their Place

3.2.5 Neutral or Male? The same discourse that produced the one-sex-model also developed a more or less consistent answer on man's being and place in the universe. In Boyarin's view, Paul shared with Jewish and non-Jewish Hellenistic thinkers this 'desire for the One, which among other things produced an ideal of a universal human essence, beyond difference and hierarchy' (Boyarin 1994: 181). However, since the One, ideal, human essence is mainly represented through rather male attributes, women's place within this vision is less clear. Kristin Sampson points out concerning the highly varying views on gender in Plato that if there is only one kind of identity, being and reality, differences will always necessarily be a problem. 'To get rid of the paradox, a possible solution is to think the woman away by conceiving of her approximately like a man... another solution is to separate the women sharper from men and almost conceive of them as a different race or family than men' (Sampson 1999: 32, my translation). The former solution we see exemplified in Plato's (in Socrates' persona) statement in Timaeus concerning his previous work Republic: 'Moreover, we went on to say about women that their natures must be attuned into accord with the men, and that the occupations assigned to them, both in war and in all other activities of life, should in every case be the same for all alike' (Plato, Timaeus 18c). Thus not even Republic should be read as a suggestion of equality between the sexes in the modern sense, but as a normative statement and as an opening so that women can become more like men. Since women are represented as a problem or at least different from the Universal Man, this man cannot be perceived as asexual or 'neither male nor female'. Boyarin 1992 senses the masculinity of the Universal Man and discusses how the male is finally reinscribed as non-gender in Philo. But this insight seems to have been lost in Boyarin (1994), where he seems to take an emic (Philo's) perspective on the question, and thus overlooks how 'non-gender' is itself part of our culture's construction of masculinity, in contrast to femininity, which is seen as gender.30 Martin emphasizes the masculinity of the Universal man when he points out that a correct understanding of the myth of the androgyne is important for the understanding of 1 Cor. 11.2-16: 'Androgyny was invariably defined in male terms. Not surprisingly, therefore, even religious texts interested in the androgynous nature of divine beings, such as Gnostic texts, always view femaleness negatively' (Martin 1995: 231).3I Ancient stories of males (mostly gods) who give birth, are therefore not to understand as stories of

30. See Boyarin (1994: esp. 184 and 195). Similarly, B0rresen (1995a: 194-95). The issue looks different in late antiquity though, see B0rresen (1995a: 200-201). 31. Cf. Seim (1998). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 51 a gender-neutral androgyny, but rather as expressions of male dreams of omnipotence, independence and self-sufficiency. Similarly, Laqueur states in a crucial passage: In a public world that was overwhelmingly male, the one-sex model displayed what was already massively evident in culture more generally: man is the measure of all things, and woman does not exist as an ontologically distinct category. Not all males are masculine, potent, honorable, or hold power, and some women exceed some men in each of these categories. But the standard of the human body and its representations is the male body (1990: 62). This is a basic insight for the gender perspective on Paul in the following chapters. As etic terms, 'human beings', 'asexual', 'genderfree' and similar 'neutral' terms will not do because they can create misunderstandings. As long as the male was the human norm, the texts are written from a male perspective and the first human is called by a male name, I find that gendered terms better visualize ancient ways of thinking.

3.2.6 Men in Female Bodies and Vice Versa Many ancient texts are of the opinion that women who become more and more virtuous, also become more and more manly.32 As Ross Kraemer and later Dorothy Sly has shown, Philo sees female virginity as one step on the way to maleness: 'Progress is indeed nothing else than the giving up of the female gender by changing into the male, since the female gender is material, passive, corporeal and sense-perceptible, while the male is active, rational, incorporeal and more akin to mind and thought'.33 Philo also draws on the one-sex-model when referring to man's forsaking the realm of female sense-perception and letting himself be opened to 'divine impregnation of the soul' (Baer 1970: 69).34 In a similar way early Christian texts describe virtue as manly (1 Cor. 16.13), and women who become more and more Christ-like, also become more and more manly. Two famous and early examples are Perpetua, who proclaims 'And I was undressed and I became male (et facia sum masculus)\^ and the closing of the Gospel of Thomas: 'Simon Peter said to them: Let Mary go away from us, for women are not worthy of life. Jesus said: Lo, I shall lead her, so that I may make her a male, that she too may become a living spirit, resembling you males. For every woman who makes herself a male will enter the kingdom of heaven.'36 Instead of entering the

32. See Aspegren (1990: 93-95); Kraemer (1976: 196); Moore and Anderson (1998). 33. Philo, Questions and Answers on Exodus, 1.8. Kraemer (1976: 208); Sly (1990: 55-70). 34. Cf. his chapter III.E. (55-64). 35. Passio Perpetuae 10.7, my translation. 36. Gospel of Thomas 114 (Metzger). 52 Women in Their Place long discussion that this theme has occasioned already,37 I want to point out the epistemological context for expressions like the ones just cited. According to a modern materialist worldview thinking about gender according to the sex-gender-distinction, the physical is the 'real', basic, and the cultural is secondary, 'only' a superstructure. Ideas cannot rule the world - money or other material 'facts' do. It is also within this worldview that the anglo-american sex-gender-distinction makes sense.38 Biological sex then belongs to the basic and determining realm, whereas gender is culturally contingent and more or less coincidental; a superstructure attached to biological givens. 'Spiritual manhood' must in this perspective be gender, and thus a secondary superstructure. If the Gospel of Thomas is to be taken literally within such a world-view, 'becoming male' must imply biological sex change. And if we believe that sex change surgery was no option for most of the first readers of these texts,39 and gender change cannot be considered 'sex change' literally speaking, expressions of virtuous women's 'manliness' or 'becoming male' must be interpreted as metaphors. Read from within another western (post-)modern worldview, it is easy to assume too quickly that connections or similarities established in an ancient text between different entities in the world must be metaphorical, because according this world-view there are no given connections or all- embracing structures between things in the world. But in an ancient Graeco-Roman world-view, where things in the world can be seen as related because they are reflections of the same ultimate reality or stand in mirror-relationships with each other, the metaphor - if it still can be labeled so - has a very different status. What we label metaphoric speech is then just expressing more clearly in a text what Nature, Destiny or the supreme deity has done first: giving the micro- and macro-cosmoses of the world a profoundly similar structure. Confronted with ancient texts that do not immediately make literal sense within a modern materialist

37. More than many scholars studying asceticism in late antiquity (e.g. Shaw 1998, Clark 1988, Gasparro 1995), I emphasize the shift in perspective between Greek, Hellenistic and Early Roman Imperial times on the one hand, and the late ancient texts on the other. B0rresen 1995a describes the development that starts with Clement of Alexandria and ends with Augustine, whereby woman gradually gains godlikeness. Obviously, when woman is also seen as godlike, it is no longer necessary for her to become male in order to realize the image of God in her. But she still (and preferably men, too) has to renounce sexuality. So the place 'woman' used to denote in the older system as somewhere one needs to move away from in order to enter the Kingdom, is now taken over by 'sexuality'. Therefore, the Church Fathers' opinions on asceticism must be used with caution in frameworks for interpreting Paul. 38. Moi (1999: 21-23) points out that the distinction emerged in the last century from a psychological concern with individual identity, and that feminists who started to use the distinction in the 1960s, used it to defeat biological determinism. See also 0kland (2003). 39. But see Brooten (1996: 278-79). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 53 framework, we should not read them as mere metaphors or spiritualizing too quickly, because we risk losing some of the meanings in the text. This has consequences for our understanding of the sex-change- ' metaphors'. Thomas Laqueur has pointed out that the Graeco-Roman body was considered more like a 'coagulation' (1990: 7) of some principle, essence, or spiritual world. This implies that different genitals are more determined symptoms than determining 'origins'.40 As long as both the biological body, the society with its gender roles and the family were (or at least were supposed to be) different reflections on different levels, of the same macrocosmic order, there was no conceptual space left for a distinction between bodily sex, the gender of society and macrocosmic ideals. But there is an inconsistency at work here (or perhaps it is a question of conflicting discourses with different answers to the same profound questions), for after birth the sexed body was still vulnerable - or open to cultivation41 - by spiritual forces, virtue or thoughts. The whole program of cultivation of the body implied that the body could be made to conform more to the ideal, the authentic. This view also opened up the possibility of considering, in those cases where gender or virtue did not correspond to external masculine markers such as deep voice or beard, 'the inward man' (spiritual sex) to be more 'authentic' than biological symptoms. However, the reference to Origen and Gregory of Nyssa in note 40 above and the story of Perpetua indicate that we could go even further in a face-value reading of the sex-change-language. In the case of Perpetua, we learn that her becoming more and more Christ-like (male) caused her breasts to dry up, so that she could no longer breast-feed her son. For Perpetua, this is a biological 'sign' of her progress, so she greets it with happiness.42 There were also stories of people who were 'men in women's bodies' or women who physically became male.43 For those who did not achieve this state in this life, the next life, or in Christian context, the

40. Laqueur notes how 'Bodies in these texts did strange, remarkable, and to modern readers impossible things. In future generations, writes Origen, "the body would become less "thick", less "coagulated", less "hardened"", as the spirit warmed to God; physical bodies themselves would have been radically different before the fall, imagines Gregory of Nyssa... girls could turn into boys, and men who associated too extensively with women could lose the hardness and definition of their more perfect bodies and regress into effeminacy' (Laqueur 1990: 7). Cf. Brooten (1996: 53), on Lucian's description of lletairistriai: These women's 'masculinity is not in their genitals, but in their faces, in their minds, in their desires'. 41. Cf. Martin's conclusion to his chapter on The Malleable body': 'One must, therefore, gently coerce the body into its "natural" form' (Martin 1995: 27). 42. Passio Perpetuae 6. For discussion, see Viden (1998: 147). 43. Ancient medical discourse was more open to the manipulation also of bodies - but the service of the doctors was not available to everyone. Male-to-female sex-change is 54 Women in Their Place resurrection, gave a new possibility: Plato's Timaeus 42 represents women's souls as male souls that are reincarnated in female bodies because of their lack of virtue: Since human nature is two-fold, the superior sex is that which hereafter should be designated 'man'. And when, by virtue of Necessity, they should be implanted in bodies, and their bodies are subject to influx and efflux, these results would necessarily follow... And he that has lived his appointed time well shall return again to his abode in his native star, and shall gain a life that is blessed and congenial; but whoso has failed therein shall be changed into woman's nature at the second birth ... until he yields himself to the revolution of the Same and Similar that is within him, and dominating by force of reason that burdensome mass which afterwards adhered to him of fire and water and earth and air, a mass tumultuous and irrational, returns again to the semblance of his first and best state. Thus, by living highly virtuous lives women could be born again as men. This view got an afterlife among the early Christians, among them Tertullian. It was eventually refuted by Jerome and Augustine.44 His De Civitate Dei 22.17 criticizes the view that Rom. 8.29, 'to be conformed to the image of the Son of God' and Eph. 4.13, 'becoming the perfect man', mean that women will be resurrected as men. What emerges is a view of bodily sex as fluid, contingent on virtue rather than on genitals. Within such a world-view, gender-change is deadly serious. It is equivalent to sex-change in modern societies. As Laqueur states, 'to be a man or a woman was to hold a social rank, a place in society, to assume a cultural role, not to be organically one or the other of two incommensurable sexes. Sex before the seventeenth century, in other words, was still a sociological and not an ontological category' (Laqueur 1990: 8). Ancient physiognomy ensured according to Brooten (1996), that 'physical characteristics correlate with behavior and character traits' (Brooten 1996: 56). Thus we should not be surprised if the 'inward man' of many early Christian women like Amma Sara45 corresponded surprisingly well to their culturally visible manhood (gender). Diodorus of Sicily (first century CE) tells a story about Herais. While her husband was away on a journey, male genitals appeared on her, but she continued to be a woman: she wore female clothes, stayed in the women's

discussed e.g. by Seneca, who presents what seems to be the stereotypical image of the male massagist - or should we rather say masseuse: He is a man who has changed into the likeness of a woman ('in mulierculam ex viro'), Seneca, Epistles, 66.53 (On various aspects of virtue). 44. Jerome, Epistulae, 108.23; cf. B0rresen (1995a: 190). 45. Sayings of the Desert Fathers, 'Sarah', 4 and 9. 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 55 quarters and behaved like a woman married and subordinated to a man.46 But when the husband came back and she constantly avoided him, he drew her father to court. There she stripped and showed off her new male genitals. After that, Herais changed her name into a male name, she underwent surgery to make her male genitals fully normal, and she became a soldier in the royal forces - a true sign of male strength, while her former husband committed suicide - a true sign of female weakness. In her interpretation of the story, Brooten emphasizes that 'the sudden appearance of the male organs did not effect an immediate change in Herais' life... Her public exposure in court, not the mere fact of male genitalia, signalled her metamorphosis into a man; her exchange of garments concretized the shift. Having spoken publicly, she became a public male, that is, a man' (1996: 278). Brooten also points out how Herais' case, that could have been described as hermaphrodism, is not described by Diodorus as a genuine mingling of female and male natures: these occur successively, not simultaneously. He also describes other women who became men when they broke with their female life-style, not when their male genitals occurred. In a similar way, I think that the first Christians had a quite concrete and literal understanding of the sex-change- or male 'metaphors'.47 But the one-sex way of thinking that produced such language, also existed long before Paul in the philosophical and medical and other discourses we have access to. The 'becoming male'-language in Christian texts is therefore not an isolated development of late Antiquity even if we do not find the expression as such in Paul.48 Rather, it is the lack of ideological fences against the masculinization of women (since women are now considered godlike from the outset): that, is new in late Antiquity. That women could'be made male is a latent possibility in the Graeco-Roman gender discourse dominated by the one-sex model. This possibility could be explored in Early Christianity because women were not prevented from becoming male, but rather encouraged to go through such a sex change in order to become Christ-like. Kari Borresen argues that Clement49 and

46. Diodorus of Sicily, Library, 32.10.2-10. 47. In her article '"Becoming Male": A Gnostic and Early Christian Metaphor', Kari Vogt points out how the sex-change 'metaphor' recurs in gnostic. Christian and Jewish (Philo) texts produced within the same time period (Vogt 1995). In my opinion, the best frame of reference for the reading of the metaphor in this later period, is the discourse of 'deportment training', as envisaged in Gleason (1995: xxv). 48. I will argue in Chapter 6 that we do find related ways of thinking about gender. 49. According to B0rresen, Clement moves women's godlikeness from the level of salvation (through baptism into the body of Christ) to the level of creation: women carry a pre-gendered image of God in their rational soul. Even if this pre-gendered godlikeness is 56 Women in Their Place

Augustine50 are the first Christian authors to 'grant' women godlikeness from creation (i.e. not just in Christ). But then it follows that one cannot read later sayings about the godlikeness of women qua women back into the New Testament texts, which in contrast presuppose that women become male. We cannot assume that all first century Judaisms shared Paul's view that women are not godlike. This is mainly a Christian problem with Gen. 1.26-27, not necessarily a Jewish one, caused by the mingling of the Jewish concept of godlikeness with Greek speculations about the One and about human essence. That women were not godlike, was an adaptation of the older Greek view that women did not carry the human essence or form within them, or at best as a weak reflection. Still, examples from Philo show that it was possible to conceive of such an idea independently of Paul. Of particular relevance is Sara who became male when she gave birth to Isaac: she had left behind rd ywaiKeta, which Philo understands as all things that are gendered feminine for him, including passions: '"Sarah was quit of her experience of what belongs to women" (Gen. XVIII. 11); and the passions are by nature feminine, and we must practise the quitting of these for the masculine traits that mark the noble affections.'51 Also, the examples Vogt discusses from the New Testament (Rom. 8.29 and Eph. 4.13), confirm that such a way of thinking was not foreign to New Testament authors, even if it is not found in the gospels. Early Christianity came into existence as a confused, messy but simultaneously flexible hybrid, which is why the later Church Fathers struggled to tidy up the categories. I will therefore read Pauline texts that speak about '"the inner man" in relation to eikon and homoiosis (Vogt 1995: 183) in light of the cultural possibilities that were available through texts in Paul's time. The early texts do express the possibility of moving up and down on the gender axis. Thus I take his exhortation dv8p[£ea0e (=be

described in masculine terms (1995a: 195) and thus endorses masculinity, it implies that a woman no longer has to become male to become godlike, she must 'only' renounce her female sexual body. 50. Augustine is the first author to affront 1 Cor. 11.7 because he reads Genesis 1 gender- inclusively. This leads him to read 1 Cor. 11.7 allegorically, 'by explaining that God-like man signifies the superior element of the human soul... in contradistinction to non-God-like woman, who represents the soul's inferior element... Augustine succeeds to backdate women's salvational Godlikeness to the order of creation, since also femina is theomorphic human being, homo, in her rational, God-like soul'. (B0rresen 1995a, 199, cf. Augustine, On Genesis Literally Interpreted 3.34 (22). 51. Philo, That the Worse Attacks the Better, 28. See further Aspegren (1990: 92-94); Sly (1990: 152-53.) 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 57 masculine brave, 1 Cor. 16.13) to be addressed both to men and to 'undercover men'52 in the male body of Christ.53 In feminist discussions of the metaphor or phenomenon of the 'becoming male' of early Christian women, an underlying and sometimes explicit view seems to have been that to have to become male was 'negative' for women.54 But feminist scholars should recognize exactly the structural similarities between the processes of inclusion of early Christian women under Christian ideals of man and the post-Enlightenment inclusion of women in the Rights of Man:55 Early Christian women might have welcomed the possibility of attaining maleness in Christ as good and beneficent, just as in a similar way post-Enlightenment feminists welcomed the possibility of attaining the Rights of Man, citizenship, access to universities, the right to vote, to own land, and so forth. The women wanted to become fully human, too, but what that implied, was still conceptually linked to concepts of masculinity:56 There is no easy passage from "women" to "humanity"' (Riley 1996: 32). This parallel should illustrate the possibility that 'becoming male' was not necessarily something univocally negative for women.57 Thus, when Paul exhorts the male and female Corinthians to be masculine (1 Cor. 16.13) and when he promotes women's presence under cover in a male-defined space, we might as well perceive Paul as a gender- bender, rather than as just another author who reinforces male privileges and values - even if he does both simultaneously.

52. I will explain this reading of women with head coverings in Chapter 6. 53. A similar idea to Rom. 8.29 mentioned above is found in 2 Cor. 3.18, where the mirror- relationship between Christ and the Christian is quite explicit. For Christian women these verses imply imitation of a male (mirror) image, and thus their transformation into male form. 54. A striking example is Aspegren (although Aspegren did not live to submit the final draft herself): Aspegren's 'Male Woman' is not at all a woman who has become queer in Christ or similar, but still a woman, essentially speaking. She has to live according to male ideals in an androcentric world where men define the limits of the activities of women (1990: 11). E.g. Thecla 'assumes an outward manliness for social reasons' (p. 15). See also Fatum (1995: 76-77) and Schiissler Fiorenza (1983), who seems to measure Paul against more modern views of freedom and equality. 55. In the constitution resulting from the French revolution, these ideals did neither extend to women nor to men from the lowest social strata (Scott 1996b: 19 and 34-35). 56. See Scott (1996b: 5-11). 57. Thus I take the opposite stance of Luce Irigaray in her 'review article' of Schtissler Fiorenza's book In Memory of Her (Irigaray 1997). When Schiissler Fiorenza postulates the 'discipleship of equals', Irigaray asks 'Equal to whom'? She criticizes feminists who aspire to identification with the 'generic masculine'. In her opinion, the equality ideal is only a new way to reproduce a phallogocentric world-view, and she overlooks its subversive potential. 58 Women in Their Place

3.3 Discourses of Space To gender the world is a way of thinking about it, conferring meaning and values on it, and of legitimizing its structures. In the first part of this chapter, we saw how, according to Hesiod, the different spheres of the world were created, and how they received different genders: the great void was neuter or feminine, the earth was feminine and the heaven was male. But not only cosmic structures, also ancient urban spaces were thought of as gendered in some way. Ancient authors considered public space to be male and domestic space to be female, or they thought that public space was for men and domestic space was for women. This sub-chapter aims to present the discourses of various urban spaces, public, domestic, and sacred, and argue that they are discursively constructed. I also argue that sanctuary (or more commonly 'sacred') space is not a subcategory of public space, but needs to be treated as a separate category. Since my focus is Corinth and its sanctuary spaces, I can only give tiny glimpses in this chapter of these broader discourses where ideologies of gender and space interact and overlap.

3.3.1 Space as Discursively Constructed As repeatedly shown, the modern distinction between 'public and private' does not correspond directly to the ancient Greek concepts of 116X19 and oiKog.58 The categories 'public' and 'private' did not have the same connotations in ancient Rome as in modern anthropology, either. Still, with certain modifications, the terms are found useful by many.59 In my opinion, a greater problem in earlier research than the use of the terms 'private' and 'public' per se is how ancient authors' linking of gender with particular spaces was often taken at face value as descriptions of space or as descriptions of what actually happens in the spaces in question. Peter Rose, mentioning 'the stock anthropological polarities, nature and culture, domestic and public spheres' also criticizes that 'such normative constructs tend to be used in ways that ignore the fact that these polarities are themselves the locus of ideological struggle' (Rose 1993: 218). Contributions from women's social history have engendered less naive interpretations. They have shown that when ancient authors state which spaces are 'for women' and which are 'for men', their statements do not correspond with what other types of texts say about the presence of men and women in a place.60 This in turn has opened up more critical

58. For an overview, see Katz (1995: 35-36). 59. Recently and clearly in MacDonald (1996: 30-41). 60. For Philo and Jewish discourse, this confrontation is made in Peskowitz (1993b) and Baker (1997). I allow myself to draw in Philo here too, because I cannot see great ethnic/ cultural variations in early Roman imperial discourses on domestic and public as female and male space. See also Kraemer and D'Angelo (1999: 60). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 59 methodologies approaching such statements as normative, gendering, space-constructing. Philo for example, states: Market-places (oryopcd) and council-halls and law-courts and gatherings (Giaaoi) and meetings where a large number of people are assembled, and open-air life with full scope for discussion and action — all these are suitable to men both in war and in peace. The women are best suited to the indoor life which never strays from the house (oiKOupia rat f] eV6ov M-Ovri), within which the middle door is taken by the maidens as their boundary, and the outer door by those who have reached full womanhood.61 According to historian Yvonne Hirdman, the 'gender system', the structure of the relations between different genders, is used as the foundation for other social orders and structures. The gender system operates according to two dynamics: first, separation or dichotomy (the taboo against gender blending); and second, hierarchy (the masculine is norm). This second dynamic is dependent on and legitimated through the first one. Hirdman states: 'We know that the "law" of segregation exists everywhere with regard to physical and psychic order. It structures actions, places and characters' (Hirdman 1988a: 52, my translation).62 Hirdman finds that the fundamental expression of the law of segregation is found in the gendered division of labour and in notions of masculine and feminine. She shows how the placing of people in different gendered spaces is an important way of inscribing gender on them since character, action and place are intimately linked to each other and stand in a legitimizing, reinforcing, dialectic relationship with each other: sort 1 performs action 1 on place 1; since sort 1 performs action 1, sort 1 becomes sort 1. If one is located on place 2, one performs action 2 and so on. This insight helps us understand how the distribution of ritual patterns of actions (roles) between men and women serves to represent the sacred space in question as gendered in a particular way. Hirdman does not ask where these dynamics of segregation and hierarchy 'come from', but she underscores their unique structuring abilities (Hirdman actually calls them the two 'logics^ of the gender system). They make sense. But referring to Simone de Beauvoir, Hirdman also finds that the two logics or dynamics make power structures: what sort 1 does is legitimated through the construction of a contrast to sort 2. Consequently, one cannot at the outset just assume that society functioned according to the rules laid out by Philo, as if women were

61. De specialibus legibus 3.169 (Colson). Cf. the striking similarities with approximately contemporary Columella, De re rmtica: 12, Preface 4-5. Baker (1998: 223) comments on this topos and gives further Greek and Hebrew references for it. 62. Cf. Hirdman (1988b); Bourdieu (1977: 89-92). 60 Women in Their Place not present in market-places and gatherings and meetings. It is exactly because the distinctions were not so clear that it was continually important to create boundaries through discourse. Read within Hirdman's frame of reference, the function of Philo's words becomes clearer. By gendering the spaces, he confers value and power on one space over the other space. By representing public space as male space, ancient public men legitimized the exclusion of women from public discourse and processes of decision- making, and secured these privileges for themselves. In his book The Constraints of Desire, John Winkler has noted that the pretentious literary texts of ancient Greek males had a special and limited function between men only (Winkler 1991: 6): As guilty secret or as guilty pleasure, women's practical autonomy in certain spheres may well have been the sort of fact that in the company of men was known but never acknowledged or discussed, for in such company to do so would have brought shame... When women are active, they are trouble. Since a man does not want to invite trouble, it is prudent for him and other men to assume, until forced to do otherwise, that the women of his household are invisible, obedient, and industrious (Winkler 1991: 8). What was true for ancient Greece was not necessarily true for the whole Mediterranean throughout antiquity. But Winkler exemplifies how one can view ancient public space not as containing a particular essence, but as discursively established. He severely relativizes the importance of this ancient discourse by viewing it as boasting, appropriation, and legitimation, not as a description of real life.

3.3.2 Women in Public Space Classical Greece - at least those city-states influenced by the cultural hegemony of Athens - seems to have favoured sharper spatial distinctions between men and women than later Rome. Even ifoikos is seen as a building block for polish they are also in many instances depicted as dichotomies. Much of the same ideals seem to have been upheld in Rome, but the distinction between public and domestic spaces was less absolute and more nuanced. Andrew Wallace-Hadrill remarks about the Roman house that it was 'equally a place for men's business and self-display' and 'of course women circulated' in the Forum; still the Forum and the home were gendered male and female respectively also in Roman discourse (Wallace-Hadrill

63. Aristotle is representative of this view. In his hierarchical definition of polls only the group that rules it is taken into account, leaving out the great majority of non-citizens and their spaces. The citizens are rulers of the household (Aristotle, Politics, 1.1.4), but are in their turn ruled by a more supreme ruler (Aristotle, Politics, 1.1.4 and 6-7, comp. 3.2.1-3). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 61

1996: 104). Again, gendering cannot be read as descriptive, but as a way of making sense of the spaces and legitimizing their structures. In spite of great periodical and political variations, it is possible to view Roman habits and legacy as generally more permissive of women's freedom of movement in public space. Even if the Augustan ideal was the matron confining herself to the private domestic sphere, raising children, supporting her husband, and doing wool-work (Loven 1998), it is difficult to say whether such a matron could be found outside the literary texts. In order to lead a life like this, one had to be rather wealthy, with numerous slaves doing the necessary errands. Another stereotype, matrons running about in public, may just reflect the anxieties of moralist authors, but at least it contradicts the stereotype of the domestic matron (e.g. Columella who confronts the indecency of contemporary women with the women of the 'good old days').64 Anyway, from various Roman literary comments and artistic representations, it seems that the resistance against representing women in public settings was generally weaker than in Greek times.65 In Rome it was at least a disputed truism that "the greatest glory of a woman is to be least talked about by men'.66 Although not explicitly declared, it was seemingly important for many to distinguish themselves from the Greeks on this point (Wallace-Hadrill 1996: 104). The first- century CE Roman biographer Cornelius Nepos asks: Who among the Romans is ashamed to take his wife to a party (convivium)! In whose household does the mother (materfamilias} not hold the place of honor and circulate in full public view? These things are quite otherwise in Greece. The woman is not invited to a party except with relatives, nor does she sit down anywhere in the house except in the inner part which is called the women's quarter (gynaeconitis), where no men can approach unless closely connected by family ties (Cornelius Nepos, Lives: Preface 6-7). The difference is sometimes set in connection with the Roman political system which was more aristocratic than 'democratic'. Women of the elite families could be represented publicly - even as political agents - without inducing shame on their families. The practices of rendering them without proper names or only as 'wife of, or with only a family name maybe indicates that they were seen more as representatives of their clan than as individuals. Schreiner mentions the example of 'Sempronia', the sister of

64. Columella, De re rustica: 12, Preface 9. 65. Plutarch should be mentioned as someone who wrote both to and about named women, clearly not intending to put shame on them. See, e.g., his presentation of Cicero's wife Terentia in his Life of Cicero 20.1-2. Her ambitions are described in a highly ambivalent way but still her role is seen as constructive. 66. Thucydides, Historv of the Peloponnesian War, 2.46.2. 62 Women in Their Place

Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus and Gaius Sempronius Gracchus, and holds that this practice of not naming women in the same way as men envisages the notion that women did not have an individual identity in the same way as men (1989: 285).67 Women were still barred from most positions of political power and formal responsibilities, and they were nearly voiceless in the public discourse producing boundaries, meaning - and literature. Nevertheless, as women's social history has shown, lower-class women had to move around and be visible in the streets and market-places although it was at times not regarded as proper, simply in order to do their duties — working, shopping, praying and such like. An elite woman who had slaves to do this business for her, was still present in the public space, often too loud and too visible to be ignored by male authors. Her behavior in terms of dress and other codes decided whether she was treated as respectably 'invisible' or not. As Amy Richlin points out, the earliest Christian texts are interesting and important for the social historians because they give a glimpse into a segment of culture that is not to the same extent determined by elite discourse (Richlin 1993: 285-86). At the marges of Paul's texts we meet several female names, even if his references to them are too brief to let us recover the persons behind /the names/in any detail. Still, what is interesting in this context is what is/said about them in a self-evident manner, based on unspoken premises. They must, for example, have been quite visible not only in the Christian group that Paul and other early Christian authors tried to make as respectable as possible,68 but also in the non-domestic spaces of the city through their daily work. As for Roman Corinth, it is possible to mention many women who through their work and activities must have formed part of the non-domestic spaces of the city. We do not have access to these women's daily lives and habits. All we have are the textual traces where gender ideology and representations of women are intermingled in a way that is impossible to disentangle. Still, Junia Theodora,69

67. It is important to keep this in mind until Chapter 4, when we discuss exactly which imperial women are represented in the Corinthian material. 68. See Fantham et al. (1994: 326). The tendency is perhaps most clear in Luke-Acts, where rural Jews from Palestine, Paul and other apostles are set in connection with high Roman officials. 69. A prominent Corinthian woman running her own business: In an inscription dated between 43 and 57 CE, she is honoured by the Lycians for her public meals for the poor and for her hospitality (Pleket 1969: no. 8, 20-26) She also acted in Corinth on behalf of the Lycians. Kearsley (1985 and 1999) gives a full translation of the inscription, and also discusses the status, citizenship, benefactions to the Lycians, family (no husband named), date and 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 63

Prisca™ and Phoebe71 are examples of first-century Corinthian women whose whereabouts easily become invisible if one adopts the filtering gaze of the ancient male elite. With reference to Junia Theodora and Claudia Metrodora (first-century Chios)72 Kearsley (1985/1999) demonstrates that even if women were not permitted according to Roman law to hold elected public offices, when the Roman system of public offices fused with the Greek system of euergetism, in practice new possibilities for women occurred, even to hold magistracies. In Roman times, young girls from the elite could also participate in the numerous athletic games that were held around Corinth, for example in Isthmia, Nemea, Delphi, Sicyon." In Corinth, as in other cities where crafts formed an important part of the economy, women's labour capacity was needed for more than child- rearing and woolwork.74 There is even reason to believe that the participation of women in crafts and business was promoted more in honors of this prominent lady who lived in Corinth. Kearsley suggests that she was a native of Lycia, and that she also held Corinthian and Roman citizenship (see further 0kland [1998: 133-34]). 70. Cf. 1 Cor. 16.19; Rom. 16.3, Acts 18.2-3 and 26, and 2 Tim. 4.19. According to Acts, Prisca was Jewish and maybe a craftswoman, making tents together with her husband, Akvilas. Against custom, her name is always mentioned first except in 1 Corinthians, which is normally taken to indicate that she was more central in the Christian group than her husband. Paul's mentioning the couple's names in customary order in 1 Corinthians is in accord with his excluding 'there is no male and female' from his citation of the baptismal formula in 1 Cor. 12.13. 71. Rom. 16.1. Paul calls Phoebe SIQKOVOS and TrpocrraTis (two terms of leadership in early Christianity and Judaism) in the Christian group in Kenchreai, the port of Corinth. She may have been a matron or a business-woman since she could afford to serve many people. See also Kearsley (1999: 190). 72. Kearsley (1999: 199-201), cf. Kearsley (1985: 132). 73. Pleket (1969: 26 no. 9) is an honorary inscription for three female athletes from Tralles. Their father who had donated the inscription, is called TpaX(Aiavos) 6 KCU Ko(piy9ios). The inscription is from about 45 CE. Two of the girls won in games held around Corinth, in Isthmia, Sikyon and Nemea. 74. Broneer (1930b) lamp no. 556 is of a type that was produced about the end of the first century until the end of the second. The signature indicates a woman potter (p. 188; cf. p.94 for Corinthian origin). In Roman times, weavers were still needed in Corinth's textile industry (Engels 1990: 39 and 49; cf. Kardara 1961). Treggiari draws on information about women in domestic service in the city of Rome from the time of Augustus to the early second century CE she states that wool-manufacture was 'a female task'. In particular, 'weaving would often be done outside the household by professionals' (1976:84, cf. 82). According to the ancient authors, to be a prostitute was the most common work for a woman in Corinth, still in Roman times. Prostitution was often organized as brothels served by slavegirls, but again, the poorest freeborn women also saw prostitution as the only possibility for survival. Women who worked in the numerous inns and tavernae, were often expected to be prostitutes as well (Treggiari 1979: 73). For women working outside the home, see also Lefkowitz and Fant (1992: 208-224); Baker (1996). 64 Women in Their Place

Corinth than in most other places in the post-Augustan period because of the city's rapid growth and therefore constant need of workers. In Corinth and Rome, as probably in similar cities, we also hear of women - particularly craftswomen - having a commercial occupation that must have demanded some special training.75 Women's individual practice or participation in their husband's crafts fits well with our picture of the poor but still freeborn population elsewhere (Theissen 1974). We cannot say very much about women who are not even mentioned in the written texts. But an awareness of the 'missing' or unrepresented persons who must have been there76 (slaves, prostitutes, freeborn women working in public space) may function as a reminder that the map may always prevent us from seeing the gender-mixed terrain. People who are visible in some instances, are invisible at other instances. Through small glimpses in texts we learn about the invisible ones who formed part of the chora of public discourse.

3.3.3 Men in Domestic Space One way of giving meaning to 'house' in opposition to public spaces, is to consider it as female space, as a space for women. Conversely, as we saw in the epigraph, the Jewish woman can be constructed by drawing on notions of house spaces (Baker 1998).77 But also Greek and Roman women were closely associated with domestic space. In a reading of the Roman discourse of domestic spaces, we have to start in the most textually elaborate houses, the insulae, or apartments in greater building complexes in the cities, and the villae, detached houses.78 Again,

75. Lefkowitz and Fant (1992: 208, no. 283 [a translation of P.Oxy. 1647.G]) on the four year-training of a weaver. Athenagoras (2nd century) mentions an elusive Corinthian girl as the inventor of relief modeling (Legatio pro Christianis 17.3): 'Images were not in use before the discovery of moulding, painting, and sculpture. But then came Saurius of Samos, Crato of Sicyon, Cleanthes of Corinth, and the Corinthian girl... Relief modelling was discovered by that girl... the relief is preserved to this day in Corinth' (my translation). The broader context is the Christian Athenagoras' attempt to 'prove' the futility of man-made gods, namely statues. 76. Although demographers greatly disagree on how to estimate the numbers of slaves, women, children per adult male, no one considers society and public life as made up of only freeborn males. Martin (1996), who in his study of 1161 funerary inscriptions from Roman Asia Minor was puzzled by the fact that all families in the inscriptions from Olympia and Termessos had 50 percent more sons than daughters, tried to trace where the daughters disappeared out of view. A different way of putting the material together allowed him to conclude that the 'missing' girls are still there, as singles, marginal members of family structures built around others' immediate families, concubines, or as exposed but later 'found' and raised as prostitutes or slaves. 77. Baker (1996) analyses the Hebrew term for street or marketplace, pTO. 78. See a plan of a Roman villa from Corinth in Appendix 3, and on http:// www.ascsa.edu.gr/corinth/villa/3rd4th2002.html. (December 2003). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 65 such homes were not affordable for everyone, but if we want to grasp the ideology of domestic space, this is where we have to start rather than with the small cottages or intermediate shelters of the poor. These are also important to keep in mind: far from everyone had a place we would consider a 'home', with facilities for 'private' life. Craftspeople lived and worked in the same little shop, but at least they often had a second floor where they could withdraw to. The problems in the private end of the public-private-spectrum are not exactly the same as in the opposite end. Whereas public space was established as public and as male through public male discourse, it is impossible to know if domestic space was established as private and as female through domestic female discourse. As far as we can know, domestic space was established as private and female through the same public discourse that established the public space as male. Domestic architecture reveals how household space was related to the other spaces in the city. Within domestic space, the picture of private and public as strictly segregated spaces dissolves. The room of the Greek house where the male head of the household could receive guests was located close to the street so that his women-folk could remain beyond the gaze of the guests. In many Roman insulae or apartments, the equivalent room was the innermost of the building, even if it could also be located close to the street. Andrew Wallace-Hadrill argues in a passage on the differences between Greek and Roman household architecture, that in Roman society 'the home was a locus of public life. A public figure went home not so much in order to shield himself from the public gaze, as to present himself to it in the best light.' He continues further down: We are dealing rather with a spectrum that ranges from the completely public to the completely private, and with an architectural and decorative language which seeks to establish relativities along the spectrum. One space is more or less open or intimate in relation to the other spaces around it, and it is contrasts of shape and decoration that establish such relativities. The pattern of Roman social life admitted numerous and subtle grades of relative privacy; in which, it must be apparent, greater privacy represented not a descent in the scale, but an ascent in privilege, an advance towards intimacy with the paterfamilias (Wallace-Hadrill 1988: 46, 58). Worth noting is, first, that private and public should not be seen as dichotomies in a Roman context. Second, greater privacy represented an advance towards intimacy with the paterfamilias, not with the matron. Thus 'privateness' was not necessarily linked to the notion of the house as female space. Third, greater privacy also represented greater significance and power. Fourth, confidential business and planning of political strategies also counted as 'intimacy'. The Roman house was not private 66 Women in Their Place by modern standards. Since one man's private in this way was another man's public space, public or private must be deemed a matter of perspective. Domestic architecture thus reflected the same power structures that established the other spaces of the city, and that are also found in literary discourse.79 In his discussion of gender in the Roman house, Andrew Wallace-Hadrill states that the gender relations of the Roman house are embedded in its other relations: of insider and outsider, family and visitor, patron and client, owner and tenant, master and slave, Roman and Greek, young and old. The Roman house reflects, constructs, and reproduces relationships of power (Wallace-Hadrill 1996: 114).80 Public space was represented as a space for men and private space as a space for women, still it was men who created boundaries and who to a great extent defined the rules in both spaces. But even if the home was not women's space in the sense that women set the tables, women had greater practical autonomy there, and the house and some house-related activities functioned as important carriers of femininity: wool-working, raising children, and so on: 'In the good old days, every man's son, born in wedlock, was brought up not in the chamber of some hireling nurse, but in his mother's lap, and at her knee. And that mother could have no higher praise than that she managed the house and gave herself to her children.'81 The house was still not only a place where one ate and slept, but in many cases also where one worked — both men and women. If women are represented as staying at home, this could in many instances be where most of the men stayed, too, and not only male slaves. Wallace-Hadrill points out how the house was a place for men's work: for reception of clients, for profit-making through production, and for convivia - important for bonding and business: 'The imperatives of the male presence in the Roman house overwhelm, so to speak, those of the female presence to an extent that exceeds that of the classical Greek or 19th-century East Coast American house. The correlate of the universality of the woman's presence in the Roman house is that it is everywhere reduced to inferiority' (Wallace-Hadrill 1996: 112). This insight is very important in relation to Paul: as I will show in Chapter 6, he brings together men and women in one space. Still, gender difference must be maintained. The Roman house and Paul's words thus represent the same solution in the Graeco-Roman

79. Several articles in Rendell, Penner, and Borden (2000) and in Matrix (1984) reflect theoretically on the gender implications of this. 80. See further Wallace-Hadrill's reading of Vitruvius on domestic and public spaces (Wallace-Hadrill 1996: 104-105). 81. Tacitus, Dialogus, 28.4 (Peterson and Winterbottom). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 67 discourse of gender and space: both maintain gender distinction through ordering the genders hierarchically in relation to each other.82

3.3.4 Sacred Space Is Neither Public Nor Private In some research on women's lives - or public life - in Antiquity, women's ritual roles are often discussed as if they were public roles. The advantage of this approach, which is usually embedded in a broader socio-scientific approach, is evident on a very general level: it takes seriously that in pre- secularized cultures religion is an inseparable part of culture and society, and thus it can illuminate, for example, how women's ritual roles were related to their sexual and social status, such as in the case of the vestal virgins. However ritual and religion are not synonymous, so even if religion and culture were fully integrated it does not mean that rituals took place in just any kind of cultural setting. The identification of ritual with public in the case of women's roles does not explain why, if they could have 'public' ritual roles, women could not have various other public representative roles. Further, with this rather generalizing, and I would add reductionist, identification of religion with cultural and public life, many particularities of the sacred, the ritually constructed sanctuary spaces and ritual roles, disappear out of sight. In a different light these particularities could be meaningful and important. Sacred, or, as we prefer to say here ritual or sanctuary, spaces, cannot be reduced to public space. This is particularly so for the ancient pagan religious system; first because special, liminal rules applied for ritual space, particularly with respect to gender.83 In many respects the distance between ritual and public spaces is greater than between public and private spaces, since one important function of some types of ritual space was to transgress the boundaries of proper behavior in those two spaces (Winkler 1991: Chapter 7).84 Second, since ritual spaces could also be established in homes, ritual space and public space should not be conflated. Third, in a study of gender, the different place of women in public and in ritual spaces should be allowed to speak. Neither in Greek, Roman or Jewish religious cultures then, were women discursively excluded from ritual spaces even though they were usually discursively excluded from public space. This paradox is particularly evident in material from ancient

82. Comp. also the description of the Kabyle house in Bourdieu (1977: 90-91). 83. Since Scheid identifies the two (e.g. 1992: 379), his picture becomes very black-and- white: Since ritual is about communication between communities and gods, men were in charge and women were excluded or even expelled from the ritual place (379-80). 84. Comp. e.g. Plutarch, Bravery of Women, 249, on the women of Tocis', or rather Amphissa, where frenzied female devotees of Dionysos are taken care of and treated with respect by the women of Amphissa who were not in a frenzied state, all with the greatest understanding of their husbands. 68 Women in Their Place

Greece: while the deme in its political aspect remained an all-male preserve, the deme in its religious aspect operated under a different set of imperatives. Respectable women could participate in the exclusively female festival Thesmophoria, but not show up in the marketplace. The festival took place at Pnyx, the location of the gatherings, ekklesiai, of Athenian citizens (i.e. male). This festival was in many ways a rite of reversal, and the women did and said many things that could not be said and done outside of ritual time and space.85 As John Gould states: In the sacred and ritual activities of the community the active presence of women in the public world (was) not merely tolerated but required. As priestesses in many of the major cults of the polis (priestesses of gods as well as of goddesses), as kanephoroi and hydrophoroi in the great religious processions, as the arrhephoroi of Athena Polias, the 'bears' of Artemis Brauronia, as raisers of the ritual scream, the oXoAiryr), at the blood sacrifice, in mourning and at funerals, in the rituals of marriage, the participation of women is indispensable to the sacral continuity, the ordering of society (Gould 1980: 50f, my italics).86 Even if the sacred and public-political spheres were more integrated in Rome (resulting in, among other things, imperial cult), it still seems to hold true that gender was used to underscore this not always very clear distinction. In many ritual and sanctuary spaces, what woman represented was thought particularly necessary,87 in others she represented danger. In a discussion of the Ara Maxima in Rome, located near the so-called Cattle Market and used in the very popular cult of Hercules, the authors of Religions of Rome remark: The further peculiarity, that women were barred from the altar, attracted a host of explanations in its own right... When the antiquarians, historians and poets of the late Republic and early Empire speculated on the myth and ritual of this particular cult site at the Ara Maxima, more was involved than the simple physical location of the cult. In this case, ideas of place lead straight to demarcations of gender, that is to rival claims about the religious place of women. Stories

85. Cf. Winkler (1991: 193-96); Gould (1980: 51). 86. See also Foxhall (1995). 87. Staples (1997: 3): 'Religious ritual provided the single public space where women played a significant formal role. It is only in the domain denned and demarcated by ritual that we find "ordinary" women acting formally, collectively and publicly sometimes alongside men, sometimes apart. Moreover, women's public religious activity, far from being perceived as threatening, was sanctioned by the male establishment, even deemed vital for the well-being of the polity. In Rome, where religion and politics formed virtually a single cultural institution, women's complete exclusion from one aspect of it and prominence in the other is noteworthy.' 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 69

of Rome situated the Roman system of cultural norms and practices (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 174). There are significant differences in the ways gender categories work in ritual spaces and in the public and private spaces of daily life. The mapping of ritual space and sanctuaries is one important way of constructing gender; organization of work and division of females into categories (e.g. virgins, mothers and widows) are other ways. Therefore ritual space should be considered as a separate space in the study of gender and not always be conflated with the public - or private -spaces.88 For this reason, too, what I say about gender in sanctuary and ritual space is not immediately valid outside of this space. The kind of sensitivity towards ritual and women's roles in it that I plead for is excellently expressed by Froma Zeitlin in connection with her discussion of the Greek Thesmophoria: I would propose, then, that ritual maintains a much more problematic status in relation to social life than one of temporary anomic behavior. Rite, in fact, acts out the contradictions of female roles which are denned by chastity, on the one hand, and obscenity, on the other... Ritual is a frame that defines itself as a bounded situation relegated to sacred time, space, and story, but at the same time, it insists upon representing the 'facts' of social life, secret in both domains but illicit in one and obligatory in the other (Zeitlin 1982: 148-49, my italics). My concern, however, is that it is not only the rites of liminality that Zeitlin discusses that display these features. To a certain extent this applies to most ritual spaces and their relation to public and private domains, and thus is relevant to women's place in them. One could imagine exceptions, though, and I mention one that might have some relevance when reading Paul. According to Judith Wegner, Jewish discourse of the later Mishnaic type did not produce ritual space as liminal with regard to gender: gender codes of public and private space could not be reversed in ritual space (Wegner 1988: 146).89 The public versus private distinction thus still functioned as an organizing principle of ritual spaces: women's Mitzvot were related to the home. But even if representation of femininity on the level of mediation between God and the Israelites was impossible both in the space of the Jerusalem sanctuary (more about this in Chapter 5) and within the nascent rabbinic discourse, other Jewish texts included such representations. Women are represented

88. Pitt-Rivers 1977 has made a similar point concerning modern Mediterranean social and sanctuary spaces (in particular p.l 18). 89. Comp. Kraemer and D'Angelo (1999: 65-66). 70 Women in Their Place as priestesses, elders and leaders, although the extent to which these designations also implied mediator functions, is disputed.90 Priestesses, temple servants, patronesses and other religious offices91 held by women led many scholars to believe that ritual activity constituted the exception to the rule of 'seclusion and exclusion' of women from the public sphere,92 However, as we have seen, women were not physically excluded from public space even if this was discursively constructed as male. Further, as we have seen, in Roman times even matrons are represented in literary discourse in a variety of public settings. The representation of married, respectable women in priesthoods was less of an exception. Compared to ancient Greece, ritual and sanctuary spaces were also less liminal in relation to public spaces with regard to women's place and presence. This is exemplified in the Roman cults of Ceres, which took many forms. Most of them were open to both men and women, but with priestesses serving. The exception was the imported Graecus ritus, which was exclusively female (Spaeth 1996: 59, 105). The female priesthood of Ceres at Rome was characterized as a public office. In Plutarch's mind, a priesthood of Demeter seems to have represented the greatest honor to which a woman could aspire.93 Women of all ranks attended sanctuaries and participated in religious festivals within the civic space, not only women with 'open bodies'94 - slave women and prostitutes - but also poor, freeborn labour-women and even 'respectable' matrons did. In fact the latter had to attend religious ceremonies in order to fulfil their special cultic obligations.95 In their texts, ancient authors could therefore even mention women they considered 'respectable' in ritual contexts without bringing shame upon these women or their husbands.96 Taking place both in sanctuaries and in open-air spaces of the city, the ritual activities of women do not fit the axiom of the 'seclusion and exclusion' of women from public-male space. If there should still be something to this 'rule', we must reformulate it and say that what women were thought to represent, was thought necessary in many ritual

90. See Brooten (1982). 91. For further examples, see Kraemer (1988: section 3) and Lefkowitz and Fant (1992: section 10). 92. See, e.g., Foley (1981: 151, my italics): 'Women in drama do not confine themselves to the domestic and religious spheres to which they were relegated in reality'. 93. Plutarch, Bravery of Women, 262D. 94. The expression is borrowed from Richlin (1995: 186). 95. Athenaeus, Deipnosophists 13.574b-c, cf. Scheid (1992: 388). 96. Comp. Winkler (1991: 5): 'even to mention the name of a citizen-wife in the company of men was a shame and an insult, implying an intrusion into another man's symbolic privacy'. 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 71 spaces, whether these spaces were construed as liminal or in direct continuation with other public spaces.97

3.3.5 Sanctuary Space Sanctuary or Temple? In all ancient Mediterranean discourse of sanctuary space, the deity was in some way thought to be dwelling in the sanctuary (Burkert 1988: 29-30). But the term 'sanctuary', as the term 'temple' can be understood in various ways. Tomlinson presents the problem: 'Modern writers use the term temple in two ways. Applied to Egyptian religion, it refers to a complete architectural complex, integrated in a coherent axial arrangement, including an inner shrine or sanctuary. Applied to classical architecture, temple refers to the equivalent of this inner shrine, while the whole complex is termed sanctuary' (1987: 383). In ancient Greek, vaog (temple) is a single house, and Lepov (sanctuary) is a sacred space with an altar, often including one or more temples and open spaces fenced in by a wall.98 The building complex in Jerusalem most conforms to Tomlinson's 'Egyptian' temple, although in classical Greek terms is a sanctuary.99 But the Hebrew (emic) designation was semantically equivalent to neither 'temple' nor 'sanctuary', but 'house': Enp^an JT3100, ttnp ira, mrr rra, rrn^Kn ITU, or similar. Greek-speaking Jews (writers of the New Testament, Josephus, Philo and the sibylline oracles) translated this into vaog ('temple'). To make the confusion complete, in the Latin distinction between aedes and templum, templum corresponds to the Jewish use of vaos, although such a building structure was in Greek usually denoted lepov; aedes denotes the house of the cult statue, vaog, in its conventional Greek meaning. But the confused terminology also reflects differences between ways of thinking about sanctuary space: A Greek vaog was also thought of as the dwelling place of the deity whose image was worshipped there to the extent that this is maybe one reason why ancient Jews chose vaog as translation of ttnp^Qn IT3 or rrnbxn rrn. But in a Greek sanctuary, Lepov, the sanctuary a a whole was sacred and the dwelling place or temple, if there was any, was just a shelter for the cult statue.101 When the terminology of Greek- speaking Jews is taken as a model, as it frequently is by biblical scholars, the use of 'sanctuary' and 'temple' on the Jerusalem 'house that is set

97. Cf. the introduction in Staples (1997). 98. Comp. Stambaugh's clarification of the Roman concepts of aedes and templum (Stambaugh 1978: 568); cf. Beard, North, and Price (1998: 22). 99. See reconstruction in Appendix 3. 100. Translated as 'the house that is set apart', 'the Holy House', 'house of Jahve', 'house of the Lord', see Branham (1995: 327). 101. Its other functions were to signify the wealth and power of the donators, to store ritual vessels etc. 72 Women in Their Place apart', is exactly opposite of the conventional Greek. Philo uses 'temple' (veto?) of the whole space within the walls, and 'sanctuary' (lepov) only of the Holy of Holies. In Jerusalem, the Holy of Holies, the house inside the walls thought of as the dwelling-place of the glory of God, was the sacred space proper, even if the different courtyards surrounding it also participated to varying extents in its holiness. I will stick to the English terminology developed within classical archaeology.102 I will use 'sanctuary' as my etic term of the Jerusalem buildings for the sake of comparison (e.g. with other Corinthian sanctuaries), but I will also use 'Second Temple' as a proper name on the particular building complex standing there in Paul's days. The relation between the sanctuary space and the surrounding land- or city-scape is another difference between the Near Eastern sanctuaries as Eliade has read them, and the Greek and Roman sanctuaries. Eliade thought that in all processes of sanctuary construction, a primeval revelation 'disclosed the archetype of the sacred space in illo tempore1 (Eliade 1958: 371-72). He mainly built his theories on Near Eastern temples, although he generalized the pattern found there - for which he has been criticized by many.103 Whereas the Near Eastern sanctuary space was often conceived as a microcosmos representing in germ the same structure as the rest of the world, the Greek sanctuary spaces were less of a self-contained system and more of a sign in a broader sign system. They derived their special meaning from the relation they had to the surrounding spaces: they could be defined in opposition (e.g. by only granting access to women in the midst of 'male' city space), or they could be a reinforcement of the values represented in the public/political space (sanctuaries with only male cult officials in the city center), or they could mark boundaries between city and the surroundings (Polignac 1995: Chapter 2) - or some sanctuaries could house the center of the world, like the sanctuary in Delphi. Sanctuary space was a special kind of space, but what that meant more exactly could vary. This is also expressed architecturally. The temple is a 'sign' in the landscape. In Schweitzer's words: In der griechischen Baukunst war es nicht der Innenraum, an dem sich zuerst die Beziehung zum Raum herstellte... Alleiniger Trager des Ausdrucks war die ringsum den Baukorper begrenzende Peristase, in deren Formen die Spannung und der Ausgleich der inneren Kra'fte versinnlicht erschienen. Der Tempel kehrte sein Gesicht nach auBen. Er wurde als plastischer Korper empfunden und gestaltete sein Verhaltnis

102. Cf. Tomlinson (1987: 383). 103. See, e.g., Smith (1987: 13-23). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 73

zum Raum nicht anders als die gleichzeitige Skulptur (Schweitzer 1969: 192). This tendency is drawn to its extreme in the case of some Roman temples located on Forums or main streets, with splendid exteriors, but narrow space constraints so that the cella (the main room inside the temple) barely is big enough to house the cult statue. Although by early Roman imperial times some sanctuaries were surely seen as representing the structure of the cosmos, it was more common to view the city as a whole as representing cosmic totality. The writer of De Mundom characterizes the cosmos as f] jietCwv noAis (De Mundo 6). developments of the Stoic topos of the City of the World can be found in numerous Hellenistic-Roman authors.105 For our purposes it is unhelpful to contrast Greek, Roman vs. Near Eastern sanctuary discourses as fundamentally different, in spite of some differences in emphasis. As Smith (1987: 13-23) has shown, also the Near Eastern sanctuary functioned as power display, and also Greek and Roman sanctuaries could exhibit the same hierarchical organization of space that could be found elsewhere in public space. By early Roman imperial times we can find the whole range of discourses of sanctuary space expressed in one urban setting, as deities became as cosmopolitan as their worshippers. Sanctuary spaces in the home. According to my definitions, sanctuary spaces were not only found in the building complexes discussed thus far. They were also found in the home. As I will come back to in '5.8.2 Imitations of Sanctuaries' the rituals in the household space somehow replicated those of the bigger sanctuaries. In addition there were rituals of the Lares, Penates and the Genius of the house.106 Also in domestic cult, the common denominator was the altar. Whether household shrines were built as niches, miniature temples or just wall paintings, they all had some version of it.107 On the domestic altar, offerings in the form of incense and libations were made. But with respect

104. Pseudo-Aristotle, writing 50 BC by the latest. His point is that God is to the cosmos what the law is to the city. 105. Seneca uses a journey to Syracuse as occasion for talking about one's place in life: '"You are about to enter a city," I should say, "shared by gods and men - a city that embraces the universe'" (Seneca, Ad Marciam de comolatione 18.1-2 [Basore]). Another example is Epictetus, who emphasizes the organic unity of the city and the cosmos (Epictetus, Discourses, 2.5.25^26). 106. See Portefaix (1988: 43-48). The Genius was a representation of the generative powe of the paterfamilias. The Penates were probably identical with Castor and Pollux (Orr 1978: 1562), and the Lares were some kind of mix between protective forces and representations of ancestors (Orr 1978: 1564; cf. Beard, North, and Price 1998: 185). 107. See the description of lararia in Orr (1978). 74 Women in Their Place to the lack of animal sacrifice, Paul's ekklesia is partly similar to other small ritual spaces reminiscent of the greater sanctuaries. In these ritual places, there was an awareness of the fact that they were not identical with the larger sanctuaries, still they are reminiscent of the discourse of the sanctuaries. Animal sacrifices were normally not performed as part of domestic cult, but other kinds of offerings were (the blessing of the cup in memory of Christ could be compared to a libation). Rome, Mother, Mundus. The place where sacred and public spaces were most converging in a Roman city, was the Forum. The Forum was constructed as public space, but at the same time it was protected by a lot of prohibitions made so sacred that temples erected there needed no temenae or demarcations of sacred precincts around them. The mundus, a hole or pit in ground, was the most sacred, protected and central place of the Forum. It was conceptualized as the hearth of the city (Rykwert 1988: 126). Whenever a colony was founded, the mundus was placed in the middle of the new colony, and first-fruits were buried in it, together perhaps with other offerings. This ritual was combined with another ritual, that of plowing the ritual furrow of the pomerium, a sacred boundary around the hearth of the city, which was not identical with the city walls. The pomerium constituted 'a significant dividing line between different types of human activity and between different types of human relations with the gods' (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 178). According to Joseph Rykwert, 'the pomoerium was male as the mundus was female; each was accompanied by a complementary feature of the opposite sex... something was put into it' (the mundus) 'to indicate its dual character of womb and tomb... it was both a passage to the underworld and the spring of fertility, and therefore, the source of the town's existence, its matrix' (Rykwert 1988: 127). Since the mundus was thought of in chthonic, 'feminine' categories, it was also connected with chthonic deities such as Proserpina, Dis Pater and Ceres, in addition to Vesta, the manes and lares.m That the hearth of the city in this and many other ways is associated with femininity is a major difference to the Greek idea of agora. Joseph Rykwert states that 'for the Greeks the open urban space was important in itself, and had no chthonic and "feminine" character... the making of a mundus in the course of the foundation rites would surely emphasize in anatomical detail the feminine nature of the urban complex, which was already implicit in other ceremonies and institutions' (Rykwert 1988: 126). Hence one of the paradoxes of the discourse of Roman city space - even if public space was gendered male through literary discourse, the urban space as a whole was gendered female. This was perhaps possible because of notions of the city

108. On the mundus as gateway to the underworld deities, cf. Spaeth (1996: 63-64). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 75 as a nourishing and caring Mother. Rome for example, was personified as a goddess.

3.3.6 Corinth and Graeco-Roman Discourses on Urban Space The main focus here has been on the Roman discourses of urban spaces (private, public, sacred) and gender, since from day to day in the Colonia Laus Corinthiensis, Roman spatial discourse must have been the most influential.109 This was not undisturbed by more Greek views, or Near Eastern ones. In my view, the Roman imperial contribution to a broader discourse of sanctuary space is found exactly in its adaptability and ability to accommodate sanctuaries of varying religious and geographical origins within the grid of the mundus and pomerium, the imperial cult is itself often seen as a Roman-Near Eastern blend. Therefore, some Greek and Jewish notions of gender and sanctuary space have also been presented.110 However, for the Romans, the Greek territory, myths and sanctuaries were not just like those of any conquered people. For the Romans, Greece was the 'Holy Land' where the deities had walked the ground and sanctified it.1" The Romans did not want to Romanize the Greek gods, but they shaped them according to their own image of the Greek. This can be seen also in Corinth. The first century CE was a continuous period of building and rebuilding of sanctuaries. The Romans tried to rebuild the ancient monuments according to their conception of the 'Greek', which was in fact very Roman, but they also built many Roman-looking monuments in this period. The continuity is also visible in the handling of all the old temple ruins. Sanctuaries of the Greek gods were in general rebuilt on the same location

109. Space does not permit a discussion of how Hellenized or how Roman this Roman colony on Greek soil was. For a nuanced depiction of this relationship, see Alcock (1997). In the case of Junia Theodora, mentioned above, Kearsley (1985: 132) argues that although she and Claudia Metrodora, a contemporary woman from Chios, gained special status in their local communities by possession of Roman citizenship, it was as women living according to Greek law and custom rather than as Romans that they were able to participate in public life. 110. From a space-constructionist point of view, Roman city spaces in general are discussed in Perring (1992); Rykwert (1988: chapters 1-4); and Stambaugh (1988: chapter 15). Jewish notions of urban space are explored in Baker (1996; 1997), Peskowitz (1993b). For Greek city spaces in general, see Polignac (1995). Although Polignac is focused on a much earlier period, I find his theory useful. The city state as civilized space is defined by sanctuaries and religion, 'knowing a city meant knowing the cult whose rites and image engendered the political society' (p. 81). In the Greek polls, sanctuaries defined the city's space, and theologies (as representations of the world), integrated the members of the communities by shaping patterns of behavior within the city space. 111. In a chapter with the significant title 'Structuring Greece: Place as Myth and as Experience', Eisner (1992: 11) states: 'Pausanias' Greece was the past glorified qua past, but living and present still in the myth-historical and sacred presence of its sacred images'. 76 Women in Their Place where they had been in Greek times. Revival of old sanctuaries was important because of their economical potential ('religious tourism'). But there was probably more than simply commercial reasons behind the wish to uphold the most famous cults of the place. The ancient deities had a special relationship to the place, and to please them was important for the success of the colony. For this reason the ancient sites did not end up merely as museum-like places for exhibition of ancient cults - a view often held by those modern classicists who prefer the Greek 'original'. The Romans also continued to structure the public space of the city around an open place, the agora or the Forum}12 The Romans developed the Greek urban ideology and mingled it with their etruscan inheritance, which may account for some of the differences between a Roman colony and a Greek polis that are selectively mentioned here: • the presence of a detailed city-plan already by the time of the foundation of a Roman colony;113 • the different ways of evaluating the city in relation to the territory surrounding it;114 • different ways of building a 'hearth' of a city; and • different relations to the dominant city. Rome was the Mother, the pattern, colonies were mimetic children. Athens is not described as female, and was itself only a reflection of Cosmos, the ideal town (Lefebvre 1996: 169). Roman Corinth was a Roman colony in a Greek land. Woolf (1994) points out that instead of a synthesis of the two cultures, it is more correct to talk about an interaction that threatened the identity of neither of them. It is plausible that the settlers followed Roman rites, measurements and regulations in their foundation of the colony. The nostalgic incorporation of elements that were important in the Greek idea of town (foundation myths, local myths, public life) gave the young colony colour and a separate identity (Stambaugh 1988: 18-28).115 Thus, in the second century CE we have clearer traces both of the Romanized Corinth and the Greek Corinth at the same time. In the second century we see, as Dio Chrysostom puts it, 'The Hellenized Corinth'.116 This may seem a paradox, but shows

112. See map over the Roman Corinthian Forum in Appendix 3. 113. Such a plan is now also discovered for Roman Corinth, see Romano and Schoenbrun (1993), and http://corinth.sas.upenn.edu/corinth.html. 114. 'There is hardly a topic in Latin literature that appears more frequently or in a greater variety of guises than that of the contrast between the mores of the country and those of the city' (Vasaly 1993: 156). Although the praise of the honest country-life in contrast to the corruption in the city is balanced by the almost as frequent praise of the city of Rome, the topos is not common in Greek literature. 115. He has chosen the tension between Roman rustic provinciality and Greek confident urbanity as an organizing principle in his depiction of 'the ancient Roman city'. 116. Corinthiaca 26 (37th Oration). 3. Gender Aetiologies and the Discursive Construction of Spaces 77 that in the first century the city was still undergoing formation, and had not yet found its new form. It may also illustrate Stambaugh's point that although the Roman expansion into the most important military and political force in the Mediterranean world was conducted after an unmistakingly Hellenic model, the Greek urban ideology only gradually gained influence among the originally agrarian Romans.

3.4 Conclusion In this chapter I have tried to present a very broad discourse of gender and space within which I will eventually place the Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space. I have also given some more background for the idea that gendered space could be constructed through ritual. I have presented some of the most important models of gender that were available in the gender discourse Paul and his Corinthian recipients formed part of: the Adam and Eve-model, the woman as fertile soil-model, the Pandora-model and the one-sex-model. The four models express in concentrated form widely held notions of gender that could be endlessly combined and hierarchically arranged in relation to each other. Although there are important differences between them, they all present 'man' as male and primary, human norm. It is within this context that early Christian texts must be read if we want to tease out their gender implications. Paul draws explicitly on the Adam-and-Eve model, but the one-sex-model is the model that seems to underlie Paul's idea that both men and women can become one Man in Christ. In the last part of the chapter we saw how gender is interwoven with the different spaces of the ancient city and in the structures of their organization. That spaces are gendered does not mean that they contain some gender essence or that only men or only women have access there. To read the fragmentary information about women in public space as exceptions and anomalies; to write about women only in the context of the household space or the brothel; or to investigate the household space as the space of women is to adopt the world view and filtering gaze of the ancient public male. Rather, spaces are gendered because they are constructed and structured by a discourse where notions of gender and notions of space are interwoven, and because the activities taking place in different spaces are thought of as male or female gendered, too. Similarly, as Yvonne Hirdman has shown, placing people is also an important way of inscribing gender on them. This insight will be particularly important in the next chapter and in Chapter 6 where I will examine how the distribution of ritual patterns of actions (roles) between men and women contributes to the gendering of ritual and sanctuary spaces. Chapter 4

PLACES FOR WOMEN IN EARLY ROMAN CORINTH'S RITUAL AND SANCTUARY SPACES

4.1 Introduction The purpose of this chapter is to survey texts from early Roman Corinth (from the foundation of the colony until c. 100 CE) that construct or transmit notions of women in ritual/sanctuary spaces or otherwise actively draw on gender in their construction of such spaces. It was from preliminary work on a wider range of such texts than presented here, that I first noticed some recurring traits that from my modem perspective I eventually labelled a 'discourse of gender and sanctuary space'.1 In order to keep the focus narrowly on the discourse of gender and sanctuary space, I will skip the more general introduction to the cultural and social history of Roman Corinth. For interested readers, an excellent introduction can be found in Winter (2001: 7-22), which is also a book that would have been referred to more often as a discussion partner had it been out before the submission of this work as a thesis in 2000. From the surviving, early Roman Corinthian texts I hope to show how the broader discourses of space and gender outlined very generally in the previous chapter could 'take place' in one particular location in one particular period. As mentioned before, my aim is to throw light on the 'woman-texts' and other expressions of gender in 1 Corinthians 11-14, therefore I will not include in this chapter the full range of texts constructing the 'cultic male'. This way I also approach the emic perspective: since ancient producers of texts that have survived are mainly men, they seem not to have reflected on which spaces they have exclusive access to, and which spaces they have access to together with women. They are aware only of where they do not have access as men, and write about spaces where only women have access as obscure, mysterious or extremely sacred because they are set apart from

1. The full range of these texts will hopefully be published on a later occasion, as a source-collection. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 79 79

the world of men. It is indeed easier for modern readers to see where men were excluded than where women were excluded. I will particularly look for places given to women both physically in the sanctuary spaces, and ritually through cultic roles, since, as I argued in Chapter 2, I also consider ritual as a way of constructing a sacred place. I also mentioned in Chapter 2 how I consider ritual prior to the materialization of sanctuary buildings, and how sanctuaries too are 'ritually constructed' in the sense that they are monumentalizations of the ritual going in them. I drew on Sourvinou-Inwood (1993) who had read Greek temple material this way. Also helpful is the way Harvey (1989) and Lefebvre (1991) differentiate between three dimensions in the production of space (Harvey 1989: 218, 221):2 material spatial practices, representations of space, and spaces of representation. The 'material spatial practices refer to the physical and material flows', 'Representations of space encompass all of the signs and significations, codes and knowledge, that allow such material practices to be talked about and understood' whereas the 'Spaces of representation are mental inventions (codes, signs, "spatial discourses", Utopian plans, imaginary landscapes, and even material constructs such as symbolic spaces, particular built environments, paintings, museums, and the like) that imagine new meanings or possibilities for spatial practices' (Harvey 1989: 218-19). Accordingly, in this chapter sanctuary buildings will not be in focus for their own sake. Rather they are seen as vehicles of communication, especially of relations between people: they speak through their openings and enclosures, through their place within the cityscape and through other 'texts' that are found within their space. Some earlier and later texts are included, which may be consonant or dissonant with the early Roman discourse. They may thus either throw light on the sanctuary discourse in the first centuries BCE and CE, or put changes in relief. Once a ritual space has materialized into sanctuary buildings, the buildings start speaking their own 'language' (Ardener 2000: 113) independently of how the ritual continues to develop - until the discrepancy between actual ritual practice and the buildings within which it takes place becomes so wide that a re-building becomes necessary. The excavation report of the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore is a brilliant demonstration of how a sanctuary is more or less constantly rebuilt according to changing ritual practices (Bookidis and Stroud 1997).

2. Harvey draws on Lefebvre, but questions Lefebvre's notion of imagined space (the space of representation) as the dominated space of inhabitants, 'users', artists - a space with no rules of consistency or cohesiveness (Lefebvre 1991: 41). Rather Harvey opens up for a Bourdieuan perspective, that imagined space has a certain power over the experienced space (material spatial practices), even if the imagined space is fully conditioned and limited by that same material space (Harvey 1989: 219, discussing Bourdieu [1977: 95]). 80 Women in Their Place

Roman Corinth differs from many other sites in that relatively few inscriptions are found that can throw light on the functions of the different sanctuary buildings - except for the imperial cult. One may believe that this is a coincidence due to material factors such as weather, time, constant habitation in the area, too few excavated areas, and so on. But I have chosen to take the meagre texts we have as representative through a careful drawing on other Roman texts, and on rather scattered but still Corinth- related remarks. Many scattered remarks together may add something to an overall impression of the discourse. It is less far-fetched to build hypotheses on the texts we do have, than those we do not have. I will thus also read such as the relative over-representation of female symbolism in texts related to Demeter and not in those related to Apollo as representative of the discourses of their respective spaces. The picture that emerges this way is not crystal clear and without exceptions, but exactly for this reason may help us to avoid stereotypes about Corinthians, pagans and Christians, and to look for further possibilities for putting the texts together. The texts I will refer to represent widely different genres. Each genre has its own dynamics for the production of meaning and its own limitations that space does not allow me to discuss fully here. I can only refer to Appendix 2 for a brief mention of the different genres and the genre- specific constraints they represent.3

4.2 Next to the Goddesses - behind the Walls: Demeter and Kore In early Roman Corinth, the sanctuary and ritual space that drew most uniformly on symbols that were probably associated with femininity/ women, was the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore. In Roman times in Corinth as in Rome they probably were called Ceres and Proserpina. Demeter, who seems to have been more important in the Greek than in the Roman period, was the goddess of grain and agriculture. In Corinth, as in most sanctuaries throughout Greece, findings allude to the myth of the goddess of grain whose daughter Kore/Persephone was raped by the king of the Underworld when she was out in the fields picking flowers, and to the revenge taken by Demeter in not letting anything grow until she got Kore back for at least part of the year.4 As Bookidis and Stroud (1987: 8) comment, 'local customs and variations on the traditional myth of the rape of Persephone and Demeter's quest often produced rituals, processions, and sacrifices of widely different types from city to city'. Dedications of comical figures in the Greek sanctuary may thus be interpreted as alluding

3. I also recommend frequent consultation of Appendices 1 and 3. 4. The story is found in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 81 81 to how the old woman Baubo or lambe attempted to cheer up Demeter after the rape of her daughter.5 The dedications of miniature (flower) baskets may also indicate ritual enactment of the same myth, which tells that Kore was out in the field picking flowers when she was raped by Hades. The sanctuary is located on the northern slopes of Acrocorinth.6 At the location there are traces of cult dating back to archaic times, and well into the fourth century CE. The most flourishing periods were fifth to fourth century BCE and again second century CE, but it was abandoned from 14 BCE until the beginning of the common era. This sanctuary, with its location outside of the city center, is an example of how Demeter sanctuaries reproduced an environment of spatial isolation, even if they were located inside the city walls.7 The sanctuary was rebuilt several times, and it extended over a rather great area. Since the late archaic period, the northern border of the sanctuary space was marked off with a stone terrace wall, along the road up to Acrocorinth. The wall was high enough to protect the area from view from the outside. In this period there was also a monumental stairway, serving both as access to the numerous dining rooms and to a theater above for ritual performances. In its Greek phase the offering of votives formed an important part of the ritual in the sanctuary: the greatest numbers of votive offerings were found in the sacrificial pits in the ground of the main Greek cult area. However, a sacrificial pit was in function also in Roman times. The gifts varied from period to period, however there is a drastic fall in traditional votive offerings in the early Roman period, indicating changes in the cult. Since Roman lamps are more numerous than Greek, Ronald Stroud believes that these may have served as votive offerings as well as having been used in nocturnal rites (Stroud 1993: 72). The amounts of scallop shells from the Roman phase also deserve to be mentioned. These shells either indicate that meals were still going on, that is their content was eaten, or that shells were offered to the goddesses. The scallop shell would

5. Humour and laughter played an important role in the Demeter reversal rites, cf. Winkler (1991: Chapter 7). 6. See plan in Appendix 3, and aerial view of the sanctuary at http://www.perseus.- tufts.edu/cgi-bin/image?lookup = Perseus:image: 1990.30.0064. It is excavated by the Amer- ican School of Classical Studies at Athens, under the direction of Nancy Bookidis, Joan Fisher, and Ronald Stroud. This presentation is based on Bookidis (1987); Bookidis and Fisher (1972, 1974); Bookidis and Stroud (1987); Stroud (1965, 1993, 1968); Bookidis and Stroud (1997); Wiseman (1979). 7. Cf. the argument of Cole (1994) (against Polignac [1995]). Cole shows how Demeter sanctuaries that were located inside the city walls (as that in Corinth) exploited 'topographical or geographical features of the site in order to preserve the sense of isolation associated with sanctuaries outside the walls... they are nevertheless remote, either removed by distance or because they occupy an isolated lever or terrace of a rising hill' (Cole 1994: 213). 82 Women in Their Place be a very appropriate offering or food at this place, as it was a feminine fertility symbol, associated with both Aphrodite and Demeter as well as other mother goddesses. The Greek word for the shell is KTeis, meaning 'comb', but the word can also denote the womb.8 Even if many of the items mentioned here do not indicate anything about the gender of the givers, they are important for our understanding of this space as sacred and for our understanding of the gender of this sanctuary space. It is first when a space is perceived as sacred that worshippers perceive votive offerings as appropriate. Votive offerings thus confirm the notion of this space as sacred. These particular votive offerings also show that items associated with femininity were considered particularly appropriate in this sanctuary space.9 When the Roman colonists came to Corinth, enough of the pre-Roman structures had survived to make possible a safe identification of the deities worshipped there - the great respect the Romans showed to the ancient cult places, has been noted by many.10 Mummius' sack of Corinth in 144 BCE did not affect the sanctuary, but the period of the city's abandonment had caused the buildings to deteriorate. Finds of pottery and kitchen vessels, minor cultic vessels, coins and so on, indicate that the new inhabitants of Corinth could use the buildings already standing in the sanctuary when they took up cult activity again (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 273, 276). In the first 100 years of the colony then, the formerly enclosed sanctuary space was still construed as sacred through various ritual activities and ceremonial forms, but these rituals did not materialize into a (re-)construction of walls and buildings until after the earthquake in 77 CE. The first Roman remodelling of the upper terrace of the sanctuary implied that the theater and a Hellenistic temple were covered over, and that three small temples were erected and protected by a retaining wall that thus divided the former sanctuary space more sharply into two areas. The main Roman ritual place was now located on the upper terrace. The central temple lay at the top of a new monumental stairway, on the axis of the Roman entrance hall and the Roman Well." This temple, which was also the largest, was dedicated to Proserpina (or Neotera/Kore) as

8. Cook (1925: 302, n. 2) states that 'the symbolism rests on the resemblance of the shell to the womb'. 9. Comp. Cole (1994: 203-204). 10. In addition to the places mentioned here, Wiseman (1979: 495) believes that 'To the list of cult places that show continuity into the time of the Roman colony, should be added at least the Sanctuary of Athena Chalinitis and the Archaic Temple; what is more, xoana of Artemis, Dionysus, and Heracles were seen by Pausanias in the 2nd century after Christ and presumably had been preserved since the Archaic period'. 11. Cut 20 m deep, it must have had some ritual significance. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 83 indicated by the dedication in the floor mosaic (Bookidis and Fisher 1974: 278-85). The dedication lies right inside of where the entrance must have been: OKTAB1OL ArAGOnOYE NEOKOPOS E4>H

12. These epithets are evidenced in Eleusis by IG 112 1672, II. 300-302, 3546, 3585 and by Hesychius (Lexicon, 'Peiroi'). 13. Thus it is unnecessary to look beyond the cult of Demeter to make sense of these baskets, as Dunbabin (1990) does, again pointing to the cult of Isis. DeMaris (1995) uses them as a proof for the heavy underworld/afterlife focus of the Roman cult in the sanctuary. 84 Women in Their Place dedicated to Ceres.14 Even if clear traces are found only in conjunction with this temple, probably all three temples had a columned fa9ade (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 355). An altar was probably placed in front of each of the three temples (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 373). Below the temples, but still inside the retaining wall, was now built a stoa. Like its Hellenistic predecessor, this Roman stoa looked south onto an open courtyard (Stroud 1993: 71).15 It was possibly used for processions. On the lower terrace, none of the former dining rooms was rebuilt in the Roman period as an ordinary dining room. The Roman retaining wall left the Greek dining area outside the protected space. Also, since fewer finds indicate preparation and serving of meals, there is reason to believe that the Greek, strictly ritualized dining of small groups of segregated worshippers had ceased, even if dining as such continued. The number of kitchen vessels spread over the place suggests that ritual dining continued in simplified forms. If Bookidis' theory that the diners of the Greek period were women is correct, we can read the change in terms of differences between Greek and Roman meal habits. The only females invited to Greek symposia were hetaerae or entertainers of some kind. In Roman culture, it was more common that wives16 dined together with their husbands at dinner parties. This gender-mixed dining practice means, on the one hand, that women's dining was no longer in need of the same level of protection, ritual arrangement, segregation and strict protection by walls and roofs. On the other hand, there is less reason to assume that if meals were celebrated in the sanctuary in the Roman period, these included women only. If the cooking pottery found in the Roman layers was not used for dining, it may alternatively have served as a new kind of votive offering appropriate for the goddess 'of the household'.17 There are however other traces of ritual activity on the lower terrace going back to the early Roman period. In the Roman 'Building of the Tablets',18

14. A part of the hair was found in this temple, the rest had been thrown in a well. 15. Cf. Stroud (1968: 300). 16. Cf. above chapter 2, p. 20. 17. This epithet, in Greek eTroiKiSia, was applied to Demeter of Corinth by the lexicographer Hesychius (Hesychius, Lexicon, 'eTroiKiSia'). In room 1 of building K-L.21-22, an early Roman cooking pot and a terracotta grill were found, thus suggesting some dining there, too (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 279). In Room 7, some Roman cooking utensils, among these small globular mugs were most numerous. Also fragments of two frying pans and a casserole rim were found there (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 283). Additional other finds in the sanctuary indicate that dining had not ceased completely. 18. On the map and in parts of the report called 'building K-L:21-22' (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 277-91, see also below Appendix 3). This building housed the so-called 'Room T (see below). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's RituaL 85 ten19 curse tablets were found altogether. In the most interesting room in this building, the so-called 'Room T and in a building nearby, five tablets were found in layers that possibly predate the rebuilding (Bookidis and Fisher 1972: 304), thus indicating that the practice of depositing curse tablets did not ultimately depend on the existence of the re-built Room 7. This means that the new ritual practices were already established by the mid-first century CE, and that the rebuilding must be seen as a 'monumentalization' of the new ritual practices. What more exactly these rites consisted of is not known, but it is unlikely that Room 7 was remodelled twice only to provide housing for a rite involving the depositing of curse tablets - after all the number of curse tablets is modest in relation to the time span between the various layers of the floor where curse tablets were found. Rituals, possibly nocturnal, involving offerings, the depositing of curse tablets, and rituals involving use of water (ablutions or purification?) are probable. Room 7 was a former dining room that was rebuilt as a room without couches.20 On the floor levels that had been in use in Roman times, numerous lamps and small libation jugs were found, together with the curse tablets, a thymiaterion^ and huge amounts of ashes, particularly around some bases in the (first) Roman floor: four bases in a row of this floor may have been bases for altars, columns, or receptacles into which the curse tablets could have been dropped.22 The excavators read the four bases in the floor as altar bases. This reading explains the amount of ashes around the bases (no burnt animals!), and the fact that the tablets also cluster around the bases: they may have been offered on the altars. The reconstruction of the cult of Room 7 given in the final report (Bookidis and Stroud 1997), points to rites that involved some sort of bloodless sacrifice or offering (hence the huge amounts of ashes). The mugs could have served as libation vessels. The lamps illumined what must have been a very dark space regardless of whether the rites were performed during the night or in the daytime. Bookidis and Fisher comment on the lack of windows in this and other dining rooms: 'If the masses of lamps which occur in the excavation are any testimony, however, part or all of the rites carried out in the Sanctuary were nocturnal. All of the lamps to the smallest miniatures show evidence of use. Windows for more than ventilation would therefore have been unnecessary and perhaps undesir- able' (1972: 302). Thus, darkness may have enhanced the walls in their function of boundary around the rituals, which should not be seen, and

19. Ten is the number given in the most recent manuscript (Stroud 2000). In addition, two were found in disturbed areas. 20. See illustrations below in Appendix 3. 21. A ritual vessel used for incense offering. 22. See illustration below in Appendix 3. 86 Women in Their Place possibly not known.23 Those of the curse tablets that were found around the bases, may have been deposited on the altars by the authors during a particular ritual possibly conducted by a priest or a priestess. For natural reasons we do not have any literary texts witnessing such a ritual, but the excavators mention in the final report a confession inscription from Lydia, and a series of inscribed reliefs from Asia Minor which seem to represent rituals implying a priest holding a scepter, and a supplicant possibly placing tablets of prayers or curses on the altar (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 286-87). The aim of the ritual was then to hand the object of the curse over to the deities invoked. The curse tablets date from the first century CE and continue through the second century. According to Stroud (2000), the messages are of a common defixio type where the author calls upon chthonic deities to punish the target of the curse. Among the deities invoked are Hermes, Ge (Gaia), and also the Motpat npa^iSiKai, the Fates who exact justice, whom Pausanias later associated with Demeter in Corinth, according to the most common reading of him. The practice of depositing lead curse tablets in the sacred space of Demeter's sanctuary was not a uniquely Corinthian phenomenon; it is also attested elsewhere (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 285-86). The curse is a kind of prayer or invocation - the act of depositing the written prayer (curse) at the altar of the god therefore has a certain logic to it. Since a sanctuary was a place of ritual and of greater public interest than a well and even a grave, we might expect that a more fixed and elaborated ritual took place there, involving the depositing of curse tablets (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 285). In total, 18 curse tablets are found within the sanctuary space. Some of them were also found inside the Roman wall (Stroud 1993: 72), which is taken as an important indication that the cult of Room 7 and the cult inside the Roman sanctuary still formed a unity in the Roman period. Another indication are the thymiateria , ritual vessels that were found in Room 7 and also inside of the Roman wall, but not in other parts of Corinth. A third indication is that the monumental stairway leading through the lower terrace to the higher was also remodelled in Roman period.

4.2.1 Cultic Models of the Female In both the Greek and Roman phases, most of the cult officials that are known from the sanctuary, are female. The dedication in the floor mosaic of the temple of Proserpina (see p. 83 above) tells us that Neotera

23. A similar combination of lamps, curse tablets, libation bowls and altars is attested at Morgantina and elsewhere (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 286). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's RituaL 87

(Proserpina) was served by a priestess called Xdpa.24 Still she must have tolerated some men as guardians of her sacred space: the dedicator of the mosaic floor is OKrafhos AyaGorrous, who is titled vetoKOpos, temple warden.25 Neokoros was a very common designation of the attendant who looks after the sanctuary. Diodorus of Sicily and Plutarch are two Roman authors who mention Corinthian priestesses of Demeter and Kore. In accordance with the impression we have from the architectural layout of the Roman sanctuary, Plutarch too characterizes the priestesses of the sanctuary as priestesses of Kore, not of Demeter: 'When the fleet was ready... the priestesses of Persephone fancied they saw in their dreams that goddess and her mother making ready for a journey and heard them say that they were going to sail with Timoleon to Sicily. Therefore the Corinthians equipped a sacred trireme besides, and named it after the two goddesses.126 Two marble sculptures of young girls are dated to the Hadrianic/ Antonine period. The sculptures are usually taken to represent young priestesses or initiates. The statues may have stood in the temple of Proserpina where the floor was covered with fragments of marble statues, but their heads were found in the same well as the head of the Ceres statue.27 The step lower in the hierarchy of ritual roles is constructed as a women's place. Most of the dedications from the Greek period draw on symbols associated with femininity or carry female names.28 Numerous dedications to enhance the fertility of the earth do not explicitly draw on notions of femininity, but the associations between the fertility of the soil and that of mortal women are very close in both Greek and Roman gender discourses - perhaps closest in the figure of Demeter herself. Most of the curses on the Roman lead tablets are directed against women, and three tablets contain curses against the same woman, a certain Karpime Babbia who was a weaver of garlands (Stroud forthcoming: no. 1-3). Many ancient authors attempted to differentiate magic from proper religion, and it was often denned as marginal regardless of whether the masses or even

24. For the ritual and public function of Xdpa, it is probably best to compare with the description of the sacerdos Cereris in Spaeth (1996: 104-105). 25. See Dunand (1973 III: 159-61 and 166-67). 26. Plutarch, Timoleon, 8.1 (Perrin). According to Diodorus of Sicily, 16.66, the priestesses learnt in their dreams that the goddesses supported the Corinthian general Timoleon when his fleet sailed off in 344 BCE to rescue his city's old colony Syracuse. 27. Stroud (1965: 21, plate 10 a [cult statue of Ceres], b [priestess] and c [priestess]). For further analysis of the heads of the priestesses, see Grazia (1973: Cat. no. 26): 'priestess or initiate, as indicated by the rolled diadem she wears around her head;' and (1973: Cat. no. 27). 28. But 'at least five male names' are mentioned by Bookidis (1993: 50). See also Appendix 1. 88 Women in Their Place kings and emperors used it. Beard, North, and Price (1998: 213) point out that in Rome, magic was particularly associated with women. The stereotypical witch was female. This should not make us conclude that only women performed magic. But if the archaeological texts mentioned here are correctly interpreted as adjusted to ritual practices involving curses - if they are materializations of such practices into specialized buildings - they contribute to the female gendering of the Corinthian ritual space of the Roman Proserpina and Ceres. After the destruction of the sanctuary, the area was used for burials. 26 out of 28 graves excavated in the former sanctuary space contain women's and children's skeletons. The excavators persuasively point out that this remarkable distribution of sexes and ages may reflect 'the survival of the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore in folk memory as an ancient holy place that was particularly hospitable to women and children' (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 391, 440).

4.2.2 Spatial Discourse The shapes and symbols envisaged or 'incarnated' in the buildings and facilities, are the results of the needs, wishes and thoughts of the donors, guided by the possibilities suggested by the entrepreneurs whose imagination again was constrained by taste and what was practically possible. Important for the interpretation of the 'meaning of a building', then, is not only the time when it was finished, but the time it was conceived as a plan. To which ritual practices would the buildings provide an improved environment? In the Greek phase importance was given to 'covering': the ritual space should be shielded from view and isolated from the public city space. Since much of what was going on was 'opposite' to the discourse of public space, this is perhaps no wonder: if women were to dine, or possibly mysteries celebrated, this ought to take place in a protected place. But given the Greek notion of femininity as more unbound and unstructured (cf. the myth of Pandora in Chapter 2), the public space of the city probably needed protection from the unpredictable, but life-giving forces associated with women in this sanctuary space more than the celebrating women needed protection from the well-structured male hierarchy of the public space. Early Roman period seems to have been a period of transition and redefinition: ritual dining in the open air was probably practised. Even if a greater part of the previously shielded dining area was unprotected by walls and roofs, it was still sufficiently marked to function as a dining area before the rebuilding. Still in the Roman phase a certain notion of inaccessibility was attached to the sanctuary, as indicated by Pausanias: 'That (sc. temple) of the Fates and that of Demeter and Kore do not have 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 89 their cult images exposed to view' (Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2 A.I}. Stroud (1993) believes that Pausanias was not allowed to enter either because of his sex or because he was not initiated into its possible mysteries. Other Roman authors kept writing about a band of prostitutes at the top of Acrocorinth that disappeared centuries earlier, while leaving the practices of the sanctuary that stood there in their own lifetime without a word. This under-communication may be due to their ignorance (if the sanctuary space was closed for men), or it may be due to the dubious and improper practices there (rituals of depositing curse tablets). Pausanias had good reason to keep silent about the activity if he knew something. Or perhaps the known rituals of the temple conformed so closely to the ritual discourse of the cult of Demeter and Kore elsewhere that nothing needed to be said, and they were best and most decently left unmentioned. Either way, the under-communication makes it probable that males (including those who could transform rituals into literary discourse) had restricted access to the cult. If the excavators believed that 'most of the worshippers in the Sanctuary were female' (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 435),29 I think this also holds true for the Roman period. Moreover, if we look at the cult of Demeter/Ceres and Kore/Proserpina elsewhere, the prominent and/or exclusive place of women in their sanctuaries and rituals is confirmed.30 One has to keep in mind that even if they were given Latin names, the only Ceres and Proserpina that the Romans knew were the Greek deities. In Rome it was the Graecus ritus^ that was observed. But since the Roman conception of the Greek past was not identical with the Greek past but rather displayed a very Roman notion of what the Greek consisted in (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 2 n. 3, 173; Scheid 1995), we cannot assume straightforward cult continuity from the Greek to the Roman periods. The initia or sacra Cereris, the 'initiations/rites of Ceres', belonged to the Graecus ritus of Ceres and Proserpina, and were related to the Greek Thesmophoria-rituals of Demeter.32 According to the Graecus ritus, rituals and festivals were celebrated exclusively by women, even if other rituals of Ceres were gender-inclusive. This is in accordance with other Greek rites that also produced gender through segregation instead of hierarchical integration: The Greek rites of Hercules at Ara Maxima in Rome were exclusively male (Spaeth 1996: 104-107)."

29. Cf. Stroud (1993: 72). 30. See e.g. Spaeth (1996: 103); Zaidman (1992: 352); Winkler (1991: chapter 7). 31. The Latin technical term the Romans used to denote rites that were exempt from following certain Roman religious laws because of their ancient Greek, and hence noble origin (the less noble Greek rituals were excluded from the Roman cult system from the outset!). 32. They were imported to Rome by the third century CE, Spaeth (1996: 59-60.). 33. Cf. Beard, North, and Price (1998: 70). 90 Women in Their Place

It is possible that the Roman Corinthian sanctuary housed different types of rituals, both gender-mixed as well as exclusively female rituals.34 In my view, the two rituals most likely celebrated in the Roman sanctuary were the 'Greek rites of Ceres', which were a Romanized version of the Greek Thesmophoria, and rituals analogous of those celebrated at the altar of Terentum at Rome. A concrete argument for a Graecus ritus followed in the Corinthian sanctuary is that the curse tablets with one exception are written in Greek, as was the dedication in the mosaic floor in the temple of Proserpina.35 It seems that the early imperial stage of marginalization or direct outlawing of magicians only concerned Roman citizens or rites performed according to Roman custom (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 234). In that case the lack of public condemnation may also be read as a symptom that Graecus ritus was followed in the sanctuary. The underworld cast of the Roman rituals of the sanctuary has been commented on by others (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 434; DeMaris 1995). Whether conceptualized as change or continuity in relation to the Greek period cult, the Roman underworld focus is illustrated by the fact that the main temple was dedicated to Proserpina, not Ceres. The possibility that more underworld-focused rites were performed in addition to the Greek rites of Ceres and Proserpina, could be illumined with reference to Rome: the same three known deities worshipped in the Roman Corinthian sanctuary were also involved in rituals at the altar of Terentum together with a fourth deity, Dis Pater (Pluto), who therefore becomes a candidate for the third Roman temple in Corinth. Ceres and Proserpina were worshipped together with Dis Pater or Pluto in many places.36 What is special with the altar of Terentum is that in addition to this triad the Parcae or Fates, who seem to have 'inhabited' Room 7 in the Corinthian sanctuary, were also worshipped there. A comparison with the Roman cult37 of Ceres, Proserpina, Dis Pater and Parcae would explain the heavier emphasis on chthonic practices in the Corinthian sanctuary in Roman times. Even if Augustus in Rome tried to transform this 'Roman' cult into a 'lighter' (in all senses of the word) one (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 71, cf. 203), this cult which was related to the Saecular Games of the imperial period seems to have taken up again some ritual elements of the republican period, including choirs of boys and girls and sacrifices to the Parcae (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 71-72).38 Given the close connections

34. Also Eleusis housed both types, cf. Cole (1994: 202-203). 35. This may alternatively be a reflection of the social background of the authors. 36. Many examples in Spaeth (1996), cf. Bookidis and Stroud (1997, 370-71). 37. Romans themselves conceived of this cult as Graecus ritus (Scheid 1992: 393). 38. We have all of this in Corinth (the two statues of young girls then could be reinterpreted as representations of choir-girls). And as Beard/North/Price suggests, the underworld character of the republican rituals was preserved. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 91 between Corinth and Rome in the first centuries BCE and CE, the comparison is not far-fetched, and may explain why after the possible damage of the sanctuary by an earthquake in 77 CE, it was rebuilt in a new way. Saecular Games were celebrated in 17 CE, 47 CE - and 88 CE, which probably was close to the building of the Roman temples. If this interpretation is correct, the building of Roman temples may again be interpreted as a homogenization of the particular local traditions with the tastes of the Roman settlers.39 The three altars of Room 7 would then be dedicated to the three Fates, which are Alalcomenia, Thelxinoea, and Aklis (Gager 1992: 156). So, on the middle and upper terraces we find a 'representative' sanctuary with temples dedicated to Dis Pater, Proserpina and Ceres. Even if this reading of the sanctuary buildings is correct, nothing prevents extant syncretism from taking place in the sanctuary, as suggested by Bookidis and Stroud (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 369).

4.2.3 Female Sanctuary Space, and Changes in Early Roman Period The temples constructed in the last part of the first century CE, may indicate an increased emphasis on offerings40 and sacrifices (cf. the open space in front of the temples probably occupied by altars) and an increased significance of cult images. But they may as well indicate that the settlers' picture of the Greek religious past was after all formed by the Roman parameters of civic ritual activity. This must remain speculation. But it is interesting that in Roman times we have, on the one hand, a very 'representative' sanctuary with proper temples and cult images, and on the other hand, the curse tablets - which were forbidden by Roman law (the 'Twelve Tables').41 In the spatial organization of the sanctuary, women occupy the spaces closest to the female deities worshipped there: Kore/Proserpina and Demeter/Ceres had female priestesses. Men were excluded from at least some of the rituals. In the symbolism of the myth of the divine mother and daughter as probably enacted in the sanctuary, the female contribution to fertility and continued life is celebrated and seen as important. The agricultural aspect so important in the Greek period seems to have disappeared in the Roman period, possibly because shipping and trade had taken over the role previously held by agriculture as a main source of income.

39. The same destiny struck the Corinthian Astarte/Aphrodite. 40. Cf. the marble offering table mentioned above (there was also one in the Demeter temple) where offerings were placed in front of the cult statue. 41. MacMullen (1966: 124). This republican code was regularly revised and updated until Constantius' days. 92 Women in Their Place

Even after its destruction and after all ritual activity in the sanctuary had ceased, the notion of this place as a particularly hospitable environment for women seems to have stayed alive.

4.3 A Discourse of Containment Places may be gendered according to the gender of the people who have access to or dominate the place, or according to notions of the actions taking place there, or according to the mythological and/or cosmological universe that is drawn upon in the discourse of the space (Rendell 2000: 101). Not all spaces were gendered as unequivocally as the sanctuary above where the deities are female, the cult personnel is mainly represented as female, the symbols draw on notions of femininity and in its mythological cosmos the female element is crucial. The sanctuary in Jerusalem, which still stood in Paul's time, could be mentioned as an example of a similarly predominantly, but not exclusively male space, and I will come back to this space in the next chapter. But that sanctuary was not the only one around the ancient Mediterranean where a male deity was worshipped by male cult personnel ritually enacting cult myths in which the main characters were male. And even in the hypermasculine cult of Mithras, women are present in the fringes, as dedicators,42 just as Agathopous secured a place for himself in the female sanctuary space of Proserpina. Most sanctuary spaces or rituals are more ambiguous: female deities may be served by male priests, or male deities may be served by priestesses,43 or a female deity may endorse a thoroughly male cosmos (e.g. the Athenian or Corinthian Athena). In most such mixed sanctuary spaces, however, a distinction between the place of men and that of women is still seen as crucial: both male and female can be present within the sanctuary or ritual, possibly the effect of the ritual is even dependent on both male and female elements, still a fundamental notion of this ritual discourse seems to be that some physical spaces are for men and some for women, or some ritual roles are for men and some for women. Often the spaces or roles for men are placed closer to the ritual center, or in other ways hierarchically placed over those for women. I will now turn to some of these ritual and sanctuary spaces of early Roman Corinth and note how the cultic female is constructed in relation to the overall universe of the ritual space.

42. Cf. Beard, North, and Price (1998: 298). 43. In his Description of Greece, Pausanias describes a temple and a sanctuary in Elis where space is clearly gendered, but where it is an old woman who may enter into the inner part of the temple where a male deity, Sosipolis, dwells (6.20.2-3). The sanctuary as such is dedicated to the goddess of childbirth Eileithyia. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 93

4.3.1 Out of Bounds: Aphrodite Judging from literature and coins, in both Greek and Roman periods the cults of Poseidon and Aphrodite must have been the most famous cults of Corinth, 'the city of Aphrodite'44 and the home of the Isthmian Games. Authors unanimously attest to the cult of Aphrodite on Acrocorinth. Some blocks from seventh century BCE and a fifth century BCE building ae reconstructed as temples of Aphrodite, and Blegen believes that 'the absence among the blocks found at the summit of architectural material which could be definitely identified as of Roman date suggests that the Greek building still continued to stand in the days of Strabo and Pausanias' (Blegen 1930: 21, cf. 4).45 The temple of Aphrodite on Acrocorinth was of small dimensions, only ca. 10m x 16m. There are strong indications that the Aphrodite of Greek times had Phoenician origins, more particularly in Astarte, that she was regarded as protectress of the city and therefore armed (similar to Athena of Athens), and that sacred prostitution followed this warrior and fertility goddess as a 'cultic side effect... which could not be isolated from the cult when it was imported' (Williams II 1986: 20). If so, girls were important capital in the military business with Aphrodite: girls might be dedicated to Aphrodite in an effort to gain the military support of the goddess. Once dedicated to her, their function as LepoSouXot46 may have increased her income: according to Strabo, Geography (8.6.20-22), Corinth owed its wealth to the thousand sacred prostitutes on the hilltop. According to the myth transmitted by Pausanias, the summit of Acrocorinth had been handed over to Aphrodite as a gift from Helios. The cult image there depicted Aphrodite onrXtaiievr) (armed), together with Helios and Eros (Description, 2.5.1). Since she was still called by the ancient epithet arrrXta|ievr], a certain continuity with the ancient cult of the city protectress must be presupposed (Williams II 1986: 16-17). But that the 'arming' of this Hellenistic or early Roman statue was reduced to only a shield, we know from the coins and lamps copying the statue: The figure of the armed Aphrodite which existed there under the Empire was no archaic figure of an armed goddess, such as the Syrian Astarte,

44. According to Strabo, Geography, 8.6.21, citing a fragment of Euripides. Aristides understands the expression in purely esthetical terms: The city contains art and beauty, 'love, desire, friendly converse, and allurement... everything that is called the charms of the goddess' (Aelius Aristides, Oration, 46.25). Pirenne-Delforge (1994: 126-27) concedes that 'si le titre de divinite poliade peut lui (i.e. Aphrodite) etre accorde, c'est parce qu'elle surplombai la cite du haut de 1'acropole et non parce qu'elle occupait 1'avant-scene dc la vie religieuse corinthienne comme Athena pouvait le faire a Athenes'. 45. For interpretations of the meagre findings, see Williams II 1986: 19; Pirenne-Delforge 1994: 102-103. 46. Sacred prostitutes, kept as slaves within a sacred enclosure. 94 Women in Their Place

but an unmistakable Greek Aphrodite, using the shield of Ares as a mirror. This is a motive natural to Roman rather than to Greek art, and we may be almost sure that the statue does not date from an earlier period than that of Julius Cassar. Indeed to his time it would be peculiarly appropriate, considering his descent and pretentions (Imhoof- Blumer and Gardner 1964: 26).47 Draped from the waist down, and using the shield as a mirror, the city protectress was changed into a goddess of beauty and vanity. She was still a protectress of the city, but in a different sense now, as arms were no longer needed when Roman arms protected the place. Also sacred prostitution was a bit out-dated: the temple on the hilltop in Strabo's own time (he visited Corinth in 29 CE) he describes as a vai8iov, a small temple not spacious enough to house the high number of hierodouloi that he is also the only author to mention. Among the other Roman authors who mention the connection between Corinth and Aphrodite (Alciphron, Athenaeus, Aelius Aristides and Plutarch),48 none implies that there were hierodouloi in Roman Corinth. What place did the Roman Venus give Corinth's women? In this case we have to look away from the prototypical woman, the matron, and look instead at the prostitutes who were given a particular place in her rituals and myths. In both Greek and Roman discourse, Aphrodite/Venus is represented as the prostitutes' special friend. This view was so well established that the attempt of Julius Caesar and his successors to 'clean up' Venus' image and restore her as Venus Genetrix, did not succeed in loosening the perceived connection between the goddess and her 'servants'. One of the reasons may be that women of the lower classes with 'open bodies' were not excluded from the festivals of Venus, as they were from many of the other festivals of Roman matrons and marriageable girls.49 Athenaeus mentions that the prostitutes in Corinth had their own festivals in honor of Aphrodite, the Aphrodisia: 'But that the prostitutes also celebrate their own festival of Aphrodite at Corinth is shown by Alexis in "the girl in love": "The city celebrated a festival of Aphrodite for the prostitutes, but it is a different one from that held separately for freeborn women. On these days it is customary for the prostitutes to revel, and it is

47. On coins, this type is fixed. Cf. Broneer (1930a: 68-69); Broneer (1947: 244 and pl.LXIV, 28). 48. Strabo is writing about days long gone, as Conzelmann (1967) and later scholars have remarked. Alciphron (late second century), Letters of Parasites, 24; Athenaeus (early third century), Deipnosophists 13:573c-574c; cf. 27d; 313c and 559a; Aelius Aristides (about 140 CE), For Poseidon (Oration 46), 25-28; Plutarch, The Banquet of the Seven Sages, 146d-e on a temple/guest house near Lechaion; Plutarch, On the Malice of Herodotus, 871a-c on the temple of Acrocorinth. 49. See Gage (1963); Kraemer (1983: 50-79). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's RituaL 95 quite in the mode for them to get drunk here in our company.'"50 That the festival was celebrated in the public space of the city was regarded as a way of honoring the prostitutes. It seems to be an assumption that Aphrodite also listened more to the prayers of the prostitutes. Therefore they were brought along to 'prayer meetings' and sacrifices for matters of great public importance (Lisle 1955: 100).5l There may have been celebrations commemorating legendary hetaerae, organized as funerary cults or heroine cults, but still associated with Aphrodite.52 Funerary rituals of the famous Corinthian hetaera Lais together with the chtonic Aphrodite Melainis (called Venus Libitina by the Romans) may have been practiced at the monuments mentioned by Pausanias.53 There are further indications that Aphrodite was also worshipped by more conventional (in ancient terms) women of the city. Alciphron mocks the money-loving Corinth in his Letters of Parasites (3.60), and mentions that all women of Corinth have Aphrodite, Guardian of the City, as their cult goddess. The citation from Athenaeus above also indicates that freeborn women had their festival of Aphrodite. In light of the description of the festival in Staples (1997), Athenaeus' attempted clarification sounds like the Venus Verticordia. In this festival all women, both prostitutes and matrons, took part, as they did in the Veneralia, the festival of Venus on 1 April. They supplicated the goddess to crown the women's sexual unions with 'success', however differently understood by the different groups of women. (Staples 1997: 158-59; Scheid 1992: 388). In Plutarch's version of an epigram of Simonides,54 it was the wives of Corinth who prayed to Aphrodite to save the city from the Persians - but this may of course be due to Plutarch's moral world-view: it had to be

50. Athenaeus, Deipnosophists, 13.574b-c (written about 210 CE, but referring to ancient works). 51. Cf. Athenaeus, Deipnosophists, 13.573c-f and Staples (1997: 7). 52. This widespread phenomenon had a local stamp in Corinth in Greek times, see Williams II (1981: 410-18). 53. Outside the city of Corinth on the Kenchreai side, he mentions a sacred precinct marked off by a cypress grove and a temple of Aphrodite Melainis ('black') connected to the grave of the famous hetaera Lais (2.2.4), whose monument is also depicted on early Roman coins (Imhoof-Blumer and Gardner [1964: 18 no. 13-14]). Roux (1958: 106) also renders Suidas' citation of Lais' epitaph (s.v. Treipr|vn). Although 'Lais' in most sources is used as term/name for the archetypical Corinthian hetaira, she is nevertheless claimed to be historical: Pausanias, Description, 2.2.5: '...and so won the admiration of the Corinthians that even now they claim Lais as their own'. Athenaeus, Deipnosophists, 13.54 also connects Lais and Aphrodite Melainis in Corinth. 54. The epigram is cited by Plutarch, Athenaeus, and the Scholiast in Pindar to Olympian Ode 13, 32b (Drachmann). See Brown (1991); Pirenne-Delforge (1994: 104-113). 96 Women in Their Place respectable women and not prostitutes who brought about victory.55 The scholiast in Pindar is more ambiguous, giving only the feminine participle euxo^ieyat. It is possible that the representation of the women's supplication rituals, whether performed by prostitutes or wives, were shaped by the Roman practice of making women perform ritually in times when the state was threatened (Staples 1997: 7). Since festivals of Venus could bring together both prostitutes and matrons in the public spaces of the city, Venus has been characterized as an integrating deity in the Roman cult system - although integrating in a very different manner than Vesta and her servants: 'The cults of Venus... operated in a way antithetical to the model of exclusivity. Venus served an integrative function... by acknowledging yet bringing together disparate categories within the same ritual' (Staples 1997: 158-59). An inscription from Roman Lechaion mentions a thiasos, probably of Aphrodite.56 In Kenchreai, Pausanias mentions a temple and a stone statue of Aphrodite (2.2.3), perhaps housing a 'seamen's cult' of Aphrodite emXi|ievia- by the harbour (Williams II 1986: 12). These latter, vague indications do not disturb the picture that prostitutes had a clearer place in rituals/supplications to Aphrodite than in other cults. In a Roman context, such supplications were categorized as Graecus ritus, and go back to the end of the third century BCE. However, this important place of prostitutes was ritually unthinkable in the temple of Venus Genetrix on the Roman Forum (see below), and prostitutes are not mentioned as priestesses in relation to any of the sanctuary spaces of Roman Corinth. The possible rituals where prostitutes took part (alone or with other women) seem not to have taken place in segregated spaces, for example behind walls, like the Demeter and Kore rituals mentioned above. In both cases it is tempting to conclude with John Scheid: 'liturgies involving women dramatized the reasons for excluding them from other ceremonies: their incapacity to conduct themselves "normally", that is, as citizens strictly governed by public traditions' (Scheid 1992: 407).

4.3.2 Properly Placed: Isis, the Emperor, Asclepius his. Isis was the most important goddess in ancient Egyptian mythology. She was the wife and twin-sister of Osiris, the god of agricultural fertility and afterlife. Isis was also the mother of his son Harpokrates. The Hellenistic and Roman Isis was worshipped as a personification of the cosmic, all-mighty divine feminine, as a goddess of sailing and navigation,

55. On the Error of Herodotus, 871a (Pearson). 56. SEG XXIII no. 170 and Pirenne-Delforge (1994: 96). Thiasos: originally a fixed ritual group, esp. the maenadic groups of Dionysos. Later used more generally as synonymous with collegium. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 97 and as the protectress of sailors. This last aspect is closely connected to her Fortima-aspect: since the winds obeyed her, she was also the goddess of good fortune. For her abilities in these areas, she is praised in the aretalogies written 100 BCE - 400 CE,57 in the hymns of Isidorus from first century, and by Apuleius. The Egyptian cult of Isis and Sarapis was present in Corinth from the Hellenistic period, but the texts are Roman except possibly for one inscription. Numerous coins, lamps, gems, and terracotta figurines testify to the popularity and to the familiarity of motifs and mythological content of the cult of the Egyptian deities in the city in Roman times.58 Most of them focus on Isis as goddess of shipping, navigation and good fortune (Isis Pelagia), or on Sarapis. Isis Pelagia was important for the Roman colony of Corinth, which had no less than two port cities (Lechaion and Kenchreai). The representation of Isis Pelagia was early standardized: 'Isis stands upon a ship's prow, her advanced foot anchors down a corner of the sail'; from first century CE on, 'a mantle blows out behind her back'.59 But Isis is also represented in her more traditional role as the Egyptian mother goddess. We have indications of at least one, at most six, places of worship of Egyptian deities in the early Roman period. It is difficult to trace a material spatial discourse of the cult, since the main Corinthian cult area has not been excavated due to its location under the modern village. Still it is possible to say something about the place of women, gender differentiation and hierarchy in rituals of the Egyptian gods. Pausanias literally reports two sacred precincts (temenae} of Isis and two of Sarapis on the way up to Acrocorinth: 'As you go up this Acrocorinthus you see two precincts (re|ievr|) of Isis, one of Isis surnamed Pelagian and the other of Egyptian Isis, and two of Serapis, one of them being of Serapis called "in Canopus'".60 The temenae that Pausanias saw, may have been located not too far off the Forum (Milleker 1985: 123; Williams II 1975: 28-29),61 where a small marble tripod base (not common in private houses) with a Greek inscription to Sarapis and Isis was found. Most scholars regard the inscription as Hellenistic:62

57. See Totti (1985). 58. Lamps: Broneer (1930b); Siebert (1966: 497 and 499 no. 5); Smith (1977: 222). Terracotta figurines: Davidson (1952, 21 and 55 no. 386-387). 59. Williams (1985: 110 and ref.). The second century coins are described in Imhoof- Blumer and Gardner (1964: 11 n.17); Smith (1977: 221). 60. Description 2.4.6 (Jones). 61. See map over Corinth and Lechaeum in Appendix 3. 62. Dunand (1973); Vidman (1969: vol. 2, 18); Engels (1990: 228 n. 39); Smith (1977: 225). Leclant in Orientalia (1968: 132) believes it should be dated to early first century CE. 98 Women in Their Place

OIAQTIE OIAQNIAA IAPAJTI IX(I), translated: 'Filotis, daughter of Filonidas' (dedicated this) 'to Sarapis and Isis'. The tripod base shows that there was a cult of the Egyptian gods there much earlier than Pausanias' visit. The dedicator of the tripod base, Filotis,63 could be sympathizer and patron, initiate, dream interpreter or priestess. Thus there was a place for women in this cult; yet the question of what sort of place remains. From Pausanias' comment, it seems that in the case of Egyptian gods, ritual as recollection of place seems to have been more important than gender.64 First, in definition of their temenae, both Isis and Sarapis are noted to have one Egyptian and one non-Egyptian (Isis Pelagia) temenos there: the temenos dedicated to Sarapis 'in Canopus', was probably the place where the Egyptian rituals were practised (Siebert 1966: 500). 65 Canopus was perhaps the most important cult place of Sarapis in Egypt, focusing on oracles and healing (analogous to Apollo), so a 'little Canopus' in Corinth would offer a hospitable home abroad for his cult.66 Pausainas also reports a matching (or identical?) sacred area where Isis was worshipped according to Egyptian customs. Second, the Osiris Hydreios jars, of which one was found in Corinth (although dating after first century CE), made Osiris present any place he was worshipped, in form of the Nile water in the hydria or water jar. In one of his aspects, Osiris was identified with the water of the Nile, which was poured in the hydria. The hydria thus functioned as a ritual vessel in Egyptian cult. The Corinthian jar is decorated with Egyptian deities in their different apparitions according to Egyptian mythology (Williams II and Zervos 1985: 80). 67 Found close to an inscribed column fragment, Williams II and Zervos (1985) hold that these together could indicate organized Egyptian rituals in the area close to the Theater: the column carried a dedication to Sarapis and Isis (Shear 1929: 519).68 The lettering is dated to the middle of the first century CE:

63. Another inscription now lost, last seen around 1805 but still present in epigraphic catalogs, mentions Octavia Marcus' daughter, to Isis the sea-goddess, the hearer of prayers (EY-AKOfi). 64. See discussion of Smith (1987) in sub-chapter 5.5.2 below. See also Smith (1977: 224). 65. On the Roman Corinthian coin given in Imhoof-Blumer and Gardner (1964: no. 31,25) Isis is equipped in the traditional way with the sistrum (musical instrument) and a vase (situla). 66. A lower part of a large marble statue of Sarapis of Roman date was found in the Northwest corner of the Forum, in Johnson's view 'not very far from the two precincts of Serapis mentioned by Pausanias'. The presence of Cerberus (the dog) and some wheat-stalks underlines his chthonian aspect, and Johnson says that 'in this copy Serapis was identified with Pluto, as frequently' (Milleker [1985: 124]; Johnson [1931: 30-31 no. 23]). The statue was also believed to be a statue of Zeus Chthonius (Scranton [1951: 71, 148, pi. 28:3]). 67. See also Wild (1981, particularly 113-28, and pi. XVI-XXIV). 68. Cf. Mora (1990: 243 no. 579); Kent (1966: 33 no. 57, pi. 8). There are also other traces of Egyptian cults in this area, but no temple buildings. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Rituall 9

ISI ET SERAPI V C IVLIVS sYRvs, probably translated: 'Gaius Julius Syrus dedicated this to Isis and Sarapis'. This dedication is made by a man, thus the cult of Isis and Sarapis in Corinth must not be described as a purely male or purely female activity. The inscriptions mentioned could also guide our reading of Pausanias: they tell us that in early Roman Corinth, Isis and Sarapis were worshipped together. These locations inform us about the deities' changing place in the Corinthian discourse of ritual and sanctuary space from Hellenistic to late Roman times. First introduced in Corinth in Hellenistic times on a location outside the center,69 from second century CE we have many traces of Sarapis scattered around the central parts of the city (Milleker 1985: 121 -123).70 Again, the first century of the colony seems to have been a period of transition: except for perhaps the tripod base found in the area of the Hellenistic temenae of the Egyptian gods at Hadji Mustapha, most other texts are later. Pausanias also reports a temple of Isis in Kenchreai, beside or together with Asclepius.71 Excavations in Kenchreai have brought to light some early/mid-second century CE temple-structures where the temple of Isis should be located according to Pausanias and Apuleius (see below).72 Some fourth century glass-mosaic wall panels (that were never mounted) were also found on the spot: crocodiles, ibis, papyrus contribute to the prototypical discourse of Egyptian sanctuary space. Although no inscriptions are found, Smith concludes: 'Certainly the "circumstantial" evidence when all weighed together makes a substantial case' (1977: 210). Kenchreai is also the scene of Apuleius' Golden Ass (second century CE).73 The story has Lucius change into an ass and experience the world from the animal's point of view for a while. Asleep on the beach, Lucius receives a vision of Isis, who promises him his human form back if he will have himself initiated into her mysteries. The initiation takes place during the festival of Isis in Kenchreai. If Apuleius is not necessarily an

69. The location was also practical if the deities needed a large area and abundant water. 70. Cf. Morgan (1937); Broneer (1954: 137; 1941: 390); Smith (1977: 212-28). These works mention a possible additional 'shrine of Sarapis'. 71. Pausanias, Description, 2.2.3. 72. See illustration of Kenchreai, aerial view of harbor ruins under water at http:// www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/image?lookup= 1990.30.0059. Three coins include the temple structures in their representation of the harbors of Kenchreai. One of the coins also portraits Isis Pelagia. See Smith (1977: 202-203). 73. See, e.g., Griffiths (1975: 14-20, 31-47). 100 Women in Their Place accountable witness to the cult in Kenchreae (Winkler 1985: 6; Millar 1981: 65, 75), his choice of location testifies to the reputation or fame of the sanctuary. As long as his account of the ritual is in accord with what we know from elsewhere, there is no reason to accuse him of having invented the ritual for his own literary purpose (Dunand 1967: 224). The festival of Isis Pelagia that Apuleius describes was the annual Ploiaphesia celebrated on 5 March, which opened the sailing season. The festival celebrated Isis Pelagia/Pharia as the goddess of sailing and sea- trade. It was celebrated in the first centuries BCE and CE also at Byzantio and elsewhere (Bruneau 1974: 340-41; Vidman 1969: 58-59 no. 130) - independently of any temple. What may have happened in Kenchreai is that the local festival and the cult officials of the harbor urged the building of a sanctuary for the sea goddess in the second century CE. Under the Roman name Isidis Navigium the festival survived into the sixth century CE (Bruneau 1974: 340). The kind of mystical initiation Apuleius describes seems not to have been an integrated part of the ritual. Scholars have variously argued that positive representations of female deities or 'the cosmic feminine' are easily coupled with representations that devalue mortal women; a female deity need not at all imply central roles for women in a cult. All the positive elements associated with femininity (fertility, care, nutrition, etc.) may be attached to the goddess, a process that 'allows for the "deification" of the female and feminine attributes1 (Zeitlin 1996: 83), so that only negative elements associated with femininity (chaos, mortality, unfaithfulness, unbridled sexual appetite, exploitation of man's substance etc.) belong to the place occupied by 'mortal woman' (Zeitlin 1996: 58-59 and 71). Even if the ritual described by Apuleius in Corinth/Kenchreai was far from misogynist, nothing indicates that the place of women in the cult of Isis in Corinth was particularly close to the deity. As proper women, they should stay at least one step at a distance. Apuleius describes many women in the procession of Isis during the festival. He describes them simply as women doing different things, more or less accidentally, such as carrying baskets and lamps. But if one compares his account with other reports of women's place in the Greek cult of Isis, the women's ritual functions and significance for the procession become more visible. To be a basket-carrier (kanephoros) or lamp-carrier (lampterophoros) was an official women's role in the cult of Isis (Dunand 1973: III, 164),74 the key-carrier being the most important: the key-carrier took care of the keys to the sanctuary, and was responsible for opening the temple during ceremonies (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 298). Or women

74. In addition they could be key-carriers or dream-interpreters. Further ancient texts and different ritual functions of women are gathered in Griffiths (1975: 181). Texts do not mention priestesses in Greece until second century CE, with one or two exceptions. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 101 could be dressed up and act the role of the goddess or another female mythological figure. Apuleius also mentions women and men following the procession. And the dedicator of the tripod to the Egyptian gods mentioned above was female too. But the priests of the procession are male. Thus it seems that in the Corinthian colony, both women and men had their place in the rituals of Isis (and Sarapis/Osiris). But gender distinction is still taken care of through role differentiation.

The symbolic value of femininity in the imperial cult. The Corinthian Forum imitated the Forum at Rome and was 'inhabited' by prestigious gods and in particular the imperial cult. Whether a ritually established pomerium existed in Corinth or not, the Forum and adjacent areas in Roman ideology were a sacred space marked by a mundus and a pomerium. Wallace-Hadrill (1993) says of the Roman Forum that there was no place so redolent of the traditions of the Roman past as the Forum, and that Romans were acutely aware of the link between specific places and religious tradition (Wallace-Hadrill 1993: 51). The imperial cult was the religious aspect of what modern secularized people would call public-political life in the Roman colony and had developed out of the ancient Greek civic cult. I therefore use the term 'imperial cult' in a broad manner, although not quite interchangeable with 'public/civic cult'. The imperial cult worshipped deified members of the imperial family as well as personified abstracta like the genii. In Corinth, the cult of the genius of the colony was mingled with the imperial cult because of its close identification with the gens luliae (Lisle 1955: 107, 139 n. 85). Many of the rituals of ancient Greek and Roman deities were in the course of time also more or less subsumed under the imperial cult, in that emperors/empresses were identified with these deities. In Corinth, rituals of emperors/empresses became combined with rituals particularly of Victoria, Roma, Fortuna, Apollo, Zeus/Jupiter and the other Capitoline gods and goddesses (Lisle 1955: 139 n. 93; West 1931: no. 10; Walbank 1989: 369). Except for the ambiguous mention of Zeus Kapetoliou, the temple of Octavia is the only temple of the imperial cult in Corinth mentioned by Pausanias;75 which could indicate that by his time it was the main location for imperial rituals: 'Above the market-place is a temple of Octavia the sister of Augustus, who was emperor of the Romans after Caesar, the founder of the modern Corinth'. The so-called 'Temple E'76 which is thought to be identical with Pausanias' temple of Octavia, is located to the

75. Description, 2.3.1; cf. Walbank (1989: 381-82). 76. For further details, see, e.g., Williams II 1987; Williams II and Zervos 1990 and Williams II 1989. See representation of the Temple at http://www.ascsa.edu.gr/corinth/ frame_research.htm (December 2003). 102 Women in Their Place west of the Forum.77 The argument is based on the location given by Pausanias, on some coins, and on reliefs and sculpture found around Temple E (Walbank 1989: 388).78 Originally built in Tiberius' times or possibly earlier (Williams II 1987: 29 and n. 9; Walbank 1989), the temple was rebuilt slightly smaller at the end of the first century CE (Stillwell, Scranton, and Freeman 1941: 178-79), probably after the earthquake in 77 CE, but then also surrounded by an impressive colonnade. Thus the sanctuary as a whole must have given a larger impression in Pausanias' days than in Paul's days. Based on coins, a temple of the Gens lulia is also known to have existed in Roman Corinth. This may be either identical to the Temple E discussed above, or the archaic temple may have housed the cult in Roman times. As Stambaugh (1978) notes, within the Roman sanctuary space, in addition to the altar that customarily had to be there, there may also have been an aedes or house for the cult statue, a treasury, subsidiary shrines, statues, dedicatory tablets, basins and underground storage pits (Stambaugh 1978: 568). This means that within a temenos enclosing a sanctuary space of imperial cult, many aspects of the relations between the imperial family and the deities could be ritually commemorated and celebrated.79 In a thorough attempt to identify Temple E as Corinth's Capitolium, Walbank (1989) takes Pausanias' need to inform his readers to mean that Octavia was not so well known that he could trust that they knew her identity. Hence, the main temple of Roman Corinth could not have been dedicated to such a little known member of the imperial family. Another interpretation is that Pausanias wanted to relate Octavia to the founding of the modern colony, perhaps to justify that the cults of the Gens lulia and Genius Coloniae included a focus on Octavia.80 Walbank thinks that Pausanias misunderstood the local guide who referred to the colonnade

77. In favor of Octavia is Charles K. Williams II; also Roux (1958); Dinsmoor (1949: 115 n. 22) and Fowler and Stillwell (1932: 85 n. 1). 78. Fowler believes that Pausanias' 'temple of Octavia' 'was more probably the temple of the Gens lulia, perhaps containing a statue of the sister of Augustus with the attributes of Venus, the legendary ancestress of the family' (Fowler and Stillwell 1932: 85 n. 1). Freeman believed that Temple E could not be Pausanias' temple of Octavia, but was dedicated to Jupiter Capitolinus (Stillwell, Scranton, and Freeman 1941: 234 onwards), based on inscriptions found mainly on the Forum honoring different theocoli or priests of Jupiter Capitolinus (Kent 1966: no. 195, 196 and 198 from first-second centuries CE, and also no. 152 from Augustus' reign). 79. The Corinthian 'GENT(I) lUL(IAE)' coins with the hexastyle temple are issued from the time of Tiberius (14-37 CE), see Amandry (1988: issue XVI, 59-61, pi. XX-XXIII). Sinc Imhoof-Blumer and Gardner (1964) the temple is taken to be identical with Pausanias' temple of Octavia, although see Imhoof-Blumer's reservations (1964: 22). 80. In the same sentence, Pausanias also explains who Augustus was and what Julius Caesar did - does this mean then, that his readers were ignorant of these two men's deeds? 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Rituall 103 and precinct (hypothetically called 'temenos Octaviae') surrounding the temple which was dedicated to the Capitoline triad.81 If Walbank is correct, the main function of the sanctuary space within this temenos of Octavia was to relate the emperor to the gods.82 Williams also concedes83 that although the sanctuary was called the 'Temple of Octavia', the cult statue could not have been a representation of her since she was never deified. Instead it was possible that the cult statue was a representation of a goddess, perhaps with the facial features of Octavia. The views of Williams and Walbank are thus not incompatible. The important aspects of this discussion for this book are the following: • The sanctuary housed the most important civic cult in Roman Corinth, probably from the beginning the imperial cult, or perhaps only gradually, as the cult grew in importance and became intertwined with the cults of the other Capitoline gods. • Octavia, a female member of the imperial family had at least a temenos named after her: the one embracing the civic rituals of the imperial house and other civic deities. A similar Porticus Octaviae existed in Rome, but it is quite exceptional if the temenos surrounding the main cult area of this central cult of Roman Corinth carried a woman's name. In the early Roman period, an altar in the Forum was oriented towards the area of Temple E, and thus contributed to an impression that Temple E presided over the public space of the Forum. But since the altar was probably older than the oldest Temple E, and Temple E was positioned a few degrees wrong in relation to the Forum, the altar still followed the degrees and lines of the Forum. The foundations reveal a large altar enclosed by walls on three sides. It appears to be in the style of the Ara Pads in Rome, and dates from Augustan times (Scranton 1951: 139-41, 150). The Ara Pacis was one of the Roman ritual monuments84 that most clearly draws on cosmology:

81. Walbank (1989: 371-79, esp. 378): 'if the temple E complex was named in honour of Octavia, there is no reason at all to assume that the temple within it had anything to do with her'. Williams II points to the fact that temple E was not an integral part of the original city plan, but was an immediately post-Augustan addition to it. This chronological reassessment argues against the identification of Temple E as the Capitolium of the colony, which certainly would have been planned at the outset. 'Indeed, the erection of a large temple in its own temenos after the death of Augustus follows more the patterns seen in the evolution of Imperial worship to be expected in a Roman Colony' (1989: 162). 82. Beard, North, and Price (1998: 348) have similarly grouped together under the label 'imperial cult' 'some rather different practices which in a variety of ways across the empire related the emperor to the gods'. 83. Suggested during a lecture in Corinth in May 1995. See also Williams II (1987: 29). 84. I hesitate to call it 'sanctuary space' - however with the decorated walls around the altar proper, it could be considered as a concentrated sanctuary space. 104 Women in Their Place instead of using triumphalist iconography to celebrate Augustus' victory, its iconography contains a microcosm where the balance between male and female is perfect, visualized in the representation of Augustus' own family. It depicts the integration of plebs and women under ruling men, the harmonious cooperation between city and countryside,85 and so on. True peace is thus celebrated as a perfect harmony between male and female elements.86 This altar was the first object of Roman public art to represent mortal women along with men (Fantham et al. 1994: 295) - though, to be sure, the imperial women represented there are depicted almost as deities, and certainly as personifications of imperial values. The Corinthian adaptation probably included a relief of dancing maenads and a large marble altar bearing the name Terentius, both found close to the foundations.87 Between the altar and Temple E and among other temples stood also a temple of Venus Genetrix.88 The founder of Roman Corinth, Julius Caesar, claimed descent from Venus. In the Aeneid, Venus is presented as the mother of the Roman imperial family.89 Even if the cult of Venus Genetrix began in Julius Caesar's short lifetime, it did not grow to any importance in Corinth until the age of Augustus (Engels 1990: 98).90 Through Corinth's founding 'father', the colonists too regarded themselves as descendants of Venus. This motif adds new content and force to the protectress role of Aphrodite in Roman Corinth, but Venus as Genetrix was somewhat in conflict with the Phoenician heritage of the Corinthian Aphrodite and also with the picture of Aphrodite as a goddess of the prostitutes of the city. The Romans, although concerned about cult continuity and respect for the indigenous deities, felt a strong need to 'clean up' her image.91 Since the cult statue on Acrocorinth was still armed in Roman times, the cult of Aphrodite hoplismene obviously continued

85. Cf. Spaeth (1996: 125-51). 86. See further Wallace-Hadrill (1993: 70-74). 87. For comparison, how an altar in the style of Ara Pacis was designed in Carthage, is described in Beard, North, and Price (1998: 331-33). 88. Based on an inscription (VENERI), Lisle (1955: 21) and later Williams II (1975: 27- 28.) consider Temple F on the Forum, an apsidal temple built before 50 CE, to be the temple in question. 89. In Antiquity, the Caesar and lulus in Vergil's Aeneid I. 286-8 was perceived as lulius Caesar (Dobbin 1995: 6): 'From this noble line shall be born the Trojan Caesar, who shall limit his empire with ocean, his glory with the stars, a Julius, name descended from great lulus!' 90. Cf. Schilling (1982: 301-304). This aspect of Aphrodite is also confirmed in Corinth by small findings: some lamps mentioned by Saffrey (1985: 372), depict Caesar and Aphrodite together. A Corinthian coin from the time of Nero carries the portraits of Nero and Aphrodite (British Museum Catalogue 555). 91. Charles K. Williams in a lecture, spring 1995. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 105 there. But as the Mother of the Roman Nation and the Julio-Claudian house, she enjoyed the most elaborate temple on the western end of the Forum and the first Roman temple to be erected there (Williams II 1989: 157). The cult statue may have been the one by Hermogenes of Cythera, mentioned by Pausanias (2.2.8) and depicted on Corinthian coins representing Aphrodite standing and holding a scepter and apple (Roux 1958: 107).92 Augustus considered Apollo to have been his progenitor. The cult of Apollo Augustus in Corinth was probably introduced under Augustus. Therefore a small temple (G) was erected on the Forum of Augustan Corinth, beside the temple of the protectress of Julius Caesar (Venus Genetrix).93 Some first century inscriptions mention priests94 of Apollo Augustus. As a cult most closely intertwined with political institutions and taking place in the public sphere, imperial cult was the place of elite men. In Corinth, this elite consisted largely of freedmen. Through donations, they could show off their new Roman citizenship (Meyer 1990: 95), wealth and express their gratitude and loyalty towards Roman benefactors and the emperor in return for the opportunities given them in the new colony. This is probably the reason why, in striking contrast to the other cults, the imperial cult of Roman Corinth is known mainly through inscriptions. 20 out of 32 Latin inscriptions to Roman cults are to the imperial cult. The Latin dedications are all in marble, an expensive material in Corinth since it had to be imported, and they generally record the dedications of marble or bronze statues. The most favored motifs on first century imperial coins of Corinth are portraits of members of the imperial family.95 Some imperial women are

92. See also the Roman figurine of Venus Genetrix (pi. 22b) in Zervos and Williams II (1984: 103). 93. Williams II (1989: 158): Temple G, which is built against the side of the Temple of Venus, is to be identified as that of Clarian Apollo. The significance of having a temple to Apollo in the Forum probably is to be found in the celebration of the House of Augustus and its founder.' For comparison with Rome, see Detschew (1950: 528). 94. West (1931: no. 120) has a first cent, inscription which probably mentions two sacerdotes of Apollo Augustus: 'L HERMIDIVS CELSVS ET L RUTILUS sacerdotes apollinis (?) AVGVSTI ET L HERMIDius MAXIMVS ET L HERMIDIVS AEDEM ET STATUAM APOLLINIS AUGUSTI ET TABERNAS DECEM'. Cf. Lisle (1955: 101): Throughout Greece the worship of Augustus was grafted onto the cult of Apollo At Athens the priest of Apollo became the high priest of the Roman emperor.' We also find a similar association of the imperial gens with Apollo (and possibly Jupiter) in Corinth (West 1931: no.4), although the restoration of Jupiter is not certain: 'iovi o(ptimus) m(aximus) apollINIQVE • GENIOque coloniae et colonoRVM L(audis) I (uliae) C(orinthi) SACRVM • A(ulus) • ... habens orNAMENT • DECVRIONalia'. 95. Head (1889: xlvi) gives a short overview of different types: For the very relevant period of C. Caligula, the portraits depict according to West (1931: 17): J. Caesar, Augustus 106 Women in Their Place represented more frequently than others on Corinthian coins and other texts.96 Although the official rituals took place in sanctuaries, shopping areas and basilicas could also bear the spiritual presence of the emperor, represented by a statue or other symbolic representations: in the Julian Basilica for example, which perhaps dates from Tiberius' period, official statues and portrait heads were found, suggesting that there may have been a niche there dedicated to the imperial family. In the words of de Grazia, 'Family groups like that in the Julian Basilica abound in the first cent. AD. both in Italy and outside. While the intent is the same, that is, to honor not only the man who rules the Empire but the family which produced and supported him, the contents of these groups varies' (1973: 46). Portrait sculpture of Corinthian women in this period is is nearly absent. Corinth Museum inv.no. 8.76.2 is identified as a youthful face of Octavia. Some later female portraits are also found in the vicinity of Temple E (Grazia 1973: no. 32-33; Walbank 1989: 386).97 Against this background, the relatively frequent representation of women of the imperial family through coins, sculpture and the naming of a colonnade or perhaps even a temple (see below) is all the more interesting (Walbank 1989: 386). Still, imperial women are not represented nearly as frequently as their men. Mostly they are represented as personifications of positive feminine virtues, not as individual personalities who naturally also could have inspired more vicious deeds. The focus on imperial women as models and as supporters of the emperor probably served as a channel for transmission of the imperial virtues of the Augustan reform98 and of later moral reforms. The Augustan reform was legitimized as a restoration of the religion and good

Livia, Caligula, Antonia Augusta, Germanicus Caesar, Agrippina, Nero (a coin type issued in the reign of Nero shows a tetrastyle temple with Nero inside [Amandry 1988: 221, pi. XLI]). and Drusus (British Museum Catalogue no. 510; possibly 522). 96. Walbank (1989: 369-71); Baldson (1962: 63 and chapter 4: The Women of Augustus' Court'). 97. See one of the rare examples in Appendix 3. Grazia (1973: 51) comments: There are far fewer heads and portrait statues of women than of men. In the first century, there is just one female head (Cat. no. 5)... The disproportionate numbers in the first cent, may be the result of fortuitous finds, yet a more equal balance appears in the finds of subsequent centuries. The inequality is particularly remarkable in comparison with cities like Pompeii and Herculaneum where statues of women, and not just empresses, find a prominent place in the city (both in private and public locations). Although it is tempting to speculate about the nature of Corinth's family and social customs in the first cent. AD from this fact, the question requires more research.' 98. See des Bouvrie (1984: 101); Baldson (1962: 79, 215). Also Plutarch and Horace bear witness to this moral restoration (or rather innovation) program that started with Augustus, each in their way: Plutarch is influenced by the values of the reform, Horace writes satirically about the legislation. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritualal 107 manners which had characterized Rome's golden past. Public moral was to be raised, husbands should look after their wives, and the wives should have more children. But again, there was also a place for 'mortal' women in this cult. For as what we saw in the previous chapter, we should keep the possibility open that even if the imperial cult was constructed mainly in and as male space since it took place in the public spaces of the city, some women would make dedications to it or function as priestesses in it. Priestesses were not uncommon in the imperial cult, but their place was strictly defined and confined in relation to that of their male 'colleagues'. A priestess of Providentiae Augustae et Salutis Publicae is known," and the goddess Victoria was served by a priestess as well.100 The most prominent position documented in Corinth is a high priestess-hood of an Augusta (a female version of the Augustus, a deified member of the imperial family): either Livia or Octavia or some other female member of the imperial family.101 The Livia in question would be Livia Drusilla (58 BCE-29 CE), Augustus' wife for 51 years. After the death of Augustus in 14 CE, she was titled Julia Augusta. She is the woman most frequently depicted on coins and statues from early Roman Corinth, because she never got a damnatio memoriae as many of the other women. A Corinthian inscription mentions her deification under Claudius (Meritt 1931: no. 19). Livia is there called 0ea 'louXia SepdaTT]. Still, it is significant that in the case of the deified females of the imperial household, it is impossible to know exactly which woman is honored. The title of Augusta (=£efkicnT|), like Augustus, could in principle be applied to several female members of the imperial family. As ideal women, they are without names and recongizable faces.102 They are present as wives and supporters, and as such, role models. As Juvenal states: 'What woman will not imitate the wife of the emperor?'103

99. CALLICRATEAE | PHILESI FIL(iae) SACERDOTI IN PERPET(vvm) PROVIDENTIAE AVG(vsti) ET SALVTIS PVBLICAE TRIBVLES TRIBVS AGRIP- PiAE BENE MERITAE (West 1931: no. 110, comp. 'L'Annee Epigraphique' 1971: no. 442) What more exactly it would have meant to be a priestess of Providentia Augustae, a ritual established in Corinth probably in Tiberian times, is discussed in Mohler (1932: 116). 100. West (1931: no. 110) and Kent (1966: 89 no. 199) (cf. Broneer 1939: 188-89.): - - - Mc F AENAE sc VICTORIAE vv HCINIVS PRISCVs ivventianVS ARCHIEREVS oPTVMAE D(ecreto) D(ecurionum): To Polyaena, daughte of Marcus, priestess of Victory. The high priest P. Licinius Priscus luventianus (sc. set up this monument) with the official sanction of the city council to (this) excellent woman.' 101. IG IV,399 renders/reconstructs a funerary inscription of an (dTTxieTrrrei)a lepaarfis Cf. Lisle (1955: 107). 102. Cf. above pp. 61-62; Lisle (1955: 64 n. 187). As discussed in Chapter 3, female members of the imperial family should not be represented with too individual traits, so they are hard to identify. 103. Satire 6. 108 Women in Their Place

Inscriptions that honor prominent men of the colony often mention them also as priests or high priests of the imperial cult, such as Spartiaticus104 and P. Licinius Priscus Juventianus.105 For men, cultic roles were highly differentiated, varying from the primarily honorific ones to those implying a practical ritual function. The Angustales, whose presence is confirmed in Corinth through an inscription on a tall statue base and in one other inscription, administered and presided over the imperial cult, including the cult of the Gens Mia (Lisle 1955: 107-108).106 Probably they also presided over the cult of the Lares.101 The office of the Augustalis was probably a popular one in Corinth: primarily an honorific title, it served to raise the status of freedmen who were otherwise excluded from priesthoods and municipal honors. Also the priestly collegia are mentioned, like the sodali and thefratres arvales. In Corinth, men are mentioned as priests - as archiereusm, flamen, pontifex, sacerdos in the imperial cults of Divus Julius, Mars Augustus, Apollo Augustus, Saturn Augustus, Domus Augustae, Divus Claudius, and Victoria Britannica and many others.109 Thus the imperial cult is an example of a cult that integrates the genders by giving the genders different ritual functions, clothing and symbolic meanings: both genders can be represented in the priesthood, but still a priestess was not just a female priest and a priest was not just a male priestess. The cult of the goddess Vesta at Rome on one level constituted an exception to the imperial cult system in that women (although of a quite deviant kind) were given a place very close to the goddess. Six Vestal virgins were in charge of constantly tending the flame of the goddess, therefore periodical sexual abstinence was not enough for these girls or women although it was common in many other cults of the ancient world. The older Vestals had a considerable amount of freedom and juridical independence. But the physical space within which they lived was strictly

104. Early in Nero's reign: FLAM /DIVI IVLI PONTIF /// ARCHIERI DOMVS AVG in PERPETVVM (West 1931: 50 no. 68; cf. Spawforth 1994: 218-30). 105. Characterized as ARCHIEREVS during Claudius' reign (West 1931: 54 no. 70). Compare with the priests mentioned as priests of Apollo. 106. The statue base, perhaps carrying a colossal statue of Athena, is discussed in Scranton (1951: 142); the inscription is discussed in West (1931: no. 77). For the varied functions of the Augustales, see Beard, North, and Price (1998: 357-58) and Duthoy (1978: 1299). 107. Although we have no inscriptions/traces of the domestic cult of the Lares, an inscription to the Lares Augusti documents the close ties between the Lares cult and the imperial cult (West 1931: no. 13). The inscription was found in the Julian Basilica and is dated to 25-50 CE. See Wissowa (1912: 172-73) for the integration of the Lares cult into the imperial cult under Augustus. 108. See Spawforth (1994: 218-21). 109. See West (1931: no. 6, 53, 67, 68, 70, 71, 81, 120). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 109 bounded, as was the body they inhabited. According to Beard, 'the virgin was not looked upon as sterile but as a mediator of stored up, potential procreative power' (1980: 15). Hence the need for sealing - to retain her power which could engender both procreation and disaster, within. And if a Vestal was found guilty of having opened her body to a man, the penalty was complete seclusion: a room was built for her that was completely sealed off, and where she eventually died. There were no Vestal virgins in Corinth, but this cult is a clear example of how important physical boundaries were to those spaces where the powers related to femininity were played out and disciplined for the common good. In Corinth, there was a space for the embodied feminine (as differentiated from the deified, idealized, imperial women) in the imperial cult, even a more prominent one than in the public spaces of the city. Still it was relatively subordinated to the masculine in the same ritual space, and far less differentiated. This relative subordination is found again on the divine level: some women of the imperial family were deified, but not many, and they never came close to their male relatives in prestige and honor. They were usually mentioned without their proper name. Still, the cult also of particular female members of the imperial household contributed to the representation of femininity at the highest symbolic levels. Within this cosmology, the world still consisted of both male and female: to use John Scheid's expression, women were 'disqualified but indispensable' in the cosmology of Rome, and in the rituals that enacted this cosmology (Scheid 1992: 400). Through the various monuments, the imperial cult dominated the Forum above all, but also other public spaces of the city, and had a variety of functions. Taking place in male space, public offices and ritual offices walked hand in hand for the men. Some limited places existed for women: as priestesses in cults of goddesses and female deified members of the imperial household. Still, the possible presence of a 'feminine' temenos that could be seen from all over the male space of the Forum because it was spatially placed higher than the Forum, is significant. From a modern point of view it can be read as an ironic statement concerning the tension in both Greece and Rome, between the exclusion of the feminine from political life and its inclusion and importance in religious life.110

Male doctors, mixed patients. Asclepius was the son of a god (Apollo) and a mortal woman (Koronis), born in Epidauros according to Pausanias.111

110. Cf. Zaidman (1992: 339), and above all the introduction to Staples (1997) where she displays particularly clearly the odd contrast between the political exclusion and the religious inclusion of women. 111. Description, 2.26.1-2.27.6. See further Hesiod Catalogues of Women and Eoiae frg. 63 and 90; Homeric Hymn to Asclepius; and Pindar, 3"' Pythian Ode. 110 Women in Their Place

He 'inherited' and specialized in Apollo's healing properties. The man Asclepius lived as a healer, but was killed by Zeus when he broke the line between life and death, in Pindar's version by bringing a dead person back to life. Later he was transformed into a god and given a new existence. From Hellenistic times, Asclepius was often worshipped together with his female counterpart, Hygieia, and according to Pausanias this was also the case in Corinth. Sometimes she is described as his daughter, sometimes as his partner. The sanctuary space of Asclepius is located just inside the northern city walls. Naturally for a place of healing, it was also located by a spring that was built into the sanctuary, however in Roman times only the priests could walk freely between the temple and the fountain courtyard through the adyton. On the lower level of the fountain courtyard (the temple was on a higher level) dining rooms were found, but it is not at all clear whether they were still in use in Roman times. The history of the sanctuary in Roman times is very difficult to outline because of the thorough destruction of the sanctuary in the fourth century CE. Although the Roman finds for the greater part are unidentifiable fragments, one fragment of a marble slab of Roman times (second century CE) is readable. It mentions the gratitude of a worshipper who dedicated the tablet (Waele 1933: 437). Terracotta votive offerings representing body limbs are found in huge amounts in the Greek strata of the sanctuary (Waele 1933: 428), but in the Roman layers only a marble finger was found. The offerings show the custom of bringing representations of the affected parts of the body to the temple in gratitude for help received, or perhaps as assistance in a prayer of divine aid, but with such meagre findings it is difficult to tell whether or not this practice continued on a large scale in the Roman period. Roebuck suggests that the sanctuary of Asclepius in Corinth, like other places, would retain a staff of priests and attendants who held services and festivals and carried out its temple healing (Roebuck 1951: 157). When the Romans inhabited Corinth, they probably brought their own priests from the Isola Tiberi, an island in the Tiber consecrated to Asclepius to which the cult of Asclepius was brought in 291 BCE from Epidauros. The healing ritual contained purificatory bathing, sacrifices and ceremonies, followed by a night in the abaton,n2 whose relatively modest size indicates that the sanctuary must have served local Corinthians who might have spent 1-2 nights there. Some patients may also have profited from exercise in the Gymnasium which significantly was located nearby.

112. Room for incubation and sleep. Roebuck (1951: 157); comp. Kasas and Struckmann (1990: 30). Roebuck (1951: 157-58.) and Lang (1977: 10-12) give an illuminating sketch of a visitor's movement through the space of the sanctuary. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritua 111l

A sanctuary of the healing god in a Greek city may have been connected with a 'school' of medicine, and increasingly so as physicians took over the leadership of the sanctuaries of Asclepius in Roman times (Kasas and Struckmann 1990: 27)."3 Thus the cures and rituals of the sanctuaries were gradually replaced by Hippocratic medicine (e.g. at Kos), although some sanctuaries kept closer to the traditional way (e.g. at Epidauros). The fact that at least some of the priests of the Corinthian Asklepieion were also physicians is clear from an inscription found in the sanctuary honoring the 'hopeful' physician Gaius Vibius, son of Meges, who was a priest of Asclepius."4 This inscription presupposes the existence of a family o priests of the sanctuary in the first century CE (Roebuck 1951: 157)."5 The (Roman period) physician Thrasippus (Kent 1966: no. 300) may also have been a priest. There are no texts mentioning female cult officials. Thus, the rooms and levels within the sanctuary space of Asklepius where women could be present were those reserved for patients and possibly diners - at the lowest level of the hierarchy.

4.4 The Frenzied Female 4.4.1 Dionysos and the Maenads Dionysos is a deity closely connected to the history of Corinth. As the name indicates, the ancient royal family of Corinth, the 'Bacchiadai', traced their origins back to him. The association of Dionysos with the Theater was, if possible, even stronger in Corinth than elsewhere, since it was thought that it was in Corinth that Dionysos for the first time revealed the dithyramb to men."6 The Theater was still in use in Roman times, but the rituals of Dionysos or his equivalents were limited neither to its space nor to any other sanctuary space, but were integrated into festivals and daily life. The powers of fertility, life and agriculture that Dionysos represented were close to those represented by Demeter, so the two deities were sometimes worshipped together (Bookidis and Stroud 1987: 27).

113. These two ways of healing are perceived as a split in the Asclepius tradition in Kee (1983: 86). 114. Roebuck (1951: 156-57 no. 1035): TAION OYIBI(oy) .IATPON EYEAIIIZCrov) MEFHTOI .aaicXOimou). IEPEA (reXeiov) HKOPINeCiwv (SoiAr)) 115. Some scholars think that also the famous physician Galen visited Corinth, cf. Waele (1933: 434). In Corinth, Galen stayed at the house of Numisianus, who was also a pupil of the physician Quintus of Smyrna. Cf. Meritt (1931: no. 130). 116. Pindar, 13'1' Olympian Ode, 18-19 has it that in Corinth The graces of Dionysos first came to light, with the ox-driving dithyramb' - a theme later picked up by Herodot and Aulus Gellius. 112 Women in Their Place

Both in Sicyon, the neighbouring town, and in Kenchreai, Corinth's harbor, we hear about thiasoi with female members in Roman times (see below). An inscription from the Isthmos also mentions a naos - temple - of Dionysos, within a sacred space where also Demeter, Kore and Artemis were worshipped.117 Within the city itself the evidence is meagre in the early Roman period, although the cult is well attested earlier, and later in the second century CE. Thus the Dionysiac cult follows the pattern we have seen in some of the cults mentioned above: The early Roman period seems to have been a fermentation period before the religious texts again increase in the second century, both in number and in new forms. The important question here is not whether 'real' maenads existed in early Roman Corinth or not, but how the Corinthian texts on Dionysiac rituals represent the place of women. Dionysiac rituals may have been purely an artistic topos in the Corinthia - or, if thiasoi existed, the members may merely have told each other stories about frenzied maenads. However, these stories may still have constructed a textual sacred space with a place for women, parallel to the construction of the ekklesia in Paul's text. Pausanias refers to the foundation myth of the cult of Dionysos in the area. He is told by the Corinthians: 'Pentheus, acting outrageously toward Dionysos, ultimately dared to go to Kithairon to spy on the women, and, climbing up a tree, to gaze upon what they were doing. The women, when they discovered him, immediately dragged Pentheus down and tore him limb from limb while still alive. Later, as the Corinthians say, the Pythia declared to them in an oracle that they were to find that tree and revere it as (or equally with) a god. From the tree the Corinthians made some wooden images of Dionysos that stood on the Forum; one was called Lysion, the other Bakcheios' (Pausanias, Description, 2.2.6).118 The myth and the names represent the wooden statues and the Dionysiac rituals as genuine and local. Whether these wooden statues of Dionysos belonged to the remains of antiquity or to monuments from Corinth's second ascendancy is not clear, but they had at least an aura of antiquity. Since two of the statues of Dionysos in Sicyon, Corinth's neighbour, have the same names as the two in Corinth,119 many scholars believe that Pausanias confuses his accounts. But it is also possible that two neighbouring towns that had a many other formal connections also

117. IG IV.203, dating from 77-150 CE. 118. See further Birge (1986). 119. Pausanias, Description, 2.7.6. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 113 shared a common, local Dionysiac mythology.120 The Sicyonians in addition tell Pausanias that the bacchai are women sacred to Dionysos and maddened by his inspiration.121 In a Greek inscription from Roman times found in Kenchreai, a woman named Amfus, probably the wife of Flavius Troilus, is termed fJouKoAa, that is, a member of a bacchic thiasos.122 A series of second century CE terracotta relief bowls from Corinth with scenes of Dionysiac rites were presented in Spitzer (1942). Spitzer drew connections between motifs and perspective in the bowls and the local Corinthian context.123 The decoration, which is the distinctive feature of these Corinthian bowls, falls into four groups, of which the (seemingly) Dionysiac rites constitute one (Spitzer 1942: 165).124 The motifs repeatedly include women. The standard motif of a satyr wrestling with a maenad is naturally represented, but so are ritual scenes: a priestess by an altar,125 a possible priestess 'baptizing',126 and a partly draped woman or man carrying a pitcher in the right hand and a plate in the left.127 In addition, 'Scene n (fig. 16) shows two women with long skirts, engaged in suspending some long narrow objects. The one on the right kneels toward a pile on the ground while her companion, with a bundle on her back, stoops to pick it up... The ceremony is undoubtedly connected in some way with the Dionysiac ritual' (Spitzer 1942: ISO).128 Spitzer reflects on the connection between the relief motifs and the Corinthian context,129 and thinks that possibly there was some local Dionysiac ritual, 'traditional country worship, whose popularity in second century. Corinth is particularly

120. 'The cult of Dionysos Lysios in neighboring Sicyon was brought from Thebes, in this case too, on the advice of the Pythian priestess' (Lisle 1955: 20). Thebes was the closest important center for a cult of Dionysos. 121. Tcarras ras ywaiKas iepct? tlvai icai AiovOaw fiaiveaGcu Aeyouaiy (Pausanias, Description, 2.7.6). Paul uses the same verb as the Sicyonians in 1 Cor. 14.23. 122. IG IV.207. According to the editor, this is not the only inscription where a woman is termed as such. Lisle (1955: 52 no. 122) has other references to the cult of Zeus-Dionysos in Roman Kenchreai. 123. E.g. Spitzer (1942: 177, 186). 124. See illustration in Appendix 3. 125. Spitzer (1942: 181, bowl III.2 [fig. 13d] and III.7 [fig. 15]): 'A woman with a long garment.(...) reaching hands up toward the branch of an olive tree or a vine.(...) In III.7 another figure seems to be behind the first. Before this priestess, if such she be, there is another type of altar placed at an angle, with a round object (possibly an omphalos, or intended to represent flame) upon it; behind her a calyxkrater rests on the ground'. 126. Spitzer (1942: 182, bowl III.8; cf. 185 fig. 17, and 184 scene h): 'A nude woman (?) holding a basin over the head of a nude youth. Kern interprets this not as Kore but as a "baptism" by a nude priestess of Dionysos.' (Kern is another analyst of such bowls.) 127. Spitzer (1942: 179, and 184 scene g). 128. Cf. illustration in Appendix 3. 129. Lisle too uses Spitzer's bowls as attestation of a cult of Dionysos at Corinth (Lisle 1955: 56 n. 138). 114 Women in Their Place attested by Pausanias' (Spitzer 1942: 186), which would justify the peculiar variants of some of the motifs. Both in Pausanias and in the wooded and ivied background of motif group III significance is attached to the tree. The reliefs showed both priestesses and maenads. In the symbolic sacred space represented on these bowls, as in the other stories of Dionysos related to Corinth, the deity is worshipped by women and served by priestesses. The cult is even initiated at the demand of the Pythian priestess.130 Thus, in this case we find a male deity at the top of the hierarchy, but all the lower steps are occupied by women. In all the texts, except for the relief bowls with the sacrificial motifs, the maenadic element is clearly visible: the type of cultic female constructed here is the frenzied female whose behavior is potentially dangerous, even if the powers of Dionysos are also represented as life-enhancing. Richard and Catherine Kroeger who also list many of the pre-Roman examples, state that exceptionally strong cultic and mythological associations between women and excesses of religious violence existed in Corinth.131 The clearest case of the dangerous, frenzied female is the local cult's founding myth, where the raving women tear a man to pieces. Although we cannot read these texts as historical reports, many of the texts mentioned still negotiate a conflict seen many times by now, in this and the previous chapter: on the one hand, the life-giving forces associated with women, vestal virgins, Dionysos, Demeter, and other goddesses were considered potentially dangerous, in need of taming, boundaries and seclusion; on the other hand, these forces were considered necessary for the well-being of life and society. One would think that a deity associated with such rituals and such a founding myth would be given a place in an enclosed, remote sanctuary. One would also think that Dionysos would not be very popular among the new Roman citizens and would hardly fit into the Forum context in which he is described. Educated male authors of Rome perceived Dionysiac cult as strange and suspect - not least because of the place it offered women.132 In this context, the wooden Dionysoi located on the Corinthian Roman Forum are an argument for the pre-Roman origins of the cult, and hence for its presence also in the first century CE.

130. Pausanias, Description, 2.2.6. 131. Kroeger (1978: 332): Medea's killing of her children in order to take vengeance on her husband, Pausanias' story referred above, the tearing apart of Melissa, the priestess of Demeter. 132. CIL I 2 581: A decree of the Senate of Rome, from 186 BCE, dealing with the same incident as the account of Livy's Annals of Rome, 39.8-18. Women's nocturnal drinking parties with music in the name of Dionysos became a favoured theme in the new comedy (see. e.g., Plautus, Cistellaria, 156-159). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 115

4.4.2 The Sanctuary Space by the Fountain of Glauke -for Juno, Medea and Her Children? Frenzied females were also associated with the main cluster of sanctuary spaces from the Greek period. The area in question became more marginal in Roman times as it was divided by a deep quarry and as the city centre was moved to the south of the so-called Temple Hill.133 Part of the new, lower level of this area was marked off by a temenos including the sanctuary space of Temple C, and adjoined the fountain of Glauke.- Scranton dates Temple C to late Augustan or Tiberian times (Stillwell, Scranton, and Freeman 1941: 147-65). The temenos was built later, but still in the first century CE (Hill 1964: 211). It is also in this area, perhaps even within the same temenos, that Pausanias saw the tomb of Medea's children. The fountain of Glauke, although a successful imitation of Greek style, is also of Roman date, cut out of a piece of bedrock that the Romans left when they made the quarry. Charles Williams explains why the Roman fountain looked so 'authentic Greek': 'the design was determined by the literary spirit of the educated Roman colonist, who wanted to be able to show a monument of ancient Corinth fitting, as he saw it, the myth of Medea as it was passed down, even into the time of Pausanias, perhaps justifying the local version of the tragedy over that set down by Euripides' (Williams II 1987: 35).134 As ancient theories of the human body described female bodies as moist and humid, and male bodies dry and warm, so fountains and water were also frequently gendered female. According to Pausanias, the fountain of Glauke is named after the princess who threw herself into it, believing that the water would relieve the pains, burns and itches caused by her wedding dress, poisoned by Medea, the queen of Corinth.135 Medea had even left the land of immortals to be together with her husband Jason. When Jason wanted to marry Glauke instead, Medea made the dress and had her children bring it to Glauke. Pausanias places the monument to Medea's children beside the fountain. They were stoned to death by the Corinthians because of their role in Glauke's demise. They, in turn, continued after

133. The hill got its name from Archaic temple (probably the Temple of Apollo) situated on it, see http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/image?lookup = Perseus:image:1987.09.0413 (November 2003). 134. Euripides depicts Medea in a less favorable light than the local version rendered by Pausanias and Aelian (see below), Diodorus (Library, 4.56.1), Athenaeus and others: Corinthians praise her for her wisdom and bravery, but Euripides depicts her as 'the inhuman sorceress from beyond the Black Sea who murdered her own sons in order to take vengeance on Jason' (Broneer 1976: 158). 135. Pausanias, Description, 2.3.6. See the destroyed facade of the fountainhouse from the north, http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/image?lookup = 1987.09.0431 (November 2003). 116 Women in Their Place death to take revenge on the Corinthians, destroying Corinthian babies, until yearly sacrifices were established in their honor and a figure of Terror (Aeijia) was set up. A statue of Terror, of which there is no trace, may have had a connection with an equally untraceable funerary monument of Medea's children since Pausanias mentions them consecutively. According to Lisle, the statue can be 'no earlier than Hellenistic or Roman, for such symbolical representations, personifications of abstractions treated with stark realism, were foreign to Greek art of the Archaic and Classical periods... It may be that the statue, later misinterpreted, was meant to be Medea herself; in this case, it could be earlier than the Hellenistic period' (Lisle 1955: 83 n. 256). Temple C is thought to be the temple of Hera/Juno. No direct evidence is at hand, but in the words of the excavators, We may, however, turn for a clue to the most peculiar part about the precinct... - the opening into the fountain of Glauke. As we do know something about the fountain, if we could determine the relation between it and the precinct, some light might be shed on the problem of the cult (Stillwell, Scranton, and Freeman 1941: 149).136 Scranton is thinking of an opening in the roof of the fountainhouse into a reservoir of the fountain of Glauke, which he thought led up to a Greek predecessor of Temple C more or less on top of the fountain. However, after it was discovered that the fountain is of Roman date, Scranton's theory about the connection between Temple C and the fountain of Glauke has fallen into disrepute. It is now more difficult to prove that Temple C was dedicated to Juno/Hera. However, the fact that Scanton was wrong about his hypothesis concerning the Greek stage does not prove that he was wrong concerning the identification of the Roman Temple C. After all, he only concludes concerning the Roman stage that 'we see a Roman sanctuary beside the fountain, also with access to the water' (Stillwell, Scranton, and Freeman 1941: 158). A connection between the Roman sanctuary and fountain may have been intended, and may have some bearing on the cult.137 If we see this cityscape as a mythological landscape, an embodiment of a 'representation of space', the mere proximity of the fountain and the temenos may be significant, although any

136. Cf. Wiseman (1979: 473 n. 132, and 520). 137. 'In the northwest corner of the precinct an opening was cut through into chamber 1 of the reservoir of the fountain of Glauke. In the rear of the temple, exactly at the central point of the west colonnade of the peribolos, a pit had been constructed. If the pit was watertight, these two structural features seem related; but then we need an explanation of the purpose of so large a pool of water' (Lisle 1955: 29). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 119 hard proof that this was the sanctuary space of Juno/Hera cannot be found. For this reason it is difficult to map the sanctuary space of Temple C in the Roman period and determine what kind of rituals were performed there. Literary texts from Roman times are ambiguous as to whether the ancient rituals related to Medea's children were still going on.138 If Temple C really was dedicated to Juno/Hera, it is most likely that Roman rites were performed there. But even if the local cult of Hera, with which the Medean myths/rituals were linked, developed into a Roman cult of Juno, the ancient myths so closely connected to the topography of Corinth still seem to have been remembered and 'monumentalised', according to the comment by Pausanias. The image of Terror mentioned by Pausanias, and commented upon by Hesychios, Zenobius and others, could be read to indicate that some expiatory rites survived into the Roman period. In that case, the goal would be to drive out the blood-guilt attached to the Corinthians after they had killed Medea's children within sanctuary space,139 which had occurred because Medea had left them within the temenos of Hera before fleeing the city. Broneer suggests that by Roman times 'images of baked clay were apparently thrown into the fountain in celebration of the event' (1976: 15).140 Although this must remain speculation, it is not necessary to conclude that the ritual practices had ceased in Roman times as long as material spaces accommodating the 'space of representation' of the myth continued to be built and restored: the fountain, a possible Terror statue (see above) and funerary monument, and the building/restoration of temple C. A strong indication that rituals enacting the old myths were still being practised, is the mentioned physical connection between the Roman sanctuary space and fountain of Glauke. Whether space for ritual enactment or 'mere museum', the fountain of Glauke with the adjacent sanctuary space anyway carried names, myths, and possibly statues of frenzied females: one frenzied through drugs (Glauke), the other one through jealousy and loss of children (Medea). An

138. Aelian, who lived in Corinth from 170-235 CE, states that the cult of Medea's children has survived: Concerning the myth of Medea, the Corinthians hold that the version that is negative of Medea is a lie spread through Euripides' drama: 'For she did not kill her children, the Corinthians did... Because of this deed, they say, the Corinthians offer sacrifices to the children until this day as if giving tribute to them' (Varia Historia, 5.21). Lisle (1955: 149) accuses Aelian of just citing Parmeniskos verbatim. At least the citation is not verbatim, in that Parmeniskos' version instead of Aelian's (j.exPl TO

4.5 The Wife of the Israelite: The God of Israel Even if Judaism will have to be dealt with more in the next chapter, a few words about the image of Judaism in early Roman Corinth is in order here, since we must assume both that some of Paul's addressees were Jewish, and since it is likely that his message in Corinth was 'read' as a kind of Judaism. Thus I will give Judaism more space here than the few Jewish texts in early Roman Corinth would indicate.142 A considerable portion of the population in the Roman Empire was Jewish: thus Jews were also present in Corinth, the most important city in Greece at this time. The Jews of the Diaspora before 70 CE may best be described as different Jewish sects that had a frame of reference in common: this frame was constituted mainly by 'Torah and Temple'. This is illustrated, for example, in Philo's writing Ad Caium (281). Philo presents a fictive letter from King Agrippa to Caius Caligula, emperor 37- 41 CE. Ad Caium was written after Claudius' ascent to the throne but before Philo's death about 45 CE. King Agrippa explains to Caius how important a city Jerusalem is as capital of the Jewish colonies, the Jewish colony in Corinth included.

141. Other Corinthian fountains were named after Peirene who cried so much over the murder of her son Kenchrias that she became a spring, and Lerna, a marsh that fostered a snake-like monster, the so-called Lernean Hydra. There was also a decorative fountain of Poseidon. 142. One could argue that Paul was Jewish and that Judaism in a wide sense is the tradition best witnessed in early Roman Corinth! Then the presentation of Judaism here is narrower than the amount of Jewish texts would indicate, although this body of texts will be the focus of the following chapters. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 119

We have more detailed information about the Jewish presence in Roman Corinth through Paul's letters and the Acts of the Apostles. This implies that I do not take for granted that the Christians and the Jews were already two clearly distinguishable groups to outsiders, although the Jews and Christ-believers themselves may have been conscious of differences between the different synagogues and ekklesiai of the city. If there is a historical incident behind the story in Acts 18 (Paul before Gallio), there is also reason to believe that the groups of Christians and of Jews preferred not to be identified with each other rather early - or at least that Jews did not like to be identified with the Christians. The value of Acts as a source is disputed, but I draw on it here because it indicates something confirmed by Philo and Josephus: that there were already Jews in Corinth when Paul arrived. Acts 18 names two: Aquila, whose family was from Pontos, and his wife Priscilla. They had come to Corinth from Italy because of the edict of Claudius that all Jews should be expelled from Rome.143 Whether they already believed in Christ when they moved to Corinth cannot be stated for sure. But since it seems so obvious for Paul that he was the founder of the ekklesia in Corinth, the couple may simply have gathered with the other Corinthian Jews. Among these there may also have been other Christ-believers. If Paul's arrival then provoked a schism between Christ-believing and other Jews because of his views on the Torah, this schism was the precondition for his founding of an ekklesia in the city. This possibility is important to keep in mind when reading Paul's texts on schisms in the Corinthian ekklesia, As mentioned, the first Christian group in Corinth gathered around Paul, Priscilla and Aquila, were likely perceived by their neighbours as constituting a Jewish sect. This means that candidates may have thought that they were joining a kind of Judaism through which they were included in the chosen people of God. That some still believed so even after many years is shown by their openness towards 'Hebrew' opponents of Paul and Paul's argument in 2 Cor. 11.22-24 that he too is a Hebrew as good as any.144 Although traces of Jewish addressees are not as dominant in the Corinthian correspondence as in letters to other communities, Paul tells the old stories from the Jewish tradition to his pagan and Jewish listeners in Corinth. In this way, he teaches them the stories of the people of God and tries to lead the Corinthian New People of God into the narrative

143. See Rutgers (1998: 105). 144. On the character of Paul's opponents in Corinth (2 Corinthians 11) as people attached to Jewish-Alexandrian wisdom-philosophy with Apollo as leader, see Hyldahl (1993: 267-69). 120 Women in Their Place universes underlying the Jewish discourse, and to make them behave by following the examples of Abraham and Moses. An inscribed lintel found on the Lechaeum Road (not in situ) carries the letters ATOrH EBP, which unanimously is taken to mean awaywyf) eppaiojv (Meritt 1931: 78 no. 111). But, as Meritt already points out, 'the style of lettering indicates that the inscription is considerably later than the time of St. Paul' (1931: 79). However, importantly, this text says that there was a synagogue building in Corinth in the second half of the second century CE. There are varying views about the extent to which synagogues in general had yet moved into buildings architecturally adjusted to the purpose by the first century CE.145 But it seems clear that the synagogue as ritual gathering for the study of Torah came into existence many centuries earlier, both in Israel, Rome and elsewhere.146 Thus, whether Jews studied Torah together at home, in rented public buildings or perhaps rebuilt houses, there were no buildings monumentalized according to the special needs of the ritual gatherings of the synagogue at this early stage. The development of synagogues as 'material space' started perhaps prior to the Julio-Claudian era, but the particular features of synagogue architecture came later, after the fall of the Second Temple.147 Many written texts mentioning synagogues from the Second Temple period are therefore taken rather as references to the cult communities,148 and to sacred spaces constructed through ritual. There may be differences between Palestine and Diaspora though, and in that case the earliest development of synagogue buildings must be expected in the Diaspora. For this book, this means that the particular traits of the synagogue space belonged to its 'space of representation', if not to its 'material space'.

145. Runesson (2001); Rutgers (1996: 68-69) mentions an example from first cent. Rome, where the funerary inscription of a non-Jewish fruit seller placed his trade's location between the old city wall and the synagogue, thus presupposing that the synagogue was a building, and that everybody knew where it was. 146. Richardson (1998); Fine (1997: 25 and 32), who concludes that although the origins are steeped in mystery, the synagogue becomes recognizable during the last century of the Second Temple's existence (30 BCE - 70 CE). Cf. White (1998) on late first or early second cent. CE synagogue building in Ostia (among the earliest de novo synagogue buildings). 147. This is disputed though, and for some also a very tense question (Kee 1994, 1995). 148. These were socially organized as collegia in Roman colonies (Richardson 1998: 17- 18), and so-called politeumata in the East (Murphy-O'Connor 1990: 82, see also Neumann 1890: 104-105). A politeuma was 'a recognized, formally constituted corporation of aliens' with permanent right of domicile in a foreign city and empowered to manage its internal affairs through its own officials - a city within the city (Smallwood 1976: 225). Josephus compares them with thiasoi (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, 14.10.8; Against Apion, 2.38^2). In spite of Josephus' comment, it is still unlikely that the Jews in the Colonia Laus Corinthiensis were organized as politeuma, as Murphy-O'Connor (1992: 1138) believes. They were more probably organized as a collegium as the custom was in colonies. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 121

Significantly for this study, there is no indication of a material separation between the spaces for men and women when the synagogue started to develop distinct architectural traits after the fall of the Second Temple. Brooten argues that this feature is not found until many centuries later. Kraemer does not contest Brooten's argument, but she adds that according to m. Sanhedrin 4.3-4 the rabbis were interested in hierarchical organization of space, so it is eminently plausible that they too would have supported the physical segregation of women from men. Murphy- O'Connor mentions the obvious fact that since in the first century synagogues were apparently made inconspicuous, a physical segregation of women at worship would here been impractical.149 Where synagogues gathered in homes and shops, such facilities were even less possible. For the interpretation of the synagogue inscription of second-century Corinth, this means that we probably have a similar case, as Rutgers argues, of the inscriptions of'houses of prayer' in Alexandria: even if synagogues in the meaning of cult communities started during the Babylonian exile, the earliest archaeological texts are later, and consist of inscriptions from Egypt that refer to houses of prayer: 'The reason we cannot identify these "houses of prayer" archaeologically is that, unlike the Diaspora synagogues of late antiquity, initially synagogues do not appear to have had those architectural features that make identification as a synagogue possible. The archaeological evidence suggests that many Diaspora synagogues first came into existence within the context of domestic architecture' (1996: 94). In order to construct a synagogue ritually, at least 10 men had to be present.150 The synagogues (as social/cult communities) were presided over by a person normally called archisynagogos. One Roman imperial inscription from Corinth has been taken to be a dedication to a teacher and archisynagogos, although the Jewish context of the inscription is not established for obvious reasons as we have seen above. The marble impost on which it was inscribed is also decorated with three menorot and palm branches:151 The archisynagogos was normally male but could be female some places in the Diaspora.152 The only named Jewish woman in Roman Corinth we know about is Priscilla. The representation of her as an active participant in religious life and education, as well as in trade and craft, is supported by texts on Jewish

149..Brooten (1982: chapter 6); Kraemer (1992: 126); Murphy-O'Connor (1990: 82). 150. Such a group of men was called minyan. See under 5.8.2 below. 151. ( ) 8i8aa (raXos) KQI apx (tawayciry)oa TT] (a (ruvGcytoXyna KopivQou) SEG XXIX no. 300 (cf. SEG XXXVII no. 264) discusses the text of this fragment of a plaque of white marble found on Acrocorinth, now in the Corinth Museum (inv.no. 2506), in light of the rejection of the restoration by Horsley (1981-1997: IV, 213-20 no. 113). Horsley points out that in this period Corinth is certain to have had more than one synagogue. 152. See Brooten (1982: chapter 1). 122 Women in Their Place women from other parts of the Empire collected and discussed by Bernadette Brooten and Ross Kraemer.153 With regard to women's roles, the ritual gatherings of the Jews in Corinth probably had more in common, as one example, with the Diaspora-synagogues in Asia Minor where women could take on ritual functions, than with the hierarchy of gendered, graded purity embodied in the Jerusalem sanctuary. However, as the texts by Philo and Josephus on the Jerusalem sanctuary remind us, Jerusalem with its sanctuary had an enormous conceptual space in the minds of Diaspora Jews of this period. Thus, Paul may not have been the only Jew in Corinth who thought of women's presence in sacred space as somehow problematic. I will be arguing that Paul's ekklesia-space is constructed as male space. A preliminary indicator of this, is the ekklesia-term itself. I will argue that the ekklesia-term, particularly in its Greek use, but also from the outset at least in its Jewish use (or the corresponding Hebrew qahal-term) denoted (predominantly) male groups. Greek wives of citizens were not counted as citizens, and therefore not represented in the ekklesia other than implicitly through their menfolk.154 Just as women were not 'Athenians', strictly speaking they were not 'Israelites' either, since the prerequisite was the sign on the Israelite's penis (Cohen 1998: 148-49).155 If circumcision is a bodily contract between God and men - and if all Israelites are descendants of Abraham, the Israelites are a brotherhood. In practice, however, it may not have worked that way. On the basis of Philo, Josephus and other first century Jews (pp. 140^2), Shaye Cohen questions how central circumcision was as an identity marker for Jews in antiquity, as also Eilberg-Schwartz (1994: 229) does with reference to Paul. The problem here though, remains: even if Jewish, including Pauline 'brotherhoods' and ekklesiai could include women, woman's place within these male categories is unstable. In the ekklesiai of Israelites in the Septuagint, the number of people counted often includes men only, other times women and children are included.

4.6 No Place: Apollo The cult of Apollo mentioned above also has a separate significance in this context as possibly the clearest contrast to the cult of Ceres and Proserpina. No female space whatsoever is known within the various rituals of this deity in Corinth. Apollo was worshipped there both as

153. Brooten (1982, 1991); Kraemer (1985, 1986a, 1986b). 154. Cf. Loraux (1993: chapter 3). 155. I do not claim that this is the way ancient Jews and Jewish Christians in fact understood the fact that that half of the Jewish population were not circumcised. In this matter, I am in Shaye Cohen's categorization an 'anthropologist' (cf. Cohen 1998: 137). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 123

Augustus' progenitor and as a 'Clarian' god of oracles. The epithet 'Clarian' is mentioned by Pausanias (2.2.8) and associates the Corinthian cult of Apollo with the oracular cult at Claros.156 Claros had an oracle of Apollo, in the first century CE only surpassed by Delphi in importance. Scholars disagree about the number of temples of Apollo in Corinth in Roman times. The significance of the cult in the first century depends on whether the so-called Archaic temple (from the sixth century BCE) wasA temple of Apollo or not,157 which most scholars in fact believe it to have been because of Pausanias' comment about a temple with a bronze image of Apollo along the way to Sicyon, not far from the fountain of Glauke.158 It is very unlikely that the deity worshipped in the temple was a different one in Greek and Roman times, because the Romans normally preferred cult continuity with regard to place, although not with regard to ritual. The Apollonian prophetic institution often used female mediums because women were thought of either as empty vessels, or with a very low degree of rationality that had to be abandoned in order for the deity to inspire a person. But the Clarian Apollo even had male mediums, as Tacitus explicitly informs us.159 There is also later inscriptional evidence mentioning connections between Claros and Corinth: a delegation was sent from Corinth to Claros, probably in the early third century CE (Williams II 1989: 158). A small copy of the Clarian cult statue is also found in Corinth (Williams II 1989: 158 n. 6).160 As mentioned, only male priests are known to be related to this cult in Roman Corinth. Perhaps this is not so strange, given that Apollo was so strongly associated with rationality and nous (see discussion of 1 Cor 14.34-40 in Chapter 6 below).

4.7 A Discourse of Gender and Ritualj Sanctuary Space in Early Roman Corinth The purpose of this survey has been to trace the place of women in many (although not all!) of the ritual/sanctuary spaces of early Roman Corinth. In order to achieve this, it has been necessary first to get an overview over

156. Cf. Pausanias, Description, 7.5.4; Haussoulier (1898: 257). 157. See the Archaic Temple on http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/image71oo- kup = Perseus:image: 1987.09.0413 (November 2003). 158. Pausanias, Description, 2.3.6. In favour of this theory are Roux (1958), Lisle (1955), and partly Engels who suggests imperial cult there in Roman times (Engels 1990: 101, 227 n. 33). Wiseman (1979) suggests it was dedicated to Athena, Morgan (1994: 138) believes that 'more than one deity was involved'. 159. Tacitus, Annals of Rome, 2.54. Tacitus also informs us that the oracle responds in verse 'though ignorant generally of writing and metre'. Haussoulier (1898: 266-67) lists the types of cult officials evidenced at Claros. None of them are women. 160. Comp. Johnson (1931: 22-23 no. 12). 124 Women in Their Place the rituals/sanctuaries in question, and to present some of the texts161 that speak about them. Only then has it been possible to move on to ask whether/how they draw on gender in their construction of sanctuary space. Before we move to conclusions about what the main traits of the Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space are, a reminder to readers most accustomed to monotheistic texts is in order. As Staples has pointed out, it is easy to see Greek and Roman sanctuaries and rituals in honor of different deities as operating independently of each other. However a polytheistic system is more than numerous monotheistic cults existing side by side with high levels of mutual tolerance. The different sanctuaries and rituals of a city constitute a system where the 'different cults confer meaning on each other, and are related according to the various ways in which such meanings are generated' (Staples 1997: 8). This can be envisaged through a close study of one particular city, as here, or through a close reading of the Roman festival calendar (Wissowa 1912: 567-93), that brought together different festivals and days into a temporal unity. Most sanctuaries and rituals discussed are therefore not to be understood as microcosms even if they have cosmic significance - it is the system as a whole, in temporal and/or spatial terms, that is to reflect the cosmic totality: 'The message of the public festivals was that things were right as they were, and that they would stay that way as long as all of the members of the cosmos (people and deities) kept to their places' (LiDonnici 1999: 86).162 It has not been a point in itself to decide which buildings or monuments were there at the time of Paul's visit. For a reading of Paul it will only be the general presuppositions and the generative dynamics of the system (Staples' term) or broader discourse - which the buildings that come and go are rather the results of- that can be relevant. For this reason, in the following chapters I will refer mostly to this discourse in its totality, and only rarely to its specific traits in this or the other place. The drawing of more specific connections will always have to remain speculative - such as whether the Corinthians understood Jesus as some kind of Asclepian healer-god, or the Eucharist in terms of open-air meals in the ruins of the former dining area of the Demeter

161. As mentioned in Chapter 2,1 take 'text' to include all kinds of culturally produced or inscribed things: lead tablets, lamps, buildings, or for that sake, a heap of sea shells in a place far away from the seashore. 162. As part of such a broader civic program, Foxhall (1995) underscores the cosmological significance also of the Demeter festivals and other rituals of fertility of Greek women (1995: 107-108). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth'sL 125 sanctuary.163 However, the general traits of this discourse could only be traced through a survey of a broad number of specific texts.

4.7.1 Gendered Places On the basis of the surveyed cluster of texts it is now time to ask what are the traits of the Corinthian discourse of gender and ritual/sanctuary space. What are 'women's places'? Material, built environments are pragmatic solutions that balance the constraints of physical laws, economic means, functionality - and ideologies. Thus, although gender and theology were not the only factors in the shaping of sanctuary spaces, the concrete way of organizing a space is to a certain extent based on the entrepreneurs' ideologies and choices of genre. Such choices are also ways of endowing the space with meaning. Still, architecture cannot explicitly state which places are used by which sex. This is mainly communicated through ritual practice and sometimes through written texts - of which there have been relatively few related to the Corinthian sanctuaries. In the case of sanctuaries we therefore mostly have to answer the question above with reference to cult officials and other ritual actors, and their presumed movements and activities within sanctuary space. Where no material spaces exist, we have to look at how the ritual space is gendered through symbolism, references to mythology, how the ritually active woman, the 'cultic female', is represented, through association or dissociation with public space, and so on. The sanctuary of Ceres and Proserpina is constructed as female space through mythology and the symbolism it invites and, through representations of female cult officials, the place closest to the goddesses is represented as a place for women. The ritual spaces of the sanctuary are enclosed by walls and/or roofs. The ritual spaces of Venus, the festivals, were constructed in the midst of the city. No physical walls surrounded them. Although the gender of the temple officials on Acrocorinth and on the Forum are not known, through festivals, mythology and so forth this cult too is constructed as female space, but differently from the cult of Demeter and Kore, since it took place also in the public, male spaces of the city. The sanctuary spaces of Isis were gender-integrated, with the priesthood represented as male and the lower levels of the hierarchy as both male and female. Gender differentiation was taken care of through role differentiation. The festivals took place in the public spaces of the city.

163. Thus, even if the dining rooms of the sanctuary are important as part of the traditions related to this place, I do not relate them so closely with the text of 1 Corinthians as Gooch (1993) does, simply because the dining rooms did no longer function as such in the early Roman period. 126 Women in Their Place

In the imperial sanctuary spaces, both genders were represented on all levels, but on each level the female was represented relatively lower than the male. I have taken the concentration of spectacular 'texts' and inscriptions related to the imperial cult as expressions of the interests of those who had the means to fund their construction. The connections between imperial cult and public, political life had some interesting consequences. On the one hand, the temenos within which the imperial cult took place carried a woman's name. This 'female' place could be seen from across the Forum, the prototypical male, public space. On the other hand, the interconnectedness between imperial sanctuary space and public- political space made the hierarchy of the imperial cult predominantly male - with femininity represented as a supplement. The sanctuary space of Asclepius was constructed as male through male priests, deity and doctors. With regards to patients, both male and female could be found. Gender differentiation at this level was taken care of in the Greek period, through the painting of women's body parts as white and men's body parts as red. The ritual space of Dionysos was constructed as female, although the deity is male. The maenadic element is strong in the representations of this space. The sanctuary space of Hera/Juno, Glauke and Medea is constructed as the space of the frenzied female where men have limited insight. The ritual space of the God of Israel is constructed as a gender- integrated space, although with a male deity who in contrast to most of the other male deities of Corinth does not want to be associated with a female supplement (consort, wife, lover, etc.). The Apollonian sanctuary space is constructed as an all-male space. In most of the surveyed sanctuary spaces, one sex is not physically or habitually excluded, but gender still contributes to the structuring of space. If all material and representative spaces had been equally used by both men and women, gender would be indifferent and thus no gender discourse could be said to exist.164 But within a semiotic system where some spaces are discursively constructed as male, others as female and some as gender- mixed, the mixed spaces do not signify the same as mixed spaces where no alternatives exist because gender is irrelevant. They still form part of a spatial discourse where gender is significant, so gender-mix is in itself significant. It seems that, except for the rituals in the sanctuary of Proserpina and Ceres and for the rituals where women are excluded, the ritual place of women is rather narrow. Boundaries between women's and men's ritual spaces were set by walls, times, and by gender-specific rules. Women are

164. Cf. Hirdman above under 3.3.1. 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritual 127 not represented on all levels of the ritually constructed place. In the different festivals and sanctuaries, we see the place of the hyper-sexualized supplicant (Venus), or of the woman torn apart by the strong forces o fertility and life (Dionysos and Medea), or of the modest servant of a divine feminine model (Isis, imperial cult). I have focused on roles here. Instead of reading the different texts about roles in ritual and sanctuary spaces as descriptions of what historical women and men actually did, I have read them as texts that together form a discourse of gender and ritual/sanctuary space - whether this discourse shaped the behavior of historical people or not. The intention has been to grasp the hierarchical/cosmic place given to men and women, and to see how gender is used to produce religious meaning.165 If ritual is a kind o action that constructs a sacred place as such, ritual roles are patterns of such action. Therefore they are also space-specific and founded within broader social, ritual or cosmological hierarchies where everything has its place. Ritual not only draws on the material texts of sanctuary, city- or landscape in its construction of space. It also draws on mythology and cosmology in its construction of a 'space of representation', an imagined space that I introduced in the opening of this chapter and touched upon through references to Jas Eisner and through my discussion of the sanctuary space that possibly brought together the monuments related to the Corinthian version of the myth of Medea (see above 4.4.2). I will refer much more to this kind of space in Chapter 5 in my construction of Paul's ekklesia. How place is also constituted mythologically, is clearest seen in Pausanias.166 Louis A. Ruprecht Jr. concludes his discussion of Pausanias, Athenagoras and Corinth in the following way: 'Apparently, the cults of several female deities... were a prominent part of the religious life in this part of the Peloponnese' (1992: 45). However, as we have seen, this does not always lead to a more frequent representation of women or a more prominent place attributed to women in the rituals enacting their myths (I have not even included Athena and Artemis here!).

4.7.2 Women and Orientals on the Fringes In the text clusters relating to some deities, there seems to be a connection between the space given to women and the relation of the ritual place as a whole to the broader urban space of Corinth: if the ritual was intended to mirror civic values in some way, it is more likely that women are placed

165. By this I mean that femininity and masculinity can be used to widen and underline the gap further between good and evil, cosmos and chaos, material and spiritual. They can also be used to modify the different worlds. For an example of this, see Gilhus (1983: 40). 166. See the description of Pausanias' 'pilgrimages' in Eisner (1992). 128 Women in Their Place lower down in the hierarchy of the ritual place than in rituals intended to stretch or reverse these established boundaries. For example, women in the Greek Demeter cult were not necessarily more 'liberated' even if they could be priestesses and arrange dinner-parties. Their rituals took place within a segregated space in which reversals could take place. Similar comments could be made about the writing of curse tablets in Roman times. In a rather general way, John Scheid states that in Roman religion, 'Women were either excluded from public and private religious life or confined to its "alien" and fringe aspects. Women participated in the ceremonies of imported cults, those governed (in Roman eyes at any rate) by the Greek Rite. When they exercised religious responsibilities, they did so at night or behind closed doors or in suburban or frontier temples' (1992: 397). To a certain extent this applies also to Corinth. All of the sanctuaries that gave women more prominent space were located outside of the city center, especially on Acrocorinth.167 Spaces where only women had access tend to be more associated with 'secrecy' and obscurity, since the male writers did not have access. A similar conclusion is made by Beard, North, and Price, but they also show how the discourse on woman was intertwined with that of orientalism: 'Women were regularly associated with the "Other" in all its forms - the alien world of distant lands, the antitypes of civilization, the wild, transgressive madness of those who broke the rules of civic life ... In traditional Roman ideology, "Oriental" cults would inevitably raise questions of gender: the idea that they were "women's religions" is one important part of this' (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 299-300). Thus the earliest location of the sacred space(s) of the Egyptian gods off the Forum in the direction of Acrocorinth and closer to the older female deities and feminized cults, is perhaps not so coincidental after all: if the temenae that Pausanias mentioned and Filotis made a dedication in were early Roman, Isis and Sarapis were correctly placed as 'oriental' deities. They had to be placed outside the Forum. The alternative explanation of the location of temples, that according to Roman law sanctuaries or temples on the Forum were reserved for the Greek and Roman deities,168 is not really relevant to the other sanctuaries, altars and temples on Acrocorinth since they were founded in the Greek period.

167. This pattern is even clearer if the Greek period is included. In addition to the sanctuaries of Aphrodite, Demeter, Kore, the Fates, Isis and Sarapis already mentioned in relation to Acrocorinth, Pausanias mentions a sanctuary of Ananke and Bias, temples of Hera Bunaea, the Mother of the gods and a throne (Pausanias, Description, 2.4.6-7). 168. 'Augustus himself banning Egyptian rites within the pomerium - so "restoring" (or maybe "inventing") a principle that the worship of foreign gods should not occur within the sacred boundary of Rome' (Beard, North, and Price 1998: 180). 4. Places for Women in Early Roman Corinth's Ritua l 129

The temples located directly on the Forum are less clear with regard to gender. These temples were not situated within sacred enclosures so they were more accessible to everyone. However, their context is the (arguably) male Forum space, and the Forum temples I have mentioned here were closely related to the imperial cult.

4.7.3 Corinthian Nuances Although some factors shaped the discourse of gender and sanctuary space in a peculiar way in early Roman Corinth, many of its generative dynamics and presuppositions can also be found elsewhere in the Roman world. Some of these were sketched in a preliminary way in Chapter 3. For example, the notions of 'woman' captured by the models sketched in the first part of that chapter are actively drawn upon in the structuring of Corinthian sanctuary spaces. Non-Corinthian Roman sources have also been referred to in order to illustrate how the Corinthian material coincides with more general trends. The general traits of the Corinthian discourse of gender and ritual/ sanctuary space are similar to what was stated in Chapter 3: within the ritually constructed spaces, there are often more or less distinct female and male places. This use of gender in the spatial organization of a ritual place may mean that some places are used by men and some by women, or it may mean that women and men are granted access to common places, but then the gender distinction is taken care of in other ways, for example by representing women and men in different roles. The particular early Roman Corinthian traits of this discourse, such as the scant documenta- tion of ritually active women in the first century CE compared to Rome and some other major cities, may be due to the changes taking place in the city in this period: a new colonia was under construction. Towards the end of the first century CE, the ancient Greek sanctuaries that were not already restored were rebuilt and expanded. This is noteworthy, because it indicates that the old sanctuaries were still regarded as important.169 In addition to the old ones, new temples were also erected on the Forum. The excavators frequently use the earthquake in 77 CE as explanation of the hectic building activity towards the end of the first century and early second century. But the colony also had to be ready for it, economically and discursively. By contrast, destruction during the years of 'abandonment' (144-44 BCE) did not result in the same construction activity.

169. In the Greek polls, temples were extremely important on many levels, cf. Burkert (1988) who characterizes Greek civilization as a 'temple culture', by which he means that where some cultures build royal palaces and others funerary palaces or pyramids, the Greeks built temples. 130 Women in Their Place

The Corinthian texts do not invite too many generalizing statements about women's and men's places, as there are few traces of exclusively male and female ritual spaces. Even the sanctuary of Proserpina and Ceres had a male temple warden, and in the Isthmian cult of Poseidon, which is not included here, female athletes could participate in some (Roman) periods. Material from the Greek period, which I have only referred to occasionally, speaks more clearly about which spaces are for men and which are for women. Several times through this survey I have noted how the colony's first 100 years seems to be a period of transition. Pausanias says that 'The things worthy of mention in the city include the extant remains of antiquity, but the greater number of them belong to the period of its second ascendancy'.170 In many instances, a drastic change in the amount and character of texts can be noted. The fall in votive offerings, the presence of curse tablets, the first Christian Corinthian texts - the second ascendancy that Pausanias describes, does not seem to result in any abundance of new buildings until the end of the first century CE. The shift in religious discourse, from votive offering to temple building, may indicate a shift in religious mentality. The Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space was thus in a state of transformation during the early Roman period. The inhabitants of first century Corinth faced the problem of how, on the one side, to pay due respect to the ancient ritual practices of the place and, on the other hand, how in a multicultural city, to adjust Greek, Jewish, Egyptian and other ritual practices into Roman colonial paradigms of religion. In this situation, Paul has a certain possibility of choice in his adjustment of the Christian ekklesia to the presuppositions and dynamics of this discourse, as we shall see particularly in Chapter 6.

170. Pausanias, Description, 2.2.6 (Jones). Chapter 5

PLACING THE CHRISTIAN GATHERINGS: PAUL AND THE DISCOURSE OF SANCTUARY SPACE

Daughter: It used to bother me a lot that people go off to church or temple and talk in one kind of way and then they bracket all that and go off to lie and cheat or whatever during the week. It didn't seem to me that religion was any good at all unless it was pervasive. Father: Whereas in fact the shifting of context between Sunday and the rest of the week might be important. (Bateson and Bateson 1987: 83)

5.1 Introduction: The Corinthian Ekklesia as Sanctuary Space The discourses of gender and of domestic, public and sanctuary space as described up until now in this book are there even before Paul begins to write. Presupposing that the broader discourses prevent the author from being fully in control of his way of expressing himself and of his addressees' reception of his text, these discourses of gender and space throw light on chs. 11-14 of 1 Corinthians because they contain the options available to Paul as letter-writer and to his first readers when making sense of his text. This chapter and the next will be focused on Paul's texts, in which he addresses a more or less (Paul seems to mean less) unified group of Christ- believers living in the city of Corinth or the surrounding area that also formed part of the Roman colony. This group he addresses as ekklesia. Ekklesia is a multivalent term from the outset, and Paul seems to use the term in different ways. But it always denotes the same group of Christ- believers. Sometimes Paul equates the ekklesia with sanctuaries, or describes it in cultic terms and more like a sanctuary than a household, a fact that has been overlooked in much recent scholarship which has kept a strong focus on the image of the house-church.1 In this chapter I will read Paul's

1. One important exception to this is Land (1993; cf. Land 1997). I continue to refer to the dissertation (Lanci 1993) instead of the abridged, published version in accordance with Lanci's own preference. 132 Women in Their Place ekklesia as an alternative space marked off and defined through ritual. Since Paul also calls the ekklesia a vaos, I will often call this ritually constructed space 'sanctuary space'. Some tensions and peculiarities in 1 Corinthians could be read as results of the meeting, although not merging, of the two different spatial discourses of the household and the sanctuary in the Pauline ekklesia. Since some of the assumptions upon which Paul based his arguments are consonant with the generative dynamics of broader discourses of ritual and sanctuary space, I will also propose some possibilities for how Paul's way of writing about the ritual gatherings is one out of many possible, partly conflicting, ways of dealing with the tensions and possibilities that occur when the sanctuary moves into the home. My 'sanctuary approach' will therefore first and foremost be a heuristic2 etic approach to the emic category ekklesia. I do not claim that this approach is consonant with Paul's intentions, implying that he intended to establish a place verbally in his writings on the ritual gatherings. I assume that the discourse of which he formed part made him represent the ritual gatherings of the ekklesia that way. Even if questions about authorship and authorial intentions become less important with a focus on conventions and commonalities of a discourse rather than on the peculiarities of a text, the discursive approach still demands that the texts are treated as representative of a subject which must make, at least some, creative choices regarding the texts' relations to the broader discourse. In this chapter then, it is through Paul's text that I try to trace that broader discourse of ritual and sanctuary space, just as I tried in the previous chapters to trace the same discourse in other first century. Corinth-related texts (together with other philological and historical works). In the last chapter it was necessary to distinguish between sanctuary spaces that had monumentalized into buildings, and those that were 'only' ritually constructed. The need to distinguish is less acute here, since ekklesia did not yet denote a separate material space.3 Since New Testament exegetical literature is normally not very sensitive to the distinction between 'temple' and 'sanctuary', I repeat that I continue to use the terms mainly in the classical architectural way; 'temple' being the house of the cult statue and 'sanctuary' being a (larger) consecrated space, frequently marked off by a wall. However when I paraphrase or cite Paul or other Jewish authors, I will also use 'Temple' on the Jerusalem

2. Heuristic, since Paul does not use sanctuary terminology every time he is talking about the ekklesia. I also use the term 'ekklesia space' as the Christian variant of 'sanctuary space', or 'ritual space' about the space that is constructed through ritual. 3. See Harvey (1989) above (p. 79) concerning the different levels of space. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 133 sanctuary since 'temple' is the common translation of vaos when used of a Semitic building.4

5.2 Traces of Ritual and Sanctuary Discourse in 1 Corinthians In John Lanci's words, 1 Corinthians is to a degree unusual for Paul 'leavened with cultic references' (Lanci 1993: 213 and 219). Throughout, there is a pervasive use of ritual and sanctuary-related terminology,5 comparisons, analogies and oppositions.6 The Corinthians are presented with models and ideals towards which they should strive, this includes a model of an ideal ritual gathering served them in chs. 11-14. Either the drive behind Paul's attempt at correcting the Corinthians is found in the Corinthian ekklesia, in Paul himself or in the discourses of which he forms part, the criticisms and correctives he suggests are anyway consonant with a discourse of ritual and sanctuary space. It is possible to distinguish between two types of traces of ritual discourse, which are not equally central to the argument of this book. First, throughout the letter there are references to the ekklesia as a kind of sanctuary, and to Christian and other rituals. Most of these (except the naos-term) cannot be dealt with seriously within the limits of this book. Second, there is a particular section of the letter dealing with the ritual gatherings (chs. 11-14). This section is in itself a cultic source. Several passages from these chapters will be analysed in due course. But before I narrow the focus to ekklesia as space, a distinctive sanctuary space, I will at least mention some of the elements of ritual discourse of the first kind that may serve as a backdrop for the following discussions.7 • The initiation rite performed once to become a member (1.14-16; 12.13; cf. 15.29). • Expiation of polluting agents in the ekklesia (1 Cor. 5.4 -5.11 and 11.27-32). • The consecration or making holy (dyiaCw) of the Christ-members (1.2; 6.11 7.14) . • The focus on 'first fruits' (aTrapxr)) that were customarily offered in sacrifice (15.20 and 23; 16.15). • A specific order of speech and a special hierarchy of ritualized speech-acts (14.1-31). At least one of the speech genres seems to contain an ecstatic element (14.23).

4. See discussion under 3.3.5 above. 5. Such as eLScoXoXarpeia, Quaia, Ouaiacnripiov, ei5coX.ov, GIKJ, ei6(o\etov, vaos, iepov, etc.. 6. That is, to other sanctuary spaces, a feature of Jewish sanctuary discourse. 7. For a focusing on the cultic language more in general, I again refer to Lanci (1993: 213-19) and Neyrey (1990). 134 Women in Their Place

• Leadership models that do not fit into the household map of leadership (12.28-30).8 • The citation of pre-Pauline liturgical formulas, drawn from the eucharist liturgy and from the initiation ritual, the baptism (11.23-26; 12.13). • The image of putting on and putting off Christ, which alludes to ritual clothing.9 • Recommendation of periodical sexual abstinence (cultic celibacy) for the sake of prayer, in 7.5 and 32-34. • Allusions to mystery cults. This material is vast, just the term uwripiov is used six times in the letter.10 • Purity issues are also close at hand when depicting Paul's ekklesia as 'sanctuary space'. Newton points out that 'it was indeed... to the Temple that in the end all the concerns with purity were directed' (1981: 13), and he draws on Mary Douglas who concluded her analysis of Leviticus by a reassurance that keeping dietary rules reflected and recognized the acts of sacrifice that were taking place in the sanctuary in Jerusalem (Douglas 1994: 58).n Paul's concerns about purity and 'matter out of place'12 and his dependence on the semiotics of purity and pollution inherent in the Jerusalem sanctuary have been discussed already by Barton (1986), Newton (1981), Neyrey (1990) and others. An example is 1 Cor. 6.15, where Paul uses language of purity and danger to express his concern that Christian men pollute the body of Christ through contaminating, sexual contact with a prostitute. Another example is Paul's concern about idol food that I will come back to in 5.8.1 (An Exclusive Sanctuary Space). All these examples show that Paul had not left religious concerns over ritual, purity and reverence behind, and that a comparison of the ekklesia with other sanctuaries or even with the domestic cult is not inappropriate.13 Why should Paul say 'flee idolatry' (1 Cor. 10.14), flee the worship rituals of other deities, if the ekklesia did not represent something analogous to it? Further, the examples echo the broader Graeco-Roman and Jewish discourses of sanctuary space, and therefore prepare the ground for viewing ekklesia as one way of constructing sanctuary space within that period and geographical area. It is, however, impossible to determine from his dependency on this discourse, from allusions and terminology, if and to what extent Paul himself conceived of the ekklesia as 'sanctuary'.

8. Meeks (1983: 77). That these models have to be viewed as ritual/cultic rather than drawn from other spaces, I hope to show in the next chapter. 9. Cf. Meeks (1973-74: 183-84). 10. I have gone more into detail about this in 0kland (1997: 16-18.) 11. See also Langer (1998: 13). 12. Mary Douglas' definition of dirt or impurity in Douglas (1994: 36, 41). 13. Contra Meeks (1983) on p. 141 below. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 135

5.3 Ekklesia The term eKKXriata occurs much more frequently in 1 Corinthians than in any other NT writing, and will be central in the further discussions. Traditional protestant exegesis14 discussed whether Paul's ekklesia is determined by Greek or Septuagint-Jewish use of the term. The Greek meaning was often favoured, seen as is was as 'secular' and political. But it was also possible to tune down the religious content ofSnp: Schmidt states: 'In the LXX eKKXnaia is a wholly secular term' (Schmidt 1965: 527).15 The first Christian writer spiritualized a secular term instead of taking over a religious/cultic term, an interpretation that proved that Christianity was not just another religion or cult. But if one reads the ancient texts with the modern religious/secular-distinction as a historical constant (with the secular as the more advanced), the religious aspects of the ekklesia/ hnp in both Greek and Hebrew settings as well as the pervasiveness of religion in pre-secularized societies easily escape the view. Recent discussions have shown less faith in the pre-Pauline use of eKKXnata as the key to understanding Paul's use of the term, and have concentrated more on what kind of social reality (group, house church, sect, etc) Paul aimed at denoting by using the word. I read the term eKKXnaia as simply meaning 'assembly', in accordance with the root meaning of the word eK-raXeto (to call out and together a group of people) of which eKKXnaia is a derived noun. eKKXnaia is in itself a fairly empty term, and we need to know the discourse in which it occurs or some closer defining attributes (e.g. Kupiou, Geou, ulwv Iapctf|X, aTpaTnyois, (j>paTpiKT|, Kupiai etc.) even to start making attempts at filling it with more precise meaning. That means that we cannot use the later meaning of the word and just assume that the first Corinthian Christians knew that when Paul used the word, it meant 'Church'. In Greek, the eKKXn.aia was the gathering of the citizens - adult, freeborn, Greek males in a city-state - for the purpose of making political decisions. It was thus not coterminous with TtoXis, which included all inhabitants. There are also many other names for the inhabitants, and also for the free males, all depending on from which angle they are considered (e.g. Athenaioi or phylai). eKKXnaia only denotes one special kind of gathering of all the citizen men, not their gathering in the form of an army.

14. As traced, e.g., in the two dictionaries RGG2 and TDNT. Both dictionaries emphasiz that the church for Paul is neither a building nor an institution, in a perceived opposition to catholic understanding of holy places and institutions. Another tendency is to emphasize tha Paul's uses the term polemically over against the Jews (cf. Weinel 1929: 786f). Alternatively, the ekklesia-term was interpreted eschatologically, viewing the Christian ekklesiai as the ultimate and only legitimate decendants of the LXX ekklesia. 15. Cf. Weinel (1929: 787). 136 Women in Their Place

In the Septuagint, the term could denote a gathering in general, and in this general meaning it sometimes also included women and children.16 In a more qualified sense, for example with the determining attributes Kuptou. TOU iKjjicrrou or oryiwv, uloiv laparjX,17 or where the context in other ways makes it clear, it denoted the assembly of Israelites, the bearers of the covenant, that is circumcised males, gathered before the face of God.18 These are the Greek and Jewish discourses that the term eKKXnata invokes in theory. Still there exists no short cut to the knowledge of what Paul meant by using the word, because the term had gone out of use as the technical term for Jewish religious/ritual assemblies in the Jewish discourse of sanctuary space of which Paul formed part.19 By that time it was a 'vacant' term with positive connotations - and therefore 'recyclable'. Paul also shows great creativity elsewhere in terminological recycling. But even if he gives old terms new life by introducing them into new discourses, it is the old contexts that must have made him choose the words he did - otherwise his message would not have made sense for others than himself.20 For Paul it does not seem to be enough that a group of Christians just gather, in order to constitute a Christian ekklesia: Christian people also gather in court (1 Corinthians 6), without changing the courtroom into an ekklesia. Thus the social group of household or Christian 'brothers', and the ritual community of the ekklesia can be viewed as two sides of the same coin. That Paul is 'sliding' between a spatial-ritual, a temporal and a social understanding of the ekklesia does not exclude the former understanding as a possibility, it only shows that the ekklesia has spatial-ritual as well as temporal and social traits.21

16. In the eKKXnaia among those who heard Ezra read the Law aloud, were also women and all others who were able to understand what they heard, according to Neh. 8.2. Schmidt (1965: 530) also mentions Jer. 44.15 a gender-inclusive case: 'Then all the men who knew that their wives had burned incense to other gods, and all the women who stood by, a great assembly (bnp), even all the people who lived in the land of Egypt, in Pathros, answered Jeremiah, saying: ...' In the passage Jer. 44.9-28, the author seems to distinguish between the 'you', the people (ay, i.e. the Judeans) and their wives, the Judean women (a^3; see particularly vv. 24-25). The gender distinction is thus taken care of by other means in the context even if bnp is used in a gender-inclusive way in v. 15. 17. Further references, see Schmidt (1965: 527). 18. 'In relation to the development of the term into the NT ekklesia, we have to take into account the fact that the word is used for those who took part in the conclusion of the covenant at Sinai and also for those who pledged themselves afresh to the Law under Ezra. Thus qahal is a term for those who bear the covenant, and therewith the divine promise' (Schmidt 1965: 529). 19. The term is still used by Philo and Josephus in a non-technical sense, as when Josephus for example uses it on a public meeting (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, 19.332). 20. Comp. Harvey (1989: 204) concerning 'community'. 21. Neyrey (1990) also makes the point that it is the gathered Christians that are considered a 'temple', not the social group of Christians per se, Neyrey (1990: 50). 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 137

I therefore read Paul's Corinthian ekklesia as the gathering of a local group of Christians who together form a collective body. I am aware that the term is also used in a different sense, as in 1 Cor. 15. 9 where it makes more sense to read that Paul persecuted the eKKXnaia rov 6eoD understood as the people belonging to the ekklesia rather than the ritual gathering per se, but ekklesia in this former sense has been thoroughly scrutinized by the social historians and is less in focus here.

5.4 The Distinction between Ekklesia Space and Oikia Space When Paul discusses the ekklesia, he sometimes distinguishes between its social and ritual aspects. Particularly when he discusses ritual issues he seems concerned to distinguish between the social sphere of the house, including the social, communal life of the ekklesia that probably took place there, and the ritual 'sphere' of the gatherings. Thus, when Paul uses the term ekklesia, we cannot just assume that he always has the social unit in mind, and treat his ritual discourse as a more or less coincidental superstructure. Even if the household perspective and the sanctuary perspective on the Christian group do not mutually exclude each other, we will now look at how Paul distinguishes between the two, before I go on to argue that the letter presents to the Corinthians an ideal sanctuary map-of-place.22. 1 Corinthians 11.22 Let us turn to the section of the letter dealing with the ritual gatherings (chs. 11-14). Here Paul discusses the ritual meal; the ritual clothing and ritual functions of women; the place that ecstatic speech, or glossolalia, should have in relation to more sensible speech-acts such as prayer and teaching; what kind of ritual activities have high status and what kind have lower status - all in a cosmological perspective: the gathered Christians are the body of Christ, therefore the 'members' of Christ's body must form a unity where the 'glue' is love - and mutual dependency. Paul makes a clear distinction between the space of the household (oikid) from that of the ekklesia in the passage 11.17-34, where he tries to outline a proper ritual for the celebration of the Eucharist. In 1 Cor. 11.22 he says: 'Do you not have houses/homes where you can eat and drink? Or do you despise the ekklesia of God?'23

22. For expression, see Neyrey (1990: 28-29). 23. [if] yap oiKiag OVK exere gis TO eaOieiv KCU mveiv... f) rfjs eKKXrjcrids rov 9eou KaracjjpovelTe, 1 Cor. 11.22. 138 Women in Their Place

First a philological note: I have translated both OIKOS and OLKLQ 'house' or 'home'. According to Liddell-Scott, the use of the terms in Classical Greek was partly genre-specific. But in Attic law O!KOS was distinguished from olida, 'the former being the property left at a person's death, his estate, the latter the dwelling-house only'.24 The strictly juridical use of OLKOS as the term including property and goods, and OLKLQ as the term designating the house and the household (i.e. the dwellers) seem quite useless when we get down to Paul's days. In 1 Cor. 1.16 Paul says that he has baptized Stefanas' O'LKOS, which nobody would take to mean that he baptized the property of Stefanas, but rather the people belonging to him: wife or concubine, children and slaves. otKia designates the same social unit of Stefanas' household in 1 Cor. 16.15. It seems then, that there is no distinguishable difference in meaning in Paul's use of oticos and OLKLQ, I therefore treat his changing use of the two terms as stylistic variation. Taken literally, the verse just cited presupposes that the Christians gather in a place that is not someone's home, since he can make the distinction between ekklesia and home/house. But can this be the case? We have to be open to the possibility that before the construction of church buildings the Christians gathered in rented public buildings. However this is not likely in the first century, when the ekklesiai were still relatively small. The practice is not documented until much later,25 although there is at least a theoretical possibility that ritual gatherings in rented non-domestic buildings took place earlier than we have traces of. If it could be shown that Paul addresses an ekklesia taking place in a non- domestic building rather than in a home, this argument concerning the distinction between oikia and ekklesia is invalid, however, a reading of ekklesia as sanctuary space would be even more relevant exactly because the close links between oikia and ekklesia would be broken anyway. The ekklesia would have a separate material text26 to draw on as do the sanctuaries, thus facilitating numerous comparisons. A third and very plausible possibility is that ekklesiai took place in workshops, which could function simultaneously as homes of the craftsmen and women who lived and worked there. But the workshop is hopefully not the material text of the ekklesia Paul describes in 11.17-34, that would make his differentiation quite absurd: those of the receivers

24. Liddell, Scott, and Jones (1940: 'OLKLQ', 1203). Bauer (1979) is not trustworthy, because he mixes the two and lists both OIKOJ and OLKTIQIS in examples of different uses of the word oiida, and OLKLGI in an example of the use of the word OIKOS (Bauer 1979: 557, 560). On the other hand, Bauer's lack of ability to sort the uses of the two words in two separate entries without starting to mix them, can strengthen us in our conclusion that in the early Christian period which Bauer's lexicon covers, the two words are indistinguishable. 25. See Sande (1999); Kiilerich and Torp (1998: 43-44). 26. How I read buildings also as texts, see Chapter 2, 2.3.1 Text. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 139 who lived and stayed in the workshop in question would not have another house where they could eat and drink, they would have to answer 'no' to Paul's rhetorical question - in which case it would have missed the mark completely. I believe that the author of this text knew more about the living conditions of his recipients than that. From the letters of the NT we get the impression that the Christian groups outside Jerusalem gathered in homes (cf. Acts 2.46; 3.1; 5.42). Therefore I do not read Paul's distinction in 11.22 to mean that he addressed a ritual community gathered in a public or sanctuary building.27 Rather the point of departure for my train of thought is the image of the house church, commonly accepted in New Testament scholarship in the last decades.28 The notion of the house church not only affects the question of where the Christians gathered, but also questions of how the Christian groups have to be understood more generally. As Wayne Meeks states, The adaptation of the Christian groups to the household had certain implications both for the internal structure of the groups and for their relationship to the larger society' (Meeks 1983: 76). The ekklesia as a social group probably consisted of the people who lived in the house where they gathered in addition to Christian neighbouring brothers29 up to the number that it was possible to get into a single house, apartment or workshop. Meeks also points out that 'the kat' oikon ekklesia was not simply the household gathered for prayer; it was not coterminous with the household. Other preexisting relations, such as common trades, are also suggested in the sources, and new converts would certainly have been added to existing household communities' (Meeks 1983: 76). Jerome Murphy-O'Connor (1990: 161-69), taking the Roman Villa at Anaploga as a place of departure for reflections on numbers and habits, concludes that the maximum number of people that the atrium of this villa could hold was 50, if no decorative urns and other furniture took up space, and if everyone kept their place. A more realistic number would be 30 or 40 gathering at a time in the atrium of such a big building (1990: 164), but the atrium was normally not used for dining. In a quite average dining room, triclinium no more than 12 could recline at a time, which limits the numbers of full participants in the kyriakon deipnon. In smaller apartments

27. It may indeed be worthwhile to investigate the different possible material spaces for housing the early Pauline ekklesia. See some suggestions in Sande (1999); White (1990: ch. 5); Snyder (1985: chapter 5). 28. See, e.g., Barton (1986); Lampe (1994); Meeks (1983); Sandnes (1994); Theissen (1982) and many of the contributions in Moxnes (1997). The socio-historical and anthropological approach to early Christian groups as household entities has shown more concretely how Christians were a part of Graeco-Roman societies, how power and material posessions were distributed, and how they were living in most respects ordinary lives. 29. Brothers of both sexes, see next chapter. 140 Women in Their Place the ekklesiai must have been even smaller, only consisting of a household and a few brothers living in the vicinity.30 Barton (1986) also addresses the issues of place in 1 Corinthians. He too reads Paul as trying to introduce, move or strengthen the line drawn between household and church. As far as I can see, he is the first scholar to read with a theoretical focus on place. He casts his reading into sets of binary oppositions,31 where he understands a binary opposition between church and household as corresponding to the more established public- private-opposition. In this scheme, the church is placed within the public sphere. But this reading presupposes a rather simplistic view of the ancient household as 'private' and the meals and things going on there as 'mundane' (Barton 1986: 240).32 Paul indeed views the meal at home as something eaten just to still the hunger, but I read this as a polemic representation in order to put the Lord's meal in relief. The domestic cult with its house altars, prayers in relation to meals, libations and small offerings testifies to the religious-ritual aspect also of daily meals in a household setting, as imitations of the rituals in the sanctuaries. In addition, the household was an established institution in spite of its various forms - the 'church' was something new and unstable. Since the two entities do not match each other, to put the earliest ekklesia as an independent pole in a binary opposition with the household (or other established entities, e.g., pagan sanctuaries) is problematic. A concentration on the interplay between household and church happens at the price of overlooking the non-Christian religious environment, and the ekklesia'?, drawing on discourses related to many of the established institutions is overlooked. Even if the Christians met in homes, the ekklesia cannot be fully described in household terms. Some terminology is surely derived from the household, but the simple fact that Paul does not use a household term as the standard term for the Christian gatherings means that we must also draw on other discourses to understand the phenomenon. In the first place, not everything that happened in the home took place according to a codified household ideology. If the well-known domestic codes form the 'space of representation' (see 4.1 above) of the household, this space of representation did not dominate everything that took place within the

30. The restrictions that the material space put on the gatherings, are discussed also by Lampe (1991: 190; 1994: 39-40). However, we also get an impression that it was possible to gather many such small household churches together to one larger ekklesia in the city. In Rom. 16.23 Gaius is mentioned separately as hosting the whole church, which is normally taken to mean that Gaius had enough available space to host all the house churches in Corinth. 31. See, e.g., Barton (1986: 227 point 7). 32. Cf. Wallace-Hadrill (1988) and Chapter 3 of this book concerning the home as a public, political place, too. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 141 material buildings of the house. Things could happen that were sharply in conflict with the domestic codes, they were often trespassed or disrupted (e.g. irregular traffic in and out of the house at irregular times), or whole households were deviant compared to the 'norm' (Martin 1996; Weeber 1995: 302).33 Literary and non-literary texts about daily life tell us on a general level that people are not entirely predictable - from which we can infer that the Christian ekklesiai were not unique in their lack of correspondence with the socially codified household norms and structures. In the material space of the house then, the domestic codes were subversively transgressed; this allows for the possibility that they could also be contested through the introduction of alternative spaces of representation. Second, a pure household reading leaves unexplained how the ekklesia came to have ideological 'fuel' to challenge more explicitly and partly break with the norms inherent in the household discourse. In 1 Corinthians Paul deals with many tensions between household ideologies on the one hand and the life in Christ in its various forms on the other. Meeks also notes the irregularities of the egalitarian attitudes of the ekklesia when measured against the hierarchically structured household and admits:

Important as the household was for Pauline Christianity, it leaves a number of aspects of the groups' life unexplained. It is not merely that the peculiar ritual processes, the central symbols and beliefs, of the Christians have scarcely any point of contact with the domestic cult of a Roman or Greek house;... Also, in purely social terms there are elements that are strange to the household structure... Apparently there were other models and social ideas at work (Meeks 1983: 77).

Meeks then suggests what kinds of models this could have been. He explicitly names the voluntary association, the synagogue, the philosophical and the rhetorical schools. But in the passage cited he too easily dismisses the pagan domestic cult as a possible model, and he does not take the local sanctuaries into consideration at all. It is not difficult to find traits of all of the entities listed above in Paul's construction of the ekklesia, yet his construction cannot be fitted into only one of them. Similarly I do not mean that the ekklesia can only be viewed as ritually constructed space, merely that some texts about the ekklesia are better explained from this perspective. One way of coming to terms with the tensions between the ekklesia and domestic codes and 11.22 in particular, is to read it as declaring that the space of the assembly is not identical with the space of the household. We have already made the assumption that the first Christians gathered in homes, therefore the material space of the oikia and that of the ekklesia

33. Cf. Plautus, Mostellaria, 935-985. 142 Women in Their Place must often have been the same. Since the places where the Christians gathered functioned simultaneously as someone's home, it follows that from the perspective of many of those present, the material space of the ekklesia and that of their oikia was identical.34 If they followed Paul's advice, ritual constructed the sanctuary space on the place that already had strong connotations of household and home for them. They had no other place to go to eat or drink. These people did not leave the room to 'go to' ekklesia, they simply changed discourse or dimension when they gathered as ekklesia. The gatherings were marked out through ritual actions as opposed to the daily life between the Christians. In Paul's text, it seems that the material space where the ekklesia gathers is rather irrelevant: in his question it does not seem to be a problem that the material text housing the ekklesia space is the same as that of the household. The differentiation Paul makes in this verse has to relate to a different dimension of space than a purely material or physical one, to spatial dimensions that Harvey (1989) has labelled the 'representations of space' and 'spaces of representation' (see introduction to previous chapter). Harvey's theories suggest possiblities for considering space as multidimensional and for viewing ekklesia as space even if the first Corinthian Christians did not have specified church buildings. I understand Paul's differentiation between oikia and ekklesia in 11.22 as belonging to the two last kinds of space: both oikia and ekklesia are spatial discourses that can interfere, in harmony or in tension, with material space. One way of applying these levels to the meal Paul discusses, is to view the eating and drinking, the transfer of food in the building, as material practice; the knowledge of sweets or blessing of the cup after the main course rather than before, as representations of space, and the spatial discourse that Paul wants all of this to take place within (sanctuary space) as space of representation.35 The material space of a Christian household's villa or insula can function as the material space of (at least) two separate spatial discourses: that of the home and that of the ekklesia. Codes of veiling, silence and speaking, and of meal patterns are different in household space and ekklesia space,

34. See also Gerd Theissen's reading of the Corinthian 'problem' as partly a problem between those from the higher social strata who can gather the whole church of Corinth in their own house, and the lower social strata who do not have this possibility (Theissen 1982: 56, 89). See also the inscription on a paving block in the Corinthian theatre mentioning Erastos, at http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/image?lookup= 1987.09.2247. This Erastos is supposed to be the rich member of the Corinthian Christian group mentioned in Rom. 16.23, cf. Acts 19.22). 35. 'The spaces of representation, therefore, have the potential not only to affect representation of space but also to act as a material productive force with respect to spatial practices' (Harvey 1989: 219). 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 143

but this difference belongs to level 2 (and 3) in Harvey's scheme. There is already a material text there: the house-building, the artifacts and smells of the home represent constraints and limitations on which alternative representations of space can actually be set. Then, when the ritually constructed sanctuary space is 'laid on top of the physical space of house, the latter becomes the physical space of two different spaces with two different discourses: that of the home/household and that of the ekklesiaj cult community/sanctuary. Paul's criticism can then be read as a criticism of the Corinthians' lack of sensitivity to the difference between the two spaces - thus implying that there is a difference. Paul presents the Corinthians' lack of sensitivity to this distinction as contempt for God's ekklesia (1 Cor. 11.22). According to Paul, separate meals eaten by individuals take place in oikias, as part of the spatial discourse of the household (11.21-22a). The gatherings have to be marked out through ritual actions as opposed to the daily life between the Christians. In the spatial discourse of the ekklesia the many become the one body of Christ through the kyriakon deipnon: they should therefore act as one body. Currently their meals are not a kyriakon deipnon, properly speaking (11.20).

5.5 Ekklesia as Ritually Constructed Space 5.5.1 Ritually Constructed Within the section on cultic gatherings (chs. 11-14), the passage where the distinction oikia-ekklesia occurs for the first time is the passage dealing with the ritual meal. Paul has heard that there are schisms in the group that gets together ev eKKXnaia. The use of the preposition indicating place preliminarily alerts us to the possibility of reading ekklesia as a place, even if ev in isolation is frequently used in a way other than its originally locative sense. A fixed expression on the Christian ritual gatherings is used here: awepxo|ievtoy u|iwv em TO airro; (vv. 18 and 20). In 11.17-34, Paul uses th word auvepxo|iai no less than five times. Beside awdyw, this is the term Paul uses when he wants to speak more precisely about the ritual gatherings of the ekklesia.1'6 A third expressioniisalso used: em TO aim). take this to mean 'to/on the same place'.37 In addition to 11.20, the expression is used in 14.23 together with awepxo|iai - more precisely as expression of the ritual gatherings.

36. The term auvdyw is used only once by Paul (1 Cor. 5.4). The Majority text (including the koine text tradition) and P46 has the verb 0wepxou.ai also in 7.5. 37. Cf. Bauer (1979: 'em' Ill.l.a.z, 288). em TO airro is also used by Paul in 7.5, concerning the coming together of the wife and the husband after periodical cultic celibacy. 144 Women in Their Place

It is significant that all three expressions are used by Paul only in 1 Corinthians - not in the other letters. This observation fits well with the pervasiveness of ritual discourse in the letter noted early in this chapter. em TO QUTO underscores the understanding of the ritual gathering as taking a particular place rather than time. That ev eKKAriaia is understood in a similar way as place, is indicated by the interchangeability of em TO UIJTO in v. 20 and ev eKKXrpia in v. 18. In many discussions of 11.17-34, centrality is given to vv. 18-19 and the QXLC7|iaTa and alpeaeis mentioned there. Scholars have read aipeaeis as 'parties' or 'factions', linked these with the 'slogans' in 1.12 and tried to understand the characteristics of the different parties. This way of reading has created confusions that Mitchell has addressed in a most convincing way (Mitchell 1992: 263-64, 151-57). Following Mitchell's conclusions, I believe that since Paul does not go into detailed refutations of different 'parties', it is safer to assume that unity is in itself the main goal for Paul, regardless of the situation in Corinth. If the identity of the parties mentioned in vv. 18-19 is not considered as the key to the whole passage 11.17-34, the meaning of vv. 18-19 depends more on other parts of the section, above all vv. 23-26, which I will come back to, but also on 12.12- 16. Read in the light of the latter passage, we understand that Paul finds schisms condemnable because they are like wounds in the body.38 For Paul, the properly gathered cult community is Christ's one body. The underlying presupposition is probably that Christ's body per definition is perfect, without schisms or damages, cf. the rhetorical question in 1.13: |_ie|iepi,CFTai 6 XpiaTos... Hence, the body of Christ in Corinth has to be shaped to correspond to the ideal. In vv. 20-21 Paul introduces a new distinction: that between KupiaKOv 8eiTrvov, the Lord's meal and I8iov Seinvov, a meal of one's own. 11.20 is held in a slightly blaming manner, which is understandable if the underlying argument is that the meal one eats in ekklesia should be the KupictKov SeiTivov. This reading is confirmed by v. 22, where Paul links the eating and drinking of one's own meal with oikia: through negation, the KupictKov 8eiTTvov belongs to ekklesia. What the implied readers and Paul share then, is a perception of the meal of the ekklesia as a Lord's meal. Paul uses this common ground to criticize the implied readers for not following a pattern of action that for him is necessary in order that the meal is a Lord's meal, rather they are eating and drinking 'one's own meal' which is a household way of eating.39 We see then that for Paul there exists

38. Cf. Martin (1995: 92-93). See Wire (1990: 41-43) for another convincing discussion of the problem of schisms in Corinth. 39. Comp. Barton (1986: 234) concerning the differences. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 145 two different patterns of performing a meal that belong to two different spaces - ekklesia space, and oikia space. Paul indirectly accuses his implied readers of not understanding how constitutive a properly performed KupiaKov SetTrvov is for the ekklesia. It seems that the social group of Christians turns into the body of Christ, ekklesia (11.20-21) through eating this ritual meal. Thus the Kvpiamv SeltTvov is not only the adequate pattern belonging to ekklesia, but it also defines this place. The degree to which Paul identifies the meal, the ekklesia and the body of Christ, Hering has tried to catch in the equation 'pain = corps du Christ = Eglise' in his exegesis of 1 Cor. 10.16 (Hering 1959: 85): TO TTOTTJPIOV rfjs euXoytas 6 ei)Aoyoi)|iev, ovyi KOivwvta eoriv TOU cu|iaTos ToO XpiaToC.. . TOV dprov 6v K\oj|iey, OUXL Kotvwvta Tod awiiaros TOU Xpiaroi) ecmv ... In this verse which stands in a quite different context than the passage we are dealing with, Paul exposes the theological significance of the KuptctKov SeiTTvov properly performed. Whereas our passage focuses on the difference between the ideal ritual oneness and the confusing practices, in ch. 10, the Lord's meal is mentioned relatively briefly as an ideal contrast to idolatry. In 11.30 by contrast, we learn that the Corinthians' unworthy eating and drinking the Lord results not in community, but in disease and death.40 If there is not a unity in bread, there is no community, and no communion in the salvific body of Christ. In order to show how the meal that the Corinthians eat in ekklesia as a KupiQKov 5etTTvov is not such, but rather an i8iov Setrrvov, he describes the pattern of action (or lack of such!) of the meal they eat, and the consequences of it: Everyone brings his or her own meal, and it seems that everyone eats what he or she has brought personally (v. 21).41 Then some start to become drunk, while others are still hungry. Since everybody eats their own meal, they are showing contempt for the ekklesia: they do not ritually act as one body.

5.5.2 Recollection, Repetition and Parcelling Out Ritual theorists discuss how actions in ritual are to be distinguished from their close counterparts in everyday life. Smith refers to Levi-Strauss whose answer to this question was that ritual makes constant use of two procedures: parcelling out ('morcellement') and repetition (Smith 1987: 111).42 If we let this answer shed light on Paul's problem with the

40. See Martin (1995: 190-91). 41. I read the verse with an emphasis on i&iov and not on TTpoA.au(3dvet - the problem is not that everyone brings his or her food per se, but that everyone eats the food and drink one has brought oneself, cf. Wire (1990: 107-110). 42. Cf. Mack (1996: 255). 146 Women in Their Place

Corinthian meals, we see that his problem is possibly that the influence of the household meal on the ekklesia meal has become too strong. The Lord's meal is not sufficiently parcelled out. The ritual Lord's meal does not construct a different discursive space of representation within the household space, rather the Lord's meal is absorbed into the household 'genres' of meal practices. The Corinthians have schisms between the participants in the ekklesia (vv. 18-19), but where they really should have drawn a separating line, between oikia and ekklesia, there is no boundary. Then, in the middle of his 'non-praise' (v. 22) of the Corinthian meal- patterns (or lack of patterns), Paul rather abruptly starts citing oral transmissions concerning the ritual meal. By drawing on the words of Jesus on the occasion of the Pesach meal (according to the Christian oral tradition 'Jesus' last meal') in this context, Paul communicates that the last supper is in a way paradigmatic for the Christian ritual meal. In that meal in Jerusalem with his friends, Jesus 'took' - 'said grace' - 'broke' - 'said' - and finishes with a commandment to 'do this in remembrance of me' (11.25). That a narrative about a meal functions as 'founding myth',43 and contains a commandment to follow a particular pattern of action in remembrance (a pattern for a ritual meal which the narrative contains in germ), fits well with Jonathan Smith's theories of space/place and ritual (Smith 1987). While Mircea Eliade's dominating view was that a sacred place is established by its opening toward a world which is superhuman and remote and has a particular physiognomy (e.g. containing a pole, a mountain, or a high stone), Smith holds that it is not such features of a particular place that turn it into sacred space, rather it is the ritual playing out the human act of'recollection' (Smith 1987:13). 'Recollection' is therefore an important terminological clue to understanding what ritual is about, and how a sacred place comes into being. The ritual 'stages' remembrance, it brings remembrance and history to a place and in this way confers meaning to it: 'Ritual is a relationship of difference between "nows" - the now of everyday life and the now of ritual place; the simultaneity, but not the coexistence, of "here" and "there"' (Smith 1987: 110). Smith views ritual as an activity that creates and defines the sacred place as such, that can turn any place into a sacred place with a meaningful, ordered territory.44 Therefore we cannot take the character of a place for given, rather that character is created through discourse, formed and

43. According to the 'myth-and-ritual'-school (e.g. represented by Walter Burkert), there is an intimate connection between myths and rituals: myths contained in narrative form what the ritual enacted, or at least they gave an aetiology of the existence of a ritual which may be more or less drawn upon in the ritual. 44. As mentioned in Chapter 2 and presupposed throughout the book by my expression 'ritual and sanctuary space', I consider this true also for the space of a sanctuary: a sanctuary is ritual discourse materialized or monumentalized. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 147 classified before it starts shaping the people in that place. We walk in and out of such different discursively constructed spaces all the time, rather than to and from a sacred space containing a cosmologizing pole that makes the rest of the world habitable. I find this kind of ritual theory fruitful for the interpretation of the passage in many ways. First, if 'recollection' is so central to our perception of a place as holy, and if it is one of the tasks of ritual to recollect, it explains why Paul suddenly starts quoting the words of Jesus that he has received, in the middle of the passage where he criticizes the Corinthian way of performing the Lord's supper. This way, the recollection of the Lord's last Passover- meal automatically functions as a corrective to the wrong pattern of action of the Corinthians. The way Paul introduces the oral transmission ('Eyco yap TTapeXapov OTTO roO Kupiou, OTL ...), shows that he includes this citation in his argument with great confidence that it supports his way of presenting the meal: it is Jesus himself who has defined the pattern of action of the meal, and what meaning this meal should have; consequently it is connected with divine judgement to show a lack of respect for the ekklesia of God by not discerning the ekklesia as a separate, but unified body - Christ's body.45 To discern the body (v. 29b) one becomes a member of through food and drink, is of utmost importance. Read in this manner, what Paul seems to be advertising for in vv. 27-34, is a certain awareness that the Corinthians so far lack: awareness of what kind of space the ekklesia is and what type of social interaction it requires, what kind of cosmos it reflects, the relations between their ekklesia and the body of Christ, and the meaning of the meal in establishing and maintaining this relation. Second, the theory visualizes the relationships between ritual and space, that it is the ritual that through actions, words, uses of symbols and other things constructs a sacred place, and not a given sacred place that demands a particular ritual. In this case, the ritual recollects and reenacts46 the last supper. In the oral transmission, Jesus gives a very fixed, stylized and clear pattern of action. This makes it easy to 'replicate'47 anytime and anywhere even outside of Jerusalem. By letting the ritual follow the given pattern of action and letting the words imitate Jesus' words in the paradosis, Corinth and Jerusalem are simultaneously 'here'. Ekklesia 'recollects' an idealized and stylized Jerusalem happening. This remembrance, and imitation of what is remembered through ritual, makes the ekklesia different from oikia.

45. Cf. Martin (1995: 195). 46. This against Mack (1996: 256). 47. Cf. Smith (1987: 73, 83-84). 148 Women in Their Place

Third, Smith's ritual theory refutes any 'environmental determinism' - in this case the idea that the ekklesiai were determined by the household codes because the gatherings were taking place in homes. Instead of seeing place as a passive receptacle of intellection, Smith views place as an active product of intellection (Smith 1987: 36, 26). Fourth, and mentioned a few pages above, Smith's ritual theory exposes Paul's preoccupation with differences between the Lord's meal and the meal of one's own, that does not belong to ekklesia. Food, drink, blessing and prayer are part of both, how can one tell the difference? Smith answers that

... ritual represents the creation of a controlled environment where the variables (the accidents) of ordinary life may be displaced precisely because they are felt to be so overwhelmingly present and powerful. Ritual is a means of performing the way things ought to be in conscious tension to the way things are. Ritual relies for its power on the fact that it is concerned with quite ordinary activities placed within an extraordinary setting (Smith 1987: 109).

The implications of this we see in 11.25, where Jesus says: 'do this as often as you drink.' Should oactKi? eav mvnTe be taken to mean every time one has a drink of some kind in the household space? In the words of the paradosis, there is no protection against such an interpretation. If Paul had not insisted on the difference between the household space and the ekklesia space, he would have had to mean that a person who just has a drink, or participants in a household meal would have to follow the pattern of action given by Jesus. But if the ekklesia is a separate, ritually constructed space, and Paul relates the oral transmission to the ritual defining the ekklesia space, we can read Jesus' words as relevant to the ekklesia drinking only. The drink of the household is substituted in ekklesia, by the drinking of 'the new testament', which only on the level of material spatial practices48 is identical with the household cup of wine. Further, in v. 34, Paul insists on a difference between the meals: one should not use the ekklesia meal to still hunger - the hungry one should eat at home. Note here that Paul does not use temporal terminology (e.g. 'before' the gathering), but spatial terminology ('at home', ev OLKW). The whole passage does not focus what is going on in the household space per se. One could imagine Paul demanding that some members of the Christian group who have more food than others49 give food to the poor outside of the ekklesia setting so that nobody would be starving when they gathered in ekklesia. But his argument does not take this direction, what happens in the social spaces of household or the street seems not to be the point.

48. Cf. Harvey under '1 Corinthians 11.22' above. 49. Theissen (1982: 139) interprets the problem in 11.21 as one of unequal supply. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 149

Paul's concern seems to be more to protect the ekklesia space from the constant pressure of the 'loud' household space.

5.6 1 Corinthians 14.34-35 Before we enter into a discussion of the passage with its distinction between ekklesia and oikia space, a consideration of the various interpolation theories surrounding it is in order. It has long been suggested that these verses are interpolated (Weiss 1910: 342; von Harnack 1924: 590). My problem with the interpolation hypotheses is neither the fact that later audiences make the text their own in this concrete way or the scholarly play with interpolation theories per se. But when scholars reorganize a text and claim the new version as the more original than the one in the manuscripts,,50 such claims often presuppose notions of objectivity and are less aware of the significance of the reader's ideological context for his/her understanding of what is fitting in a text. Wire 1990 has a profound discussion of the various interpolation theories (Wire 1990: 230-31). One of her many important observations is that the number of verses included in the interpolation theory was gradually extended through the twentieth century (vv. 34-35, 33b-35, 33b— 36 or 33-38), probably since it did not solve any problems to consider vv. 34-35 an interpolation. The reasons given for regarding the passage in question an interpolation, are first, that it is not regarded as fitting in the context because it disturbs the straight line of argument - as this is reconstructed in a way that fits the interpolation hypothesis. It is significant - and ironic - that many of those who argue in favour of Pauline authorship are exactly the specialists in argumentative theory and composition.51 Second, the verses are in disharmony with what Paul says elsewhere about women and which is evaluated as closer to Paul's deeply held opinion. Third, the use of the authority argument in 11.16 and 14.33 does not fit Paul's egalitarian agenda, and reflects a later stage in church development (Trompf 1980: 203). Fourth, the structure, and partly also language, is quite close to the pseudepigraph 1 Tim. 2.11-15. But what do these similarities mean in terms of the relationship between the two passages in question? Usually

50. Thus I am not talking about cases where significant manuscripts actually lack the passage in question. 51. I.e. scholars who are part of the relatively new wave of applying rhetorical theory to Pauline texts, such as Eriksson (1998a, 1998b); Mitchell (1992: 281); Wire (1990: 149-52). See also Ellis (1981); Barton (1986); Schussler Fiorenza (1987); Niccum (1997: 3); Keener (1992: 75); Osburn (1993). Also Schussler Fiorenza (1987: 403 n. 50) considers 14.33b-36 Pauline 'since these verses cohere with the overall argument in chapter 14'. 150 Women in Their Place they are taken as indications of the post-Pauline character of the Corinthian passage. They could also indicate that both passages are shaped within a broader pagan and/or Jewish discourse with quite stereotypical notions about women's roles in a certain type of religious setting. Fifth, some scholars also draw on text-critical evidence as support for their views. But the textual evidence for considering the passages in question here as interpolations are hardly stronger than for considering almost any passage in the New Testament as an interpolation: not a single one of the Greek witnesses nor the Latin versions have omitted the verses in question. What there is evidence of, is an alteration of the text sequence in some manuscripts, so that vv. 34—35 is placed after v. 40.52 The alteration has been continually discussed by scholars since the nineteenth century (Heinrici 1880: 457-58.; Weiss 1910: 342), but from the altered text-sequence in some MSS, Philip Payne (Payne 1995; Payne 1998) tries to prove that 14.34-45 is an interpolation. I do not include a full discussion of these manuscripts here, since the evidence is judged too meagre for Aland in Novum Testamentum (1993) even to make & positive apparatus on this issue.53 The second problem is that even if arguments similar to Payne's were right, his arguments do not concern what seems to be the most widespread interpolation theory, which considers 33b-36 an interpolation, and which uses as one of the main arguments that the rods eKKXr|aiats TWV dyiwv of 33b is post-Pauline terminology. 33b is considered Pauline even by Payne. He argues the case of 34-35. In other words, Payne's outer and the traditional inner criteria are fighting different cases. If it could be shown that the verses are inserted later, it would only mean that the distinction made first by Paul in 1 Corinthians 11 was confirmed

52. The following Greek manuscripts have this altered sequence: D 06, or Codex Bezae Claromontanus F 010, or Codex Augiensis, bilingual, dated to the ninth century G 012, or Codex Boernianus, bilingual, dated to the ninth century, 'study sample'. That F and G follow the variants given in D throughout 1 Corinthians, is easily seen by a quick view on the apparatus. The UBS2 (1968) apparatus mentions in addition the minuscle 88, dating from the twelfth century, for this variant. Minuscle 88 is discussed by Wire (1990: 151) and by Payne (1998). The following manuscripts of Latin versions have this altered sequence: ar 61, Vetus Latina manuscript dating from ninth century. This manuscript not only puts vv. 34-35 after vv. 40, it leaves 1. Cor. 14.36-39 out completely! b 89, Vetus Latina manuscript dating from eighth to ninth century. Codex Reginensis (a ms to Vulgate) Ambrosiaster also has the verses in this order, which only confirms that they were seen as part of 1 Corinthians at its time of writing (365-384). 53. For a more detailed discussion of Payne's text-critical arguments, see Niccum (1997). Niccum also reminds us that the first who actually 'rediscovered' that vv. 36-40 were written in the margin and not vv. 34-35, was Wire (1990: 285 n. 19), not Payne, as it could seem from Payne (1995: 242). 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 151 by later Christians - which again would mean that the distinction really is a discursive trait, and not just a coincidence in Paul's text. However, I find the arguments in favour of a later insertion problematic because of lack of textual evidence, because important connections between the verses and the preceding parts of the chapter have then to be explained away,54 and because I do not share many of the presuppositions concerning the unique early Christian egalitarianism that make the interpolation arguments work. Therefore I consider the burden of proof to be on the shoulders of those who believe in interpolation. In 1 Cor. 14.34-35 the already established distinction between the space of oikos and that of the ekklesia is made again. This time it is not the eating practices that should be clearly distinguishable in the two spaces, but the speaking practices of women: 'The women should keep silent in the ekklesiai... and if they wish to learn something, let them ask their menfolk at home. For it is shameful for a woman to speak in ekklesia.''^ The problems related to this verse are similar to those related to 11.22: if the distinction between oikos and ekklesia is to be understood as a material distinction, we run into problems: what should those women do who belonged to the house where the Christians gathered? They had no other place to go that could be called their oikos, where they could ask their male heads of households what the teacher may have meant. The argument that these women who belonged to the house where the gathering took place could ask the man they belonged to after the ekklesia-mQeting was finished, already presupposes that there is a ritually constructed distinction between ekklesia and oikia. But since the distinction is expressed in spatial and not in temporal terms (ev OLKCO), I think there are some nuances to gain if we continue to read the distinction as spatial instead of immediately transforming it into temporal terms. Again, since Paul's differentiation is senseless on a material level, it makes sense if referring to a different spatial dimension, 'space of representation' (see under 1 Corinthians 11.22). He constructs the ekklesia as a separate space of representation within the walls of the house. Time, people, clothing and rituals, not material space, constitute the boundaries around this space that is called the temple of God, the body of Christ or similar. Within this space there is a particular pattern of action and a particular place for everything following a cosmic order - but all this has to be spelled out by Paul since there are no walls or other material texts indicating it.

54. Cf. Mitchell (1992: 281-82 n. 536). 55. al ywaiKes ey rais eiocXqaiais aLydrcoaay (...) ei 8e TL jiaOeiv GeXowiv, £v OLKOJ TOIIJ 1810115 dv8pas eTrepioTaTOjaav aiaxpoy yap eariv yuvatKi XaXely ev 6KKXr|a[g. 152 Women in Their Place

The plural of ekklesia may refer to the different house-ekklesiai of the city, or it may refer to the regular incidents when the Christ-believers gathered. It may also support Stephen Barton's theory that Paul here uses a pre-Pauline formula originally directed to 'all' the ekklesiai, including the ones in Corinth - a formula that Paul works into his argument with important adjustments (Barton 1986: 229-30.). This need not be a question of either-or. Most important for the argument here is that Paul through the plural establishes his gender hierarchy as universally valid in ekklesia space, thus the plural may point both to the regular gatherings, or the gender hierarchy of ekklesia spaces elsewhere. The gender implications of the verses and the way they map the internal ekklesia space will be discussed in the next chapter. Here it suffices to note that they repeat the distinction between ekklesia and oikia space, and that the two spaces have different rules for female talk. In light of the theories, materials and analyses presented so far in this chapter, Paul's criticisms in 11.22 and 14.34—35 can be read as a criticism of the Corinthians for confusing the boundaries set by ritual, between different spaces with each of their discourses of meals and - for those who accept the verses as Pauline - of gender.

5.7 Ekklesia-Space as Sanctuary 5.7.1 vaos At this point we move on from the general question of Paul's use of cultic language, and the conception of ekklesia as space, to the more specific designation of this space as sanctuary space. I have already briefly given an immediate reason for this, but would like to expand: First, Paul himself uses vaos/temple as a designation on the ekklesia in 1 Cor. 3.16-17 and elsewhere. Even if the labelling of the ekklesia-space as 'sanctuary space' is heuristic, to explore one of Paul's main designations on this group of people (besides ekklesia and 'body') can bring out new textual aspects. I use 'sanctuary' instead of 'temple' for reasons given earlier.56 Second, as I mentioned under 2.4.2 above, sanctuaries too are 'ritually constructed' in the sense that they are monumentalizations of the rituals going on inside them and possibly preceding them. Thus, comparison with other religious practices in early Roman Corinth is facilitated. In the last chapter I mentioned some Corinthian examples of 'monumentalization'. The biblical texts on the Ark and the tent first carried around in the desert and eventually placed in the Holy of Holies, I read as using this insight ideologically. The sanctuary in Jerusalem is 'original' and divinely

56. See under '2.4 Space and Ritual?. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 153 sanctioned because it is a monumentalization of divinely given rituals and sanctuary spaces that had taken place long before the sanctuary was constructed (Exodus 25 - 30; 1 Kings 8), when the Tabernacle represented God's presence in a place. In 1 Cor. 9.13-14 the ekklesia is compared with a lepov, where Paul's role in relation to it is comparable to that of a servant in a sanctuary (Iepov) - pagan we must assume, since he does not use the vaos-term (see below). A piece of sacred law follows immediately after, prescribing that those who preach the Gospel shall live from it.57 The point in this context is not to depict the awful practices of a pagan sanctuary, just to appeal to the Corinthians' common sense and common knowledge about funding of sanctuary staff. Thus he uses the neutral term lepov (the single time in Paul), not the negative term eiSwAetov as in 8.10, where he wants the Corinthians to stay away from such a place. In 1 Cor. 3.16-17 Paul describes the Christians as a vaos, temple: 'Do you not know that you are God's temple and that the spirit of God dwells among you? If someone corrupts God's temple, then God will corrupt him. For God's temple is holy, which are you.'58 Here Paul characterizes 'you', the Corinthian Christ-believers as a building that defines a sacred space - a veto?. Much building imagery precedes the passage. Paul talks about making a good foundation, and about building like a wise entrepreneur (vv. 10-12). In contrast to 6.19 (see below) the focus is on the collective body: they are addressed collectively (2nd pers. plural), not as the individuals they themselves insist on being (according to Paul in 3.3-4). Together they form the Temple of God, still in singular. But in the context there are no particular ritual elements, thus from the outset Paul's use of naos here could address the ekklesia as a social group, not necessarily as a ritual community. But Lanci's argument about the Spirit is convincing in favor of the ritually gathered ekklesia'. comparing it with 1 Cor. 5.4-5 and other parts of the letter where Paul discusses spiritual gifts, Lanci concludes that when Paul states that the Spirit 'dwells in you', the plural pronoun emphasizes that the Spirit dwells in the midst of the community. The statement that the Spirit of God dwells in this naos, I read as one expression of the idea of God's dwelling in his sanctuary, for which 86£a (TOD) is also used (e.g. 1 Kgs 8.10). I take the 'dwelling' as an indication that Paul is here identifying the ekklesia with the sanctuary in Jerusalem. As mentioned in Chapter 2, even if a Greek temple was also thought of as

57. I have analysed this further in 0kland (1990: 30, 37-45). 58. OIJK oiSare on vaos 0eoO eare Kcti TO Trveti^a TOI) 6eou oiKel ev iiulv;... e'i TLS roy vaov roij Oeoi) c()6eipeL, c|)6epel TOVTOV 6 Geo?- 6 yap raos TOU Oeofj dyios eariy, o'mves eare u(ieig. 154 Women in Their Place the dwelling place of the deity whose image was worshipped there (to the extent that this is probably the reason why ancient Jews chose vctos as translation of 2hp"V3n DM or ETi^Nn ITS), this was not a common expression concerning a Greek temple. The connection was looser. It is exactly because God was thought to dwell in the Jerusalem sanctuary in a very concrete way that there could be only one sanctuary, since there is only one God.59 When the same deity could be worshipped in four or five sanctuaries in each city of the Roman Empire, this demonstrates that the connection between the deity and his/her representation, the cult statue, was looser. In addition, the deities of the polytheistic system were frequent travellers. The order of the Jerusalem sanctuary as an expression of the cosmological order was under constant debate, reform and, partly, conflict. From his Diaspora position, Paul does not have the physical sanctuary before his eyes. If Boyarin (1994) is correct that Paul uses an inner-outer, literal-spiritual dichotomy to think with, he possibly considered the actual sanctuary in Jerusalem to be an imitation of an ideal, heavenly prototype, just like Philo and the author of the Testament of Job.60 If Paul perceives a split between the actual and the ideal, he can allow himself to criticize the gradation between Gentiles and Israelites which has monumentalized in the Jerusalem sanctuary, and still identify as a Jew.61 This split makes it possible to hold up the ideal vctos as materialized in Jerusalem as a place to 'recollect' for the ekklesia. The threat of corruption as a consequence of polluting the Temple of God, is stated in the style of sacred law. In this case 'the style is the meaning' (Conzelmann 1975: 78),62 for there is an intimate relation between this 'sacred law'-style and the Temple metaphor. Sacred laws about holiness and purity, pollution, trespassing and so on are related to sanctuaries, even if the sanctuaries can be decentered, as Smith reminds us (Smith 1987: 73)! The 'sacred law'-style is therefore inherent in sanctuary discourse, and follows Paul's use of vaos: as a carrying metaphor, vaog shapes the further discourse and determines the use of such stylistic devices as well as other building imagery. Through speaking in this style Paul further calls in the discourse of sanctuary, sacred places and times: the discourse of holiness, pollution, and sacred thresholds is reminiscent of Jewish discourses of the Jerusalem sanctuary. Hering suggests the possibility that the definite article is left out not only for syntactic reasons,

59. Josephus, Against Apion, 2.193; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, 4.200; and Philo, On the Special Laws, 1.67. 60. Boyarin (1994: 28, 78); Philo, On the Special Laws, 1.66-67; Testament of Job 49. 61. See e.g. Boyarin (1994: 137). 62. Conzelmann mentions Kasemann as source of the statement that 1 Cor. 3.17 is a piece of sacred law (Kasemann 1969: 67). See criticism in Aune (1991: 166-68, 237-40). 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 155 but maybe because the word is used as a singular name there is only one vaos, the one in Jerusalem (1959: 31).63 Brooten locates the heavy focus on sanctification and impurity in Paul's writings as belonging within this Jewish discourse of sanctuary space, of which the holiness code in Leviticus (17-27) is one of the clearest expressions (Brooten 1990: 80). Within his broad discussions Neyrey also deals with ritual, sacred space, cosmology and the use of the temple metaphor in 1 Corinthians. He applies anthropological (mainly Mary Douglas') theories to this letter, and views 'temple' as a main metaphor of the Christian group beside 'body' in 1 and 2 Corinthians. What these have in common is that they 'imply a sense of space with exact and precise boundaries' (Neyrey 1990: 95). Neyrey not only mentions 1 Cor. 3.16-17 and 2 Cor. 6.16-17, where Paul explicitly uses the metaphor, but he also discusses other passages where Paul uses building metaphors combined with holiness concerns. The building imagery of 1 Corinthians also interacts with Paul's use of naos. But how? Paul's use of building imagery, such as verbs and nouns derived from oLKo8o(i-, contributes to a spatial understanding of the naos. It is significant that building imagery is particularly intense in 1. Cor. 3.9— 14 where the naos-tenn occurs for the first time, as well as in ch. 14 which is part of the section dealing with the ritual gatherings. In ch. 14 Paul maps the structures of the internal space of the ekklesia (14.3, 4, 5, 12, 17 and 26). As mentioned already, Lanci also analyses building imagery and Paul's attempt to build 'A New Temple for Corinth' in 1 Corinthians. He reads Paul's use of the temple metaphor in 1 Corinthians 3 as a metaphor of unity. Lanci is interested in the use of building metaphors as a rhetorical device, and he sees Paul's use of temple imagery as part of, but subordinate to, the more overarching use of building imagery in 1 Corinthians (Lanci 1993: 212). He views the temple image as secondary to the more important imagery used by Paul to conceptualize the growth of the Corinthian ekklesia as an on-going process of 'building' (1993: 212). His argument for this is convincing, but it does not manage to make sense of the cultic references in the same way as an evaluation of the 'temple metaphor' as a carrying metaphor does. From the perspective of Smith's ritual theory of space as outlined above, it makes sense that a letter that is full of cultic references also uses spatial terminology (e.g. building metaphors) quite extensively. Ritual often takes place in a sanctuary or temple. I think therefore, that the temple 'metaphor' - on a surface level of the text I can follow Lanci's characterization of the use of naos as 'metaphorical' - has kept strong ties to the original field of connotation. As a 'carrying metaphor', it invokes an extra-textual discourse which shapes the production of meaning in the text.

63. See also Mishnah, fifth division (Holy Things) or, e.g., Psalm 15. 156 Women in Their Place

But as mentioned above under 3.2.6, in an ancient world where different micro- and macro-cosmoses are related together according to a given structure, what occurs as metaphor on the surface level of a text, can express deeper structural similarities between the two fields of connotation that are linked together in the metaphor. Thus, ekklesia, the Temple in Jerusalem and the Mishnah could also be seen as three different embodiments of the same structure or idea - the correct worship of God in the world. Boyarin's reading of Paul as a 'platonist' also opens up for this ancient cognitive framework of reading Pauline material (1994: 204 212).64 Lanci uses ancient theories of metaphors. But these theories treat metaphors as more or less interchangeable figures of speech.65 Even if Lanci characterizes the temple metaphor as an imago agens, Lanci's Paul still seems free to choose imagery, and chooses the naos metaphor as one of several simple metaphors (p. 26). When understanding the temple metaphor as 'mere metaphor' or imagery apt to 'hook' the Corinthian listeners (p. 186), and refuting the possibility that the temple metapho touches the ontological level, too (p. 212), I think an important possibility within the text escapes our view: that perhaps for Paul there is a deepe connection between a temple and the ekklesia. In 1 Cor. 6.19 Paul again declares the believers as vaos, but on a more microcosmic, individual level that is not in focus here. Still, the thought is consistent with what we saw above: God's Spirit rests in the microcosmic 'temple', the body of the individual believer, as it does in the collective body of Christ, the ekklesia. How believers relate to each other as bodies - and to those of non-believers - when they are not gathered in ekklesia, is an important purity concern for Paul (cf. 1 Corinthians 6 and 7), but is outside the scope of this book. Thus, the people of the ekklesia are addressed individually and collectively as naos, partly in a general way, and partly in a way that draws on the Jerusalem discourse of sanctuary space. That 1 and possibly also 2 Corinthians (see below) were not the only Judaism-inspired texts to view a ritual community of people this way, becomes particularly clear in Gartner's study of texts from Qumran (see next sub-chapter).

5.7.2 2 Corinthians 6.16-18 In 2 Cor. 6.16-18 the Christians are again described as a vaog: 'What agreement has the temple of God with idols? For we are the temple of the living God; as God said, "I will dwell among them and walk among them,

64. Modern theories of metaphors do not help the interpreters to the same extent to grasp the ancient cognitive frameworks (on the latter, see Foucault [1971: chapters 2-3) that the meaning-making in the text depended on. 65. Aristotle, Poetics, 21.7 (1457b). 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 157 and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. Therefore come out from them, and be separate from them, says the Lord, and touch nothing unclean." And I will be for you a father, and you will be for me sons and daughters.'66 Before we discuss its content, it is necessary to address the interpolation theories that surround also this passage. The Pauline status of these verses is disputed, although again no manuscripts have omitted the passage in question. Their Pauline status is disputed on internal grounds. A Paul who is concerned about purity, sanctification and segregation does not appear as unified with the Paul who is apostle to the Gentiles and free from the law. I can appreciate some of the problems related to 6.14-15, because they presuppose a more self- conscious Christian approach than we often find in Paul who places himself squarely within the Jewish tradition (with little space left for alternative interpretations of this tradition). But in my view the focus on purity and sanctification here fits nicely with Paul's concerns in 1 Corinthians. By using the same image (naos) on the same entity (ekklesia), for all practical purposes the verses are so much in tune with 1 Cor. 3.16- 17 that they form part of the same discourse as that passage, even if some nuances may be different. Schiissler Fiorenza suggests that the verses are perhaps pre-Pauline, but not necessarily anti-Pauline (1983: 194), just like the baptismal formula in Gal. 3.26-28, which is never considered an interpolation even if if most scholars do not believe the formula was invented by Paul himself. This means that they are either included by Paul himself, or this pre-Pauline tradition is inserted after Paul's writing. In the context of a discursive approach to 1 Corinthians, what is important is not who actually put these words into the letter, but whether this possible pre-Pauline tradition formed part of early Christian discourse in Roman Corinth or not. In 2 Cor. 6.16-18 we find again many of the same concerns as the verses from 1 Corinthians analyzed above. Also this passage is preoccupied by distinction and boundaries, and colored by purity and pollution concerns. The opening question, 'What agreement has the temple of God with idols?' echoes 1 Cor. 10.21: 'You cannot drink the Lord's cup and the cup of idols. You cannot participate in the Lord's table and the table of idols. Or shall we provoke the Lord to jealousy?' The Corinthians may certainly have provoked Paul to be jealous on God's behalf by the time he wrote 2 Cor. 6.16.

66. TIS 6e airyKaTdQeais yaw 0eou fiera eiSojXwf;... fiuels yap vaos QeoO ea(a.ey £WVTOS, KaOws eiirev 6 Oeos on'EVOIKTJCTO) ev carrots Kcti euTTepiTTcnr|aoi) KQL eao(iai aiirwv Oeos KQL carrot eaoyrcd p_ou Xaos. 816 e^eXOare CK jieaou airrwv teal a4>opia0T]Te, Xeyei icupios, KGU dicaSdpToii p_f| aTTTea9e' KOLL eaojiai v\ilv ei? Trarepa Kai uaels eaeaOe uoi eis uious KCU Ouyarepas, Xeyei Kupios Trai/TOKpaTtop. 158 Women in Their Place

The article determining vaw (and 0eoi)) is still absent, even if its omission here is not syntactically necessary. This supports Bering's hypothesis concerning 1 Cor. 3.16 mentioned above, that in the view of Paul (or some other early Christian), there is only one vaos, the one in Jerusalem. But 2 Corinthians 6 draws more explicitly on the Jewish heritage, particularly the eschatological expectations, which is in accordance with 2 Corinthians as a whole. This may in turn be used as an argument that the same author that composed the main parts of 2 Corinthians also found usable, the tradition of representing the Christians as related to 'the Temple'. This can be seen, for example, in the paraphrased citation of Lev. 26.11-12 and Ezek. 37.26-28 where God promises to put his sanctuary among the Israelites forever. T will be their God' is an expression found also, for example, in Exod. 29.45. The difference between 2 Cor. 6.16-17 and Ezek. 37.26-28, the closest resembling text, is very interesting though. Whereas in the latter passage God's mere dwelling among the Israelites in his holy Temple witnesses to the Gentiles that God is making the Israelites holy, by drawing on Isa. 52.11, Paul uses God's dwelling as an argument that the Corinthians should actively separate themselves from the Gentiles. The paraphrase may of course be coincidental, caused by poor recollection. But an indication that the author is not taking his Leviticus paraphrase completely out of the air, but rather is led to it through the discourse he draws on, is that in the introduction to the part of Leviticus in question (26.1-2) God commands the Israelites not to make any idols and to respect the sacred times (Sabbaths) and the sacred place (sanctuary) of God. These commands are fully consonant with the concerns of the passage 2 Cor. 6.16-7.1. The exhortation to 'be separate' (6.17) is also well in tune with 1 Cor. 5.9-13, and, as Schussler Fiorenza argues, with 1 Cor. 7.39. The insertion of KQL Guycrrepas' (2 Cor. 6.18) in a formula found many times in 2 Samuel and some of the prophets (with small variations) is noteworthy. The important point is not to find the verse Paul cites, only to point at what looks like a particular Jewish discourse on sanctuary. Jewett (1979: 69) reads this as Paul's answer to 'the androgyny campaign in Corinth', but it might as well be read as a common way of understanding the biblical passage in question within some branches of Judaism in the first century. The temple that the 'we' of the text form, is a 'living' temple. By drawing on the citation from Leviticus, and by the use of raGws, the text seems to imply that the temple of Christians is living because God is already dwelling there. God's presence is then in turn used as argument against idolatry. The perspective is therefore different from the passage in 1 Cor. 3.16-17: there it was more prescriptive, here more descriptive. 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 159

Thus, in both 1 and 2 Corinthians, the people of the ekklesia are addressed as a temple partly in a general way, and partly in a way that draws on Jewish discourse of sanctuary space. In both 1 and 2 Corinthians, if God is to dwell in his Temple, the people who form the Temple have to be pure. But in 2 Cor. 6.17 it is more heavily emphasized that to be able to control the purity they have to separate themselves out as a group from 'the others'. For people who grew up in a polytheistic context, this must have been almost impossible to grasp, which may in part explain some stronger language the second time around in 2 Corinthians than in 1 Corinthians. That Paul was not the only Jew to view a ritual community of people this way, becomes clear in Gartner's study of texts from Qumran (see below).

5.8 1 Corinthians in the Discourses of Sanctuary Space 5.8.1 An Exclusive Sanctuary Space Having established the ekklesia as sanctuary space, this also has implications for how the ekklesia relates to other sanctuary spaces (sanctuaries, temples, domestic shines, etc.) in early Roman Corinth and elsewhere. The problem is that the term naos probably evoked different notions for Paul and the Corinthians, which can explain their different appreciation of the importance of unity in the ekklesia, and of its exclusiveness over against other sanctuary spaces. When an average Corinthian Christian heard the term naos, she or he would probably think of a Corinthian naos - a big or small building with a particular type of architecture housing the cult statue. The Corinthian Christians were familiar with the Forum of Corinth that was full of small temples housing different deities, as shown in Chapter 4. They were also familiar with all the sanctuaries located inside and outside the city walls. So they may very well have associated vao? with such a little temple on the Forum or within a sanctuary complex. It is significant that in both the Corinthian and in the Jerusalem discourses of sanctuary space, a naos was the dwelling-place of the deity even if the Jerusalem sanctuary in a Corinthian's eyes would be not a vaos, but a lepov- sanctuary. One of the important differences between the Corinthian and the Jerusalem discourse, is that in the Corinthian spatial discourse, a veto? is not in itself a marker of what I have labelled 'sanctuary space'. The vaoi on the Forum were very much part of public space. They were not surrounded by sacred precincts, walls, or fences. What separated them from the Forum ground was that they as Roman podium temples were elevated considerably above ground level. A lepov, on the other hand, usually had walls, open-air sacred grounds, and one or more temples as well as other buildings. Because of the pleasant atmosphere, sometimes including 160 Women in Their Place

fountains and trees, in such sacred enclosures, sanctuary spaces for the Corinthians as for other Roman-era people was also a space for recreation. Paul on the other hand, was probably not a frequent guest in pagan sanctuaries and temples. His ideas about vctos were probably most shaped by the Jerusalem discourse of sanctuary space, even if he hopefully was aware that probably most of his recipients had never been there nor were familiar with the diverse Jewish discourse on the structure and meaning of the Jerusalem sanctuary. 1 Corinthians warns against involvement in activities in pagan sanctuaries, never against the activity in the Jerusalem sanctuary. In 1 Cor. 8.10, the question of idol food is cast as a question of where it is eaten. If a weak person sees Paul's addressee lying down at the table in the dining room of a pagan sanctuary (elSooXeiov), his conscience will be damaged. Food served in such a place is idol food, whereas the act of sacrificing food to idols does not per se pollute the food, it seems: pollution depends on where it is eaten, and who eats it. Gooch (1993) argues sensibly that even if Paul with this attitude abandons the kashrut, he was still constrained by the Jewish discourse on idol food and the religious meaning of eating - which ultimately aimed to preserve the holiness of the Jerusalem sanctuary. The position taken by Paul in 1 Corinthians 8 and 10 is frequently perceived as different, but they both represent the table of the Lord and that of idols as mutually exclusive: '10.14-22 explicitly makes ritual dining or food sacrificed to idols (10.7 and 10.14-22) analogous, and hence for Paul a threat, to the supper rite of the Christian group' (Gooch 1993: 55, 79-84).67 In 10.16-17 the Christian ritual forms an ideal contrast to idolatry, after the paradigm of the rituals in the Jerusalem sanctuary (10.18). Even household meals 'recollecting' sanctuary rituals (10.28) is a problem. Since theoretically the same meat bought in a public marketplace or eaten in household space, is no problem (10.25-27), it seems that for Paul not only ekklesia, but also 'pollution' is spatially and discursively produced. Idol food is right food in the wrong place. The underlying assumptions are then first, that the Lord's meal is not just an ordinary household meal, but corresponds to the ritual meals of pagan and Jewish sanctuaries. He parallels the ritual breaking of bread and blessing of cup followed by the Christ-members' eating and drinking of this blessed nurture, with sacrifices in the sanctuary of Jerusalem followed by Israel's eating of sacrificial meat,68 and with sacrifices supplying the ritual meals in pagan sanctuaries with meat.

67. Comp. Cheung (1999: 95). 68. On this passage, cf. Boyarin (1994: 73-74). 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 161

Second, the eating of consecrated food in a ritual or sanctuary space has cosmic implications - eating of such food in a very literal sense brings Kotvovta with the deity to whom the food is consecrated.69 This is an assumption explicitly built on his Jewish experience: those who eat the sacrificial meat in the Jerusalem sanctuary are 'one' with what is going on around the altar. Paul just assumes that his interpretation of what goes on in Jerusalem also represents the theology of pagan sacrifices. By putting Christian rituals side by side with the rituals of other sanctuaries, God's and idols' sanctuary spaces are made comparable entities - and hence mutually exclusive. If Paul's main frame of reference were the Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space, he would probably have seen it as senseless to warn against activities in other sanctuaries en bloc. Also, if his notion of vaog were a pagan one, it would be senseless to characterize the dining room of a pagan sanctuary eiSwXeiov (1 Cor. 8.10). More generally his preoccupation with the danger of idols, of sacrifices to idols, idol worship, and idol sanctuaries does not fit well into the semiotics of polytheism. Words related to eiowX- had a negative sound also in Jewish discourse, but the meaning of such terms in a pagan environment was neutral.70 Because most Corinthians received Paul's text from within a pagan discourse, we cannot presuppose that they understood why for him everything about ei8wX- was so dangerous.

5.8.2 Imitations of Sanctuaries Paul is not the only one who draws on sanctuary discourse in his construction of more modest sanctuary 'spaces of representation'. Durkheim (1976) noted how small 'sanctuary spaces' are constructed in homes. He considered domestic cults generally as somehow miniature reproductions of sanctuary spaces - of their cosmology, cult structure and the rituals taking place there: Thus a religion cannot be reduced to one single cult generally, but rather consists in a system of cults, each endowed with a certain autonomy. Also, this autonomy is variable. Sometimes they are arranged in a hierarchy, and subordinated to some predominating cult; into which they are finally absorbed... Even the so-called private cults, such as the domestic cult or the cult of a corporation, satisfy this condition; for they are always celebrated by a group, the family or the corporation.

69. Martin (1995: 190): Taul clearly believes that something "real" happens to the body of the Christian through partaking in the Eucharistic meal'. 70. Cf. Liddell, Scott, and Jones (1940: 483-84). 162 Women in Their Place

Moreover, even these particular religions are ordinarily only special forms of a more general religion.. (Durkheim 1976: 41, 44).

Jonathan Smith is more specifically focused on Graeco-Roman religion that is characterized by 'mobility'. He suggests that new forms of religion appropriated imagery derived from temple culture while asserting (whether intentionally or unintentionally) their independence from temples (Smith 1978: 187).71 Thus the assumption that sanctuaries represented paradigms that could be re-placed or imitated elsewhere was not foreign to Graeco-Roman sanctuary discourse. Both dependent on the 'original' sanctuary and acknowledging its uniqueness (in that they use it as paradigm), such a 'replica' still implicitly asserts an independency of it (since the sanctuary space can be replicated elsewhere). An example from the last chapter is the sanctuary of 'Clarian Apollo1 assumedly imitating the cult at the gigantic sanctuary at Claros. We know less about household shrines in early Roman Corinth and how they may have reproduced the sanctuary discourse of the greater buildings, although it is hypothesized that Sarapis was worshipped in household shrines in the Roman period. Archaeological texts from elsewhere confirm the theories of Durkheim and Smith above, that the rituals going on in the houshold space somehow replicated those of the bigger sanctuaries, in addition to the rituals of the Lares, Penates and the Genius of the house. In his descriptions of household shrines in such various places as Pompeii, Herculaneum, Campania, Ostia and Delos, Orr describes mainly three types of household shrines of varying sophistication: small niches in the wall containing a small statuette of the deity, wall-paintings and miniature temples (Orr 1978: 1577). The decoration draws heavily on the symbolic universe of mythology and of the sanctuary discourse (e.g. representations of sacrificial scenes). Portable or permanent altars were linked to all these three types. In these household shrines various sacrifices of fire, wine or incense were performed. Fine sees the early development of the synagogue as related to this larger Graeco-Roman trend of sanctuary imitation (1997: 25). But the relation between the Jewish sanctuary and its re-placements has some particular features. A basic presupposition of the mainstream Jewish sanctuary discourse was that there was only one God, one dwelling-place of God on earth,72 and therefore only one holy place. Still, this did not prevent groups on the margins of Second Temple Judaism from perceiving their meeting houses as holy places (Fine 1997: 3 and Chapter 1). Bokser points out how the early rabbis - like other Hellenistic religious thinkers - made the center

71. See also Wachsmut (1980: 64, 47); Ogilvie (1974: 105). 72. 'The Holy of Holies is the locus of God's indwelling on earth' (Langer 1998: 13). 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 163

(Jerusalem sanctuary) itself mobile, enabling individuals to enter it by reading or studying the laws of the cult or by replicating the Temple in their dining and living rooms (1985: 298-99.). Steven Fine argues that those early Christians who thought that synagogues were holy because they carried the sanctity of the Jerusalem temple that no longer existed (1996: 40-42), were on the track of something: in the subchapter with the illustrative title 'Imitatio tempi? (1997: 41-55) he shows how holy 'texts' associated with the sanctuary in Jerusalem gradually were drawn on directly or more symbolically to construct the synagogue as a holy place. Fine, who labels this process 'templization', mentions architectural elements, the orientation of the room, the Torah chest reminiscent of the Ark of the Covenant, and the menorah, the branched lampstand modelled on that of the Jerusalem sanctuary. He states that 'as at Qumran and within early Christian and polytheistic contexts, temple terminology was used by the Tannaim to describe and define non-temple ritual settings' (Fine 1997: 55). Branham puts forward similar views, when she states that 'The tentative transference, then, of sanctity from the Temple tradition to the developing synagogue organization introduced in this latter establishment a new, yet fluctuating expression of "Temple space", thereby endowing it with what I call "vicarious sacrality'" (1995: 320). But liturgy also contributed to the same: Fine notes how essential prayers modelled on Temple liturgy were for the early sanctification of the synagogue (1996: 27). In her discussion of the rabbis' attempt to create a valid, non-sacrificial liturgy after the destruction of the sanctuary in Jerusalem, Ruth Langer states: 'The synagogue had no Holy of Holies, but the rabbis, without drawing explicit parallels with Temple procedures, understood God's presence to be invoked by the presence of a quorum of worshipers' (1998: 13). The early synagogues appeared within the tension between, on the one hand, acknowledging the uniqueness of the sanctuary in Jerusalem, and on the other hand, reproducing much of the sanctuary discourse. When the synagogue was perceived more and more as a holy place too, it was not as a new dwelling-place of God. The Torah Scroll took over the function of carrying holiness that God's kabod or in Paul's words, God's Spirit, had in the Temple. In turn, God's presence (shekinah, nrDtt?) was thought to be there when men studied the Torah.73 The sacrifices of the Jerusalem temple were not imitated in the synagogues. The motivation was of course theological, but it was also necessary if Judaism was to be a religio licita. Livius expresses the Roman

73. m. Abot 3.6. Their location is not specified. Cf. discussion in Viviano (1978: 66-71). A minyan is the quorum often male adults necessary for synagogue service, cf. Davis (1978). Cf. Langer (1998: 13 n. 47). 164 Women in Their Place hostility towards non-Roman sacrificial practices: 'For men wisest in all divine and human law used to judge that nothing was so potent in destroying religion as where sacrifices were performed, not by native, but by foreign, ritual (non patrio sed externo ritu sacrificaretury ,74 Paul treats topics of sacrifice, altar and slaughter outside of the section on the ritual gatherings. The Christian ekklesia of chs. 11-14 is perfectly in harmony with the Roman sentiments about 'foreign' rituals. Also in the Qumran sect, the sanctuary space of the Jerusalem sanctuary was reproduced.75 But in Qumran it was not done with the same respect for the sacred space of the Jerusalem sanctuary: rather they thought that the Jerusalem sanctuary was defiled and deserted by God.76 The presence of God was now dwelling in the 'New Temple' constituted by the community members,77 whose rituals would eventually materialize in new temple buildings greater and more magnificent than any known temples. The presence of God was conceived in terms of Holy Spirit, just as in 1 Cor. 3.17 (1QS IV, 21), and was accompanied by angels, who further contributed to the sacredness of the community (Frennesson 1999: 116). In this 'New Temple', new spiritual sacrifices were also performed. But the burnt offerings and sacrifices of the Jerusalem sanctuary were temporarily substituted by prayers and the pure life of the community members (Gartner 1965: 30). Early rabbinic Judaism and Qumran Judaism then, each found their ways to replicate the sacred place in a different place, with greater or lesser degree of sanctity, and with different aims: to substitute the sanctuary worship (Qumran), or to enhance it by producing a ritually pure people with knowledge of the laws of sacrifice and purity (the synagogue). Thus, if Paul is drawing on sanctuary discourse reminiscent both of the Jerusalem sanctuary and other Graeco-Roman sanctuaries in general, he was not the only one to do so. In Neyrey's words, 'Paul transferred that socialized sense of sacred space from Mount Zion and the temple building to the assembled Christian group' (Neyrey 1990: 50).78 Paul's naos terminology and his understanding of the naos as consisting of human

74. Livy, History of Rome, 39.16.10. 75. Even if many traits of the Temple Scroll sanctuary do not correspond to what is known about the Jerusalem sanctuary (Wise, Abegg Jr, and Cook 1996: 458), there are sufficient recognizable elements in the Temple Scroll descriptions to conclude that these two sanctuary spaces form part of the same discourse. The discrepancies between the place described in the Temple Scroll and the Second Temple standing in Jerusalem rather show how the temple of the Temple scroll is an ideological construct adjusted to the ritual wishes or needs of the Qumran community. 76. 4Q268 (Damascus Document1) 1, 10-12; CDa V, 6-7; CDb XX, 22. 77. See, for example, the Temple Scroll (11Q19 [Temple Scroll"], XLVI, 11). Cf. Gartner (1965: 16-46). 78. Cf. Fine (1997: 55). 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 165

'building blocks' share the same basic assumptions that the rabbis developed into the ideas of the minyan and the synagogue that probably occurred in the same period. Whether Paul saw the ekklesia-sanctuary as a superior substitution of the Jerusalem sanctuary, or whether he simply views it as replication, is impossible to tell from 1 Corinthians alone.79 But it should be noted that 1 Corinthians is the letter where Paul draws on Jewish discourse, biblical stories and purity laws as a bolster against idolatrous practices. Also a later Christian author seems careful to represent Paul as one who did not reject the ritual practices in the sanctuary in Jerusalem (Acts 25.8, cf. 24.17). It is not possible to re-place or recollect a place with all its accidentalities of time and particular features. It is the stylized system that can be decentered and recollected.80 By also paying attention to how space can be constructed on different levels that can co-exist and mutually confirm (or criticize) each other, it is fully possible that Paul can label the ekklesia vaog while still acknowledging the sanctuary in Jerusalem. Thus, instead of thinking that textual representations of the sanctuary that did not correspond in detail to the actual buildings must be a result of the supersessionist views of the author, we should rather read the maps of space drawn by Paul, Ezekiel or the Temple Scroll as stylizations. Just as any representation of reality can be read as contesting other representations and implicitly criticizing them, these texts may also be read as competing voices within the Jewish discourse of sanctuary space - perhaps contesting the ideology that dominated the material practice of the sanctuary of their day, but all offering an interpretation of what the Jerusalem Temple 'means'. On the other hand, when Langer notes the great pains taken by the rabbis to 'define themselves positively in terms of the Temple and understand the differentiations as imposed by necessity' (1998: 10 n. 35), the same can definitely not be said about Paul. There may be an implied critique of the temple-centered spirituality in other parts of Paul's letters, but still the critique of the ekklesiai is much more explicit and stronger. The supersessionist views that can be found in Paul81 must not be linked with the idea that just because the sanctuary space in Jerusalem could be replicated elsewhere the model has become superfluous!

79. To the extent that Paul's perspectives reflect those of the Qumran community (the point in Gartner 1965), he is probably 'supersessionist'. See also Young (1972: 330-31). 80. Cf. Rabinow (1991: 254-55). 81. Cf. Boyarin (1994: 202). 166 Women in Their Place

5.9 Conclusion In this chapter the ritual gatherings described in Paul's letters to the Corinthians are established as sanctuary space - ritually constructed, a 'space of representation'. I have mentioned how 1 Corinthians uses cultic language, sanctuary and building imagery, represents the ekklesiai as containing ritual elements, and differentiates between oikia and ekklesia. Paul argues the case of Christian ritual by drawing on pagan and Jewish sanctuary discourse, and at the same time emphasizing the exclusivity of Christ in relation to idol worship: participation in ekklesia space is contrasted with the activity going on in an elSuAeiov, a place of idol worship, a pagan sanctuary. Since a similar opposition to the Jerusalem sanctuary is not found, I conclude that 1 Corinthians does not represent the ekklesia as a substitution of the Jerusalem sanctuary, rather takes it as a model. With a spatial-ritual approach tol Corinthians 11-14 it is possible to see the contours of a particular, historically situated and discursively defined ritual space which was quite different from the modern reality of institutionalized Christian churches. In this approach, the distinction between the household and the ekklesia turns out as quite important. Ekklesia, in the meaning of ritual gathering, should be a space properly set off from daily life. Clear verbal boundaries must be constructed in order to avoid overlapping between the two kinds of space. Paul has to speak in capital letters in order to be heard above the rumbling masses of speaking things in the building staging daily life. Having introduced the distinction, it becomes easier for him to legitimate that the Lord's meal should not be an ordinary meal and that the practices of women in the household are not automatically proper when the Christians gather for worship - something I will come back to more in the next chapter dealing with the internal structure and coherence of this space. The discourse that supplies Paul with language and concepts establishes ritual, as well as purity, as related to space. The particular features of the broader sanctuary discourses that Paul draws on, seem to be exclusivity and the importance of boundaries; the sanctuary as a symbol of unity; the possibility of 'replicating' sanctuaries; proper worship/ritual; God's presence in the community, in the rules and in the hierarchy governing the sanctuary, as well as in the priesthood serving there. Some of these elements, such as sanctuary as a symbol of unity, are less in focus in the Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space, although the imperial cult somehow presupposed that a sanctuary and its rituals could create unity and integration. And the antagonism between the elSwXeiov and the ekklesia would sound rather strange in the Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space. In order to understand what is more strongly or less strongly in focus in 1 Corinthians than in the 'average' Corinthian 5. Placing the Christian Gatherings 167 discourse, I have also taken a brief look at the Jewish discourse of sanctuary space. I assume this was not fully integrated into the Corinthian discourse, therefore it may account for the instances where Paul parts ways with the Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space. This does not mean that I consider Jewish sanctuary discourse as 'das ganz andere' in relation to Graeco-Roman sanctuary discourse: they are intervowen, and when it comes to the construction of space and the construction of gender, there are important similarities as we shall see further in next chapter. But Paul's emphasis that the ekklesia should be a unity seems to place him more within Jewish sanctuary discourse,82 because even if these elements are also found within imperial cult, they are not expressed as strongly there. What I have not touched on in this chapter, is how important it is in many of the discussed texts that the internal mapping of the sanctuary space reflects some cosmic order. The internal mapping of the ekklesia, and its relation to cosmology, will be the topic of the next chapter.

82. In fact, one of the most common self-designations of the Qumran movement was Yahad, 'unity' (Wise, Abegg Jr, and Cook 1996: 123). Chapter 6

CORINTHIAN ORDER

Architecture 'is only ... an element of support, to ensure a certain allocation of people in space, a canalization of their circulation, as well as the coding of their reciprocal relations. So it is not only considered as an element in space, but is especially thought of as a plunge into a field of social relations' (M. Foucault in Rabinow 1991: 253).

6.1 Introduction: Gender in the Sanctuary Space 0/ Ekklesia Whereas in Chapter 5 we looked at ekklesia as a spatial entity, a sanctuary space with external boundaries over against the household space, in this chapter we turn to the internal organization of this sanctuary space. I will focus in particular on how the exhortations concerning women in 1 Corinthians 11-14 serve to structure the ritually constructed space of the ekklesia. In chs. 11-14 Paul does not use the vaos-term as a denotation of the ekklesia. But it was not Paul's use of the vaog-term for the ekklesia that sparked off my reflections on ekklesia as ritually constructed sanctuary space in the first place. It was rather his emphasis on correct ritual and dress, on correct order and cosmology; his fence-drawing between Christians and non-Christians, men and women; his drawing of boundaries between different cultic roles; his language of holiness and purity; his idea of the ekklesia structure as representative of some kind of cosmological entity (namely the cosmic order visualized in Paul's version of the creation stories), and his concern about the correct representation of the deity worshipped there. Such issues that belong to a discourse of ritual/sanctuary space, are abundantly present in chs. 1 1 14. Even if the vaos-term is not used in this section, other spatial and building images are. I mentioned in Chapter 5 the extensive use of words derived from oiKoSoii-.1 The ekklesia is also represented as a body. The

1. See above, p. 155. Cf. Mitchell (1992: 259); Land (1993). 6. Corinthian Order 169 body, too, is a spatial entity,2 hence discourses of space and body go well together. Gender is central in the order that Paul presents as paradigmatic for the ekklesia space, and in this chapter the verses where ekklesia is gendered will be analysed. I have suggested already that for Paul, gender is not only, not even primarily, about male and female bodies and quoted Laqueur's proposition that in pre-Enlightenment texts sex, or the body, must be understood as the epiphenomenon, while gender was primary or 'real'. In this chapter also Laqueur's conclusion is relevant: 'To be a man or a woman was to hold a social rank, a place in society, to assume a cultural role, not to be organically one or the other of two incommensurable sexes' (1990: 8). In theological-cosmological terms we could say that in the discourse Paul represents not only bodies and societies, but the whole cosmos is gendered according to a good, divine order. For this reason readers will find that the analysed passages do not always have 'male' and 'female' on their surface level. But they still contain entities to which gender was usually attached. Even if I show how the ekklesia is gendered and structured in 1 Corinthians 11-14, I will also attempt to expose the instability of those structures. Paul is drawing on flexible discourses of sanctuary space and he combines these also with other ideas to accommodate women into a ritual space in which their presence is problematic. But Paul is creative enough at least to try. His strategies of integration can be placed along an axis between, on the one hand, constructing a hierarchy where women are placed at the lower level, and, on the other hand, excluding the female altogether from the level of representation, but still somehow presupposing her silent presence under cover as a man. These two poles intersect and intermingle (not always harmoniously) as Paul slides back and forth between them, but for analytical purposes I will artificially isolate them. The first pole is mainly found in the discourse of ritual/sanctuary space framing and conditioning the section (see 6.2-6.4 below). The second pole, the exclusion of the female from the level of representation, is mainly found in ch. 11 and in 12.12-27 (see 6.7 below) where Paul uses body images in his representation of the ekklesia and where he prescribes what the Christians gathered in ekklesia should understand themselves as.

2. 'If we look for fundamental principles of spatial organization we find them in two kinds of facts: the posture and structure of the human body, and the relations between human beings... The body is an "it", and it is in space or takes up space1 (Tuan 1977: 34). 170 Women in Their Place

6.2 Cosmic Gender Hierarchy I will argue here that Paul in 1 Cor. 11.1-16 presents the spatial organization of the ritual gathering in the form of a cosmic hierarchy. This hierarchy is to be imitated in the ekklesia. Both the placing of the passage as introduction to the section on ritual gatherings, the term KecjxxXr), the hierarchy of 11.1-3, the references to cosmogony, angels, the ev Kupiw and to the creation of woman point in this direction, as well as the passage's shifting between the drawing of a (macro-)cosmic paradigm and application on a microcosmic (ekklesia) level. The cosmic passages are 11.1-3, 7-9 and 10b-12.

6.2.1 The Use of Gender in Paul's Framing of the Ekklesia-Section (I Corinthians 11-14) Paul both opens and ends the section on the ritual gatherings of the ekklesia with comments that produce gender difference (11.2-16 and 14.33-40). Compared to other 'women'-sayings in the letter, it is precisely in these two passages framing how the assembly is supposed to take place that the production of gender difference is also at its most explicit and intense. This is not coincidental. Since views on gender are not only explicit in this section of the letter (while implicit or absent in the far greater parts of Pauline literature), but also given such dominant positions, it shows us that gender is of crucial importance for the way the ritual gatherings are organized. Why is it so important to put women in the correct place in the cosmological hierarchy exactly when it comes to ritual? On the one hand religion has been an important means of legitimizing gender systems in society, even if the gender definitions of the religious rituals proper may be in tension with, or liminal to, the social gender system. On the other hand, gender systems are actively drawn upon in the production of meaning within rituals, thus gender is fundamental for the order of ritual gatherings.3 If the distinctions between strong and weak, divine and human, pure and impure, light and dark, dry and moist, spirit and body and so on are intimately and intricately linked to gender distinctions, gender difference can also be used to underscore or 'carry' other religiously important differences. Other scholars have also studied the connections between the passage and the rest of 1 Corinthians. In her article, 'Rhetorical situation and historical reconstruction in 1 Corinthians' Schussler Fiorenza reads the letter-text with a rhetorical approach, and moves 'from the "world of the text" of Paul to the actual world of the Corinthian community'. She uses

3. Cf. Eriksson (1995: Chapter 4): 'The meaning of gender in the service of the Holy Communion'. 6. Corinthian Order 171 the fact that women are given a crucial place 'in the ring-composition of chapters 11.2-14.40' to postulate that 'women must have had influence and leadership in the Corinthian church' in worship meetings (Schiissler Fiorenza 1987: 388, 395). She discusses Paul's strong appeals to authority along patriarchal lines in a situation where he knows that no other arguments will work: 'Paul appeals to those who, like himself, were of higher social and educational status... His veiled hostility and appeal to authority in the so-called women's passages indicates, however, that he does not include women of high social and educational status in this appeal' (p.399). However plausible this historical assumption is, if Paul's point was the general subordination of women under men, he could have prescribed this in his discussions of other topics. In the case of 11.2-16, if his only point was the veiling of women in the ekklesia, he could have prescribed this in a much clearer and shorter way. I think that the passage is placed at this location in the letter because there is an intimate connection between the cosmological hierarchy and gender boundaries drawn here and the ekklesia space discussed in the following verses and chapters. I believe that the cosmological hierarchy is somehow conceived as paradigmatic for the ordering of ekklesia space. Other contributions that utilize rhetorical and/or gender theory show how gender issues not only frame chs. 11-14, but are also interwoven with the ritual issues discussed throughout the section. Antoinette Wire holds that the women in the Christian group are present in the wider field of vision throughout 1 Corinthians, so also in chs. 11-14, even if they are not in focus other than a few places. Concerning chs. 11-14 she says: 'If ammunition is indicative of the enemy's forces, the three-chapter argument about the spiritual that moves through divine distribution of gifts ... to the silencing of certain ecstatics and prophets and the suppression of women's public voices is no small tribute to the social influence of those upon which its weight falls' (Wire 1990: 157-58). She thus follows Schussler Fiorenza's hypothesis mentioned above and reads 11-14 as Paul's attempt to undermine the authority of the women prophets. Anders Eriksson limits his perspective to chs. 12-14, and argues that Paul in these chapters is particularly after the women 'pneumatics' who speak in tongues and challenge Paul's unique authority as pastor of the group (Eriksson 1998b: 124).4 With an important (feminist) twist in perspective, Wire and Eriksson thus revive views on the Corinthian women that were current at the beginning of the twentieth century; that they were (at) the root of the problems in the Christian group.5 This view yielded to a near total neglect

4. This view presupposes, as Martin (1991) argues, that speaking in tongues increases the status of the speakers. 5. See Eriksson (1998b: 80). See also Hering (1959: 130) for this view. 172 Women in Their Place of women, which was the dominant way of treating the Corinthian problems and the Corinthian women until the 1970s. I do agree with Wire and Eriksson in that the section touches many issues related to gender, but I cannot see that the behavior of women in the ritual gatherings - or Paul's view of their behavior - is the cause of the surfacing of gender terms in the text. First, this view presupposes that since women are only mentioned explicitly in the introduction and the closing of the section, Paul must have a conscious strategy of making the strong and visible women invisible, because if he addressed them directly, this could be taken as an acknowledgment of their power. This in turn presupposes that it is possible to move from Paul's utterances on women to historical women, an activity I find difficult, since I do not consider the historical situation as a fixed given that releases one specific response from Paul. Both Paul's perception of the situation in Corinth and his response to it are contingent on his ideological universe that he partly shares, partly does not share, with the Corinthians. Also as mentioned in Chapter 2, with many other scholars I read the aim of 1 Corinthians to be an orderly, unified ekklesia. But if chaos and disorder, mortality6 and lack of correspondence with the ideal were related to notions of femininity and unity, order, identity and peace were related to notions of masculinity in ancient discourse, it is clear which side in Paul's construction of the Corinthian conflict is masculine and which is feminine. My point is that the 'women passages' form part of a broader gender discourse even if 'women' are not constantly on the surface level of Paul's text. In this discourse, gender was above all cosmological, a way of structuring and making sense of the world, and dividing it into different, gendered spheres.7 Only secondarily and on a lower level was gender about 'coagulated'8 male and female bodies even if modern materialists may consider such views of gender as projections, megalomania or universalizing (Clark 1994)9 of the genital difference between male and female bodies. Awareness of ancient notions of gender difference as a kind of difference that was applicable to all spheres and all realms of human activity makes it possible for modern readers to read the problems of disorder and schisms as also related to the problem of gender difference in the ekklesia. Concepts that we consider gender neutral, such as peace, order and unity, in this section function in interplay with cosmology and notions of gender

6. See Chapter 3 on Pandora who brought mortality, chaos and disorder into the world of men. Cf. Rappaport (1999: 263-64). 7. Cf. Neyrey (1994: 79-80) and my presentation of Yvonne Hirdman above under 3.3.1. 8. For this expression, see Martin (1995: 132). 9. Cf. Soleim (1996: 139): 'Descartes may be credited with curing Western intellectuals of a special aspect of the narcissistic illness called megalomania, namely in destroying the microcosm-macrocosm model and thus getting rid of man's double out in space.' 6. Corinthian Order 173 as tools to construct ekklesia as male space. If women who participated in cosmic femininity were carriers of disorder and chaos, they had to be fenced in their right place, so that the ekklesia could preserve its masculine character and an orderly hierarchy be maintained.

6.2.2 Woman's and Man's Place in Cosmic Space In 1 Cor. 11.1-16, the introduction to the section on ritual, Paul presents many cosmological claims. Since a translation reveals how a reader understands a text, and since this text is so central to the book I will give my own translation in full. I admit to paying more attention to the original Greek than to readable English: (1) Imitate me, as I also imitate Christ. (2) I praise you that in all things you remember me and maintain the traditions even as I have delivered them to you. (3) I want you to know that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of a woman is the man, and the head of Christ is God. (4) Every man praying or prophesying, having the head covered, brings shame over (or dishonours) his head, (5) but every woman praying or prophesying with the head uncovered, brings shame over (or dishonours) her head, for it is one and the same thing as with the shaven woman. (6) For if a woman does not cover herself, then she should be shorn, and if it is a shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven - let her be covered; (7) for a man, indeed, ought not to cover the head, being the image and glory of God. But the woman is the glory of man. (8) For man is not of woman, but woman is of man. (9) Also, man was not created because of/for the woman, but woman because of/for the man. (10) Because of this the woman ought to have authority/power upon the head, because of the angels. (11) But in the Lord, neither is woman without/apart from man, nor man without/apart from woman, (12) for as the woman is of the man, so also is the man through the woman: but all things are of/from God. (13) Judge among yourselves: is it proper for a woman to pray to God uncovered? (14) Does not even nature herself teach you, that if a man has long hair, it is a dishonor to him? (15) And that if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her, because the hair is given her instead of a veil/covering. (16) If anyone wishes to be contentious, we do not have such a practice, nor do the ekklesiai of God. Exegetical discussions on this passage have often focused on a particular set of 'checklist' questions mainly of philological character: the meaning of the word Ke4>aXf|; what it means to have e^ouata em rf]9 Kecj)aXf|9,10 why

10. The views can be roughtly sorted into three groups: either women are to wear veils as signs of their subordination under male authority (e.g. Fatum 1988), or women are to wear authority-veils to compensate for their creational and/or socio-religious lack (e.g. Jervell 1960: 174 Women in Their Place

Paul introduces the angels here," and whether Paul is prescribing long hair or veils.12 Discussions have also focused on how to understand what is perceived as contradictions in the passage,13 how Paul makes men and women equal in Christ,14 and Paul's use of his own religious tradition - the Jewish one.15 Since no solution to these exegetical 'problems' has commended consensus even after 100 years of intense philological research, it may be that the questions themselves are posed wrongly. I have to clarify my understanding of some terms and expressions although I will try to avoid ending up in the same kind of traditional exegetical discussion in order to be able to focus more specifically on the discourses of gender and space as reminiscent in the passage. It is necessary to be sensitive to the distinction between what I think the terms and expressions meant in the discourses Paul formed part of,and how they make sense in modern feminist, ritual or other discourses.

6.2.3 11.1-3: Head and Hierarchy Notions of hierarchy are found both in the Ke(j)aXr|-term, and in the relations drawn between the different places in the hierarchy. I will start with the term and then gradually move to the hierarchical organization of men's and women's places.

307-309); or women are to wear veils as a sign of personal authority and control in Christ (i.e. independently of the male) (e.g. Schiissler Fiorenza 1983: 228-29). D'Angelo (1995) suggests that the women are to wear veils to protect themselves from the male gaze of angels and men. 11. D'Angelo (1995) points out that 'commentators from Tertullian on have taken the view that Paul requires women's heads to be veiled lest the angels be sexually tempted' (with reference to Gen. 6.1-4). For her own part she concludes: 'Whether the angels are offended or eager observers of women's heads, their gaze is male' (1995: 142). Jervis (1993: 243): 'Paul's appeal to the angels is a reminder of God as creator'. Schlier (1965: 679): the angels represent the presence of God and Christ in worship. 12. Veils: E.g. Jervell (1960: 309). Hairstyle: Isaksson (1965: 166-67). Freedom to let their hair loose: Padgett (1984). Bound-up hair: Schiissler Fiorenza (1983: 229). Himation over the head, mitra or similar: Schottroff (1980). Women should retain Jewish hair style rather than letting their hair down: Schiissler Fiorenza (1978: 160). 13. Padgett (1984); Trompf (1980); Delobel (1986). 14. Equal: Jervell (1960: 67); Barrett (1971: 255); Conzelmann (1975: 184, 190); Scroggs (1974: 534); Jewett (1979); Schiissler Fiorenza (1983: 229) (although she modifies this view in Schiissler Fiorenza 1987: 395). Against Scroggs: Pagels (1974: 543). Of those arguing from the 'different, but equal'-position, I find Gundry-Volf (1997b: 46^8) the most convincing (cf. Gundry-Volf 1997a). I agree in many respects with her further description of the hierarchy, but I depart when she states that 'his statements are not intended'. Intentions do not count in the present analysis. 15. See e.g. Jervell (1960: 292-312); Oepke (1965). In many discussions of the passage, veiling is paired with Judaism and a rather 'negative' view of women, which is supposed to be the 'background' for Paul's statements. See e.g. Kiichler (1988: 110-12 and 481-91); Merode (1978). 6. Corinthian Order 175

The word KecjxiXr] means 'head' but it could also mean 'source' (Liddell, Scott, and Jones 1940: 'KecjxiXrj' II d, 945).16 The head was further viewed as the noblest part of the body and stands as a representation of the whole body (Liddell, Scott, and Jones 1940: 'KecjxiXrV 2, 945). This view is preeminently expressed in Ps. Aristotle, On the Cosmos:

'Zeus is the first-born, Zeus is the last, the lord of the lightning; Zeus is the head (Ke(j)aXf|), Zeus the centre; from Zeus comes all that is."7 Ps. Aristotle is an adequate comparison because he is temporally close to Paul (first century BCE). His view represents nothing new, however: it i presented as a quote from an older Orphic hymn, and a similar view could be found in Plato who considers the Ke^aXrj a sphere-shaped body imitating the spherical form of the All and 'being the most divine part and reigning over all the parts within us. To it the gods delivered over the whole of the body they had assembled to be its servant' (Plato, Timaeus, 44d). This passage also illustrates how the head is considered a space that imitates cosmic space. The KecjxiXfi then, in itself an imitation of those things higher, occupies a high(est) place in a hierarchy and is the source - or purpose - of the existence of those things lower. A double meaning of the word denoting 'head' (body part and primacy) can also be found in the Hebrew tfNh. In Latin too, caput can in addition to denoting 'head' also overlap semantically with principium or fans- 'origin', 'source', 'beginning' (Johanssen, Nygaard, and Schreiner 1965: 83 'caput'), although caput is less often used to denote leadership. Thus, in all three linguistic universes that surrounded Paul the word denoting 'head' simultaneously denoted some place of priority - high status and/or much power. Roughly speaking, Kecj)aXf) was interpreted as 'authority' until the middle of last century. Then the advent of modern feminism led to a wish of modernizing Paul, so scholars now mostly read Ke

16. In this vein many exegetes, including, e.g., Wire (1990: read KecjxxXn; as 'source', 279 n. 2). 17. Ps. Aristotle, On the Cosmos, 401a-b (Furley). 18. Fee (1987: 502-04), Scroggs (1972: 298-99), and Jewett (1979) interpret K^a\r\ as 'source' in an 'egalitarian' sense. The older view is maintained by e.g. Ellis (1989: 60), and with a twist, Keener (1992: 34). 176 Women in Their Place status vis-a-vis the imitation (1991: 59-87).19 Even Fee (1987), who argues strongly against a hierarchical reading of Kecf)aXf| in 1 Corinthians 11, draws on exactly the same hierarchical connotations he is arguing against in the case of 11.2-3, to make sense of Paul's use of Kecf)aXf| in 12.21!20 The term Ke^aXrj with its cosmic-original and hierarchical-spatial connotations then, elegantly brings together Paul's appeals to woman's creation boih after and of man in 11.8-9 (see below). My overall understanding of this and other expressions in the passage is governed by my impression of the passage as a whole, namely that here Paul draws on different patriarchal discourses of gender to which there were no real alternatives in his day, they only came in different packages.21 Naturally, there could be subversive practices to the dominant discourses and we could even view Paul's own attempt to incorporate women into the ekklesia as one such subversive practice. But if one wants to argue that Paul was such a socially unintelligent person that he managed to remain unmarked even by the most dominant discourses of his society, that has to be proven by other means than philology. In any case, such a view of Paul would have to presuppose other theories of the relationships between individuals and collectives (such as discourses and culture) than those presupposed here (Foucault 1972: 217). Thus, in the ancient discourses, the Kecj)aXr|-terni carried hierarchical connotations in itself. But Martin who does not discuss the problematic Kec|)aXr|-term, still finds the same hierarchy expressed in the arrangement of sentences in 11.3:

A: Christ is to man as B: man is to woman as C: God is to Christ. Since two of these parallels (A and C) are clearly in a hierarchical relationship in Paul's thought, so the remaining parallel (B) can hardly be taken to mean something else. The subordination of women could hardly be clearer (Martin 1995: 232). Every step is related to the higher step in the hierarchy as body to head. It is important not to induce shame on the head in the literal sense and in the sense of shaming the step higher up in the hierarchy. By asking the Corinthians to be imitators of him two verses earlier, just like he imitates Christ, Paul inserts himself too into this hierarchy on the

19. Cf. also Martin (1995: 295 n. 14) on the link between origin and hierarchy, with reference to Diogenes Laertius, Lives, 6.84. 20. Compare Fee (1987: 502-503 with p. 612). 21. Cf. Chapter 3, first part and the summary of the passage in Schussler Fiorenza (198"1: 395). 6. Corinthian Order 111 level between Christ and men.22 In 11.1-3 then, Paul sketches a hierarchy in which God is on the top, then Christ, then Paul, then the man, and finally the woman. In 11.1-3, the relationship between woman and man is presented as analogous with the relationship between Christ and God. The first implication of this is that gender difference has theological significance, since it must reflect on a microcosmic level the relationship between the two most important figures in Paul's theology: Christ and God. Secondly, Paul gives his understanding of the gender difference a theological sanction, since it is cast as equivalent to the relationship between Christ and God. Thirdly, gender difference also teaches Paul something about man's relationship to Christ (v. 3), since he (man) is to Christ what woman is to man. That the relationship is to be understood hierarchically, is confirmed by the fact that Paul here speaks to the men about women's dress. It is unnecessary to follow the dSeXcjxi-reading of D, F, G and the koine- tradition to make this point. These manuscripts only indicate how Paul's address was understood. Paul's use of the male d8eX(j)6s-term as address is consistent through the letter, d8eX(j)T| is only used twice - not as address, but in the 3rd person, in discussions of marital relations where a male term would be confusing. We find a direct address to women in 7.16, though (Fatum 1995: 68, 101 n. 62). But in 11.1-16 Paul does not address women directly. As D'Angelo points out, 'he uses third-person imperatives (5-6) until he addresses himself to the congregation as a whole (13-16)' (D'Angelo 1995: 142). But the whole passage still somehow presupposes that women are present under cover and hear what he says to the men. I find it less plausible that the male addressees are supposed to do more than just remind their women outside of ekklesia space how to dress. In any case, if Paul had addressed the women directly here, they would not be any more subordinate to him than Corinthian men are (v. 1). Since Paul uses the men as mediators in his communication with the unveiled women, the women end up at the bottom of the message-hierarchy, just like he prescribes in 14.34-35. Even if I support a hierarchical reading of 11.1-3 I do not follow those who think that v. 3 refers to the husband's authority and leadership over his wife. I do not consider it to be a piece of marital ethics because I read it as a piece of ritual discourse firmly situated within the section dealing with ritual gatherings. It is noteworthy that it is exactly within the context of ritual prescriptions that Paul presents this hierarchy, and not for example in the sections about family life - an interesting contrast to the post-

22. Cf. Wire (1990: 35 36, 116); Castelli (1991: 112-13). 178 Women in Their Place

Pauline Haustafeln.2^ Even if a privileged location in the hierarchy may imply rulership over those lower down in the hierarchy (e.g. a man over his own wife or over other females of his household), that is not a point Paul makes here. Thus I agree with Conzelmann who says that 'it is not questions of marriage that are being discussed here, but questions of the community' (Conzelmann 1975: 184).24 Paul is not talking about the level of 'coagulation' or individual bodies here, and not every reference to men and women has to relate to a discourse of marriage. Man is not the head o woman in the sense that every individual wife-body should lack head, and a husband-body should be placed on the shoulders of the headless wife's body. Neither should the head of individual Corinthian men be cut off so that Paul/Christ could be placed there. Since the other literary personae involved in 11.2-16 (God, Christ, angels) are cosmological entities, I also read female and male here as cosmological entities.25 Paul does not prescribe how individual couples should relate to each other, but how male and female as cosmological 'spaces of representation' should be ordered in relation to each other. The verses confirm gender difference on a cosmological level through the drawing of a hierarchy and a clear boundary between male and female. A ritual setting is the proper place to make the places for men and for women and the boundary between them clear and distinct, as opposed to the fluent and confusing practices of everyday life. For moderners this may also explain why Paul can write 11.1-3 and simultaneously allow some women roles as leaders and patrons of Christian groups. But even if differentiation and a clear boundary between male and female places may be the fundamental issues in the discourse Paul draws on here, the result of Paul's outline of a mimetic hierarchy in 11.1-3 is the gendering of the ekklesia space as primarily a male space. What woman represents, does not have any place on the higher levels of the hierarchy, which are male places: God, Christ, Paul, Corinthian men. Woman can still be present if she keeps her place on the bottom of the hierarchy.

6.2.4 11.7-9: References to Cosmogony!Creation Paul's reference to 'creation' in 11.7-9, more precisely to the cosmogony of Genesis 1-2,26 is the fourth invitation to a cosmological reading of the passage in which the reference occurs. In Paul's day the cosmogony given

23. Schussler Fiorenza (1983: 194) convincingly locates the combination of the pre- Pauline tradition of the community as temple with that of the community as household to the era of 1 Peter. 24. Against e.g. Keener (1992: 19); D'Angelo (1995); Fatum (1995). 25. Similarly Conzelmann (1975: 184). 26. Cf. Chapter 3 on the Adam-and-Eve-model. 6. Corinthian Order 179 in the Torah was considered the clearest and most authoritative Jewish expression of the divine origin of cosmic order, as we learn from Philo in On the Creation of the World: His (i.e. Moses') exordium, as I have said, is one that excites our admiration in the highest degree. It consists of an account of the creation of the world, implying that the world (Koauog) is in harmony with the Law, and the Law with the world, and that the man who observes the Law is constituted thereby a loyal citizen of the world (Koa(ioTToXiTou), regulating his doings by the purpose and will of Nature, in accordance with which the entire world itself also is administered. Now it is true that no writer in verse of prose could possibly do justice to the beauty of the ideas embodied in this account of the creation of the kosmos.27 In Philo's reading, the creation is more than a normative past. Rather the creation is a representation of the Law itself as cosmic order. The prelapsarian creation represents the divinely ordained order of the cosmos in the clearest possible form, and as such it represents a paradigm to be imitated for the continuous life of the world. Hence the intense debates over these stories in early Judaism and over what more exactly the order of that prelapsarian cosmos was: the same textual discontinuities that made modern scholars postulate that we really have two different cosmogonies in Genesis 1-2 also presented problems for the ancients. The discontinuities could be harmonized, or one could like Philo take creation as a two-step process, of which the first step was the creation of the spiritual world (rendered in Genesis 1), and the second step was the creation of the material world (Gen. 2.4b-25).28 The creation of the material world after the creation of the spiritual then, implied the materialization of the cosmic order of the first, spiritual creation. Smith points out that by the second century BCE the cosmos was abou to be anthropologized (1978: 187). Man's place within the cosmos was what mattered, and it was defined in relation to other humans, to angels, demonic powers and deities. Stars, mountains, monsters and endless numbers of heavens disappeared more and more out of view. If by Paul's time then, cosmology was about placing humans, his construction of a hierarchy cast as 'exegesis' of the creation of cosmos is well in tune with a broader trend. In 1 Cor. 11.7 Paul says that man is the image and glory of God, and that woman is deduced from the man and hence his glory. This appears to be a reference to Gen. 1.27, where we read that God created the human being according to his image as male and female:

27. Philo, On the Creation of the World, 1.3-4 (Colson/Whitaker). 28. See above Chapter 3.2 and Boyarin (1992). 180 Women in Their Place

rat eiroir|aev 6 0eos TOV dyGponrov, KQT' eiKova 9eoi) eTrotnaev airroy, dpaev Kai 0fjXu eTrotnaev airrous. A modern understanding of this verse is that it refers to the creation of bodily human beings as we see them around us today, as cipaev mi GfjAu is often translated 'man and woman'.29 This translation presupposes that 27b is syntactically connected to 27a and not to 28a.30 But as mentioned before, modern gender models that emphasize genital difference are not always the most apt models if we want to understand how Roman-period people gendered the cosmos or received the Genesis text. Neither is it relevant to look for the 'original' meaning of this verse from the 'Priestly account' (Gen. l.l-2.4a) since it cannot be identified with what counted as 'Jewish' in Paul's times, even if Roman-period Jews also considered Genesis sacred Scripture. More relevant is how Paul's Hellenistic-Jewish contemporaries such as Philo understood the text. Philo also connected 27b to 27a, but according to Boyarin (1994) Philo read the verse about the creation of man 'male and female' as referring to an androgynous, 'pre-embodied' man. The myth of the androgyne was for Philo the interpretive key that softened the tensions between the two creation stories in Genesis 1 and 2. First, God created in his image a spiritual man (ch. 1). Chapter 2 narrates how he coagulated the physically and socially hierarchically structured world in the form of man. namely male, and its 'supplement' (Boyarin's term), that is woman. Since double-gender in a dichotomous gender system represents no-gender, the androgynous man of Genesis 1 was 'neither male nor female' or an 'ungendered male'.31 This means that he is described in male terms, but had no male body. He was a rational, integrated soul, which as virgin32 contained the stored-up reproductive potential of both male and female. Philo thus combines the one-sex-model (discussed in Chapter 3) with Genesis 1, and with Plato's myth of the first androgynous humans in Symposium, 189c-193c. As mentioned in Chapter 3, also many of the later Rabbis understood Gen. 1.27 as talking about the creation of one first man, although in a more concrete, physical sense: they thought that Adam was created hermaphrodite, and in Genesis 2 was split so that woman could be constructed.33

29. The RSV has the more literal 'male and female he created them'. 30. See Bird (1995). 31. Philo, On the Creation of the World, 134 and 152-153. Cf. Boyarin (1992: 5 n. 15); Baer (1970: 65). 32. On masculine virginity, see Songe-M011er (1999a: 227-29). 33. Genesis Kabbah 8.1 (Freedman) uses expressions like 'hermaphrodite', 'double-faced". 'He split him and made him of two backs'. 6. Corinthian Order 181

Philo's myth of the first androgynous man could in theory have been used in an argument for women as created in God's image, or in arguments for equality between the sexes (since both male and female bodies are manifestations of the same, androgynous pre-embodied human created in God's image). But Philo describes the pre-sexual, spiritual man in sexual, above all male, terms,34 and he uses this man to displace the creation of woman another step away from the origin of man:

It is not good that any man should be alone. For there are two races of men, the one made after the (Divine) Image, and the one moulded out of the earth. For the man made after the Image it is not good to be alone, because he yearns after the Image ... Far less it is good for the man moulded of the earth to be alone ... With the second man a helper is associated. To begin with, the helper is a created one, for it says 'Let us make a helper for him'.35 Boyarin comments upon this passage: 'Since the two texts, that is the one in Genesis 1 and the one in Genesis 2, refer to two entirely different species, he can claim that only the first one is called "in the image of God", that is only the singular, unbodied Adam-creature is referred to as being in God's likeness' (Boyarin 1992: 6). Thus, the equality potential inherent in the myth of the androgynous man seems not to have been explored, contrary to what Wayne Meeks (1973-74) and his followers claimed concerning the primal androgyne as the hermeneutical key to Paul's gendered texts and interpretations of Genesis. Also the myth of the androgyne occurred within a gendered world ordered hierarchically, and had as its main function to explain and reproduce the different places for men and for women. We learn about the myth through authors who in other contexts judge women generally as secondary to men. In Dale Martin's words, 'androgyny did not dispense with hierarchy but embodied it' (1995: 231). Thus, the myth of the androgynous man seems to have closer links to the dream of paradise where men are able to reproduce themselves without being dependent on women.36 In other words, in the Hellenistic universe of Philo, an androgynous, godlike human being was understood as a male who was able to reproduce himself. Boyarin also claims that Philo's ideas form an important partial analogue to Paul's ideas since they are both Hellenized Jews (1994: 187). Although it cannot be definitely concluded from Paul's brief comments, at least it is safe to assume that Paul's understanding of the creation story was

34. Sly (1990: 99): Two of the three terms that Philo would apply to the state of being in this realm, however have connotations that are sexual (in spite of being used here to denote asexuality): becoming male and becoming virgin'. 35. Philo, Allegorical Interpretation, 2.2 (Colson/Whitaker) 36. Cf. Songe-M011er (1989: 91). 182 Women in Their Place closer to Philo than, say, to the modern translations mentioned above, as long as he without further explanations can present man only as created in the image of God while leaving out the 'and female'.37 In Paul's recollection, the man is further God's 86£a - glory, honour, reflection - as in a mimetic relationship. Paul does not exactly cite the text though, as this would not unambiguously have served his ends. In Genesis also the slightly more ambiguous term dvGpwTros, and not dvr]p, is used (but see above, Chapter 3, pp. 45-46). It is not said explicitly that women are not carriers of the image of God, but when Paul is silent on this point, many scholars agree that women's lack of godlikeness was so taken for granted that it needed not to be stated.38 Alternatively, since what matters in phallogocentric discourse (both Pauline, Graeco-Roman and Jewish) is the question of the godlikeness of men, 'less important' questions about women are easily overlooked and left unanswered, even if nothing would prevent the answer from being affirmative. It is possible that in Paul's cosmological hierarchy the woman as man's 'glory' (1 Cor. 11.7b) has a kind of mimetic or derived godlikeness, like Schlier imagines:

eiKwv Kcd 86£ct have here the sense of image and reflection; this is fixed by the allusion to Gen. 1.27. The same point emerges from v. 8f, where the being of woman as 86£a, and indirectly of man as eiiccov mi 86£ot, is explained by the fact that the origin and raison d'etre of woman are to be found in man. Hence man is the image and reflection of God to the degree that in his created being he points directly to God as Creator. Woman is the reflection of man to the degree that in her created being she points to man, and only with and through him to God (1965: 679- 80).39

Anyway, woman's possible godlikeness does not fit very well the place Paul attributes to her in the cosmic hierarchy, which is then the reason he leaves it out. In many scholarly discussions of 1 Corinthians it is said that Paul accepts cultic active women who pray and prophesy 'in Christ', he only considers the universal gender distinctions given in creation (according to Jewish theology) unchangeable.40 But Paul is not 'forced' by the Torah or by any established Jewish discourse to make reference to the creation

37. Cf. Meeks (1973-74: 185) and Sly (1990). 38. See, e.g., Fatum (1995: 71). See also B0rresen (1995) who describes Augustine as the first author to affront 1 Cor. 11.7 by stating that women too represent God's image together with their husbands (but not in and by themselves, p. 199-200): 'It is important to note that all patristic exegesis understands this text as literally affirming men's exclusive God-likeness'. 39. Cf. also Conzelmann (1975: 189). 40. Jewett (1979: 75); Gundry-Volf (1997b: 48); Jervis (1993: 243). A variation of the same theme is Fatum (1995). She problematizes traditional historical-critical exegesis (e.g. 6. Corinthian Order 183 stories in order to legitimize his view of women's ritual behavior. On the contrary, this passage is the origin of a continuous Christian discourse that has no direct Jewish equivalent. That Paul regardless feels so free in relation to the Torah that he can pick and choose, we may discern from the fact that Paul ignores many themes from the creation stories as irrelevant in the ritual context of 1 Corinthians 11. He could for example have cited Gen. 1.27-28 in its entirety, or presented the Christian ekklesia as a ritual of celebration of human fecundity. But here, as elsewhere, he seems even to set aside God's first command to humans at creation: 'be fruitful and multiply'. In other instances in 1 Corinthians, it seems that he still respects the Jewish kashrut, argues against Christians eating meat sacrificed to pagan deities and against sexual practices that were not a problem in a pagan context. The point is that by setting aside one of the most fundamental concepts of the Torah, fecundity, and by drawing in the creation stories in a discussion of ritual, Paul is not in accordance with the dominant Jewish discourse on the meaning of creation, and thus cannot have felt constrained by it. He chooses to draw in the creation stories here, he also carefully selects themes from the stories and which exegetical traditions to draw on. From Genesis 2 he picks the point of woman's secondary status as man's helper, and from Genesis 1 he picks the creation of man, understood as male, in God's image (v.27). In a similar vein as Philo, Paul sees the creation as cosmogony, as God's creation of a structured universe that has not collapsed in Christ. He refers to the gender order that he sees as implied in creation because he wants to confirm its validity also in Christ.41 In the context of 1 Corinthians 11, it is not marriage that should reflect this cosmic gender order, but the Christian ekklesia.

6.2.5 11.10-12: A. The Place of Angels A fifth hint leading us in the direction of reading 1 Corinthians 11 as a passage arguing for the correct cosmic hierarchy to be imitated in the ekklesia, comes in Paul's straightforward introduction of the angels in 11.10. In light of the citation four pages ago from Smith 1978 the inclusion of angels in this cosmic context is less puzzling. Angels have their obvious place in cosmological discourse even of an 'anthropologized' type. It was (and is) however a contested topic exactly where in the cosmic hierarchy they should be placed. Their status is clearly ambiguous and therefore they can be used for many purposes.

Conzelmann 1975), but holds that Paul in 11.3-9 'safeguard social relations by means of creation teology' (p. 75), and she considers 'rabbinic Jewish creation theology ... the prerequisite of Paul's sexual paraenesis' (Fatum 1995: 83 n. 7, comp. Fatum 1988: 72). 41. Fitzmyer (1974: 188). 184 Women in Their Place

However, as Fitzmyer (1974) and Frennesson (1999) shows, in first- century Judaism angels also have their place in liturgical discourse. In Qumran at least, the angels were considered to be guardians of the liturgical order. Frennesson analyses the central notion of community with angels expressed in mainly the liturgical texts from Qumran. In these texts he finds a self-image of a liturgical community that sees itself as functioning like the Temple in Jerusalem and being in the constant presence of God's angels: 'Coupled to the image of themselves as priests in the Q"1N tthpra (a temple consisting of men), constituting "le point de tangence entre le ciel et la terre", which entailed very explicit claims "upwards" and "backwards", was the conception of God's constant presence among and within his chosen people, which in Qumran was thought of as an angelic presence" (Frennesson 1999: 113). Frennesson emphasizes that the angels are described as being present there and then during the ritual gatherings, thus they cannot be taken merely as references to the past of creation or the future of eschatological release. Both Paul's use of the vacs-term, his introduction of the angels as something self-evident needing no further explanation, and his concerns about purity are all perfectly at home within the discourse that Frennesson describes as dominant in Qumran. Angels belong within Jewish ritual/ sanctuary discourse, and they belong in maps of cosmic space. Thus they are another example in this passage where the discourses of cosmology and sanctuary space overlap. Paul's counting on the presence of the angels in the ekklesia may thus be related to his use of the vaos-term as a designation of it. What Paul sees more exactly as the function of the angels (through the use of 8id;) is untraceable from his text, and can only be suggested indirectly by the broader discourse he participates in, where angels were seen as guardians of ritual order - something that would fit quite well with Paul's overall concern in 1 Corinthians 11-14. Other plausible suggestions are that they are witnesses of the cosmic order given in creation: Genesis Kabbah 8.4-11. In 2 Enoch, they even take on 'cosmic responsibilities' and look after the creation, they rule weather and the stars, and they are present on all levels of the heavenly hierarchy.42 But since in this passage creational order is not reinforced for its own sake, but only referred to eclectically as a paradigm for ekklesia space, I find the former suggestion the most plausible.

6.2.6 11.10-12: B. Creation of Man and Woman in the Lord In many traditional interpretations, TrXfjv in the introduction to 11.11 is taken in the adversative sense,43 so that Paul introduces a distinction

42. See also Heinrici (1896: 331); Delling (1931: 102-103); Foerster (1964: 2; 573-74). 43. E.g. Gundry-Volf (1997a: 161), Engberg-Pedersen (1991). 6. Corinthian Order 185 between the order given in creation, and the order 'in the Lord'. Exegetes have interpreted this antithetically as an indication that Paul has new Christian equality ideals clear in his mind, but still feels bound by 'Judaism', identified with the hierarchical gender order that Paul presents as the order given in creation. Jewett and Hering are typical of this way of reading Paul as bound by his Jewish background in 1 Corinthians, but still free to be 'authentic' in Galatians 3.44 This way of reading has even survived the 'discovery' of Galatians 3.26-28 as a quote from the baptismal ritual. Others take Paul's rhetoric of equivalence in v. 12 at face value,45 and understand the verse as an attempt to make man and woman equal 'in the Lord'. The view that Paul in 11.2-16 and in ch. 7 promotes gender equality is based on the observation that Paul here, in contrast to most other passages, makes parallel statements to women and men. And on the surface level of the text at least, that there is 'in the Lord' neither woman apart from man, nor man apart from woman, could point in direction of an upheaval 'in the Lord' of the gender distinctions given in creation (as Paul understands these). But as Fatum remarks in her excellent, critical reading of the passage, 'why does Paul continue in vv. 13-15 exactly as in vv. 3-10 with the obvious intention of keeping married women subordinated? And why, after all, does he resort to arguments from creation theology and midrashic interpretations if he himself is uneasy about their impact and actually means to say something radically different?' (Fatum 1988: 71). These observations invoke the suspicion that in the cases where he makes seemingly parallel statements, the main concern is women (as Wire and Conzelmann also confirm), and the men are drawn in only to show that a parallel issue concerns them. When we study the prepositions we also notice that it is not two semantically equivalent statements he syntactically balances against each other by use of wcnrep... .OUTGJS. As Paul reminds us in the next sentence, everything - man included - is o/(eK) God. CK designates origin and means 'out of, 'out from'. Woman is by analogy oj '(CK) the man, but significantly, the equivalent statement that man is O/(EK) woman is not made. Rather the man is 8td, through, the woman (8td with genitive means [to pass] 'through'), as when a woman gives birth to a male child. Paul's use of prepositions here is subtle: All things are out of (EK) God, and the woman is out of (EK) man. That women are of men may sound a bit odd to modern ears, but this not only refers to Genesis 2: according to Brooten (1996: 325) it was an ancient notion found most succinctly in Clement of Alexandria, that the male seed as the seed containing the whole new person, was a sign

44. E.g. Jewett (1979: 68); Hering (1959: 91-94). 45. Conzelmann (1975: 184 n. 35, 190); Jervell (1960: 309-312); Jewett (1979: 67); Gundry- Volf(1997a: 165). 186 Women in Their Place of man's participation in God's creative powers, thus also all actors on this lower level have their origin in God. Through his use of prepositions Paul thus visualizes a movement from the top and downwards in a similar (but not identical) hierarchy as the one in 11.3 and the one presupposed in 14.36. At the level of meaning the statements together confirm a traditional phallocentric hierarchy where women are birth-givers to male (and, not explicitly stated, female) offspring whilst still being derivative of a male original. If we compare this with the hiearchy of 11.3 which must be valid 'in the Lord' since it includes Christ (and Paul), the latter does not reflect Genesis 1-2 in any recognizable form, so Paul's hierarchy there cannot be labelled 'Jewish' only because it implies that women are placed lower than men in the hierarchy. Paul does not simply take over a hierarchy from contemporary Jewish exegesis of the Genesis stories. First, as we saw in Chapter 4, also in Corinthian gender-inclusive sanctuary spaces it was common to give the highest cultic status to the male, so this was not particularly a Jewish trait. Secondly, Paul is not simply taking over, he is transforming existing models of hierarchy and introducing his version as a paradigm for the Corinthian ritual gatherings. Compared with the Genesis stories, Paul draws the relation between man and woman much sharper as a graded hierarchy, he introduces new steps by depicting the relationship between man and woman as equivalent to the relationship between God and Christ, and he places himself in the middle as mediator between the higher and lower levels of the hierarchy (11.1). This latter twist is also different from the exegesis of the creation stories by Philo and the Rabbis,46 and serves to underscore Paul's authority that he depicts as being threatened in Corinth. Naturally, Christ is not part of the Jewish readings of the creation stories, either. Thus we cannot identify Paul's drawing on Genesis and creation with what counted as 'Jewish' in Paul's times, as we cannot read Paul's representation of Judaism generally as objective (Boyarin 1994: 47; Kimelman 1999). Paul's cultural-critical agenda makes him sometimes (definitely not here!) describe all 'old' and 'Jewish' negatively, as background for the 'new' unity, freedom and sameness 'in Christ'. Thus ideology-sensitive reading is necessary, but so are comparisons with contemporaneous Jewish and Graeco-Roman discourse on the topic of woman's place,47 in order to fully realize that the variations in the ancient Mediterranean discourse of gender do not follow religious divisions, but

46. See e.g. Philo, On the Creation of the World. 47. In this regard, particularly Bernadette Brooten has done much ground-breaking work to nuance the views of women in Judaism and Christianity (Brooten 1981, 1982, 1990). 6. Corinthian Order 187 are due to other factors, such as the intermingling of the gender models given in Chapter 3. If we leave aside Paul's dichotomizing way of speaking, and consider the content rather as a result of many choices concerning inclusions and exclusions,48 the 'past' that Paul should feel constrained by or wants to distance himself from disappears as an opposition to a 'now'. The two must rather be seen as simultaneous, coexisting poles in Paul's dynamic world of thought, entities that are both 'Christianized' even if Paul himself considers that one of them has been there from creation, the other not. In other words, he is appealing to a 'past' and a 'tradition' adjusted to his own purpose. If modern Protestant readers like the 'now'-category better than the 'past'-category, we cannot just ascribe the 'past' to Judaism. We must rather let the tension between 'now' and 'past' nuance our understanding of Paul as a thinker dependent on polarities to make his point, even if one pole is constantly given preference over the other: law versus grace, body versus spirit, Jew versus Gentile, man versus woman, in Christ versus outside of Christ, and so on. Thus, the view that Paul introduces a new gender order in Christ as opposed to the old gender order of creation (and Judaism) is untenable. Therefore in v. 11 Paul is not introducing something new: TT\f|v is not used in the adversative sense, unless we take it as empty rhetoric, as a claim of difference where there is no difference. I take TrXf)v as 'breaking off a discussion and emphasizing what is important'.49 In 11.11 Paul is not bringing the gender distinction from creation to an end 'in the Lord', since in 11.12 he maintains it through repeating it with other words and continues in 11.13-15 exactly the same way as in vv. 3-10, now through drawing in nature and custom. In 11.12 woman's creation from man is repeated and maintained as a valid statement also 'in the Lord'. Likewise, 'so also is the man through the woman' confirms women's traditional functions as child-bearers. In the Lord then, woman is still created from a male original (and hence secondary), and since men are still through women, women must still give birth to them. That woman is not apart from man, nor man apart from woman in the Lord (v. 11), should therefore not be read as an attempt at balancing the genders beside each other, since gender 'equality' is a modern concept and the term is not adequate to describe what Paul has the cultural possibility of doing. In light of the broader discourse of gender and sanctuary space in early Roman Corinth, his emphasis on the mutual dependency of the place

48. Cf. Jordheim (1998) on this method of post-Foucauldian, 'new-philologism'-reading. See also Foucault (1972: 227). 49. Bauer (1979: 669): 'TrXnv' c; Delobel (1986: 384, cf. 388). Against this, see Engberg- Pedersen (1991: 683). 188 Women in Their Place of women and men 'in Christ' in the middle of a section on ritual should rather be read as a legitimation of ritual integration: that men and women could worship the one true God together. 11.11-12 relates back to 11.3 in their common emphasis on the priority of the origin, and it anticipates the body image that is elaborated in ch. 12, in their common emphasis on hierarchy and interdependency. In the cosmic space constructed in 11.1-16 then, 'woman' is necessary as a place clearly separated from 'man'. The same gender distinctions that were given in creation and that are visible in nature are confirmed 'in the Lord'. Man's place is more elevated than woman's, and also the places of Paul, Christ and God (the three steps over Corinthian men) are described in male terms. 'Woman' thus designates the place at the greatest distance from the divine. This way, the passage serves to structure the ekklesia space as an originally - though not exclusively - male space. Nowhere does Paul even touch the possibility that it would be better and more convenient if women were excluded from ekklesia altogether. Their participation is necessary, but they have to stay in the right place and fill it properly. In this reading of Paul's 'cosmic gender hierarchy', the connotations of the Greek Koajiog in direction of order and of space have been preserved.50 Cosmology is not the same as ontology, and I do not perceive Paul as a post-cartesian subject interested in defining pure being per se.51 I rather perceive that his concern is how God places and orders things in the cosmos in relation to each other, and how things therefore should be placed in relation to each other on a human level to reflect this cosmic order.

6.3 Manifestations of the Cosmic Structure in Ekklesia Space Where the visible world is not primary, cosmologies prescribe (usually in descriptive form) what should be manifested in the visible world. Cosmologies thus govern the organization of ritual spaces, which in turn either confirm the relations between entities given in the cosmology in question, or provide the means to negotiate them (Rappaport 1999: 276).5- Therefore I understand the cosmic hierarchy outlined in 6.2 as the space- map that the ekklesia as ritually constructed sanctuary-space should mostly imitate, but also transgress at the moment of 'antistructure' or 'communitas' (see below 6.5).

50. Cf. the definition given in Chapter 1, n. 1. 51. This view is directly opposite to Schlier (1965: 679-80), who in these verses sees 'a determination of their being and not just of the mode of their historical manifestation... Not merely as a Christian, nor historically, but ontologically and by nature woman lives of man and for him.' 52. For discussion, see Rappaport (1999: 263-75). 6. Corinthian Order 189

If Paul in 11.1-16 is concerned that the ekklesia space should reflect a particular cosmology (given in 1-3; 7-9 and 10b-12), it is above all in 11.4- 7a, lOa and 13 that he more clearly spells out the concrete ritual implications of it and suggests how ritual practices should be adjusted accordingly (Neyrey 1990: 99). These implications will be dealt with in this sub-chapter. Some implications in the broader social sphere of humans53 are also spelled out in 11.14-16, although the latter verses bring little new with regard to ritual, cosmology and place, except for Paul's appeal to the cosmic entity of 'nature' (11.14). And if we look back, already the use of articles in 11.11-12 suggests a movement between different scales (macro-, micro-) of cosmic order: the article is left out in 11.11; there it is a question of 'man' and 'woman' as large-scale places in the Lord. In 11.12 where he starts to use articles, he talks about a smaller scale: particular women are still from particular men and the men are born through women.

6.3.1 What Covering? In light of 11.5 and contemporary veiling practices, it has been argued that the immediate occasion that sparked Paul's cosmological reflections was his (general or specific) displeasure with the lack of physical distinctions between men and women in Corinth. On the basis of Dio Chrysostom, First Tarsic Discourse 48 (33rd Oration], it has been assumed that in Tarsus, Paul's hometown, it was common for women to wear veils in the first century. Thus Paul was accustomed to headdress as a topic of gender discourse and gender differentiation. However, Dio Chrysostom praises the women of the city because they cover their heads and face. The whole passage is exaggerated and seems to connect to a stereotype of Tarsus as a city of good order and self-restraint (eirra^ia rat aw^poawn). Anyway, during his extensive travelling Paul must have seen other cultural expressions than those in Tarsus, so the gender discourse of his hometown will never suffice as an explanation of why he writes what he does although it may form an important backdrop. Cynthia Thompson (1988) initiated the discussion of the relevance of archaeological material for the interpretation of 1 Cor. 11.2-16. She presented her material on hairstyles and head-coverings in early Roman portraiture as an historical context for Paul and his congregation. She read Paul as being in harmony with Graeco-Roman customs when he advocates long hair. But she also acknowledged that the addressees of his advice, the

53. I.e. also non-ritual spaces. Hence the possibility of drawing on shame and what is proper as an argument, see Engberg-Pedersen (1991: 682-84), cf. D'Angelo (1995: 135): 'arguments, from propriety, nature, and custom'. The most recent and most valuable reading of 11.2-16 with a heavier focus on social implications, honor and shame, is made by MacDonald (1996: 144-54). 190 Women in Their Place

Corinthian women, were well in tune with first-century Graeco-Roman women if they felt that they could choose whether or not to cover their head. Therefore we cannot take Paul as representative of first-century Corinthian discourse on veiling when he insists that the lack of veil is considered shameful (1988: 112). A recent reading of 1 Cor. 11.2-16 that also draws profoundly on archaeological texts, is Blattenberger III (1997). Blattenberger asks: is Paul talking about veils or hairstyles? Throughout the 68 pages of his book, he makes a balanced presentation of the material, and concludes that Paul is talking about hairstyles, not head-coverings (1997: 61). His second, more implicit argument is then against (nearly all) biblical scholars who have simply assumed that Paul is talking about veils. Against these, Blattenberger emphasizes that the only covering mentioned explicitly in the passage is hair. Blattenberger implicitly argues also against many scholars who have assumed without further investigation that Paul's command reflects either Jewish, Greek, Roman or contemporary Corinthian practices respectively (1997: 62). Thus he shows how scientifically untenable it is to use Paul as the only source of such contemporary Jewish or Greek or Roman culture. The main aim here is not to decide whether Paul is talking about veils or hair. What counts is that Paul views hairy or textile head covering as a site of production of gender difference. By Kara Ke^aXfjg exwv» I tnus think Paul understands some kind of covering on the head.541 also presuppose, as most interpreters, that the relationship betwen KOTQ Kec})aXf]g exwv (11.4) and dKcrraKaAiiTTTCj) (11.5) is an antithetic parallelism. Thompson's observation that veiling was optional for first-century Corinthian women proves that Paul at least does not demand veiling in the ekklesia out of respect for common propriety and societal customs. The Christian sect cannot be accused of undermining common social values if other women do not veil themselves either. I find more plausible the view that ritual italicizes particular practices and represents a stylized, structured cosmos as opposed to the fluid practices of everyday life.55 Thus, if Blattenberger III is correct that 'the veil in first-century Corinth was incapable of marking the sexual boundaries between men and women' (Blattenberger III 1997: 63, cf. 68), it is still not necessary to assume that Paul is referring to hair, not veils, as Blattenberger does. From within Blattenberger's argument, the way Paul could be most sure that pagans understood would be by demanding pleonasm: both hair and veils. But if veiling and hairstyles were

54. However, I find the view of the majority of scholars most plausible (including the Church Fathers, Martin [1995: 296-97 n. 21]), that Paul demands women to wear a veil. 55. Cf. Smith (1987: 108). 6. Corinthian Order 191 confusing matters in first-century Corinth, this obviously only gives Paul an occasion to state what he thinks the covering (hair and/or veils) should signify as part of Christian women's ritual clothing! As Blattenberger III (1997) has shown, Paul's way of loading the head covering with meaning was rather original in first-century Corinth - thus its meaning is not cross- culturally given. Whatever material text is used to signify it - stone walls, long hair or veils - to reflect Paul's hierarchy a boundary must be drawn between male and female, and woman must have something 'over' her. The correct way to imitate the cosmic hierarchy in the ekklesia is set as veiling/ long hair for women and short hair for men.

6.3.2 Veil as Boundary The reading of 11.1-3 above focusing more on proper places and relations than on subjugation of women per se, is confirmed when we come to 11.4. If it was only subjugation of women that was important, Paul would not bother to comment on men's appearance in ekklesia, too: a man who prays or prophesies with covered head brings shame upon his head (11.4, comp. 11.14). Clear gender boundaries is the point, which led Brooten to argue that 1 Cor. 11.2-16 and the argument against same-sex-love in Romans 1.18-32 follow similar tracks (1996: 252). This, however, does not necessitate the hypothesis that Paul in 1 Cor. 11.2-16 argues under cover against homosexual men, as some have suggested.56 In his article 'What is Wrong with this Picture? John 4, Cultural Stereotypes of Women, and Public and Private Space', Jerome Neyrey discusses the gendering of private and public space in a way consonant with the introduction to this chapter and even more with the paradigm suggested by Yvonne Hirdman mentioned in Chapter 3. Neyrey states: 'The world of the ancients, then, was divided according to cultural perceptions of gender into "male" and "female" space... Objects, moreover, were likewise classified as male or female' (1994: 79). Since, in such a world, bodies participate in the gender of the space to which they belong,57 clothes or head-covering can also take on the meaning of boundary: 'The veil replicates the wall or barrier which spatially enclosed the "women's quarters'" (Neyrey 1994: 80). However, as mentioned already no such explanations from the social context are immediately relevant in our case, since it cannot be shown that the discourse of gender and social space in early Roman Corinth had a clear and well-defined place for the veil in its sign-system. The veil possibly had a clearer significance in Tarsic or Jewish (Brooten 1990: 87) discourses of social space. But if these form the discursive context for the veiling demand

56. Scroggs (1972: 297); Jewett (1979: 67-68); Murphy-O'Connor (1980). 57. Cf. on Herais above, under 3.2.6. 192 Women in Their Place it is strange that Paul relates women's veiling to prayer and prophecy, rather than making a general statement that women should always be veiled, or veiled when in public. Neyrey nevertheless demonstrates that in this ancient discourse of social space and gender, gender distinction was important, and that it was culturally possible to conceptualize veiling as such a distinctive feature. Paul may have looked for a gender boundary in a ritual space where both genders are present and where they even follow many of the same ritual patterns of action, and he selects the veil as the appropriate ritual clothing for women. The claims of the Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space concerning gender distinction could be taken care of through ritual clothing, which indeed can be loaded with meaning and signify different places in the hierarchy. Thus, on a theoretical level it is possible to view head covering as one out of many sites where gender boundaries can be reinforced.

6.3.3 Ritual Boundaries - Fencing in, Fencing out, or Separating Layers? Yet in addition to marking the borderline between man and woman, the head covering may also carry a secondary connotation of physical boundary fencing in or fencing out the body and its actions (prayer/ritual speech). This is the aspect of boundary-marking that most gender- and anthropology-aware exegetes have been interested in and cross-references to sexual discourse are frequent. There is a potential problem in 'explaining' Paul's prescriptions concerning women's covering in 1 Corinthians 11 through references to 'sexuality' or 'notions of sex'. However adequate, such suggestions often come with the implicit assumption that 'sex' is something fixed, possibly biologically, that are causal to social phenomena, rituals, behaviours, and texts. This way of perceiving 'sex' as cause rather than effect is in itself an ideological product that fails to convince those of us who rather consider 'sex' as a result of a period's particular, crossing and intersecting discourses, and as no more fixed and definite than, say, 'woman'.58 But even if sex (whatever meaning) does not stand in a causative relationship with ritual, the discourses that produced sex probably also interfered with ritual discourse, which is why I briefly give it some attention here. MacDonald (1996: 144-54), D'Angelo (1995), and Martin (1995: chapter 9) hold that Graeco-Roman veils signified women's protection against sexual harassment, thus fencing out intruders, and presupposing that women are seen as sexually vulnerable.

58. Cf. the epigraph to Chapter 2. See also further explanations for this view in 0kland (2002). 6. Corinthian Order 193

But in the Graeco-Roman discourse of gender and sanctuary space, the protection of the civilized, ordered male space against what femininity signified was a more central topic (thus fencing in females). We saw in Chapter 4 how sanctuaries or festivals that implied women's rituals breaking with the established, civil order were firmly bounded either spatially through walls or temporally through fixed times. Female powers were procreative and necessary, but also destructive if they got out of control. In order not to cause chaos and death, as had Medea of Corinth, the female had to be girdled, bridled and veiled. Carson (1990) reads ancient Greek texts this way, when she points out how from a female body 'pollution leaks out at the slightest contact'. She adduces the double meaning of kredemnon, the particular girdle that women used to tie up their hair. Kredemnon can also mean 'fortress'. Likewise Andrew Stewart points out that Zeus had Pandora veiled, girdled and packed in before he even breathed life into her.59 She was like her jar: a tight boundary around a female body was necessary because as a 'contradictory unity of disparate things' (Loraux 1993: HO)60 it was no separate, coherent unit in itself. It had to be held in place by external means. A related notion to fencing in is also present in the word for 'dress up' and 'make up': Koa[ietv, which implies notions of dressing or inscribing a more or less disorderly body with cosmic order (which in this world-view was the same as beauty). In one version of the Greek cosmogonic myth, this is actually also how cosmos was created: Zeus veiled the formless chthonic goddess, and thus managed to bound and bend her chaotic, but procreative powers into civil(-ized) service (Carson 1990: 160). If hairstyles, make-up and clothing are means of expressing, or rather impressing, cosmic order, they can also express competing views on what exactly cosmic order is. Read as part of a broader predominantly Greek discourse on veils, on kredemna and the necessity of women's rituals to be fenced in (cf. the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore in Chapter 4), the woman in the ekklesia represents a source of disruption. The veil keeps that disruption or possibly pollution in place and protects the male environment against it. More clearly than both the idea of fencing out and fencing in however, 1 Corinthians 11 expresses the idea that the borderline between man and woman goes between different layers, thus suggesting that male and female places are hierarchically ordered in relation to each other. As mentioned above, in ch. 11 patterns of action are not divided into male and female, as they are in 1 Cor. 14.33b-36 and in many other Corinthian sanctuary spaces. In ch. 11, both men and women may pray

59. Cf. Stewart (1997: 40-41). 60. Cf. Carson (1990: 142-43). 194 Women in Their Place and prophesy, but still their activity is defined differently and possibly take place in different phases of the ritual (see below). Even if Paul is careful to balance his utterances on men and women through sentences with parallel syntax (11.4-5 and 13-14), except in 11.10 (see below), it is the woman who has to bear the gender difference. Gender difference is thus transcribed into 'woman as difference', whereas the male becomes 'norm-al'. The result of the cosmological hierarchy constructed in 11.1-16 then, is the production of the female as secondary to the male, and hence the gendering of the ekklesia space as a predominantly male space.

6.3.4 The Nature offyvais Through Paul visible appearance is secondary to higher cosmic principles. Hence he can ask rhetorically in v. 14, does not nature teach that it is shameful for a man to have long hair? This cannot be a conclusion based on sense perception and observation, but a conclusion based on induction from what Paul knows about the nature of Nature. Bernadette Brooten argues that for Paul, what is 'unnatural' is what destroys the gender distinctions (1996: 215-65, cf. 1985: 63). In her chapter on Artemidorus, she finds that Artemidorus sorts human sexual behavior into the categories of natural, legal and customary (or their opposites). Brooten also finds Artemidorus' pattern in other literature of the period, and she uses his pattern to analyze what was culturally acceptable or unacceptable behavior. But what is considered acceptable or not is the result of ideology. Thus ideologies are more convincing if arguments are drawn from all three of these spheres. If we take a closer look at Paul's arguments in 11.2-16, we see that they too are drawn from nature (as here), law (Torah, vv. 8-10) and custom (the references to honour and shame, vv. 4-6 and 14-15). Paul rhetorically asks in 11.13 if it is customary/fitting for a woman to pray uncovered. Blattenberger III (1997) showed that this question must have been quite open to multiple answers. Thus, in order to strengthen an argument from custom that is more than doubtful, Paul makes an ideological manoeuvre: to try to turn customary into natural. This move was in accordance with ancient gender discourse in particular, and with 'ideology building' more in general: By invoking the 'normal', he lifts up a marginal position to a hegemonic position.61 Winkler puts it bluntly: 'What "natural" means in many ... contexts is precisely "conventional" and proper' (1991: 17). Through this reading of 1 Corinthians 11 I hope to have made clear that in this text there is more than hair or veils at stake. What is constant in Paul's talk about hierarchy, creation, head coverings, hairstyles and nature

61. Cf. Clark (1994). 6. Corinthian Order 195 in 11.2-16, and also in other texts,62 is that there should be a clear difference between male and female, which in many verses of the passage is organized hierarchically.

6.3.5 An Orderly Hierarchy of Gifts In the historical reconstruction of the Christian ritual gatherings given in Lampe, spiritual speech followed the meal (1991: 188-91). This is also the sequence Paul follows in his discussion of the ritual, which indicates that in chs. 11-14, Paul may be following and commenting on the ritual agenda: as the letter was probably read aloud during the ritual gatherings, chs. 11- 14 could be viewed as a 'play within the play'. Once the cosmological hierarchy that the Christian ritual space should imitate is made clear (11.1- 16), Paul goes on to define further what should dominate the internal relations in the Christian group gathered in ekklesia space: order (cf. 14.33; 14.40) and respect for each other's place. In chs. 12 and 14 we again find hierarchy, this time of ritual functions. All are necessary, but some functions are more valuable than others, and desirable over others. Prophecy in particular (in or out of one's senses) is ranked highly (12.31; 13.2; 14.1). As in ch. 11 ritual functions are thought of as different positions occupied by different people. This hierarchical- spatial understanding becomes particularly explicit in 14.16, concerning 'the place of the unlearned': Tf you make blessings and thanks in the spirit, how could the one who occupies the place of the unlearned say "Amen" to your prayers? Since he does not understand what you say?' I consider speaking 'in the spirit' or 'tongues' a kind of highly ritualized 'esoteric speech act' (Martin 1991: 548). The fact that such speech occurs during the ritual gatherings should warn us against believing that it is in any way more spontaneous than other forms of ritual speech. It is just a different genre than, for example, teaching. But because it is surrounded by tight ritual boundaries, it may belong to a liminal phase of the ritual (see below) and thus has the potential of dispensing hierarchy. What is striking is not Paul's discussion of the problem of pneumatic speech, but that he even views the position of the 'outsider' as a legitimate place within the ritual space of ekklesia. In order to avoid communication problems, which are not only disturbing but fatal in a ritual, there was a rule even in the very open Eleusinian mysteries that one had to understand Greek in order to participate: one had to know the words used in the ritual in order to respond to them correctly. We can expect that the problem was much greater in the Christian ritual, where far more emphasis was put on verbal communication.

62. E.g. in Rom. 1.26: see Brooten (1996: 264). 196 Women in Their Place

Through Paul's comment, we see that there is a place in the Christian ekklesia even for the unlearned (iSiojTns) who does not understand pneumatic speech. This place is certainly not desirable, but it should be taken into consideration as a place within the ekklesia at the bottom of the hierarchy of ritual roles. Thus, the social condition of mutual interdependency between people of different places in society is not annihilated through ritual - but reinforced. When Paul comments concerning social standing in 7.20-21, that 'everyone should remain in the place he was called. Were you called as a slave? Do not worry about that', the analogous seems to be true in ekklesia space. If the hierarchy is to remain intact and stable, someone has to fill the place of the unlearned and there is no suggestion of the possibility of a shift in place for such a person. Rather Paul seems to address the tongue-speakers in order that they restrain themselves and let the unlearned remain undisturbed in their place. Paul's depiction of the ekklesia as Christ's body where even the weak member has a certain, god-willed place is used in an argument aimed at self-restraint by the tongue-speakers. Going back to 12.4-11 we hear of different ritual functions/'gifts'. Seen in isolation they are not hierarchically ordered there, unless one assumes an ascending or descending order in the list that presents them. The list emphasizes that whatever the ritual function, the Spirit/Lord is always the one at work. Just as God gives every seed a body according to his will (15.38), so he also gives revelations of the Spirit irpos TO au|_uj>epov, according to what is useful (12.7). But nevertheless there has to be order and distinction between the functions presented. Different ways of speaking should be seen as distinct ritual functions, and different persons have different roles in the common ritual action. Wire comments on this passage that, even if Paul is emphasizing unity, he actually argues for diversity and develops 'a theological rationalization for division of labor and interdependence in the Corinthian community' (1990: 136). Since Wire's reading strategy is to hypothesize that where Paul argues at length and with care the Corinthians must have held a contrary notion, she thinks that actually it is the Corinthians who practice unity and have no sharp definition of different gifts as presupposition for their unity: 'Spirit- endowment was widely held to be the baptismal claim of every believer and its cultivation everyone's challenge' (1990: 137). Wire puts in relief Paul's argument for greater differentiation in ritual roles. The unity of the group is not an egalitarian unity, but a unity based on mutual dependency because of role differentiation. When the seemingly egalitarian understanding of the distribution of gifts and tasks in 12.4-11 is followed up by the hierarchical body image in 12.14-27 (see below), any egalitarian reading of 12.4-11 is undermined. And when we arrive at 12.28-31, the hierarchy of religious titles and functions becomes explicit. Thus we should read 12.7 mentioned above to 6. Corinthian Order 197 mean that God gives to everyone according to place - where he or she is placed in the hierarchy. Paul mentions in numbered order 'first apostles, second prophets, third teachers', then follow functions which are not associated with a specific title, such as the capacity to heal (v. 28). After stating through a rhetorical question that not everyone is an apostle or prophet (v. 29), Paul follows up by exhorting the Corinthians to strive after the best 'gifts' (v. 31)! After the 'break' of ch. 13 (see below) he continues in 14.1 by specifying which functions are the 'best' or most attractive to perform. Since Paul also admonishes the Corinthians in 14.1 to strive for the most appreciated functions, he seems to hold that it is possible to move from one place to another. Thus, paradoxically enough, movement is encouraged within this hierarchy where there is a place and a name for everything (cf. 12.7; 14.23) and everything has its place. Wire notes that 'It is not clear how Paul can call people to seek certain gifts above others, since he has just argued that gifts are distributed "as the spirit wills'" (1990: 138). Her observation confirms that in chs. 12 and 14 there is the same ambiguity as in ch. 11 concerning how stable or unstable the hierarchy of ekklesia space is. When Paul encourages the Corinthians to strive for the most appreciated functions and presupposes that movement is possible, does his representation of ekklesia as male space (see below under 6.7) also presuppose that women should strive for the most appreciated gender? In ch. 14 Paul dissociates speaking in tongues from prophecy, and he clearly places prophecy above speaking in tongues in the hierarchy of ritual functions. In the argument for dissociation Paul draws on discourse on prophecy, but his dissociation of these two modes of speaking is so unique, so much of an 'event' (Foucault 1972: 230-31) that later exegetes have had trouble making sense of Paul's distinctions here. In much ancient discourse on prophecy, it is envisaged as some kind of ecstatic63 speech, but Paul seemingly dissociates it from this. In his elaborate argument, the fundamental distinctions seem to be twofold. First, there is a distinction between ritual speech communicating comprehensibly from a rational mind, and ritual speech 'in tongues', non-intelligible communication; second, a distinction between order and disorder (Wire 1990: 139). Concerning the first distinction, different genres of ritual speech - praying, praising, blessing, speaking (XctXelv) - are all possible to perform within both modes of speech (en pneuma and en-nous], but performing them mindfully (ennous) is better than performing them out of mind. As a consequence, prophecy, which in this text is defined as

63. Cf. Martin (1991: 570). Comp. Aune (1991: 195-200, 248-58). I presuppose that eK- CTTaais - literally to stand out of, i.e. one's mind - is an affair of the relative: relative to how rational behavior and being in one's senses is constructed in the first place. 198 Women in Their Place speaking in one's mind, is better than glossolalia, which in this text is the term used on speaking out of one's mind (what is often termed prophecy in other texts). Paul takes a reserved stance towards pneumatic speech: as long as it conforms to the order of the ritual it is permitted (14.26-33, and 14.40).64 Paul does not gender his hierarchy of gifts explicitly. But Eriksson (1998a: 204) draws on gender discourse and classifies glossolalia as 'female' and prophecy as 'male' since it is both rational and intelligible. Eriksson thus raises the important issue of the gender of speech genres, although I have problems seeing that Paul links glossolalia with the women of the ekklesia any more than prophecy. Some ritual spaces did house particular speech genres that were labelled 'feminine:' McClure (1999) holds that women's speech in Athenian drama reflects the possibility for women to speak 'publicly' if they only spoke according to certain approved 'feminine' genres, most of which in fact belong within ritual space: lamentation, prayer, ritual profanity (ataxpo- Xoyta), the ritual ololyge (see below, pp. 248^49). This means that women's prayer and prophecy in ekklesia did not represent a break with the discourse of gender and sanctuary space although public speech was gendered male. It has been pointed out by many that women were thought to be particularly apt oracles and prophets because they lacked a fully developed nous-mind. Thus they were more accessible for gods who wanted to communicate with humans through other channels than the rational mind. It is significant that, with two exceptions, the examples mentioned in a section on glossolalia in Graeco-Roman society in Martin (1991) are women. His material shows the extent to which speaking (with-)out of one's mind was linked with femininity, whatever this type of speech was called. The stereotypical maenad or oracle is a woman, whereas the stereotypical rational, mindful speaker is a man.65 Thus Paul's ordering of ritual space here ranks mindful modes of speech associated with masculinity over mindless (but spiritual or divine) modes of speech associated with femininity - quite in accordance with ch. 11 and with the closing of ch. 14. In 1 Corinthians 11-14 then, both women and men can pray, both women and men can prophecy/speak in tongues: whether prophecy

64. Even if Paul in ch. 14 attempts to create ritual order by giving definitions, distinctions and structure, along with Wire I do not take it for given that Paul sticks to these definitions in the other parts of the letter (Wire 1990: 137). 65. Gleason (1995: 135) gives an illustrating reference to Lucian, Eunuch, 13 onwards: The satire reduces to absurdity the claims of philosophy to perfect the molding of men. As the narrator says regarding the future education of his infant son, "I might well pray that he has not his brain, nor his tongue, but his private parts in shape to practice philosophy".' 6. Corinthian Order 199 happens ennous or en glossais, it takes on different significance.66 Prophecy is evaluated very highly in ch. 14, but in light of ch. 11 the ritual clothing accompanying prophecy is gender-specific. As the later Church history defined male priesthood and female deaconea differently although their functions overlapped, so this difference in dress while prophesying may be significant. In Judith Gundry-Volfs words, 'it is while assuming identical functions in the assembly that the Corinthian women and men are to have different headdress symbolizing the gender difference which formed the basis for a hierarchical relationship between the sexes' (1997a: 168). Women and men do similar things, but their actions are defined differently since they are doing them in different places of the hierarchy. Thus Paul constructs ritual order corresponding to the recipe of Foucault: Ritual defines the qualifications required of the speaker (of who in dialogue, interrogation or recitation, should occupy which position and formulate which type of utterance); it lays down gestures to be made, behaviour, circumstances and the whole range of signs that must accompany discourse', finally it lays down the supposed, or imposed significance of the words used, their effect upon those to whom they are addressed, the limitations of their constraining validity (1972: 225, my italics).

6.3.6 Initiation Ritual Should Not Dispense with Gender Hierarchy In 1 Cor. 12.13 Paul speaks about baptism, an initiation rite that in and of itself is gender-neutral. He refers to the formula (Schiissler Fiorenza 1983: 208) that the initiand confessed when he/she participated in this Christian initiation rite: 'For we were all baptized in one and the same spirit into one body, either Jews or Greeks, either slaves or free, and we were all given one spirit to drink'. The same formula is cited in Paul's letter to the Galatians (3.26-28): 'You are all the Sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For as many of you who were baptized into Christ, have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is not male and female: for you are all One in Christ Jesus.' Comparing the two texts, we see that in the citation of the formula in 1 Corinthians Paul leaves out first, the designation of all the church members as 'sons' (uiol), and second, the 'not male and

66. One might put two and two together and say that women speak in tongues and men speak ennous, and that this differentiation is the background for Paul's judgements. This conclusion would bring my reading in harmony with that of Eriksson, and my reading of ch. 11 and that of 12-14 in harmony with each other. But I find this too simple. Paul seems less concerned about what women actually do, and more with gender distinction and the place of 'woman' or femininity. 200 Women in Their Place female'-element..67Wire'sSreadingof1Cor.12.13 is convincing in this regard: 'In 1 Corinthians where the omission of "not male and female" does not reflect lack of interest in women and men, it is best explained as Paul's conscious choice in the light of the Corinthian women not to evoke what "not male and female" means to them' (1990: 137). Wire draws on the social structures outside the ritual space to explain what 'male and female' implies, whereas in this book the formula is taken as a ritual expression quoted in a ritual-related section of the letter that discusses one of the central Christian rites. Both the formula and Paul's use of it has to be understood in this context, even if the formula also has implications and consequences outside of ritual space. In Galatians the formula is quoted within the context of a discussion of justification by faith and the issue of circumcision. In his discussion of Paul as one first-century Jew who criticized circumcision, Shaye Cohen also points out that 'for all of Paul's opposition to circumcision, one argument that he might have used but did not use is the argument from the non-circumcision of women... But Paul fails to observe that circumcision also invidiously discriminates between male and female' (1998: 142). In Gal. 3.26-28, we saw how women and men who went through the initiation rite became one with him. In Galatians, the grammatical masculine els is used to denote the one the Christians are to become. Two points should be made in connection with this word: first, that this grammatical form makes it clear that the oneness the Christians are united into in Christ is defined in male terms. In light of the gender continuum of the one-sex-model in Chapter 3, we could say that which of the two gender poles that counted as the most perfect and representative did not change in Christ. Still, the pre-pauline baptism formula pushes in a democratic direction since all people could move towards the ideal pole through undergoing the initiation rite. In this formula, there are no ideological fences preventing women from converting their subsumption into 'brotherhood'. The ideal pole is the male pole, and all who are baptized have dressed or cross-dressed like males, 'put on'68 Christ and thus become one male - els. Paul could have paraphrased the baptismal formula by saying that 'you are all one Jewish free man in Christ Jesus' as Jesus himself was.

67. That 'male and female' is not Paul's own addition in the letter to Galatians, is argued by biblical scholars from the fact that gender is not an issue in Galatians, so that such an addition would be unmotivated (Jewett 1979: 65). 68. The first Christian baptismal terminology was coloured by mystery terminology. For mystical initiation ceremonies, the initiand dressed in 'meaning-ful' ritual clothes. 6. Corinthian Order 201

Of course it is possible to note that the grammatical masculine is the common ancient Greek way of speaking to mixed groups, but this fact just underscores the point. In their language and selection of representative images, Paul and other early Christians were in concord with ancient models of gender that also shaped language itself: in this language, the female is by habitude subsumed under and rendered invisible by male representations. As it now stands with the 'male and female'-part excluded in 1 Cor. 12.13, I read the quotation of the baptismal formula in this ritual context as expressing the view that the ekklesia should not reflect an ethnic or social (slave/free) hierarchy. But it should still reflect the gender hierarchy given in the Jewish cosmogonic myths of Genesis. The formula is quoted in-between the first discussion of the spiritual gifts and the passage on the ekklesia as the body of Christ. In light of Paul's emphasis on the wide variety of both gifts and body members, it is noteworthy that this appreciation of variety does not include the variety of genders. Paul's way of quoting the baptismal formula is thus in accordance with 1 Cor. 11.1-16 where he uses relatively much space to argue that there is male and female. A quote of the authoritative baptismal formula here saying that there is not male and female would have undermined this line of his argument in chs. 11-14 - although it might have strengthened the other line of his argument building on the one-sex-model (see below p. 6.8.2).

6.4 'Speech Genders' (1 Corinthians 14.33-37) The distinction between eKKAnaia and oiKog found in 14.35 has already been discussed in Chapter 5. I concluded that 11.22 and 14.34-35 can be read as criticisms of the Corinthians for confusing the boundaries, set by ritual, between ekklesia space and household space. In this chapter we have seen that one other way of distinguishing between the discourses of oikia and ekklesia is to construct a cosmology relating specifically to sanctuary space, where gender forms a crucial part. Gender discourse is different in household and in sanctuary space. This is true for Paul (14.33b-36), and this is true as we have seen in the previous chapters, in the pagan environment. I will now delve further into the gender implications of 14.33b-37. For God is not a God of disorder, but of peace. As in all the ekklesiai of the saints, the women should keep silence in the ritual gatherings. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be subordinate, as even the law says. If there is anything they desire to learn, they should ask their menfolk at home. For it is shameful for a woman to speak in ekklesia. Or did the logos of God originate with you, or did it reach to you only? 202 Women in Their Place

If any one thinks that he is a prophet, or spiritual, he or she should acknowledge that what I am writing to you is a command of the Lord.

I do not assume from the outset that TOUS 18101)5 dvSpag refers only to husbands, so that unmarried women would have no one to ask. As argued previously,69 the gender puzzles of chs. 11-14 cannot be resolved by assuming that Paul is here talking about married women whereas in 11.2- 16 he is talking about virgins, among other reasons as long as Paul in 11.12 confirms women's roles as birth-givers. Although most women may have been married, I take the expression in 14.35 to refer to an organization of the household in which the vast majority of women were juridically subordinated (inrav8p6s) to some man. I read TOUS LSioug dv8pag as the male grown-up members of a household (cf. ev OLKW v. 35) or a family (Liddell, Scott, and Jones 1940: '[8109' 1.4; 818) such as the pater familias or a man in an analogous role. Thus, I read the expression 'their own men" as including men in their household roles as fathers and slave-owners/" Accordingly, I read the point to be that women should not let their voices be heard in ekklesia, but that outside of ekklesia space, in oikos space, they should direct any inquiries or comments to the man to whom they are socially related and subordinated. By using shame as an argument against women's speech in the ekklesia, Paul seems to place his reflections on the ekklesia into some broader discourse with pre-defined notions about what is shameful and what is not. But is this broader discourse identical with the household ideology as traced for example in the so-called domestic codes? From this passage, it seems not. Paul is drawing from a subordination ideology which is at least partly different from the subordination ideology of the household: in the house a woman was quite free to speak and discuss with her male head of household, in the ekklesia she cannot. It is shameful that a woman speaks in the ekklesia, however this is not so in the household. If we bring in 11.7, here, we learn that it is shameful that a woman prays or prophesies in the ekklesia without headcovering, whereas writers of public discourse care little about whether or not women cover their heads at home. This makes it difficult to maintain that the subordination ideology traced in 14.34-35 is identical with the subordination ideology expressed in the household codes found in other parts of the New Testament, and that these ideologies result from the ekklesia taking place in private homes. It could be argued that 11.7 and 14.34-35 are traces from domestic codes which also hold that women should be subordinated to men, who should in turn be subordinated to God. But patriarchy and

69. See p. 10 above. 70. This interpretation would imply that these words in principle can be directed against both wives, slaves and other women belonging to a kyrios. 6. Corinthian Order 203 the subordination of women under men are such near-universal phenomena that this God-man-woman-hierarchy cannot be used to prove genealogical connections between all the different discourses of which it forms part. This is another reason why I am not convinced by authors who by pointing out the many close similarities between this passage and 1 Tim. 3 argue that 14.34-35 is a gloss (compare above Chapter 5). The similarities with 1 Timothy should not be denied,71 but the question is what these similarities mean in terms of the relationship between the two passages in question. For some it means that Paul wrote 1 Timothy. It could mean that both Paul and the author of 1 Timothy are shaped by a broader pagan and/or Jewish discourse with quite precise notions about women's roles in a certain type of ritual setting. It could also mean that the author of 1 Timothy is drawing on Pauline heritage in his writing (if we share the assumption that 1 Timothy is written later than the letters by Paul). And it could mean that 1 Corinthians and 1 Timothy, or only the relevant parts of these two letters, are written within the same time period. What explanation we prefer, depends on which images we have of early Christianity and early Christian letters and their authors. I view early Christianity as a fluent and multifaceted entity, where egalitarian and monolithic, charismatic and tradition-loyal strands are present simultaneously.72 I read Paul himself as trying to find his way between the different strands. To read theological similarities automatically as a sign of chronological proximity is simplistic in this perspective. Paul remains faithful to the ekklesia discourse throughout. 1 Tim. 3.15 equates otKos Qeou with eKxAriaia 0eou, and so does 1 Pet. 4.17. Paul never calls the Christian group OLKOS 0eot>. He is never absorbed by the household discourse even if he partly draws on the same discourse as other NT authors of domestic codes, as shown in numerous comparisons between 1 Cor. 14.33b-37 and 1 Tim. 2.11-13a. This leads me to conclude that it is more than mere coincidence that Paul does not argue as explicitly from household ideology as certain other NT letter writers do. Since in chs. 11-14 he tries to establish a sharper distinction between ekklesia space and oikos space, to draw too explicitly on the discourse of the oikos space when trying to regulate the behavior in ekklesia space could in fact ruin his whole

71. Both places emTpeTreaGai and \iavQavziv are used; the root inroTccy- is used in 1 Corinthians as verb, and in 1 Timothy as noun. If the words aiydv and f]cnjxia are treated as synonyms, this is another indication of the relatedness of the two passages. See, e.g., Ellis (1981: 214) and Barton (1986: 229-30). 72. Cf. Mack (1996: 248) and Ehrman (1997: 1-7). Attempts at solving the tensions between Paul and the household codes by temporal means further presupposes an egalitarian reading of Paul (as in Schiissler Fiorenza 1983). For further argument against interpreting theological differences in terms of chronological distance, see Ellis (1981: 213-16). 204 Women in Their Place argument - such as here in 14.34-35 about the conduct of females in the ekklesia as different from their conduct in the home. It seems that Paul draws on the discourse of a different space in order to legitimize a different order concerning rituals of meals and speaking, of dress and behavior in the ekklesia from that of the home.

6.4.1 Different Ritual Roles Concerning this passage, von Harnack comments: 'Der Widerspruch' (between this passage and 11.5-10) 'hebt sich nur dann einigermaBen, wenn jenes Beten und Weissagen im ekstatischen Zustand geschah, iiber welchen niemand Macht hat, und wenn das Sprechen (XaXelv), welches verboten wird, als Lehrrede aufgefafit wircf (1924: 590, my italics). However, von Harnack does not seriously discuss the possibility that Paul could be speaking about teaching and logos transmission because he believes that 14.34-35 are interpolated. The possibility that Paul is speaking about teaching here should be seriously considered even if it is clear that he is speaking about prophecy in other parts of the section on ritual. There are many reasons to believe that Paul is gendering ritual functions differently: First, as seen in Chapter 4, this was quite common in other sanctuary spaces of Corinth. If we take a look at the broader ancient Mediterranean discourses of gender and sanctuary space, we see that even if the content of the 'prophet'- term was somewhat varying, female 'prophets' were generally accepted, whereas female teachers were generally banned. Second, in v. 35 the verb [ia0eiv, to learn, occurs. This and related terminology were used on different school practices of Greek culture, and Greek-writing Jewish authors used |ia6elv as translation of the technical term for transmission of knowledge of written and oral Torah; the disciple of a rabbi is in Greek called |ia0r|TT|s (Rengstorf 1967: 438-41). Third, the ritualized discourse in question seems to presuppose a form of questioning and answering, also analogous to rabbinic practice. Through questions and answers, rabbis transmitted knowledge of God's Law as made visible in Scripture and oral transmission. Moreover, quite in accord (I suppose) with Jewish ritualized discourse on the Torah, the Torah is referred to as authoritative here. Fourth, Fee points out that XaXeiv 'is invariably accompanied by "tongues" in this argument when that is meant', and that 'v. 35 implies the asking of questions for the sake of learning, not the alleged thrusting on the congregation of their own revelations' (1987: 704). Thus it is certainly not obvious that Paul is banning women who speak in tongues, as for example Eriksson (1998b) assumes. If, in this vein, [laGetv and vojios are taken as key terms to the meaning of the passage. Paul comes out as more clearly drawing on early practices of rabbinic discourse. That he views the ekklesia as a place not only for 6. Corinthian Order 205 oral traditions about Christ, but also for transmission of normative knowledge of the Torah, is obvious from his use of Biblical narratives throughout his letters, for example in 1 Cor. 11.7-12. Brooten argues that despite Paul's occasional claims to the contrary, his departure from the Torah in questions of observance was by no means complete or uniform:

While Paul broke sharply with Jewish dietary laws and with the Jewish commandment of circumcision... in several other areas, especially that of gender roles and gender relations, Paul continued to be indebted to the Torah as a practical guide... Paul, as a former Pharisee, was trained in the Jewish law. He quotes from the Bible frequently, but never makes direct and unmistakable reference to Roman or Greek law (1990: 72- 73). In rabbinic discourse, women could be represented as attending synagogue service (Brooten 1982: 140-41), non-rabbinic texts represent them as having a variety of functions in the synagogue, and it was also conceivable that women could be prophets.73 But women rabbis of this period are hard to find. According to Ross Kraemer 'no descriptions of proto-rabbinic circles in subsequent rabbinic sources portray women as rabbinic disciples' (1999: 71). Even Brooten, who recovers many women leaders only suggests women rabbis as a weak possibility (1982: 55).74 Beruriah, the wife of Rabbi Meir, both poses questions to her husband and gives answers worthy of mention in the Babylonian Talmud.75 Although the stories of her are not today taken to be historical, the relevance of the stories for my purposes is their acknowledgment of 'the structural possibility within the culture that a woman could achieve such knowledge of Torah as to be authoritatively cited in an important question of ritual practice' (Boyarin 1993: 183), but not even she is termed 'rabbi', although in the stories about her she clearly acts like one. Boyarin (1993) also mentions other examples of Palestinian texts of ritual law in which the Rabbis accept points made by women regarding ritual purity. Within later Jewish discourse on ritual law (halakhah) Rabbis discussed whether one should teach daughters Torah, and some Rabbis were positive, others negative.76 If this discourse on the gendered rituals of teaching and learning is taken as the context for Paul's Adiscussion of women's place in the rituals of the ekklesia, it follows that women cannot be speakers, understood as rabbis, but only receivers, which in this kind of ritual context is the subordinated role. Paul agrees with the more restrictive voices of this discourse in that he does not allow women even to take the

73. Cf. Wire (1990: 240-42). 74. Cf. Brooten (1991). 75. On Beruriah, see Boyarin (1993: 181-93), cf. Kraemer and D'Angelo (1999: 72). 76. m. Sotah 3.4, m. Nedarim 4.3 (cf. Wegner 1988: 161 and Boyarin 1993: 170-81). 206 Women in Their Place position of the disciple, whose role it is to ask questions. Women who have questions, 'want to learn something' (v. 35), should ask their menfolk 'at home', that is in oikia space. However, if Kraemer's observation quoted above represents not only the filtering of traditions but even a historical reality, it follows that Paul was simply in accordance with his contemporary Jewish teachers on this point. A third key-term appearing here is Xoyos, meaning 'rationality', 'word', 'intelligent utterance', 'reasoning', 'relation', 'explanation', and so on.77 Among the educated males of the ancient Mediterranean, logos-discourse seems to have been more firmly linked to masculinity than other forms of ritual, for example prayer and prophecy. Similarly, we hear much more often of female oracles, prophetesses and priestesses than of female philosophers and rabbis. Maud Gleason states that although 'speech is gendered independently of the speaker's anatomical sex', and male-made women consequently can perform male speech-acts, 'philosophy is governed by special restrictions; it is a gendered form of discourse, and that gender must be male' (1995: 135). In this perspective it would make sense if Paul thought that women could exercise charismatic leadership through some phases of ritual, but not participate in the logos- communication of a different phase. Lastly, Gleason also throws light on the particular word used about women's speech, XaXetv (14.34-36), in a section where she discusses

the larger ambivalence of long-standing cultural beliefs about women and speech. A single anecdote should suffice to remind us of how deeply rooted was the reluctance of a society that prized eloquence above all other human skills to tolerate any form of public speaking in women... The very word that Plutarch selects to characterize a woman speaking is not the basic Greek word for talking (legein), but what linguists would call a marked form that connotes babble or idle chatter (laleiri). Plutarch's use of the marked form in this context points to the possibility that women's speech and men's speech, in some vital but largely irrecoverable sense, were felt to be qualitatively different. If speech itself is gendered, then the possibility of confusion of gender boundaries is inherent in any spoken enterprise (Gleason 1995: 98).

The point is that it is possible that the ritual Paul prescribes has different phases, and that women can perform some ritual functions and not others. Teaching and logos-diffusion are different from prophecy. Women can prophesy under certain conditions, but under no circumstances can they teach. In 14.34-37, 'woman' designates the receptive place, the place in greatest distance from the source of divine logos. 'Logos' is thus coupled

77. Selected from Liddell, Scott, and Jones (1940: 'Xoyos', 1057-1059). 6. Corinthian Order 207 with 'male' in the most intimate sense, as illustrated by the citation from Gleason above. Paul thus seems to conform to those aspects of a Graeco-Roman discourse of gender and sanctuary space and of Jewish teaching rituals that emphasize role differentiation. He promotes women's integration into the male ritual body. Yet the place for women remains at the bottom of the hierarchy, as silent listeners to the interaction between male teacher and male disciples.

6.4.2 Woman as Receptacle for Logos-Diffusion Read in light of Gal. 3.26-28 we could perhaps say that if women keep silent and accept that the collective representations of the ekklesia space are male, women's voices cannot be heard and their heads not seen, then there is no male and female. The silence of women is a sign of perfect integration: there is no male and female before the female is singled out from the male, just as there was no male and female before Pandora was created, or Eve was created from Adam's rib. SHE is the carrier both of sexual difference and of sexual differentiation. On the other hand, the passage does sketch a model for Christian ritual gatherings where woman is singled out from the male. The ritual is to take place according to a particular order in which gender is a central component and women can be present as silent listeners. Paradoxically, this means that the hierarchy comes to woman's rescue - it actually gives her a place and a representation separate from the man. 14.33b-37 not only confirms woman's place in the hierarchy, it also makes clear the direction of the 'information flow', how God's logos is diffused through the cosmological gender hierarchy (esp. 14.37): the logos seems to emanate78 from God and downwards, through the Lord, then through Paul (cf. 11.1 and 14.37), then through men and finally to women (14.35), in a movement from the top to the bottom. In the ironic comment in 14.36, Paul turns the hierarchy upside-down and shows those who are familiar with this hierarchy how unreasonable it would be to claim that logos emanated from women. The self-evident axiom under this irony is that the logos of God cannot possibly emanate from a woman. Women cannot teach and thus serve as mediators of logos between God and men (14.36). Women can only be receivers of knowledge, which makes sense within a hierarchical way of thinking in which woman designates the place at the bottom of the cosmological hierarchy and man is located higher up, closer to the source of logos. Castelli puts the information flow within this new Christian hierarchy in relief when discussing Paul's role in it in 11.1:

78. Wire (1990: 154) remarks how 'reach' in v. 36 is a territorial concept in Paul's mission thinking (cf. also 2 Cor. 10.13-14). 208 Women in Their Place

'However imitatio Christi is defined, Paul's act of imitation is an act of mediation... In addition, this act of mediation presupposes a hierarchical structure: Community/Paul/Christ/God ... The lines of relationship move in only one direction' (1991: 112). Paul is the one who communicates to the Corinthians the sacred law from the Lord (v. 37). Thus the hierarchy of 14.33b-37 coincides with the one found in 11.1-3. It differs from ch. 11 in that there seems not to be here the possibility of movement up and down a gender axis, not even for the most male-made women - but this fixed view of the hierarchy on the other hand coincides with the body image in ch. 12, as we shall see. And just as in 14.16 (see above), the hierarchy of the ritually constructed space must remain intact and stable during ritual, somebody has to fill the place of the woman, and there is no suggestion that changing places is possible. Thus towards the end of the ritual section 11-14, Paul confirms the cosmological hierarchy he constructed in the introduction to ch. 11 by drawing on Graeco-Roman notions of the gender of speech and of logos. In his argument for hierarchy and unity throughout chs. 11-14, Paul argues as if order were threatened. In 14.33 he says that 'God is not the God of disorder/chaos, but the God of peace'. By proceeding with the silencing of women, Paul implies that speaking women have some connection to chaos and disorder. It may be that Paul was simply not able to distance himself from an established discourse concerning women and sanctuary space that made him conceive of gender-integrated ritual activity as easily chaotic (see especially the cult of Dionysos in Chapter 4). But from what is said about gendered speech genres, it also follows that speaking women, particularly if they speak rational, male logos-speech, challenge the phallogocentric identification of phallus, penis, Xoyog and dpxri (primacy/origin - cf. John 1.1). His final word concerning the Christian ritual is a repetition of his point that the gatherings should represent order (14.40, cf. 14.33a): 'Everything should take place decently and according to the correct order'.

6.5 The AntistructureofCommunitas79 If chs. 11-14 are ritual discourse reinforcing hierarchy, what then is the function of ch. 13? The chapter is so liminal in its literary context that many scholars are led to consider it an excursus or possibly the later addition of an editor. In a ritual reading this liminality is exactly its point: If we follow the image of 'play within the play' mentioned earlier, we have now arrived at the middle phase of the ritual, the liminal phase that can leave room for communitas within safe bounds. The chapter is significantly

79. Turner (1969). Especially relevant are pp. 116-17, 190-91. 6. Corinthian Order 209 placed in the middle of the section on ritual, and well protected by the initial and concluding remarks reinforcing hierarchy (cf. above under 6.2.1). Turner states: 'maximization of communitas provokes maximization of structure' (1969: 116). Within a modern framework, ideas of unity, feelings of respect and love towards the others as described in ch. 13, are tightly linked to equality and mutuality, and opposite to hierarchy and difference. But according to Turner's theory the communitas-phsise which may subvert structures for a while just functions to reinforce them even more. The chapter contains the same distinctions among prophecy, tongues and knowledge (gnosis) as the surrounding chapters. Thus to 'seek the common good' would mean to strive to ascend within the hierarchy and thus confirm its values. Difference and hierarchy may be the structure that can make Paul's admonition to be one through love (ch. 13) effective: one should respect those higher or lower in the hierarchy, but at the same time instead of acting subversively from one's given place, the communitas-phasQ of the ritual allows for periodical transgression and antistructure. In the ancient world Paul was not alone to see love in this hierarchical, cosmological way: Evelyn Fox Keller notes 'that neither Plato's epistemology, his cosmology, nor his model of love is yet free of hierarchy. Everywhere, the eye, the soul, and the mind continue to look upward... Disregard for the embodied individual in and of itself pervades Plato's entire philosophical system as it describes his theory of love' (1985: 29-30). The delayed discussion of e£ouaia em rf]s Ke4>aXf]s (11.10) also belongs in the context of antistructure. The term fits oddly within the context of ch. 11, also the use of em; instead of Kara; as in 11.4—5 should be noted. Further, in a passage where Paul is careful to make syntactically balanced statements about men and women (see above), 11.10 is not followed by a similar statement addressing what the men ought to acquire. Thus I do not read e£ouoia as just a different way of saying 'covering', but rather hair or veil was a physical and concrete way for Paul to make issues of ritual structure, hierarchy and authority visible (cf. 1 Cor. 9.4-6). Still, according to a ritual reading of chs. 11-14, the expression cannot mean that the woman must have a veil only as a 'pointer' or 'link' to the man she is presently wavSpos either, as a sign of her subordination under a male authoritative head.80 The creation stories can also be used for spelling out marriage ethics, but in the context of 1 Corinthians 11, it is not marriage that should reflect this cosmic gender order, rather it is the ekklesia. Thus 11.10 may be a pointer to a different phase of the ritual where the function of the head covering may be different.

80. Against Heinrici (1896: 329). 210 Women in Their Place

One way to reinforce hierarchy in ritual is to allow for periodical transgression of it. The odd expression e^ouaia may then refer to the liminal phase of the ritual where women can transgress their place in the cosmic hierarchy. The function of ritual clothing in this phase may be to give women license to power-exercise or 'lording' as Turner puts it: 'structural underlings may well seek, in their liminality, deeper involvement in a structure that, though fantastic and simulacral only, nevertheless enables them to experience for a legitimated while a different Akind of "release" from a different kind of lot. Now they can lord it...' (Turner 1969: 191). The same view of woman as secondary to the man81 in 11.8-9 is still inherent in 11.10, although she here is given 'the means to negotiate it' (i.e. her secondariness, cf. above footnote 52).

6.6 Conclusion of 6.1-6.5 In this first part of the chapter we have looked at the ritual discourse in chs. 11-14. Paul has been shown to participate in ancient discourses of gender and cosmic and sanctuary space. He uses notions of gender to structure the ekklesia space hierarchically in accordance with cosmologically given patterns. The way Paul establishes the female place at the bottom of this hierarchy while the other levels are defined in male terms turns ekklesia space into a predominantly male space. My argument that 11.1-16 and 14.33-37 serve to structure the ekklesia space, is dependent on my demonstration of how a) chs. 11-14 are in fact a text on ritual, b) this ritual constructs a space, and c) the cosmic hierarchy laid out in most detail in the introduction but also in the conclusion in fact echoes through the whole section. I have therefore also indicated, without detailed exegesis, how parts of chs. 12, 13 and 14 can be read as ritual texts with gender implications. The close correspondence between 11.2-16 and the following texts on spiritual gifts is also noted by D'Angelo: 'Paul's concern with women's heads in 1 Cor. 11.3-16 finds an echo in the discussion of spiritual things in 1 Corinthians 12-14 that usually goes unnoted... The body image of 1 Cor. 12.12-31 is a plea for diversity and harmony in the exercise of communal function, which insists that body parts (charismatic functions) must differ in order to make up a body, i.e., not everyone needs to speak in tongues' (1995: 135).

81. 8id TOUTO as a reference back to vv. 8-9: Paul presents v. 10 as a practical conclusion to the arguments from creation concerning woman's secondary status given in the preceding verses. 6. Corinthian Order 211

6.7 The Representation o/'Ekklesia as Male Space We have seen how Paul partly wants women to be present, but silently, and partly how he wants them to contribute within female ritual roles. Both ways, the female has to be adjusted to the male primacy of this space. We will first we look at the implications of this male primacy for Paul's representation of the ritual gathering as a whole, before we turn more specifically to his use of body language. Paul is firmly situated within a discourse that used male designations on groups where women sometimes could be present. The key term eKKXnaia that Paul takes over usually denoted male gatherings, although in some Septuagint contexts it can also be used gender-inclusively. Thus this term is in itself a male representation of the gatherings and groups in question. Other male representations used on Christians were family terms: the Christians were 'sons' of Godx2 and the offspring (orrepiia) of Abraham, and Paul frequently used the brother/d8eX())6s-term to denote fellow Christians, although we in many cases must assume that the female Christians were subsumed under this male representation: 1 Thess. 4.4 nicely illustrates how self-evident a male understanding of the term was. However, this subsumption of women under male representations raises new problems. Since Paul also chooses to stay with the male designations (eKKXnaia, d8eXcj)oi, uloi) when discussing other than ritual issues, his terminology creates problems when female 'brothers' are mentioned by name or when sexual relations between 'brothers' are implied, for example when he discusses sex and marriage. In these cases, the male designation d8eX(f)6s as a designation for the woman would obscure the problem discussed and create confusion, so in those cases the unstated female presence under the male term must be singled out, made explicit and given a designation of its own: the female term d8eXcj>r|.83 Female designations are thus symptoms of the limitations of male designations.

82. E.g. Rom. 8.14 and 19, Rom. 9.26, Gal. 3.26 and Gal. 4.6-7. For a full discussion of the family language in Paul, see Aasgaard (2004). A somewhat special case is 2 Cor. 6.18: the text has an insertion KQL Giryarepas in a formula found many times in 2 Sam. and some of the prophets, with small variations. The inclusion of KQI Oiryarepas only proves that the male designations in the other citations and texts were not perceived as gender neutral. In my view, this does not mean that the female is excluded from the male designations, only that her stability within them cannot be presupposed. In other cases, if she is present, she is invisibly subsumed under the male representations. 83. Rom. 16.1, 1 Cor. 7.15, 1 Cor. 9.5, Phlm 2. 212 Women in Their Place

6.7.1 Will the Incorporation of Women onto Christ's body Make Him Hermaphrodite? The meaning of Paul's body language is extensively discussed in Martin 1995,84 so the point here is just to make more clear how the body language contributes to a representation of ekklesia as male space, and more generally how the Pauline dogma of the ekklesia as Christ's body contributes to the gendered organization of the ritual space. I take the body language to express dogma rather than 'mere metaphor' because Paul seems to believe that the Christians defined and bound together through ritual make up a body of Christ in a real sense. Paul is not the only one to represent ritual groups through body images, as Gennep already (1909) pointed out. Like sanctuaries, bodies are also spatial entities and occupy space, and according to Paul, both places house the image of God (1 Cor. 6.19). In Graeco-Roman discourse, the body was further seen as organized according to a spatial (hierarchical) order that existed in 'nature', in society, and in cosmos. Hierarchy is a spatial concept, hence Paul's body language can be understood as a spatial discourse of the body. Martin notes:

... all the various aspects of the self were hierarchically arranged. A firm social hierarchy existed within the body of the ancient person... Each individual body, moreover, could be placed confidently at some location in the physiological hierarchy of nature. In other words, each body held its hierarchy within itself, and every body occupied its proper place in the hierarchy of society and nature (1995: 34).

Bodies are gendered. Since the body that is the Corinthian ekklesia carries a male name, Christ, I treat it as a male body. Even if Graeco-Roman art displays broader variety through the frequent use of hermaphrodites, it was the male-female-polarity that shaped the thinking of the world and its bodies in terms of gender, and that governed the inscription of gender onto human bodies.85 As we learn in 15.40-50, Paul has the view that bodies can exist on different levels, some being placed in the heavenly realm, and some being placed in the earthly realm.86 If the collective body of Christ that the Corinthians constitute is a spiritual, heavenly body (15.44-47) it is still a

84. See also Neyrey (1986). 85. Thus my argument here is in accordance with Toril Moi's argument concerning the modern situation referred above p. 49. 86. Martin (1995: 132): 'The presupposition underwriting Paul's argument here is that the nature of any body is due to its participation in some particular sphere of existence. It gets its identity only through participation. It is difficult to imagine how any kind of individuality as we conceive it today could exist in such a world view.' 6. Corinthian Order 213 body, only more real, of higher ontological value than individual, earthly bodies. Since the ideal was a perfect male body, spiritual bodies were neither gender neutral nor hermaphrodite, as the latter were considered monstrosities and/or comical. Rather spiritual bodies were masculine in a purer form. Thus I do not think we should take the ekklesia-body of Christ as a monstrous, hermaphrodite body formed through an equal blend of male and female, but as a male body - although some of the members of this male body may be women under cover. In many other sanctuary spaces the concern for the right representation of the deity was expressed in discussions of the cult statue. The problem becomes more acute for Paul since he views the gathered worshippers themselves as the representation of Christ on earth.

6.7.2 Placing the Members Towards the middle of the section on the ritual gatherings we read: 'But now, God placed the members, each and every one of them, on the body such as he wanted the body to be arranged... But so much more are the esteemed parts of the body, even if they are apparently weak, necessary. And those parts of the body we consider unworthier, these we dress with greater honor, and our bad-behaving parts still have even more respectability, which our more well-behaving/respectable parts do not require. But God has so composed the body, giving honor to the part that lacks it, in order that there should not be fragmentation in the body but the members should show the same concern for each other' (12.18-25). In the immediately preceding verses, Paul has placed the different members of the body in relation to each other. I follow the basic understanding of 1 Corinthians 12 in Wire (cited earlier in this chapter), who observes: 'It has been common to assume that Paul here extends his opening affirmation of unity. Yet his arguments are not for unity but diversity and develop a theological rationalization for division of labor and interdependence in the Corinthian community1 (1990: 136).87 In Christ's body, it seems that the hand is placed over the foot (12.15, comp. v. 20), which means that placing in physical space and placing in the hierarchy correspond. But a hierarchical-spatial reading of the body should not automatically equate physical elevation with a high place in the hierarchy, as the next case of the ear and the eye shows (12.16, comp. v. 20). On a model's body they would be more or less level, but in Paul's hierarchical-spatial arrangement the eye is placed very high (16-17 and 21). The hands are placed higher than the feet but lower than the eye (12.15 and 21). The head, which spatially occupies the most elevated and hence the most honorable place on the body (cf. the function of the term KecjxiXf), in

87. Cf. above subchapters 3.2.4-3.2.6. See also Fatum (1998: 137). 214 Women in Their Place ch. 11) has to yield and give more honour to 'the member lacking honor' which most scholars assume refers to the genitals lower on the human body. This leads to the preliminary conclusion in 12.18 (cf 12.24), that 'God placed the members, each and every one of them, on the body such as he wanted the body to be arranged'. Thus we understand that the placing of the members in relation to each other is no indifferent matter. God himself has organized the body according to the hierarchy that becomes visible in this passage, because this is how God wanted it. What hand, eye, foot, and so on are metaphors of is then explicated in 12.27-30. But if God wanted members to stand in particular hierarchical relations to other members, how can Paul then conclude by exhorting the Corinthians to seek the highest gifts (12.31)? This is one instance where Paul breaks out of the spatial discourse of the body that is often used to emphasize the immutability of classes and roles in society and cosmos.88 It is an old notion in the philological debates over 12.23 that Paul is circumscribing genitals (Conzelmann 1975: 214 n. 32). But genitals never exist 'in general' - they are usually taken as important signifiers of gender, whether they are understood as the 'source' of this gender or as its 'effect' (cf. Chapter 3). In relation to these debates, Martin is more precise and emphasizes that it was common Greek usage to speak about the penis euphemistically as the 'necessary' or 'constraining' member. Martin continues: 'Paul admits that the genitals, the "necessary" members, seem to be the weaker; but, by their very necessariness, they can demand high status. They have a legitimate claim, therefore, to honor and care from the other body members' (1995: 95).89 The consequence of Martin's observation is that we cannot continue to just assume that Paul's veiled talk about genitals in this passage is gender- neutral. Once the genitals Paul refers to in 12.22-23 are determined as belonging to a male body, also because the body that carries them carries a male name, it has consequences for the interpretation of the passage as a whole. Ekklesia is a male body. As we have seen in Chapters 3, 4 and 5, sanctuary discourse is quite flexible as to whether women and men are kept completely segregated or integrated hierarchically in various ways. Whole bodies on the other hand, are usually represented as either male or female although it is presupposed and feared that the distinctions are not always clear.90 If, according to the one-sex-model in its medical version, female genitalia were underdeveloped penises, it follows that in the discourse of the model body such mishaps do not really belong. The medical idea of a female penis did

88. Heinrici (1880: 405), with references to ancient authors. See also Martin (1995: 39-40). 89. Comp. Martin (1995: 31). 90. Cf. sub-chapter 3.2.4. 6. Corinthian Order 215 not develop culturally into a similar view of it as a representation of the phallus and thus possessing 'high status' and 'a legitimate claim to honor and care from the other body members' (see quote from Martin above). One cannot just assume in ancient discourse of the penis that the female penis is always included unless otherwise stated. In addition, the one-sex model is not the only gender model Paul draws on, he also draws on other models sorting people more definitively into male and female spaces. For these reasons I hesitate to believe Paul is talking about female penises in this passage (but see below). In his rhetorical analysis of 1 Corinthians 12-14, Eriksson argues concerning the body image of 12.21-25:

The sexual imagery of this analogy is probably deliberate and should be noted. Paul uses rot daxr^ova rmcov in reference to the male genitals, and in the analogy it is this despised body part which surprisingly is given the highest respect and honor both by humans careful clothing in everyday life and by God himself in the reversed value-system in the body of Christ. The genitals are contrasted with the beautiful face, to which the self-styled pneumatics among the Corinthians are compared (1998b: 102). Eriksson follows Wire (1990) in that it is the female pneumatics Paul is arguing against because they threatened his authority in the Corinthian Christian group. Eriksson further argues that Paul consciously has chosen head/face (12.21) and penis as examples of body parts to which human beings attribute honour and shame. From 12.24, where Paul states that when arranging the body of Christ God gave more honour to the part that lacks honour, Eriksson concludes that Paul with this passage tries to subdue the female pneumatics under male authority. In my view, Eriksson hits a central nerve in the passage. Paul's focus on the penis has consequences for our reading of the context, the whole ritual- section of the letter and particularly the utterings on women in this section. It should, however, be repeated with reference to Martin (1995) above, that the penis was not an unambiguously shameful part of the body in Graeco- Roman discourse. Even if Paul on the surface level of the text again distinguishes between what is true generally and what is true about the body of Christ (12.27), it appears again (as in ch. 11) that Paul's rhetorical reversal of human hierarchies in Christ is not a reversal on the level of content (ideology). Phallogocentrism was not a new phenomenon in Christianity, neither was it a uniquely Christian phenomenon. Rather I read the text as an attempt to dissociate the penis from the phallus so that there should be no doubt what order and values the body of Christ embodies. Thus notions associated with the non-phallic penis (possibly even in its female, underdeveloped version, see above), vulnerability and shame, are placed 216 Women in Their Place in the category of ordinary human experience outside of the body of Christ, whereas the phallic values are represented as the genuinely Christian ones: pride, honour, unity. Martin (1995: 31) points out that the mere designation of the penis as the 'necessary' member provoked thoughts of constraint and hence slavery; one could add lack of sexual self- control and power, passivity, and so on. On Paul's body of Christ then, the penis should not be a source of shame, pollution and weakness (1 Cor. 5.1 and 6.15-19), it should rather represent the phallus, a sign of control, respect and honour. It is God himself who has given more honour to that which lacks honour so that there should be unity, not fragmentation in the body. The careful dress, the veiling language, the circumscription of penis with head, and the other members' concern about it compensates for its fundamental ambiguity and invests it with the necessary clarity to function as a symbol of unity and perfection. Eriksson believes that the reason for Paul's more positive evaluation of the penis in Christ is that it is central for human reproduction (1998b: 102- 103). This kind of explanation may certainly be a possibility in other Graeco-Roman or Jewish authors, but in the case of Paul it is too rationalist and in my view ignores the fact that the body image is presented in the middle of the section on ritual gatherings. If there is anything in the relations between men and women about which Paul cares not at all, it is the production of human offspring: in fact he admits that he finds it much better that Christians do not marry and have children, because then they become too occupied with 'the world' instead of preparing for Christ's return (1 Cor. 7.25-35). Once 12.22-23 is read as talking about male genitals, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the body-of-Christ-dogma functions as a representation of the ritual gathering as male space, where the women must act under cover as brothers in Christ. As mentioned already, Paul is evidently not constrained by bodily 'facts' such as spatial elevation and the way bodies are usually put together. But Paul is not alone: this passage is just one example of how little fixed the human body is in discourse of the body, and how used participants and readers of this discourse are to the fact that body talk is about prescription and inscription, not description. Modern readers may find it puzzling that ancient authors who inscribed the hidden genitals with such decisive meaning did not discuss why human bodies do not have their genitals more visibly accessible on the top of their heads, which would be the logical place also if one wanted to argue that men should be women's heads or that the phallus should reign.91 But this 'possibility' seems not to have been 'chosen' in ancient discourse except in the myth of the omnipotent Zeus

91. Cf. Keuls (1993). 6. Corinthian Order 217 who physically reproduces himself by giving birth to Athena through the head.92 Instead, greater ambiguity and flexibility was preferred by constructing multiple links and associations between the head and the phallus, as noted by many scholars who have commented on the interchangeability in many texts between human heads and human genitalia,93 In this subchapter we have seen that the Christian ritual space is not only constructed as male (6.1-6.6) but also represented as male through the use of male designations, above all 'body of Christ', a designation that then takes on a life of its own. It has been a case-study in the 'gender indifference' (cf Luce Irigaray) of phallogocentric discourse. Women are present, but the place of women in the ekklesia is not given any representative value separate from that of men. As members of an ekklesia, as Christian brothers, and as members of the male body of Christ, Christian women are represented by and through male designations. Further, only males are found on the significant levels of the spatial hierarchy of this place: God, Christ, and men, so that the woman is represented by the male but not the other way round. Since woman is subsumed in the representations of the higher (male) levels of the hierarchy, women's presence does not disturb the male repreAsentation of the ekklesia.

6.8 Conclusion: Integration and Segregation, Sameness and Difference 6.8.1 Historical Discourse Rather Than Historical Women In this chapter I have read 1 Corinthians 11-14 as addressed to a collective ritual body and concerned about collective, not matrimonial issues. The text is concerned with the construction of ritual space, where women's places and men's places, patterns of action (including speech), clothing and so forth should be kept distinct and hierarchically ordered. This order reflects a cosmos (here explored as space rather than time or ontology) which is also gendered, and the ritually constructed sanctuary space should be gendered in the same way. Therefore Paul is not necessarily intent on gendering the ekklesia, nor on putting a particular view of women into practice: he is not concerned with women's morality and correct behavior per se. The women utterances of this section form part of the much broader project of ritual, order and place-construction. Since woman-utterances are means to a different end, they must be read as effects, consequences, or antitheses to his concerns

92. With Metis' unrepresented presence in his stomach (cf. Parada 1993: 'Athena', 31-32). 93. Martin (1995: 237); D'Angelo (1995); Gleason (1995: 135). 218 Women in Their Place and arguments regarding these other discourses. 'Woman' is constructed very much as 'the other', and hence not in consistency with herself. That is why we quickly run into problems if we try to bring Paul's utterances down to the level of individual women and what they should do or how Paul envisages them. Some feminist exegetes might remark here that in this perspective 'real' Corinthian Christian women and men disappear.94 The remark is entirely correct. It has not been my aim to construct women of the past with whom modern women can identify and weep or rejoice. As mentioned in Chapter 2, 'woman' is an empty term with changing content, and we have to find out in each case what it 'stands for'. Thus behind the term there is not hidden a group with whom I can identify and act in solidarity, although the theological construction I have outlined in this chapter surely produced women and affected those bodies we usually label 'female' - both in Corinth and in the rest of Christian Europe until recently. The process of gender production is legitimated through claims of being grounded in genitals or in social or sexual status. But even if the process may interfere with such things, I consider it an ideological process that appropriates genitals and human bodies in a far from natural way. If gender discourse constantly produces 'men' and 'women', I think it is more important to focus on this discourse than on its effects or products: people situated as men and women. In Corinth, the women produced through the ancient gender discourse may have fought back against Paul's construction of cosmic gender, or against the Corinthian gender discourse's construction of the female, but we cannot know exactly how. Although I have not tried to reconstruct 'real, historical' women, my approach has been far from ahistorical. The discourse of gender and sanctuary space is historical and discernible in the texts we have. The gendered order analysed in 6.2-6.4 could be labeled 'hierarchical gender differentiation', which could also be found in many of the sanctuary spaces of early Roman Corinth described in an earlier chapter. It could also be found in Jerusalem: the features of the Jerusalem sanctuary that Paul draws on seems to be clear boundaries, unity, worship, a notion of God's presence - in the rules, in the hierarchy governing the temple, and in the priesthood serving there. Even if I have tried to show how Paul draws on many gender models and participates in a broader discourse of gender and sanctuary space, I have nevertheless attributed to him some level of choice with respect to where he draws in what in his texts. Sometimes the discourses diverge, and then the subject has to choose.

94. Cf. my discussion above on pp. 13-15. 6. Corinthian Order 219

6.8.2 Tensions between Lines of Argument If the ritual gatherings constitute a male space, the integration of women becomes particularly problematic. But Paul is creative enough at least to try, with the result that tension is created. Through this chapter's analysis of the spatial organisation of the ekklesia in 1 Corinthians 11-14, we have seen how Paul's argument contains two tendencies with regard to women's place in the ekklesia. The first and most dominant tendency towards gender hierarchy is found in the framework in chs. 11-14 where he deals with ritual directly, especially in 11.1-16 and 14.33-37. The preservation of the gender boundary is the prerequisite for clearing any named place at all for 'woman' in the ekklesia space. Gender integration in the ritual gatherings can take place because the boundary is preserved through ritual clothing, and because women can act and speak in the female genres of this space: prayer and prophecy. The hierarchy solves the problem of women's integration by placing her at the bottom of the hierarchy, separated from man's place higher up. However, this also gives woman a place and a name. The second tendency is found more indirectly in his representations of the collective space constructed through ritual: this space is represented in male categories as body of Christ, brotherhood and ekklesia. This tendency solves the problem of women's integration by invisibly presupposing that they are present in the ritual space, like the chora, and by not giving them a place and a name separate from the male representations. Gender difference remains unrepresented - Christ is not hermaphrodite. However, women's unrepresented presence in, and thus support of, the larger male category potentially leaves more room for women's subversiveness and movement up and down on the gender continuum of the one-sex-model that this phallogocentric representation presupposes. The consequence of both lines of argument is, anyway, the priority of maleness in ekklesia space. What woman represents neither has any place on the higher levels of the hierarchy nor is worthy of representation other than as invisibly subsumed under the male images representing the ekklesia. The tension between these two lines of argument may historically have left a space in-between them, for negotiation and women's initiatives, but also for the opposite: for leaving women in a double bind. The female 'Trojan horse' in the body of Christ has the potential to disrupt the rather fixed hierarchy presented by Paul as the creational one, but historically- speaking those inside seem to have not been able to break out of their hiding place. The tension between the two lines of argument has also left a hermeneutical space for later readers to combine them in different ways to expand women's place in the churches, but also to do the opposite: later 220 Women in Their Place women have also been left in a double bind by particular uses of Paul's texts. These are the great paradoxes emerging from Paul's creative attempts to integrate women fully into the ekklesia. I have interpreted the covering and the silencing of women in teaching- sessions as boundary-markers. However, there is also something ambiguous about precisely these two means of distinguishing between male and female. Is it coincidental that they both at the same time serve to make the women present inaudible and invisible under their cover, as if they were not there? I think not. The covering can mark the difference between what is 'uprooted from matter' (Irigaray) and what is not. What remains under cover, remains part of matter. The cover can also make those under it as 'invisible' as the elephant in the lounge. Finally, it can mark some bodies as 'different', as women. Acting under cover, 'her veil does not conceal anything other than a woman' (Loraux 1993: 81). What Paul sees as the practical consequences of his cosmic hierarchy in the ekklesia (see above 6.3) covering and silenced women teachers, are thus also apt if he wants to represent the ekklesia as an all-male space, a body of Christ. Women are allowed as full members, yet their presence should not affect the collective representations, the ideals or the male character of ekklesia space. The two lines of argument are thus brought together in the ambiguity of the covering. The two lines of argument further meet in a particularly intense way in the highly ambiguous, but also important rituals of baptism95 and eucharist. In his 'The Image of the Androgyne' (1973-1974), Wayne Meeks argues that Gal. 3.26-28 as a 'baptismal reunification formula' inspired social practice of new and more equal gender practices in Pauline Christianity. In The First Urban Christians (Meeks 1983: chapter 5) this idea is more developed in terms of ritual theory, by help of Victor Turner: 'Victor Turner's extension of the concept of liminality to include an "antistructural" component in more complex social situations, including the condition of marginal groups within complex societies, helps us to relate the early Christian rites to the theory of ritual' (1983: 157). He understands the eucharist as a 'ritual of solidarity' (1983: 157). That Turner in his own search for this 'antistructural element' makes his otherwise wonderfully clear and sharp theory so general as to be applicable to almost anything, is a problem in itself. In Meeks' application of Turner, the idea that liminality also somehow presupposes firm structural boundaries, seems to get lost. And this has a bearing on the extent to

95. How important the rite of baptism really was in the Pauline and other early Christian churches has been a matter of discussion recently, see Hickling (1990). 6. Corinthian Order 221 which gender equality was practised: throughout the process of ritual, or just in the moment of liminality? In ritual settings only, or also outside of them? From the reading I offer, it could be possible to read 11.23-26 as presenting a communitas-\(kQ fellowship in the climax of the Lord's meal. In Paul's construction of this moment, the citation of tradition, ritual performative utterance and ritual action collapse into one.96 But in other parts of the ritual section, 1 Corinthians 11-14, Paul is rather 'building' a hierarchy - of gifts, of cultic functions, of genders, into a meaning-ful system, and it is significant that he uses building metaphors on this activity in ch. 14. It seems that Paul does not consider the hierarchical structure more inauthentic or un-Christian than the carefully ritually scripted antistructure, which I have also suggested that we find in ch. 13. Rather, within the ritual process of the ekklesia as elsewhere,97 the one presupposes the other. From a ritual perspective, it is more properly the balance between the coramwmto-character of the ritual patterns of action given in 11.23-26 and ch. 13 and the more systemic, hierarchically ordered speech parts of ritual sketched in ch. 14 that creates the right balance or blend known as 'order' as opposed to chaos on the one hand or ritualism on the other. I will maintain that this reading also fits better with the opening, and more focused, chapters of Turner's book, because Meeks in his high regard of the revolutionary potential of the Christian message seems to have overlooked that the communitas or anti-structural moment can only take place within very firm structures and boundaries. But it is still true that he has some support from the final chapters of Turner (1969) in this. Through the baptismal rite both women and men became members of the male body of Christ. It is this collective body that takes place and is 'performatively enacted'98 through the ritual of the eucharist: the eucharist makes the members participate in a quite physical way in the body of Christ, through eating his body and blood (see last chapter's discussion of 11.17-34). In 11.29 Paul also emphasizes the crucial importance of discerning what/whose body one actually belongs to (Butler 1990: 33)99 - and I would assume, also what type of body this is. Implicit judgement is passed upon a person who demonstrates a lack of discernment of the collective body of Christ in the ritual meal (11.29): if you cannot discern the body of Christ, it is because you are not a member of it! If the Corinthians perform the ritual according to Paul's prescriptions, his model for the ritual body: the body of Christ - actually becomes a

96. Meeks (1983: 157-159); cf. Turner (1969: 96). 97. Turner (1969: Chapter 3). 98. Cf. Butler (1990: 33). 99. This is one of remarkably many instances where Judith Butler's theory and Paul's texts make a great deal of sense together. 222 Women in Their Place model of it. Much is at stake. I have used terms like 'representation' and 'dogma' since for Paul the ekklesia at some level really is the body of Christ. Here again ritual practice and the representation of ritual space as Christ's body are joined and become inseparable from each other (cf. above on p. 212). The body is an apt representation of ekklesia space for both take up space and in Paul's view need to be bound and structured. Thus his understanding of the body of Christ and his concern about the veiling of women fit very well with Judith Butler's understanding of'body': '"body", not as a ready surface awaiting signification, but as a set of boundaries, individual and social, politically signified and maintained' (1990: 33). What I have outlined here as two lines of argument is addressed by both Castelli (1999) and Boyarin (1994) in slightly different terms, in their discussions of the tension in Paul between gender as sameness and gender as difference. Paul veers between well-ordered, stable gender hierarchies where the female and the male have their distinct, hierarchically ordered, fenced-in places, and the silent subsumption of female under all-male categories and representations. Boyarin ascribes one gender hierarchy to Judaism and one to Greek thought, but as should be clear from Chapter 3, both gender systems can be found in 'Greek' thought, and I suppose also in Jewish thought.100 Even if I find that the hierarchy that gives women a place and a name (and by Boyarin labeled 'Jewish') is most dominant in chs. 11-14, what I find interesting is how Paul's combination of the different Jewish and Greek variations of the sameness versus difference- problem leaves him with much choice and flexibility as to which strategy is most fitting from one situation to another. For example, if identity was conferred through participation and no such thing as individual identity in the modern sense of the word existed,101 what about the identity of women who participated both in the female chora at the bottom of the cosmological hierarchy and in the male body of Christ? This problem is irresolvable as I see it, but the different androcentric models standing in tension with each other create a space between them, a no-man 's-land that can function as a place for female subversion. Thus the space for identified, named women around Paul that we hear about for example in Romans 16 and in 1 Corinthians, is not there because of Paul's view(s) of women, but because of his flexible, space-giving contradictions. I wish to close this chapter with the words of John Gould concerning women in Classical Athens, words appropriate for my own conclusions regarding Paul's construction of the place of women in the ekklesia of Corinth. As in 1 Corinthians, the language is spatial, and the place of

100. See also concluding discussions in Chapter 7 below. 101. Cf. Martin (1995: 132) cited in n. 87 above. 6. Corinthian Order 223 women is not finally settled: 'We have seen how, in terms of the categorisation of Athenian society, of the boundaries between inclusion and exclusion, women are "boundary-crossers", anomalous beings who belong and do not belong, are "within" and "without"' (Gould 1980: 58). Chapter 7

PAUL IN THE EARLY ROMAN CORINTHIAN DISCOURSE OF GENDER AND SANCTUARY SPACE: OBEDIENT AND SUBVERSIVE

This book has investigated the various meanings of 'woman' in a text dealing with ritual, 1 Corinthians 11-14, without letting the texts belonging to a discourse of sexual ethics and marriage determine the outcome. 1 Corinthians 11-14 singles out ekklesia space from household space through different meal-patterns, patterns of women's speech and women's ritual clothing. Paul thus shares with the Corinthian discourse a notion that places of worship should be set aside either spatially or temporally. I have gathered such places of worship under the umbrella 'sanctuary space'. Further, 1 Corinthians 11-14 structures the ekklesia space in a way analogous to the sanctuary spaces of early Roman Corinth, and genders this space as male space. The ideals that Paul holds up for ekklesia space are associated with masculinity, and dissociated from femininity. The Christians are addressed as brothers. The male, unified body of Christ is the representation of the ritually constructed ekklesia in this section. Proper ritual is dissociated from disorder, glossolalia, lack of unity, women out of bounds, and so on. In Chapter 6 we saw more in detail how Paul views sanctuary space as representing some kind of totality or order. In his arguments for structure, Paul draws on a cosmology that has gender as one of its basic categories. Most things in the universe are associated with masculinity or femininity, and this cosmic gender distinction must be represented ritually through distribution of men and women to different spaces. Paul wants the ekklesia as micro-cosmos to reflect the macro-cosmic, gendered order set down by God at the creation. Thus I share Jerome Neyrey's view that 'Paul perceives the world as a carefully ordered cosmos... He may be consistent in his tendency to perceive and impose order on the world, but inconsistent in the specific maps he puts forth' (1990: 71). Consequently, I do not believe that there is any point in searching for particular, Corinthian Christian women behind the 'woman'-term at the textual surface level of 1 Corinthians. Paul does not have a 'view to' Christian women, his view is to the gendered cosmos as a whole. The Copernican revolution put an end to this way of viewing man and man's 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 225 gender (male and female) as participating in an endless number of cosmic mirror-relationships. Because today we live on the other side of that revolution and the process of de-centralization of the human (including gender) that it started, it is difficult for us to understand the logic of ancient gender discourses. Thus I point out again that ancient texts on gender cannot be put on modern formulas or drawn into modern gender debates without severe difficulties.

7.1 Sanctuary Space as Representation of Cosmos Cosmology as reflected in the Pauline ekklesia is primarily anthropological, concerned with how human beings should be placed in relation to each other in the cosmic hierarchy. Animals and beasts are not frequent guests, but divine entities and angels are. In the ritual, the human being is shown his/her place in the universe. The way of reading 'cosmos' as 'space' in this investigation has in a modern popular-scientific perspective been obvious, since in discourse on astronomy, extra-terrestrial entities, structures, and so on, 'cosmos' and 'space' are often synonymous. The ancient spatial dimension of 'cosmos' has thus been preserved in this discourse of popular science, but in much of the post-Enlightenment discourse of the humanities the connection has ceased to be a natural one. Instead, 'cosmos' was moved much more into the metaphysical realm and partly overlapped semantically with 'ontology'. When modern readers approach ancient texts building or building on cosmology, it is important to be aware of this shift in meaning that has taken place between our times and theirs. Conzelmann for example, states concerning 1 Cor. 11.2-3 that 'he' (i.e. Paul) 'does not conceive of Christ as having cosmic dimensions. If the series is taken by itself and further developed as such, then there remains no room for the event of salvation in history. For then the relations are those of timeless metaphysic' (Conzelmann 1975: 184). I would rather say that Paul's Christ has cosmic dimensions, but the expression 'timeless metaphysics' does not catch what was at stake in ancient cosmology.

7.1.1 City or Sanctuary Representing Cosmic Totality? Many scholars of religion have thought that it is characteristic of sanctuary spaces to make a statement of cosmology, namely that they relate closely to some cosmogonic act (creation), or that their structure represent or in emic terms 'reflect' some kind of cosmic order. But the question is whether this view has been shaped on a rather narrow textual basis (Knipe 1988: 108) of particularly Near Eastern sanctuaries. Greek and Roman sanctuaries were also heavily loaded with cosmological elements and symbols, and maybe even reflected 'heavenly' structures, but they seem not 226 Women in Their Place to have been perceived as micro-cosmoses: that was usually the prerogative of the city as a whole. As we saw in Chapter 3, many Graeco-Roman authors viewed the structuring of city space and the relations between people there as a reflection of the cosmic order. In such discourse the hierarchical structure of the household was also legitimated through references to cosmology. 1 Corinthians 11-14 is a text on ritual, it is the ritual gathering that takes the place as the central representation of the cosmic order, and not the city space or the family. Within the semiotic system of Graeco-Roman civic cult, for a sanctuary to make a cosmic claim can be read as an attempt at increasing its power, centrality and position. The sanctuary of Apollo in Delphi strengthened its position through a rhetoric of world axis ('the navel of the earth'), cosmological center and cosmogonic act. It is significant that this sanctuary was not an integrated part of a civic cult system in the same way as for example the cult of Athena in Athens. Another example is the somewhat later Pantheon at Rome, concerning which MacDonald states: 'this architecture was involved in a pseudo-cosmology that gradually... was replacing or infecting many ancient beliefs and practices... The mysteries of the celestial mechanism and planetary forces, long identified with the gods, were expressed in a design suggesting that all of these ideas and forces were allied and were inseparable from the persisting mission of the Roman state' (1982: 120). As we saw in Chapter 4, not all the rituals and sanctuary spaces of Corinth had cosmology as an element. The Egyptian and Jewish ones probably made some cosmological claims. But a close interrelatedness between cosmology, creation, sanctuary space and ritual could above all be found in the imperial cult. Within the space of Roman imperial cult, history (Aeneas), space and geography (Rome), and objects of cult (e.g. Venus and Julius Caesar) were woven together mythologically into one system which was enacted through ritual. Imperial rituals represented the whole of society and gave its structure a cosmic underpinning: Julius Caesar considered himself a descendant of Venus, and Augustus in addition had Apollo as one of his progenitors. The imperial cult ritually integrated the inhabitants into a Corinthian colonia under the rulership of the emperor, but it also integrated the microcosmos of the colonia as a whole into the macrocosmos of Roman imperialism, peace and mythology. This observation fits well with Geertz's description of state cult in a very different place, Bali: 'The state cult was not a cult of the state. It was an argument, made over and over again in the insistent vocabulary of ritual, that worldly status has a cosmic base, that hierarchy is the governing principle of the universe' (Geertz 1980: 102). The presence of cosmological claims in some of early Roman Corinth's sanctuary spaces (the imperial, the Christian and Jewish to the extent that 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 227 these could be seen as separate entities at this stage, probably the sanctuary space of Isis and Sarapis1) leads us to conclude that the notion of the sanctuary as representative of some cosmic whole was an integral part of the early Roman Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space. But it is important to note that all these sanctuary spaces were new to the place: they were newcomers in relation to the ancient Greek civic cult system of the polls.

7.1.2 Ekklesia Recaonsidered Within this discourse of sanctuary space as representative, or not representative of a cosmic order, the ancient philological discussions over the term ekklesia can gain new actuality. In this book the term has mostly been used in its sense of 'ritual gathering', in continuity with the Septuagint use of the term. But the ekklesia, city-council, of the Greek city represented the city as a whole, which was in itself a micro-cosmos. The holistic system of Greek civic cults, and later the Roman imperial cult, united, ordered and represented the city ritually as a whole (micro-cosmos) in a larger cosmic system. The imperial cult in a colony on the Greek peninsula was therefore in many respects a continuation of the ancient Greek civic cult system. Paul's structuring of the ekklesia also seems to be shaped by a notion that this sanctuary space in some sense should represent a totality on its own instead of housing a cult that only represents a partial aspect of a larger, ritual 'sign system', where all the sanctuary spaces have to be considered together if they are to represent a cosmic 'whole'. In his choice of the ekklesia-term, Paul places the Christian ritual gatherings as a competing entity to the imperial cult: both represent the socio-political micro-cosmos as a ritual entity, and through the ritual place it into a larger cosmic whole. His term ekklesia may therefore have sounded provocative in a Corinthian (imperial) discourse of sanctuary space, still the imperial cult was probably not his background for viewing the ekklesia as representative of cosmic totality from the outset. On several occasions he distances Christian ritual space from pagan temples. Therefore I rather assume that although his letters made sense (outside the control of the author) in a Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space, his inspiration was a Jewish discourse of sanctuary space resonant of the late Second Temple in Jerusalem. In this discourse, the Jerusalem sanctuary was part of various mirror-relationships with other heavenly or earthly structures - either as a perfect representation or as a distorted representation (which seems to have been the view taken in Qumran). The Jerusalem sanctuary was thus

1. See again particularly the Isis aretalogies in Isidorus (1972); Totti (1985). 228 Women in Their Place seen as cosmologically significant,2 even if the exact interpretation of its cosmological significance could vary: In The Jewish War, 5.212-218, Josephus writes about the veil of the Jerusalem Temple as cosmologically relevant. In other passages, he seems to hold that it is the ritual that makes this space sacred, and that ritual is cosmologically relevant. So when in Jewish Antiquities Josephus discusses the cosmic implications of the Jerusalem sanctuary and the ritual clothing there, he states: for if any one do but consider the fabric of the tabernacle, and take a view of the garments of the high priest, and of those vessels which we make use of in our sacred ministration, he will find that our legislator was a divine man, and that we are unjustly reproached by others; for if any one do without prejudice, and with judgment, look upon these things, he will find they were every one made in way of imitation and representation of the universe (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 3.179-80). Hayward writes concerning Josephus' description of the Jerusalem sanctuary: In a manner redolent of Philo, he explains to his non-Jewish readers that the worship offered in Jerusalem had a beneficial effect for the whole world... Sacrifices, which had been offered by the Jewish community even for the Emperor (Cont. Ap. 11.77), were offered for the common safety of the nation... Above all, the Jewish Temple and its rites make clear that Jews do not suffer from apanthropia, 'hatred of mankind', since the whole created order is mysteriously represented in the ordered and temperate workings of the Service. In this, Josephus strongly agrees with Philo (see De Spec. Leg. 11.167 on the offering of the sheaf of new corn): at the end of his life, he seeks to defend his people against slander, and his defence of the Temple Service relies on its universal character (1996: 152-53). Philo is also a representative of this discourse, as already mentioned in Chapter 5. In this context, the following quote must suffice as illustration: 'The highest, and in the truest 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 ornaments the stars, for its priests the angels who are servitors to His powers... There is also the temple made by hands' (Philo, On the Special Laws 1.66-67).

2. 'Yet Paul and other observant Jews find the holiness of God not only abstractly expressed in the creation story, but concretely embodied in the temple system in Jerusalem. Observant Jews who went to the Temple for annual pilgrimage and for prayer or sacrifice (Lk. 2.41; Acts 21.26) were socialized to patterns that became part of their worldview' (Neyrey 1990: 29). 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 229

I have argued that Paul views the Christian sanctuary space, the ekklesia, as representing the cosmic order. From the examples given, and from Hayward's reflections it should be clear that Paul is not the only first- century Jew who views sanctuary space this way. Both Philo and Josephus quickly end up in cosmological speculations when they explain features of the Jerusalem sanctuary, or the sanctuary space as a whole. In particular Josephus' description of the tabernacle as a representation of cosmos fits well with the way I read Paul in this book. As paradigm Paul establishes a cosmological hierarchy given at creation, of which both the sanctuary in Jerusalem and the ekklesia could be seen as imitations or more or less perfect 'incarnations'. When discussing the sanctuary in Jerusalem Smith also addresses the relationship between ritual, cosmology and hierarchy: Ezekiel, by employing complex and rigorous systems of power and status with their attendant idioms of sacred/profane and pure/impure, established structures of relationships that were capable of being both replicated and rectified within the temple complex. Being systemic, they could also be replicated without. Even lacking a king or temple ... the system of status could be transferred, even though that of power might have to be adjusted or abandoned. Whether it be expressed in the arrangement of the crops in a farmer's field (as in the wisdom poem of Isaiah 28.23-29) or in the complex exfoliation of Mishnah, the hierarchical relations of status do not require centralization in the temple. The system can be decentered (1987: 73). I find this observation fruitful also with regard to Paul's text, perhaps because he is shaped by the same sanctuary discourse of which Ezekiel was also part. Because the ideal sanctuary space that Paul outlines has a firm boundary between holiness and pollution, as well as an ordered hierarchy, it could be decentered. In his ordering of the ritual gatherings chs. 11-14, Paul 'maps'3 the internal space of the ekklesia as a systemic hierarchy, defining where men are in relation to Christ and to women, where women are in relation to men and angels, where prophets are in relation to apostles, teachers and tongue speakers, and so on. The system is meaningful because it corresponds to a greater, cosmic order.4 The sanctuary space that is constructed through ritual within the house has a different order and therefore also different role models from the household space. The

3. Neyrey (e.g. 1990: 47) uses the term 'map1 on the way places, time, people etc. are ordered in relation to each other. He perceives Paul as Jewish in the sense that he was socialized into a culture with a strong belief in an orderly universe even if he was critical of the present arrangement of it and urged reform of it (31-32). Neyrey finds the same maps of places and people in Paul's texts as found in the temple in Jerusalem. 4. Cf. Wire (1990: 190). 230 Women in Their Place same rituals that transform household space into sanctuary space also represent the cosmology according to which the interior of the sanctuary space is to be organized. Even if the cosmology related to one particular sacred place (in this case Jerusalem) is decentered, it is still reproduced - 're-placed'. Paul further seems to presuppose that as a micro-cosmos the ekklesia must claim exclusivity like the Jerusalem sanctuary and not become just another sanctuary in the Graeco-Roman civic cult system. This view also colours his understanding (or lack thereof) of what is going on in Corinth's various rituals and sanctuaries. In and around Paul's texts, discourses work at different levels. Paul contributed to a Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space, but part of what he brought into that discourse were notions that could also be recognized by worshippers in the imperial cult, in synagogues that anyway had reached Corinth before Paul, and by people familiar with the discourse of the Jerusalem sanctuary. But the associations that his notions and terminology (such as ekklesia} produced in his readers may not have been at all what he intended when he brought one spatial discourse (Jerusalem) into another one (Corinth). However, if this interpretation is adequate, 1 Corinthians may be seen as an early example of the particular Christian attachment to the discourse of the 'Jerusalem Temple' that was to become much more important later after its fall. The flip-side of the coin is that this attachment often led to supersessionist views after year 70: when the old sanctuary was gone, the Christian ekklesia was the new, true sanctuary. But as Daniel Boyarin points out, it was 'precisely because the signifier Israel is and remains central for Paul (that) it has been transformed in its signification into another meaning' (1994: 202). And the very strong grasp the Jerusalem sanctuary still had over Christian imagination many centuries after its fall, did not necessarily have to end in supersessionism. That step was a conscious step by frightened church leaders. Stephen Fine notes that some members within John Chrysostom's congregation transferred the Christian attachment to the Jerusalem sanctuary to the synagogues, which is the true cause behind his strong polemic against their error:5 John pointed out the bleakness of the synagogues in comparison with the old holy and august ark because he feared that they would attend the synagogue instead of his church.

7.2 Paul and the Discourse of Gender and Sanctuary Space In the sanctuary spaces of early Roman Corinth many different cosmologies were represented, and the way of relating to them varied, as

5. Fine (1996: 41-42). 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 231 we have just seen. I have tried to show that Paul's project of structuring ekklesia space participates in a broader discourse of gender and sanctuary space in early Roman Corinth, although his particular way of drawing on cosmology is perhaps not representative.

7.2.1 Jerusalem Discourse of Gender and Sanctuary Space? If it is adequate to say that Paul drew on the discourse of the Jerusalem sanctuary space in his letter that entered into the Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space, then it is possible that his way of gendering the micro- cosmos of the ekklesia is also resonant of the way gender was 'embodied' in the Jerusalem sanctuary. The Second Temple that first-century Jews related to, and that continued to live in their imagination after its fall, consisted of progressively more restricted courtyards, with the Holy of Holies as the most restricted - and holy - place. A reading of the Jerusalem sanctuary by the later Rabbis goes like this: The land of Israel is holier than all lands... The cities surrounded by a wall are more holy than it (the land)... Within the wall (of Jerusalem) is more holy than they... The Temple mount is more holy than it... The rampart is more holy than it... The court of women is more holy than it... The court of Israel is more holy than it... The court of the priests is more holy than it... (The area) between the porch and the altar is more holy than it... The sanctuary is more holy than it... The Holy of Holies is more holy than they...6 The place of this central focus of Jewish religious life was structured according to ethnicity, gender, lineage and purity concerns. The outermost courtyard could be entered by anyone except for ritually impure women.7 The next courtyard could be entered by Jews, again except for ritually impure female Jews. Women were excluded from the courtyard of the Israelites, which was the place for ritually pure Jewish men. The two spaces closest to the Holy of Holies could only be entered by ritually pure male priests. A separate space for Jewish women's worship is described by Josephus, and is thought by many to be an innovation of Herod's restoration.8

6. m. Kelim 1.6-9. 7. Impure through menstruation or childbirth. 8. For a discussion of this possible separate space for Jewish women's worship indicated in Josephus, The Jewish War, 5.198-200, see Kraemer and D'Angelo (1999: 63). Cf. Corley (1996: 57). 232 Women in Their Place

Read as a text, the spatial organization of courtyards reflects a hierarchical cosmology, where value is inscribed in terms of closeness and distance to the Divine, and where women are placed in one category low on the ladder of holiness and purity (Hultgard 1995: 42). This model explains one of Paul's ways of organizing gender in 1 Corinthians 11-14.

7.2.2 Gender in Corinthian City- and Sanctuary-Spaces In Corinthian culture, gender ideology was integrated into the organization of buildings, cult calendars and religious festivals. With their separate places for men and women, the various sanctuary spaces embodied the models of gender that were presented in Chapter 3, and human bodies were linked to distinct places, times and cosmic realities. Rituals taking place in sanctuaries were thus surrounded by an established mass of framing text. Still, it is very unlikely that in their layout of different sanctuaries, Roman architects consulted the ancient myths or the philosophical texts in order to monumentalize the notions of gender found there. Rather, the Tandora'-model and the 'woman as fertile soil'-model were part of the cultural koine also of the Roman empire and endlessly repeated in art, stories, and popular culture, and also probably in the architectural organization of space. Since the Pauline ekklesia has been the main focus, it has not been possible to go into detail about how the various sanctuary spaces presented here relate to the different models of gender: how, for example, the sanctuary space of Demeter and Proserpina relate to the 'woman as fertile soil'-model, and whether it also embodies notions that belong to the 'one-sex'-model. But I do not, by any means, see Paul as unique in his drawing on them when structuring sanctuary space. Paul's text is a written argument for a particular ritual order, and not a monumentalized ritual discourse, therefore he has to make the cosmology he draws on more verbally explicit. Paul shares with the Corinthian discourse a notion that in sanctuary space not only mythology, but also the relations between people during the ritual contribute to the formation of it as a particular space of representation. This means that the patterns of action and the relations between people in a ritual place reveal something of what kind of place it is, what cosmos it represents. Both in the Pauline ekklesia and in the sanctuary spaces of early Roman Corinth, patterns of action and the relations between people in sanctuary space do not necessarily conform to the roles and relations between people in public and private spaces, even if they often do so. Many scholars have argued that Paul tries to make ekklesia conform to the norms of public space by demanding veils and sensible speech, and similar trends can be seen in other sanctuary spaces of early Roman Corinth. Particularly in the imperial cult, the hierarchy of cultic offices seems to conform to the public- 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 233 political hierarchy of power. But many other of the Corinthian sanctuary spaces turn out to be liminal to the spatial structure of the city within which they were located, they could be found on the fringes, in more remote areas and so on. Such a location was not only spatially liminal, it could also express a certain liminality to the values of the Roman civic- cultic system. Even if the ekklesia probably met in the domestic areas of the city, the space of representation drawn in 1 Corinthians 11-14 must also have been liminal to the structure of the city spaces (household and public) and some of the values of the Roman civic-cultic system. This implies that it was not necessarily because the Christians gathered in homes that women were not excluded from the outset. As we saw in the preceding chapters, it was not uncommon that sanctuary spaces allowed women more prominent places than they had in other city spaces (household or public). And Paul's demand that women should be veiled would not make the ekklesia space conform more to the norms of public space, as veiling was not the rule in early Roman Corinth. Thus I have also been careful to distinguish between public space and sanctuary space when necessary. Obviously, in many cases the two spaces overlapped, but when it comes to questions of gender there are important differences that are easily overlooked if sanctuary space is straightforwardly subsumed under the category of 'public' space. When exegetes have compared the 'roles' of Christian women with the 'roles' of women in Graeco-Roman civic life, the Christian ekklesiai have naturally come out as an 'improvement' for women's status. But when seen as part of a more general Graeco-Roman discourse of gender and sanctuary space, we learn that Paul's texts on women in the ekklesia are rather typical in that they represent women in ritual offices, and in that gender differentiation is still taken care of through other means than total exclusion.

7.2.3 Segregation and Hierarchy Paul shares with the early Roman Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space a notion that gender is crucial in the structuring of sanctuary spaces. The gendering of different material spaces, and the distribution of men and women in the hierarchy of ritual functions are not made completely at random. Perhaps even more than in the household and public spaces of the city, it was important to confirm the division of the cosmos into male and female entities and values. Although total segregation is hard to find, we see a heaping up of cultic roles (ritual patterns of action), symbols, votive offerings, mythologies, architecture associated with femininity in some sanctuary spaces, and with masculinity in other spaces. In those spaces where gender integration seems to have been more of an ideal, above all in the imperial cult and in the Christian ekklesia, we see that gender distinction is still taken care of through 234 Women in Their Place

hierarchical organization: male is placed higher than female in the mythology/cosmology, and in the organization of cultic roles. We also find that in this discourse, woman cannot be placed higher than man in the hierarchy of ritual roles. Women are found as mediators between divine and human in spaces where few or no men are known. From outside Corinth however, and outside the chronological limits of this investigation, we know that there is an important exception to this basic principle in the cases where women function as oracles and mediators out of their minds. In a Western context, both differentiating and hierarchical ways of thinking have usually implied value-judgements on which group or level is the most valuable. I am therefore not convinced by those scholars who try to distinguish between distinction and difference on the one hand, and hierarchy on the other, in order to make the case that Paul argues for a 'different, but equal'-position, and not for hierarchy.91 think that Paul was not in a position where he could choose to leave behind the fundamentals of the patriarchal discourse of which he formed part, and instead think of the difference between men and women merely as gender distinction without value judgements or hierarchy.

7.2.4 Integration 1 Corinthians also forms part of a broader discourse of gender and sanctuary space in early Roman Corinth in its move towards greater gender integration in ritual. In the early Roman period, the importance of clear material or ritual boundaries seems to diminish. In the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, we saw that probably ritual dining or some other kind of activity took place in a sanctuary space that was not separated by walls or roofs until the rebuilding of the sanctuary later in the first century CE. Also in the Pauline ekklesia women and men constituted a ritual unity. However, nothing indicates that all gender boundaries disappeared. They only ceased to materialize in physical walls. The amount of ritual- and sanctuary-related texts from early Roman Corinth is meagre in comparison with the richness of Hellenistic times and the second to third centuries CE. If we compare the Hellenistic texts with the later Roman ones, we also see such big differences that we must view the early Roman period as one of transformation. This interpretation of

9. The best representative is Gundry-Volf (1997a, building on Fee [1987: 512-18]). But if there is no value judgement or hierarchy inherent in the production of sexual difference, how can Paul define hairstyle so freely as an important locus of production of sexual difference? How can Paul, via the Corinthian men he addresses, have the women cover their heads if these men have no position over the women from where they can make this command? If Gundry- Volf was correct, Paul should have addressed the women themselves directly. 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 235 the early Roman lacunae in the religious history of Corinth is also close at hand since this period encompasses the period of desolation, the Roman re-founding and re-building of the city. The sanctuary spaces of the city were not re-built as exact copies of Rome but according to the Roman conception of the Greek as 'Roman-Greek' sanctuary spaces. The most relevant example we have of the Roman conception of the Greek are the 'Greek rites'.10 Thus, there is not a total break between the Hellenistic period and later Roman, but the continuity is not an obvious and straightforward one either: in terms of gender, many of the elements of the Greek period can be found again, but within new sign systems where they have taken on a new meaning. Paul's letters are among the few extensive sources for the discourse of gender and sanctuary space within this period of transformation of Corinth. As so often. Beard, North, and Price present illuminating insights, in this case into an early Roman ideology of imperial integration that makes broader sense of the cultural process traced in I Corinthians 11-14(1998: 213-14): In many societies the explicit exclusion of women from the political order (or, at least, their marginalization from the centres of power) makes their 'integration' into the state peculiarly problematic. Hence the frequency, it is argued, of female demons and subversives: witches are (and were) stereotypically women. Such theorizing is very suggestive for Rome. We have already noted the emphasis on female subversion in the story of the Bacchic cult in the second century B.C. As the Roman empire expanded, it faced ever sharper problems of identity and cohesion - particularly as it moved in the first century A.D. from a conquest model... to a more complex model of incorporation and integration... This is precisely the kind of move towards integration that could encourage the construction of subversives, demons and witches. It offers a striking contrast with the small-scale Greek city-states of the classical period. Many of the traits of this first century Roman imperial political ideology can also be traced in Paul, particularly his views on hierarchical gender integration that still needed to 'other' some of the things that 'woman' could stand for.

7.3 The Tensions and Contradictions between Ancient Gender Models as Productive Factors and Sources of Subversiveness On can discuss the tensions between Paul's various utterances concerning women as consequences of phallogocentrism. It is possible to state with

10. See above pp. 89-90 and Scheid (1995). 236 Women in Their Place

Luce Irigaray that woman as Other is non-representable within a phallogocentric paradigm, and hence all statements concerning women within such a paradigm have to be contradictory (cf. under 2.2.2 above). This can explain to some extent why Paul seems not to be bothered by the tensions he produces when weaving together various gender discourses and gender models in his accommodation of female presence in male space. But the ideology of phallogocentrism has not been chosen as the only perspective on a historically complex situation in this book. Instead, I have chosen to ask where exactly tensions do occur in Paul's texts. This has given me the opportunity to view the tensions also in terms of different discourses, models or systems clashing together in his text - body discourse and sanctuary discourse; logocentrism and bipolarity; the 'one-sex'-model and the 'Pandora' model. All the gender-aetiological models of Antiquity somehow agree that 'man', including the spaces, values, and bodies represented by that term are more noble than 'woman' and whatever the latter term represents. In addition they were all in some sense cosmological in that they explained the gender order of their day either with cosmogonic narratives or with arguments from the current order of the cosmos. Still, they present widely different and partly incompatible views on the reasons for human gender, the vulnerability and stability of gender categories, the power implications, and so on. Since all of them were present in the popular culture that surrounded Paul, they have also all left their traces in his text. The tension between some of these models contribute to the tension described in Chapter 6, between Paul's different utterances on gender relationships in the ekklesia. At this point I will therefore explore in more detail the connections between the gender models and the tensions they produce in Paul's structuring of ekklesia space. Women are not excluded from the Pauline ekklesia space. But what woman signifies in a male space constitutes a problem, and Paul tries to mediate this problem in different ways. Paul draws on the creation stories as a cosmic paradigm to be imitated in the structure of the ekklesia space. Also the cosmological hierarchies constructed in 11.1-3 and 14.34—36 have particular places for men and women that are to be imitated. Woman cannot take the place of man, she cannot represent man (in both meanings of the word, male and human) in relation to God. Similarly, man cannot take the place of woman,1' but man can represent woman in relation to God. The space of the ekklesia is ordered so that women are placed on the bottom of its hierarchical organization, as is made clear through ritual. This way Paul seems to construct a firm place called 'woman' in the cosmological hierarchy, but the content and meaning of this place is left

11. For example, he cannot have long hair. 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 237 invisible and mute, Paul only states that in the Lord woman is not without man and man is not without woman (1 Cor. 11.11), also this interdependence of woman and man is in accordance with the model labeled 'Woman as fertile soil', or of course, with the 'Adam and Eve'- model that expresses an analogous view within Jewish typology and discourse. In line with these two models, he also alludes to the procreative duties of women (man is through woman, 1 Cor. 11.12). Further in the cosmological hierarchy, woman's place is not defined in Paul's text by its content, but is defined negatively in relation to the place the male has, in terms of God's word not emanating from women, woman's secondary creation, and women's status as helpers. Only man is explicitly mentioned as being created in God's image. Since the place of woman is more defined by what it is not and what it lacks, and since this place is left unrepresented in the male representations of ekklesia space (such as Christ's body and the ekklesia term itself), it comes close to Plato's x^pa,12 an indeterminable, amorphous place, in contrast to the TOTTOS, the place which is a particular place, clearly defined. Xwpa is in-significant: it is that which cannot be represented because it carries the imprints of all representations. Thus Paul is like the philosopher who cannot speak of that which looks like its imprint-bearer. The place of 'woman' in the cosmological hierarchy marks the bottom line from where it is only possible to move upwards: 'Philosophy cannot speak philosophically of that which looks like its "mother", its "nurse", its "receptacle", or its "imprint-bearer". As such, it speaks only of the father and the son, as if the father engendered it all on his own. Once again, a homology or analogy that is at least formal: in order to think chora, it is necessary to go back to a beginning that is older than the beginning, namely the birth of the cosmos' (Derrida 1997: 30). On the other hand, in these texts of ritual prescription there are simultaneously indications that women in the sense of historical, embodied individuals can transgress the boundaries of 'woman's place' drawn by the ekklesia ritual. This possibility for transgression exists right at the heart of Paul's phallogocentric language. In his representation of ekklesia space as a brotherhood, as a male body and otherwise as male space that also embodied, individual women can participate in, Paul seems to presuppose that there is only one sex, just like the 'one-sex-model' described in Chapter 3. Only one sex is real, present and Christian. He presupposes that there is after all so much continuity between male and female that women can become part of a brotherhood and a male body. Women can have their share of maleness in Christ, they are subsumed under Paul's address of the ekklesia as 'brothers' and they can perform some male speech-acts. This

12. See above Chapter 2 n. 69, cf. Chapter 2 n. 23. 238 Women in Their Place certainly leaves women invisible and fragmented, indeed altogether excluded from ekklesia space, but simultaneously it opens up the possibility for some women to participate more actively as mediators and representatives of Christ's body than Paul's structuring of ekklesia after a hierarchical, gender-dyadic model leaves place for. As I argued in Chapter 3 concerning the one-sex-model,13 the possibility for women to become male is inherent not only in Paul, but also in other Graeco-Roman writers when they assume that the ideal human is male, and that growth into perfection for both men and women implies becoming more and more male. When the spiritual/ideal world was seen as more authentic and functioned as paradigm for the material world, and when a woman 'is a woman because she resembles a woman' (Loraux 1993: 82), a woman who covered her woman-ness and who was spiritually masculine, was a man. Such integration of women into a male realm in turn creates new contradictions, but they are not always perceived as such since they are mostly located within 'woman', which is already full of contradictory meanings and connotations. If it is not just phallogocentrism (as defined by Irigaray) generally, but the one-sex-model more specifically, that lurks under Paul's way of addressing the Corinthians as 'brothers', it was a rather original and subversive, but not unique way of using this gender model. I have also mentioned Seneca who used the model in a similar way, praising particular elite women for their masculine virtues that set them apart from other women.14 The female who most perfectly covered up her woman-ness and took control over male spaces, was the goddess Athena. She covered and fenced in her femininity so well that it became unrepresentable, so well that even modern readers are often misled by her male attire. She was never described without her 'preferred coverings' (Loraux 1995: 221): weapons, aegis, and a big and heavy peplos that left her female attributes invisible. Her preferred coverings concealed and contained a woman who in all respects acted as a male in male space. When Teiresias saw her bathing naked and 'rediscovered' that 'this virile being is only a woman' (Loraux 1995: 217, building on Luc Brisson), he was blinded. One may wonder why myth conceived this patron deity of war, rationality, craftsmanship and the city of Athens as female in the first place. Why did she continue to wear female dress under her weapons? Paul had to resolve and legitimize relations between historical embodied people, and gender ambiguity and contradiction may then be a practical and flexible solution. But in the case of the myths surrounding Athena there was an ocean of possibilities at

13. Particularly at 3.2.6. 14. See above pp. 47-48; cf. p. 53. 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 239 hand, so there must be something that her gender ambiguity managed to contain that could not be contained within a purely male patron deity. Perhaps Paul's ambiguous statements should be understood in the same way? One could continue by asking what the author gains by leaving different issues in the vulnerable, open state of contradiction. But in letters, as in myths on ancient deities, contradictions can also be seen as a means for further effective communication in that they leave the text more flexible, it has something to say to a variety of different situations, and in that they leave readers in a double bind or engage them in an active process of harmonization of what they read. This is a more text-theoretical approach that I hope to be able to pursue on a later occasion. In Paul's structuring of ekklesia space then, there is a tension between, on the one hand, the 'Adam- and Eve'-model and the corresponding Greek model 'woman as fertile soil', and on the other hand, the 'one-sex'-model: the latter presupposes so much continuity between male and female that if only the female chora is defined, bound and structured, it can turn into a male topos. This tension is further heightened by the effect of the 'Pandora model': I have mentioned the Pandora model as part of the broader gender discourse in which Paul participates. Some features of 1 Corinthians, particularly sections on loose hair and speech, can be seen in light of the Pandora model with its notion of feminine forces as a potential threat to male, civilized and neatly structured space. According to this model, the female was, in Nicole Loraux's words, 'a contradictory unity of disparate things', she represented all the disruptive forces of life, procreation and death that needed external binding to stay in place. Pandora is like her jar. Thus, clear boundaries were necessary around those ritual and sanctuary spaces where such 'female' powers were let loose; such spaces were constructed through women's rites of reversal. Firm boundaries around women only-festivals is often seen as a protection of their sexual vulnerability when outside of their 'ordinary' domestic space. But according to the Pandora model the firm ritual or physical boundaries need not be read as a protection of the celebrating or ecstatic women. In this case too, the forces that the rapture/rupture is an embodiment of were seen as more primary than the individual bodies that the rapture took place in, the boundaries make sense as a protection of civilized, structured male space against the disruptive, potentially destructive female forces. In a similar vein, many exegetes have taken for granted that the head covering is a kind of protection against intrusion, sexual or otherwise. But this is not the only framework that can make sense of Paul's concern for head covering. Seen in light of the Pandora model, by covering women's heads, there is no longer any outlet for the disruptive forces that 'woman' contains, her presence does not pose any threat to the male space where she is given 'the bottom line' of its hierarchy, and excluded from its representations. In Nicole Loraux's words, "her veil does not conceal 240 Women in Their Place anything other than a woman' (1993: 81). From a different perspective. Dorothy Sly concludes her reading of the Jewish Alexandrian writer Philo in an analogous way. She reads Philo as concerned about harnessing femininity: the theme of his work is control of the lower elements rather than separation or elimination... Philo perceives the lower elements as dangerous and potentially evil. The fact that they are so, however, calls for their control rather than their excision. On the individual, social or even cosmic level, the feminine, when it is harnessed, loses its danger, and enhances the masculine. Philo presupposed that in the correct order of things (that is, according to the principle of dikaiosyne], male must relate to female as superior to inferior, strong to weak, and active to passive (Sly 1990: 220-21). As most signifiers, veils are also multivalent. In this book I have read Paul's veil as a carrier of gender distinction in a hierarchical, gender- integrated sanctuary space, but also as a covering up of the women there, a protection of the male ekklesia space against chaotic female forces. When women cover themselves, the space they are present in can still be represented as male. But the veil also makes it possible for women to act undercover in male space, whatever the cover conceals, structures or fences in. In the conclusion of her book, Philosophy without Women: The Birth of Sexism in Western Thought, Vigdis Songe-M011er has formulated the tension between different views of gender in older, 'Greek' thought particularly clearly: To my mind there are good grounds to distinguish two principle currents in Greek philosophy. The one is the Platonic tradition, dominated by hierarchic thinking. This can be traced back to Parmenides, who, as I aimed to show in Chapters 2 and 3, sought to do away with the sexual difference and the finiteness-indeed, the very humanity-of human existence. I believe it would require some effort to demonstrate that Aristotle was also of this school, and the scope for disagreement is greater in his case. The second tradition can be traced back to the Ionian philosophers. Here we find names like Anaximander, Heraclitus and Empedocles. These philosophers do not divide the world according to a hierarchical system, where up is good and down is bad. Instead they regard existence as a battleground for distinct and opposing forces (2002: 88). As should be clear by now, I see 1 Corinthians in the tension between these two traditions, but not only these two: I want to open the picture for further models and see the tensions between them as creative producers of texts where new constellations of men, women and their place in the world keep emerging. I quote Songe-M011er because she presents the main axis of 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 241 conflict clearly: that between a 'monistic1 or 'one-sex' view of gender, and a dyadic one. In my view, the model sketched by Songe-M011er throws light on Paul too, only that he, with others such as Plato, reproduces both ways of thinking simultaneously. In Plato's case, the tension is between the Republic on the one hand, and Timaeus on the other. In the Republic, Plato's gender equality program presupposes that the women are allowed to conform to the male ideals rather than 'held down' though child-birth, child-rearing and denied access to knowledge. In the passages I have quoted from Timaeus earlier in this book, the feminine xwpa is place per se without any characteristics, onto which the ideas are inscribed.15 In the case of Paul, 'woman' seems to pose a threat to the ekklesia space and needs to be girdled, concealed and covered up. At the same time, the feminine does not have a separate existence in Christ because it is eliminated in the eschatological brotherhood of Christ. Whatever gender models or traditions of thought Paul draws on, the result regardless, is the privileging of male over female in Christian sanctuary space. The option for historical, bodily women is to cover their woman-state and act undercover. Thus it is neither possible to say that Paul is ultimately subversive towards the gender distinctions of his day, nor that he is only reinforcing male control and patriarchy.

7.4 Actors in a Discourse: Paul, His Texts, His Readers and Their Culturally Possible Response 7.4.1 Paul, the Weaver of Textiles Earlier in this chapter, I pointed out how Paul forms part of a Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space partly in the sense that he shares some of its fundamental presuppositions, and partly because he positions himself in relation to some of its fundamental concepts. But we also saw that Paul makes sense within a Jewish discourse on ritual and sanctuary space. In a 'de-centering', discursive reading of Paul his texts are more 'crossroads' than unified literary wholes, so the one does not exclude the other. First, Paul participates in the Graeco-Roman discourse as a Jew, which should not be particularly problematic since many of the presuppositions and generative dynamics are common. If this is a legitimate way of reading Paul (and I consider it to be so), he is neither the first nor the last person who in his apparent belief that he is only defending tradition is actually the most fervent at inscribing it with new and heterogeneous meanings.

15. It is this xwpa that prevent the imitations thus produced to be identical with the ideal: 'So likewise it is right that the substance which is to be fitted to receive frequently over its whole extent the copies of all things intelligible and eternal should itself, of its own nature, be void of all the forms' (Plato, Timaeus, 51a, cf. 52c). 242 Women in Their Place

Second, to use a both archaic and contemporary metaphor, the author of the Corinthian correspondence could be seen as a weaver who weaves his own hyper-text/ile and links the different discourses on the 'vv

16. I am particularly thinking of Daniel Boyarin and Bernadette Brooten's readings of Paul as part of broader Jewish discourses: 'Paul's legal opinions are part of this larger process of discerning the proper way to follow the Jewish law' (Brooten 1990: 74 n. 7). 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 243 scholars with an eye to Paul's intentions. In the case of Paul we only have access to the author as constructed by himself in the text, behind which not even the scholar with the highest ambitions of reconstructing the historical Paul knows who is hiding. In the case of the recipients in the Corinthian ekklesia, we do not even have access to their possible written replies to Paul, so what is said here about the Corinthian recipients must be even more tentative and hypothetical than reconstructions of the historical Paul. What follows are therefore only suggestions of cultural possibilities and hypotheses.

7.4.2 How Corinthians May Have Seen Things Differently The first set of suggestions destabilizes the representation of the Corinthians in Paul's text. The most complete and profound analysis of how the Corinthians may have conceived things in a different way, is done by Wire. Her purpose with the rhetorical analysis 'is to reconstruct as accurate a picture as possible of the women prophets in the church of first-century Corinth' (1990: 1). Wire raises the important question of Paul's ability - or willingness to 'read' their system. If Wire is correct in her reconstruction of the theology of the women prophets, there are two conflicting constructions of what is going on in the Christian ekklesia. Building on Wire, one could say that Paul was so much in dissonance with Corinthian discourse that he sometimes misconceived the situation. The Corinthians were not necessarily as disorderly and chaotic as Paul presents them. Perhaps they simply followed a different spatial discourse that Paul was not able to 'read', and therefore only saw as disorder. He takes for granted that the Corinthians intend to follow a certain ritual. For him, the Lord's meal has to take place in the ritually constituted sacred space of the ekklesia, but it is fully possible that the Corinthians behaved as though they were in the non-ritual household space simply because they did not conceive of the Lord's meal as a ritual meal, as Stowers (1996) indicates. It may also be that their meal followed a ritual genre similar to meals in other temples, or to the outdoora meals in the remains of Persephone's sanctuary, and thus that they followed a 'grammar' unreadable for Paul who seems rather ignorant of what precisely was going on in pagan sanctuaries. Or perhaps they just thought they performed a Christian version of a domestic cult? We must assume that the framework of meaning represented by the Corinthian discourse sometimes facilitated understandings of his text that were quite foreign to his own intentions and value-judgements. The Corinthians who received the letters were shaped by the Corinthian discourse, and (mis-)conceived his text from within this discursive framework. The second set of suggestions approaches 1 Corinthians 244 Women in Their Place from a virtual location within the Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space. Paul's assertion of firm difference between ekklesia meal/space and oikia meal/space represents new problems - what about the fluent, ambiguous eating habits that are not so easy to categorize? Does his distinction also imply that all other forms of domestic cult should now be brought to an end? Should one stop making libations or say grace before eating and drinking household meals? As mentioned in Chapter 5, what Paul refers to with the word vaos and his recipients' understanding of the term, need not be the same, and probably was not the same. Lanci (1993) tries to bridge these two perspectives and seems to presuppose that Paul as a rhetorician knows the associations of his hearers, and uses language accordingly. For Lanci's Paul, vaos is an apt word to use exactly because it is multivalent.17 In line with the argument of this book, I agree that veto? was a multivalent term that made sense for the Corinthians too, but it is significant that they probably did not understand it in the same way as Paul uses it. For example, Paul refers to the temple as a symbol of unity within an argument against splitting and dissent (1 Corinthians 3). But within a Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space, vaog was not particularly associated with unity: there were many temples, even many temples to the same deity within the same city, so in this case Paul may well have provided a good argument to those who thought that it was perfectly ok if some in the ekklesia admired Paul, others Apollos or Kephas. By using vaos here, Paul seems rather to draw on the Jerusalem discourse of sanctuary space, where the sanctuary was a symbol of unity. Thus, for those of the Corinthians who did not have the same access to Jewish sanctuary discourse, some of Paul's notions of temple and sanctuary space must have sounded quite odd. The Corinthian discourse of sanctuary space presupposed a polytheistic system (cf. Staples under 4.7 above). Paul could not avoid being interpreted within the dominant parameters of this discourse, but he seems to struggle not to be absorbed by it. For receivers accustomed to Roman sacrificial practices, Paul's argument that a man should not cover his head during the ritual gatherings since he is God's image must have sounded odd. Statues of emperors that intended to make them look pious, represent them with covered heads while in the act of sacrificing.

17. Cf Lanci (1993: 9). I am also more pessimistic than Lanci about the extent to which it is possible for an author to anticipate, predict and control the recipients' understanding of one's text. 7. Paul in the Early Roman Corinthian Discourse of Gender 245

Likewise, Paul's assured association of prophecy with nous and dissociation from glossolalia must have sounded strange. Much of the reason why prophecy was associated with femininity was exactly because it was conceived of as non-rational speech under possession, out of mind or similar - characteristics that Paul reserves for glossolalia.}* In Roman culture, dining was not as gender-segregated as it was in Greek culture. It seems that in the Roman period (not necessarily in Corinth) it was still common in some settings for the male diners to bring along female entertainers, such as dancers and musicians, to dinner-parties in the dining areas of the sanctuaries. Thus there is the possibility that if the dining rooms of any of the sanctuaries, for example that of Asclepius, were still in use in the Roman period, women could be present there for the sake of men, as their wives or entertainers. In this context, Paul could be read as regulating the ritual dining and the relations between women and men during the meals in the ekklesia: women are present as God's sons in their own right, not for the sake of men. In his passage on correct cosmology and covering in the ekklesia, Paul makes many references to the Genesis creation stories (see discussion in Chapter 6). Since he chooses to do so, he must have found these references relevant to the subject matter. In 1 Cor. 11.11-12 Paul confirms that in creation and in Christ, man and woman cannot be seen in isolation from each other. From a modern perspective then we may ask why woman must be represented through the male and not the other way round, or we may call his universe logocentric, but within the discourse Paul formed part of, what was the alternative? How could this placing of man and woman within the cosmological hierarchy make sense in an ancient Graeco- Roman context? According to the Greek myth of the origin of man and woman (Pandora) sketched above in Chapter 3, man existed prior to woman and independently of her. With her, death, reproduction and disease came into the world. If such notions formed part of the gender discourse in Corinth, Paul's use of the creation myths may be read as a big step towards integration: although gender distinction is still crucial, in hierarchies of the types that have been described here, it is presupposed that there is some kind of continuity between the lower places and the higher places.

7.5 Epilogue The Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space was in a state of transformation in the early Roman period. As different gender models

18. Cf. Wire's reading of Paul's strategy of dissociating prophecy from tongues in Wire (1990: 140-46). 246 Women in Their Place seem to be at work, the places for women and men are ambiguous in the texts available. In his texts, Paul is veering between different discourses, between different ways of structuring gender in the space of the ekklesia, and between different ways of using the terms 'woman' and 'man' more in general. It is exactly this unsettledness that has left an ocean of possibilities of gender constructions for the readers and recipients of these texts - possibilities that are waiting to be explored. Appendix 1

MORE ABOUT THE VARIOUS SANCTUARY SPACES

This appendix presents some background material to Chapter 4. Although much of it belongs to the Greek period, and is thus less relevant to Roman Corinth, it may still explain some of the Roman developments or put them in relief. Some background material from the Roman period is also included.

Demeter and Persephone in Greek Corinth In the Greek phase Demeter was more prominent than her daughter Kore. The cult of the goddess of agricultural fertility walked hand in hand with the cult of the goddess of human fertility.

Ritual Dining A characteristic feature of the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore in the Greek period was ritual dining: about 40 dining halls/complexes from this period have been excavated. The small size of the couches as well as the mythological 'space of representation' of the sanctuary are taken as indications that the diners were female. Many dining complexes were equipped with bathrooms, used for purification before entering the dining room proper, and had small 'saloons' behind the dining rooms, where the participants could sit before or after the meal. A kitchen area for the preparation of the meals, also formed part of the complex. Meat may not have been served in the sanctuary, since very few remains of bones from animals were found in the dining area. Cakes, wine and other foods were served on wooden tables. A priestess was probably in charge of the group of diners (normally 7-8 persons).1

Votive Offerings The gifts varied from period to period, but popular throughout the Greek period were miniature vases and female terracotta figurines.2 Other

1. Cf. Cole (1994: 209). 2. 'More than twenty-three thousand terracotta figurines, many of which represent young female votaries' (Bookidis 1993: 50, cf. Bookidis and Stroud 1987: 9). Many of the terracottas 248 Women in Their Place examples from this period of offerings loaded with feminine symbolism, are jewellery, mirrors, loom-weights, scent bottles (a local export product), combs, and so on. There are also several terracotta pigs and a large number of children's toys: jointed dolls that may have been dressed up and brought to the sanctuary. Offerings of water jugs, hydriai, increase in number in the Hellenistic period, one of them carries the dedication of a woman named lallis (Stroud 1968: 304). A procession of hydrophoroL female worshippers carrying water jugs on their heads seems to have formed part of the ritual in many Demeter sanctuaries (Stroud 1968: 300- 304).3 Thus, whether this rite was practiced in Corinth or not, miniature terracotta hydrophoroi and full-size hydriai were appropriate gifts to the female deities. In addition, Corinthian farmers offered miniature AiKva or baskets and offering trays: 'Small enough to sit flat on the palm of your hand, these trays normally carry three small circular receptacles into which were placed a few grains of wheat or barley... the fact that almost all the trays have three separate receptacles may reflect a desire to placate the trinity of Demeter, Persephone, and perhaps Hades, or, more likely, the young Triptolemos, who was sent abroad by Demeter to teach men how to sow grain' (Bookidis and Stroud 1987: 24). Miniatures of another basket-type, the KCtXaGos or flower basket, have been found in greater number than anywhere else. Although these miniature baskets and trays are from the Classical period, the agricultural element of the cult was probably never wiped out, since agriculture continued to be important in the area and since no other deity took over this crucial function in Roman times. Many votive offerings from the pre-Roman period represent cultic models of the female: miniature statuettes representing female water carriers (hydropohoroi), dancers, actors and so on. However, there are no indications that these models were part of the repertoire of the Roman period.4

Rituaa Of ritual importance in the sanctuary, are some clay plaques made in late fourth or third century BCE, found in the theatral area. Four of the plaques represent standing female figures wearing a 716X09, or pill-box hat, and carrying a torch in one hand and a young pig in the other (Bookidis 1987). The torch and the young pig are also required by each individual in the Eleusis mystery rites. 40 terracotta statues in the theatral area representing a young boy are taken by Stroud to be representations of the young Dionysos dedicated by worshippers (Stroud 1965: 306-307 and 325-26.), but they may also be Triptolemos. 3. Comp. Bookidis and Stroud (1987: 29). An example can be seen in Stroud (1965: plate 2-3). 4. Cf. Stroud (1968: 323). More about the Various Sanctuary Spaces 249 are complete and inscribed with words appropriate to ritual activity, particularly of an ecstatic type: AIONTEOT, FTAIANOL, OAOATNrOYI, AAOIAIAS. Paians and ololygues were ritual utterances or cries, however Ronald Stroud also suggests that the words in this context also may designate cult officials (Stroud 1968: 328-30). Stroud adduces further references to the combined occurrence of these words, and continues: The locus classicus for the occurrence of the paean and the ololyge in sacrificial ritual is Xenophon, Anabasis, IV, 3,18: KCU oi To els rov TroTap.6v .. . eirel 8e tcaAd f]v rd a(j>dyta e ol arpariwrai KQI di/r|AdAa£ov, (jw(j)A6Au£ov 8e Kal ai d-rraaai. These two types of utterances were not restricted to the ceremony of sacrifice; both were used in a wide variety of religious contexts among which, for the ololyge, were the orgies of Dionysos and the ecstatic worship of Rhea-Kybele. It is not clear to me whether Ready and' OAoAwyw designate personifications of the sacred utterances or actual sanctuary officials responsible for leading the ritual cries (Stroud 1968: 329, my italics).

Isis and Sarapis These deities also predate the Roman phase of the city. They had arrived in Sikyon, Corinth's closest neighbour, by the third-second century BCE, according to a base inscription (Mora 1990: 205 n. 222). Concerning the Roman phase again, in discussions of Pausanias, 'temenos' is mostly read as 'temple', a mistake in my view. Accordingly, since it is hard to believe that there were four temples to Egyptian gods within the small area in question, it is concluded that Pausanias does not give an eyewitness description of Corinth. It is also suggested that there was one temenos, with four small 'chapels' or even only altars just like there was in the sanctuary of Proserpina and Ceres.51 find this hypothesis more likely, although it is not unlikely either that there were four sacred precincts with or without walls dedicated to the Egyptian deities. There need not have been a single temple there.

Imperial Cult Some imperial women are represented more frequently than others on Corinthian coins and other texts. Among these are:6

5. Any temple(s) for the Egyptian gods on the slopes of Acrocorinth were surely not great ones (Dunand 1973: III, 145). 6. For further information, see Walbank (1989: 369-71); Baldson (1962: 63 and Chapter 4). 250 Women in Their Place

-Octavia = the older sister of Augustus, 69-11 BCE. Her second marriage was to M. Antonius, a wedding that Antonius celebrated by issuing coins with the portrait of Octavia - the first Roman coins to be issued with women's portraits! Later he divorced her in favour of Cleopatra. Octavia never fell out of grace with Augustus, and he wanted her son Marcellus as successor on the throne. Octavia was also the recipient of a cult in Athens, where she was even equated with Athena Polias. Further references to coins and inscriptions honouring Octavia, see Walbank (1989: 371 n. 26). -Octavia 'Neronis'= Claudia Octavia, 40-62 CE, the daughter of Claudius, the stepsister of Nero and also his wife before he married Poppea. Finally she was killed by Nero. On coins from Corinth (British Museum Catalogue no. 203 and 558) she is called Augusta (Cf. Amandry 1988: 201). -Antonia - 36 BCE - 37 CE; daughter of Octavia the elder and M Antonius; grandmother of Caligula. Gaius Caligula applied the title 'Augusta' to Antonia on his accession, but she died shortly after, so except for one inscription from Corinth, dated to April 37 CE, the title was not used on her during her lifetime (West 1931: n. 17). -Agrippina 'Germanici'= Agrippina the elder (major), 14 BCE - 33 C. She was mother of Caius Caligula and Julia Agrippina, and married to Germanicus (depicted on coins: British Museum Catalogue no. 530 cf. Amandry 1988: 190). - Julia Agrippina = Agrippina the younger (minor), 15-59 CE. She was the daughter of Agrippina the elder, and sister of Gaius Caligula, niece and fourth wife of Claudius. Mother of Nero, and finally killed by him. Depicted on coins (Amandry 1988: 201-209). Julia Agrippina was called Augusta on British Museum Catalogue no. 551 (Amandry 1988: 201, 204) and British Museum Catalogue no. 552 (Amandry 1988: 201, 206). -Julia - 39 BCE - 14 CE; the daughter of Augustus and Scriboni, married to M. Vipsianus Agrippa, later 'handed over' to Tiberius by Augustus against both her own and Tiberius' will. - Livia = Livia Drusilla, ca. 58 BCE - 29 CE; Augustus' wife through1 years. After the death of Augustus in 14 CE, she was titled Julia Augusta. She is the woman most frequently depicted on coins and statues from early Roman Corinth, because she never got a damnatio memoriae as many of the other women.

Asclepius From the Greek period votive offerings are preserved representing body parts. Because of the thorough destruction of the sanctuary in late More about the Various Sanctuary Spaces 251 antiquity, it is not known if this practice of offering models representative of body parts continued in the Roman period. Among the surviving Greek votives, male and female body parts, especially legs, can be distinguished on those pieces where paint remains: men's legs are painted red, women's legs are painted white. The votive offerings thus show the importance of distinguishing between male and female body parts, and the red color is probably chosen because it is associated with heat, whereas women's parts were painted white because women's bodies were perceived as cold. There is also quite an amount of breasts offered either singly or in pairs. These may be connected to breast diseases or to problems with childbearing and child feeding.7

7. Eleven complete breasts and fragments of 65 breasts in total. See also Waele (1933: 442^43). However, the number of breasts in relation to the number of offerings as a whole is not so high that we can assume that Corinth specialized in diseases for which terracotta breasts were considered an appropriate offering. Perhaps these breasts also represented infertility problems, since no female genitals are found in Corinth (while 17 whole and fragments of 35 male are found). Cf. Lang (1977: 22). Appendix 2

MORE ABOUT THE VARIOUS TYPES OF TEXTS

Since the texts to the relevant ritual and sanctuary spaces have not been sufficiently collected and presented elsewhere, a rather wide scope has been necessary in the attempt to trace a Corinthian discourse of gender and sanctuary space.1 I find that even if some of the texts (e.g. coins) are peripheral in relation to the main hypothesis of this book, they are important in supporting my reading of other texts (e.g. architecture). To read different types of texts within one methodological and theoretical framework can be rewarding, but poses particular problems due to genre differences. Each genre has its particular means of expression that constrains and limits the possibilities of what it is possible to communicate. Thus, the meaning is in many ways contained in the form. I will mention here a few issues that it is important to be aware of in readings of the different text genres, and the combination of them.

Authors from Roman Times Authors of literature usually belonged to the elite and their views are thus not necessarily representative of the thoughts of ordinary men and women. In addition, many of the authors mentioned in this book belong to the trend of the Second Sophistic, which was not the only intellectual movement in Roman imperial times. The many authors from the time of Corinth's Roman phase who have written about the city and its myths, give us an early interpretation of the archaeological and architectural texts. Among these authors, Pausanias is the most important. Visiting Corinth around 150 CE, and finishing his work around 180 (Habicht 1985: 117), Pausanias is witness to a flourishing city. But to the extent that Pausanias' comments are confirmed by archaeological texts that prove to be early Roman, his description is also relevant to the

1. Texts relating to 'The Cults of Corinth' have not been collected since 1955, when Robert Lisle, in a dissertation of the same name, listed sources to the different cults of Corinth and its harbours, from archaic through Roman periods. More about the Various Types of Tex253ts 253

Corinth of the first century CE. Although Pausanias' 'trustworthiness' has been disputed,2 archaeologists find a helpful companion in him when trying to identify buildings and monuments. Their problem is rather how to interpret his vague comments and his routes through a city.3 Pausanias' presentation is also highly selective: in Athens he has left out important buildings. Although such traits frustrate many historians and archaeologists, Pausanias' bias and way of structuring the material is indeed extremely valuable for this thesis. Pausanias has a primary interest in the ancient Greek cults and myths, and his aim is to confer a Greek identity to his readers all over the Greek-speaking territory.4 Pausanias reveals a picture of how people like himself lived in a mythological universe. The mythology of a place was told him by the inhabitants, but he may also have used written sources (Ruprecht 1992: 42). Pausanias gives valuable information about which local myths and cults that were still known or even practised in the second century CE.5 Other history writers from the early centuries CE must also be used with awareness, since they use sources that are much older. The crucial hermeneutic principle that authors yield evidence primarily to their own time of writing cannot automatically be applied for example to an Athenaeus. Their pride lay in the past, as it did for Pausanias. But the

2. It has been discussed, e.g., whether Pausanias ever was in Corinth himself, or whether he builds on the reports of others. Cf. Eisner (1992: 4) on this discussion. 3. Walbank (1989: 372): 'Modern scholars agree that Pausanias rarely makes actual mistakes in his topographical descriptions... It does sometimes happen though, that when sites described by Pausanias are fully excavated, the longstanding interpretation of his text is shown to have been incorrect... it has become apparent not so much that Pausanias was wrong, but that his references are ambiguous.' 4. Eisner (1992, 1995) has given a depiction of Pausanias' perspective and aims, and in many respects I use his insights as a key to Pausanias. Eisner shows that Habicht and others who view Pausanias as an antiquarian and a writer of a guidebook in an age of literary and linguistic antiquarianism (Second Sophistic), is only partly doing justice to him: 'Pausanias' historical context is to be sought as much among the many pilgrims of antiquity who sought cures, explanations for dreams and visions of gods in the great cult centres as among the antiquarian intellectuals with whom he is so often associated' (Eisner 1995: 8). Pausanias seeks the sanctity embodied in a place in order to make the sacred Greek soil function as a basis for Greek identity. Concerning Corinth, Eisner states: 'what interested Pausanias about Corinth were its ancient associations and sights, which were explained to Pausanias by his contemporary Corinthians. By virtue of being in that place, according to the Pausanian definition these people had become "Greek"; the place itself had imparted its identity to them. Hence the stories recounted of Corinth are about Artemis and Medea, Bellerophontes and the ancient history of the Corinthian kings' (1995: 15). 5. Engels (1990: 101): 'In a real sense old Greece was the holy land for the entire Greco- Roman world. It was here that all the great feats and achievements of gods, giants, and heroes were performed. In many ways, Greece fulfilled the same role that Israel does today for devout Jews and Christians.' 254 Women in Their Place motivation for emphasizing this glorious past lies in their present. And their reports of the past are filtered through the cultural possibilities of their present.

Excavated Material In this book I also read excavated material as 'text'. To class archaeological material and inscriptions together as different 'readings' cannot substitute the more minute, technical work of archaeologists with the same material. This does not mean that archaeology is not also ideologically loaden. Values and ideologies guide preferences, choices, presuppositions and judgements in the selection of sites, in reconstructions and interpretations.6 But in my readings, I trust that the archaeologists have done their work well, and rather try to tease out the discourse that produced the excavated artifacts and buildings, how other 'texts' than written texts (sculpture, buildings, coins, minor objects etc.) carry notions of gender, world-views and transfer meaning to the people who experience the text in question.7 The vague picture we have of Roman Corinth in general is due to the fact that it was destroyed by the later Christian inhabitants.8 The new Byzantine settlement was built directly on the ruins of the Roman city. The stones of the ancient destroyed buildings were re-used on scattered locations. Still, more than 100 years of Corinth excavations have yielded evidence to local Corinthian traits of the traditional Graeco-Roman cults otherwise unknown. Popular piety leaves even less durable texts, hence it is much more difficult for modern scholars to trace the infusion of the dominant religious ideologies, but some types of texts can give us some indications.

Inscriptions The inscriptional evidence to Roman Corinth is relatively meagre.9 Most of the inscriptions mentioning religious issues are related to the imperial cult. Inscribed on expensive marble, they are written in Latin, the language of the Corinthian elite until well into the second century CE.'° They are

6. See further Nixon (1994). 7. See further Assman (1990); Eisner (1995). 8. It has been accepted as fact that the first severe strike was made by the Heruli in 267, but see Slane (1994: 127, 163) for convincing counter-arguments. 9. Lisle (1955: 1) comments: 'The striking paucity of inscriptions found in the course of almost sixty years of archaeological activity justifies the assumption that the hope of future discovery of much valuable epigraphical evidence is vain'. 10. 32 of 38 Roman inscriptions (Engels 1990: 101). In addition there are some Greek inscriptions dated to late second to early third centuries CE. More about the Various Types of Texts 255 dedicatory or votive inscriptions, recording dedications of marble or bronze statues or even temples, or they mention priests and priestesses. The fact that Latin is so dominant as language in the inscriptions from the first 150 years of the colony, fits very well with the observations of Elizabeth Meyer (1990). She sees the epigraphic habit as dependent on a shared belief in the value of romanization and that there was an audience to impress by it.11 Latin would be the most appropriate language to express romanization.

Coins If inscriptions are relatively fewer and less helpful in readings of the religious life of Roman Corinth, the coins minted in the Corinthia give us more extensive information on temples, statues and rituals than in any other Greek city of the period. In addition, coins from the Corinthia and elsewhere found during excavations make it possible to date the temples, giving termini ante or post quern. Municipal coins were mainly used for trade and commerce. The imperial coins had an equally important function of propaganda, and also functioned as 'souvenirs'. In Corinth, the imperial coins should both promote imperial values, but also depict the most famous and popular myths and temples of the city, although they do not necessarily say which were the most worshipped gods among the Corinthians.12 Being the tourist brochures of that day, they also indicate which deities/heroes were associated with the city.13

11. In particular her study of Lyon (1990: 89-91) shows parallel traits with Corinth. 12. Engels (1990: 106): The cults of Demeter and Kore, Isis and Serapis, and Cybele however, did not possess tradition or reputation, and therefore were not considered worthy to adorn the city's coinage'. 13. Edwards (1933: 2) divides Roman Colonial times into two parts, of which the first part aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and his family ... the city had the right of coinage and ... the coins preserve the old Greek tradition. They have for reverse types true Greek gods, Poseidon, Athena, Aphrodite, Asclepius, Dionysos and others, with their usual attributes; the city-goddess is Tyche with turret-crown, not Roma; the local legendary heroes, Bellerophon with Pegasos and the Chimaera, Ino with Melicertes, Melicertes with his dolphin, and Isthmus are regularly represented, and Pegasos flies through the whole series.' This is only partly correct, for coins have two sides: obverse and reverse. Corinth represented itself as very Greek and very Roman at the same time; see Amandry (1988: 101), and also Howgego (1989: 201): 'It was not only in its system of denominations and Latin legends that the coinage of the colonia at Corinth showed the city made in the image of Rome. The balance of types between those which referred to local cults, myths, history and monuments and those which reflected Rome and her imperial family illustrates how Corinthians, or rather those who chose the types, saw the place of Corinth in the Roman world.' 256 Women in Their Place

Lamps From the first to fourth century CE, Corinth had a major export of lamps, the so-called Corinthian lamps. These lamps give us a view into the world of lower-class craftsmen, the potters, since many lamps are decorated with motifs both from mythology, tales from the area and scenes from daily life. However, the motifs on the lamps are maybe even more determined by the taste of the purchasers, who were often visitors, pilgrims, tourists or business people. These lamps may have been the main souvenir from Corinth, since they are found widely spread around the Mediterranean. The problem of reading them in the context of this book is that many of them are of uncertain date, and the lamps with the most interesting motifs are later than the first century CE. Coins, inscriptions, lamps and figurines are valuable in that they give us information about which gods and myths were known and, to a certain extent, popular on the place. The name or representation of a divinity or a mythological incident without further context does not contribute to the understanding of the forms of worship and rituals. But for the understanding of the mythological content they are ideal. For an understanding of the ritual forms, we have to turn to the buildings and what facilities they offered.

Sanctuaries The reader of sanctuaries faces two problems. First, there are temples excavated whose deity is not determined and whose function is therefore not known. Many hypotheses exist though, and scholars in some cases agree that one sanctuary must have been dedicated to a certain deity although no final confirming text is found. Second, there are sanctuary spaces or deities mentioned in literary sources or depicted on many coins of the colony, and maybe even described as important (e.g. Artemis and Kybele), but their sanctuaries have not been found. One of the reasons for this may be that the area where the sanctuary is supposed to have been located is today farming area or inhabited (e.g. the sanctuary of Isis and Sarapis). Once the presence of a deity or sanctuary space in early Roman Corinth has been textually confirmed by excavated objects, we can read these objects in light of ancient authors (such as Pausanias), but secondarily we also have to adduce contemporary texts from other cities. Particularly the very rich material from Rome is relevant, because of Corinth's cultural indebtedness to its Mother City. Of course this must be done in a careful and critical way since ritual practices differed more from place to place in antiquity than we have been aware of until now. Corinth was neither Athens nor Rome. The growing wealth of archaeological data requires us to re-examine long-standing generalizations about the religions of the More about the Various Types of Texts 257

Greco-Roman World and to be more sensitive to regional and temporal variations.14 As expressions of first-century religious discourse, Paul's letters can also throw light on the changes we see in the material culture of the period.

14. Bookidis (1987: 480): 'As specialization has affected most aspects of ancient art and archaeology, so has it invaded the field of ancient religion. The change has arisen from an increasing awareness of regional variations in ancient religion, which have made the generalizations of the past somewhat suspect/ Appendix 3

ILLUSTRATIONS

1. Map of the Forum of Corinth in mid-first century CE, without roads and names of buildings indicated. Illustrations 259

2. Map of the Forum of Corinth in the second century CE.

Please note that the capital letters refer to Temples (e.g. Temple C, Temple F, etc.). The big temple in the middle without any letters, is the Archaic Temple. 260 Women in Their Plac

3. Map of Corinth and Lechaeum. Illustrations 261

4. Plan of the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore in the Roman period. 262 Women in Their Place

5. Plan of Room 7 in its earliest Roman state

The plan indicates the allocation of curse tablets around the (altar) bases. Illustrations 263

Sculpture from first-century Corinth representing a woman (Johnson 1931: 87, no. 164, Corinth inv. no. S 986). 264 Women in Their Place

7. Drawing of ritualistic (Dionysiac) scenes on Roman relief bowls from Corinth (Spitzer 1942: 184, fig. 16). Please pay particular attention to scenes c, d, m and n. Illustrations 265

\. Reconstruction of the Second Temple after Herod the Great's rebuilding based on Mishnah Middot and Josephus

9. Plan of a Roman Villa at Anaploga. BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ancient Authors1 * The Mishnah: See Main Bibliography; Neusner 1988. * Scholiast in Euripides: See Euripides. *Babylonian Talmud: See Main Bibliography; Goldschmidt 1929-1936. *Damascus Document: See Main Bibliography; Baumgarten 1996. *Midrash Kabbah: See Main Bibliography; Freedman and Simon 1939. *Ps.Aristotle: See Aristotle. *Scholies in Pindar: See Main Bibliography; Drachmann 1903-1927. *The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament in English: See Main Bibliography; Charles 1913. * The Dead Sea Scrolls: For a translation, see Main Bibliography; Wise, Abegg and Cook 1996. *The Temple Scroll: See Main Bibliography; Qimron 1996.

Aelianus, Claudius Varia Historia, edited by M. R. Dilts. (Leipzig: Teubner, 1974).

Alciphron The Letters of Alciphron, Aelian and Philostratus, translated by A. R. Benner and F. H. Fobes. (Loeb Classical Library; Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univer- sity Press, 1949).

Apocryphal Old Testament, The, edited by H. F. D. Sparks. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984).

Apostolic Fathers The Apostolic Fathers: In Two Volumes, translated by K. Lake. (Loeb Classical Library, 2 vols; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1912-13).

1. For non-literary texts, see also the main bibliography. In the cases where two editions of the same work occur, I have cited editor's introduction or commentary. Bibliography 267

Appian of Alexandria Roman History, translated by H. White. (Loeb Classical Library, 4 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1912-13).

Apuleius of Madauros The Isis-Book. (Metemorphoses, Book XI), edited by J. Gwyn Griffiths. Etudes preliminaires aux religions orientales dans 1'Empire Remain, Vol. 39. (Leiden: Brill, 1975).

Aristides Aristides ex recensione G. Dindorfii. 3 vols. (Hilde- sheim: Georg Olms Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1964).

Aristotle Aristotle: In Twenty-three Volumes, translated by D. J. Furley, A. L. Peck, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 23 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926).

Athenaeus Depnosophistarum. 3 vols (Leipzig: Teubner, 1890).

Athenaeus The Deipnosophists: In Seven Volumes, translated by C. B. Gulick, (Loeb Classical Library, 7 vols.; Cam- bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1927^1).

Athenagoras Legatio and De Resurrectione, edited by W. R. Schoedel. (Oxford Early Christian Texts; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972).

Augustine The City of God: In Seven Volumes, translated by G. E. McCracken, W. M. Green., et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 7 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1957-72).

Augustine Opera omnia post lovaniensium theologorum recensio- nem, 2nd edn. 11 vols. (Paris: Gaume, 1836-38).

Biblia Hebraica Edited by K. Elliger, W. Rudolph, et al. (Stuttgart: Stuttgartensia Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1977).

Columella On Agriculture: In Three Volumes, translated by H. B. Ash, E. S. Forster, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 3 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1914-27).

Cornelius, Nepos Liber de Excellentibus Ducibus Exterarum Gentium, edited by Ad Fontes Academy (cited 17.06.2000). Available from www.gmu.edu/departments/fld/ CLASSICS/nep.pr.html. 268 Women in Their Place

Dio Cassius Roman History: In Nine Volumes, translated by E. Gary. (Loeb Classical Library, 9 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1914—27).

Dio Chrysostom Dio Chrysostom: In Five Volumes, translated by J. W. Cohoon and H. L. Crosby. (Loeb Classical Library, 5 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1932-51).

Diodorus Siculus Library of History: In Twelve Volumes, translated by F. R. Walton, C. H. Oldfather, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 12 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1933-37).

Epictetus Discourses: In Two Volumes, translated by W. A. Oldfather. (Loeb Classical Library, 2 vols.; Cam- bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1925-28).

Euripides Medea: Mil Scholien, edited by Ernst Diehl. (Kleine Texte fur Vorlesungen und Ubungen; Bonn: A. Marcus und E. Weber's Verlag, 1911).

Eusebius Ecclesiastical History, translated by K. Lake and J. E. L. Oulton. (Loeb Classical Library, 2 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926-32).

Herodotus The Persian Wars: In Four Volumes, translated by A. D. Godley. (Loeb Classical Library, 4 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1920-24).

Hesiod Hesiod and the Homeric Hymns. Epic Cycle. Homerica, translated by H. G. Evelyn-White. (Loeb Classical Library; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1936).

Hesiod Theogonie. Les Travaux et les jours. Le bouclier, translated by Paul Mazon. Collection des Universites de France; Paris: Societe d'Edition 'Les belles lettres', 1947).

Hesychius Alexandrinus Hesychii Alexandrini Lexicon, edited by K. Latte. 2 vols. (Copenhagen: Ejnar Munksgaard, 1953-66).

Hesychius Alexandrinus Lexicon Post loannem Albertum, edited by M. Schmidt. 5 vols. (Jena: Frederik Mauk, 1862).

The Homeric Hymn to Demeter: Translation, Commen- tary, and Interpretive Essays, edited by H. P. Foley. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994). Bibliography 269

Isidorus of the Fayum Hymns, edited by V. Vanderlip. (American Studies in Papyrology; Toronto: A. M. Hakkert, 1972).

Jerome Lettres, translated by J. Labourt. (Collection des universites de France; Paris: Societe d'Edition 'Les belles lettres', 1949-63).

John Chrysostom Discourses Against Judaizing Christians, translated by P. W. Harkins. (The Fathers of the Church, 68; Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press).

Josephus Jewish Antiquities: In Nine Volumes, translated by H. St. J. Thackeray, R. Marcus, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 9 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1930-65).

Josephus The Jewish War: In Three Volumes, translated by H. St. J. Thackeray. (Loeb Classical Library 3 vols; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1927).

Josephus The Life: Against Apion, translated by H. St. J. Thackeray. (Loeb Classical Library; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1926).

Julianus, Flavius The Works of the Emperor Julian: In Three Volumes, Claudius translated by W. C. Wright. (Loeb Classical Library, 3 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1913-23).

Justinus, Marcus Trogi Pompei: Historiarum Philippicarum Epitoma, Junianus edited by J. W. L. Jeep. (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1859).

Juvenal Satires, translated by P. de Labriolle. 4th ed. (Collec- tion des Universites de France; Paris: Societe d'Edition 'Les Belles Lettres', 1950).

Livy History of Rome (Ab Urbe Condita), translated by B. O. Foster. (Loeb Classical Library, 14 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1919-59)

New Testament Translated by R. McL. Wilson, edited by W. Apocrypha Schneemelcher. 2 vols. (Cambridge: Westminster/ John Knox Press, 1991-92). 270 Women in Their Place

Novum Testamentum Edited by B. Aland and K. Aland. 27th edn. (Stuttgart: Graece Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1993).

Passion de Perpetue et de Felicite, edited and translated by Jacqueline Amat. (Sources Chretiennes; Paris: Cerf, 1996).

Pausanias Description of Greece: In Five Volumes, translated by W. H. S. Jones and H. A. Ormerod. (Loeb Classical Library, 5 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1918-35).

Philo Philo in Ten Volumes (and TVJO Supplementary Volumes), translated by F. H. Colson, G. H. Whitaker, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 12 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1927-53).

P Odes, translated by J. Sandys. (Loeb Classical Library; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1915).

Plato Plato in Twelve Volumes, translated by H. N. Fowler, W. R. M. Lamb, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 12 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1914-35).

Plautus, Titus Macchius Plautus in Five Volumes, translated by P. Nixon. (Loeb Classical Library, 5 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1916-38).

Plutarch M or alia: In Sixteen Volumes, translated by F. C. Babbitt, F. H. Sandbach, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 16 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1927-76).

Plutarch The Parallel Lives: In Eleven Volumes, translated by B. Perrin. (Loeb Classical Library, 11 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1914-26).

Porphyry De {'abstinence (De abstinentia), translated and edited by J. Bouffartigue and M. Patillon. 3 vols. (Collection des Universites de France; Paris: Societe d'Edition 'Les belles lettres', 1977-95).

Ps.Aristotle See Aristotle. Bibliography 271

The Sayings of the Desert Fathers: The Alphabetical Collection, translated by Benedicta Ward. (London: Mowbrays, 1975).

Seneca, Lucius Annaeus Seneca in Ten Volumes, translated by T. H. Corcoran, J. W. Basore, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 10 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1917-72).

Septuaginta: Id est Veins Testamentum graece iuxta LXX interpretes, edited by A. Rahlfs. (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1979).

Strabo Geography: In Eight Volumes, translated by H. L. Jones. (Loeb Classical Library, 8 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1917-32).

Suetonius Suetonius: In Two Volumes, translated by J. C. Rolfe. (Loeb Classical Library, 2 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997-98).

Tacitus, Cornelius Tacitus: In Five Volumes, translated by W. Peterson, M. Winterbottom, et al. (Loeb Classical Library, 5 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1914-70).

Tertullian Le Voile des vierges (De Virginibus Velandis), edited by E. Schulz-Fliigel and Paul Mattei. (Sources Chretiennes; Paris: Cerf, 1997).

Thucydides History of the Peloponnesian War: In Four Volumes, translated by C. F. Smith. (Loeb Classical Library, 4 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press 1919-30).

Virgil Virgil in Two Volumes, translated by H. R. Fairclough. (Loeb Classical Library, 2 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1934-35).

Vitruvius On Architecture: In Two Volumes, translated by F. Granger. (Loeb Classical Library, 2 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1931-34).

Modern Bible Versions

Modem English versions of biblical texts are cited from: Bibelselskapet Bibelen. Det gamle og del nye testamente (Oslo: Det 1978 norske bibelselskaps forlag). 272 Women in Their Place

Hansen, Vegard Bibelsenteret (cited 1997-2000; Available from http:// 1997-2000 www.menfak.no/bibel/).

Collections of Non-literary Texts Referred to in Abbreviated Form

CIL Corpus inscriptionum latinarum 1863- (Berlin: de Gruyter). IG Inscriptiones Graecae. Consilio et auctoritate academiae litter arum regiae Borussicae editae. 1873- (Berlin: Reimer). SEG Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. 1923- (Lei- den/Amsterdam: J. C. Gieben). P.Oxy. The Oxyrhynchus Papyri. 1898- B.P Grenfell, A.S. Hunt, et al. (eds.) (London: Egypt Exploration Society in Graeco-Roman Memoirs).

Main Bibliography2

Aasgaard, Reidar 2004 My Beloved Brothers and Sisters: Christian Siblingship in Paul (London: T & T Clark). Abrahamsen, Valerie 1994 Women and Worship at Philippi (Portland: Astart Shell Press). Abu-Lughod, Lila 1986 Veiled Sentiments: Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society (Berkeley: University of California Press). Adams, J.N. 1982 The Latin Sexual Vocabulary (London: Duckworth). Aland, K. (ed.) 1978 Synopsis Quattuor Evangeliorum: Locis parallelis evangeliorum apocryphorum et patrum adhibitis (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelstiftung, 10th edn). Alcock, Susan E. 1994 'Minding the Gap in Hellenistic and Roman Greece' in S.E. Alcock and R. Osborne (eds.), Placing the Gods: Sanctuaries and Sacred Space in Ancient Greece (Oxford: Oxford University Press): 247-61.

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1996 Playing the Other: Gender and Society in Classical Greek Literature (Women in Culture and Society; Chicago: The University of Chicago Press). Zervos, O.H., and Charles K. Williams II. 1984 'Corinth 1983: The Route to Sikyon', Hesperia 53: 83- 122. Zscharnack, Leopold 1902 Der Dienst der Frau in den ersten Jahrhunderten der christlichen Kirche (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht). Zuesse, Evan M. 1987 'Ritual', in M. Eliade et al. (eds.), The Encyclopedia of Religion (New York: Collier Macmillan Publishers): 405-422. INDEXES INDEX OF REFERENCES BIBLE

Genesis Psalms 1.18-32 29, 191 1 41,49, 15 155 1.26 195 179, 180, 8.14 211 183 Isaiah 8.19 211 1-2 178, 179, 28.23-29 229 8.29 54, 56, 57 186 52.11 158 9.26 211 l.l-2.4a 180 16 37 1.4-5 32 Jeremiah 16.1 63, 211 1.26-27 56 44.9-28 136 16.3 63 1.27 179, 180, 44.15 136 16.23 140, 142 182, 183 44.24-25 136 1.27-28 183 1 Corinthians Ezekiel 1.A27a 180 1.1-6.11 31 37.26-28 158 1.27b 180 1.2 133 1.28a 180 Matthew 1.10b-12 189 2 41, 49, 18.20 34 1.12 144 180, 181, 21.12-13 32 1.14-16 133 183, 185 1.16 138 2.4b 179 Luke 3 155, 244 2.22 39 2.41 228 3.3-4 153 5.2 41 3.9-14 155 6.1-4 174 John 3.10-12 153 1.1 208 3.16 158 Exodus 3.16-17 152, 153, 25-30 153 Acts 155, 157, 29.45 158 2.46 139 158 3.1 139 3.17 154, 164 Leviticus 5.42 139 5.1 216 17-27 155 18 119 5.4 143 26.1-2 158 18.2-3 63 5.4-5 153 26.11-12 158 19.22 142 5.4-5.11 133 21.26 228 5.9-13 158 / Kings 24.17 165 6 136, 156 8 153 25.8 165 6.11 133 8.10 153 26 63 6.12-11.1 31 6.14-15 157 Nehemiah Romans 6.15 134 8.2 136 1.16 32 6.15-19 216 Index of References 319

1 Corinthians - continued 226, 229, 11.11-12 188, 189, 6.19 153, 156, 232, 233, 245 212 235 11.12 187, 189, 7 2, 8, 31, 11.1 177, 186, 202, 237 156, 185, 207 11.13 189, 194 242 11.1-3 170, 174, 11.13-14 194 7.5 134, 143 177, 178, 11.13-15 185, 187 7.14 133 189, 191, 11.13-16 177 7.15 211 208, 236 11.14 3-6, 189, 7.16 177 11.1-16 170, 173, 191, 194, 7.20-21 196 177, 188, 208 7.25-35 9,216 189, 194, 11.14-15 194 7.32-34 134 195, 201, 11.14-16 189 7.32-35 9 210, 219 11.16 149 7.39 158 11.1-31 177 11.17 138 8 160 11.2-3 176, 225 11.17-34 137, 143, 8.10 153, 160, 11.2-14.40 31, 171 144, 221 161 11.2-16 2, 6, 8, 25, 11.18 143, 144 9.4-6 209 50, 170, 11.18-19 144, 146 9.5 211 171, 178, 11.20 143, 144 9.13-14 153 185, 189- 11.20-21 144, 145 10 145, 160 91, 194, 11.21 145, 148 10.7 160 195, 202, 11.22 32, 137 10.14 134 210 139, 141- 10.14-22 160 11.3 8, 176, 44, 146, 10.16 145 177, 186, 151, 152, 10.16-17 160 188 201 10.18 160 11.3-9 7, 10, 183 11.23-26 34, 134, 10.21 157 11.3-10 185, 187 221 10.25-27 160 11.3-16 210 11.25 146, 148 10.28 160 11.4 190, 191 11.27-32 133 11 2, 7-12, 11.4-6 194 11.27-34 147 20, 22, 23, 11.4a-7a 189 11.29 221 150, 169, 11.4-5 194, 209 11.29b 147 176, 183, 11.5 10, 189, 11.30 145 192-95, 190 11.34 148 197-99, 11.5-6 177 12 188, 195, 208, 209, 11.7 56, 179, 197, 208, 214, 215 182, 202 210, 213 11-14 1, 2, 12, 11. 7b 182 12-14 2, 11, 171 18, 20, 21, 11.7-9 170, 178, 199, 210, 25, 31-35, 189 215 38, 78, 11.7-12 205 12.4-11 196 131, 133, 11.8-9 176, 210 12.7 196, 197 137, 143, 11.8-10 194 12.10 10 164, 166, 11.10 183, 194, 12.12-16 144 168-71, 209, 210 12.12-26 6 184, 195, 11.10-12 183 12.12-27 169 198, 202, ll.lOa 189 12.12-31 210 208, 209, 11.10b-12 170 12.13 21, 34, 63, 210, 217 11.11 8, 10, 184, 133, 134, 219, 221, 187, 189 199-201 222, 224, 237 12.14-27 196 320 Women in Their Place

12.15 213 14.33b-36 6, 8-10, 3.26 211 12.16 213 149, 150, 3.26-28 7, 23, 157, 12.16-17 213 193, 201 185, 199, 12.18 214 14.33b-37 201, 203, 200, 207, 12.18-25 213 207, 208 220 12.20 213 14.34 34, 123 3.27-28 20 12.21 176, 213, 14.34-35 11,32, 3.28 7 215 149-52, 4.6-7 211 12.21-25 215 177, 201- 12.22-23 214, 216 204 Ephesians 12.23 214 14.34-36 10, 206, 4.13 54, 56 12.24 214,215 236 12.27 215 14.34-37 206 1 Thessalonians 12.27-30 214 14.35 201, 202, 4.4 211 12.28 197 206, 207 12.28-30 134 14.36 207 1 Timothy 12.28-31 196 14.36-39 150 2 8 12.29 197 14.36-40 150 2.11 149 12.31 195, 197, 14.37 32, 207, 2.11-13a 203 214 208 3 203 13 10, 197, 14.40 150, 195, 3.15 203 208-10, 198, 221 208 2 Timothy 13.2 195 15.9 137 4.19 63 14 2, 7-9 15.20 133 149, 155 15.23 133 Philemon 195, 197 15.29 133 2 211 99, 210 15.38 196 221 15.40-50 212 1 Peter 15.44-47 14.1 195, 212 4.17 203 197 16.13 51, 57 16.15 133, 138 14.1-31 133 PSEUDEPIGRAPHA 14.3 155 16.19 63 Testament of Job 14.4 155 20 143 49 154 14.5 155 21.22a 143 14.12 155 QUMRAN 14.16 195, 2 Corinthians 11Q19 208 3.18 57 XLVI 11 164 14.17 155 6 158 14.23 113, 133 6.16 157 1QS 143, 197 6.16-17 155, 158 IV 21 164 14.26 155 6.16-18 7,156, 157 14.26-33 198 6.16-7.1 158 14.33 149, 195 6.17 158, 159 4Q268 208 6.18 158,211 1 10-12 164 14.33-36 9,23 10.13-14 207 14.33-37 201, 210 11 119 CD 219 11.22-24 119 V6-7 164 14.33-38 149 XX 22 164 14.33^0 170 Galatians 14.33a 208 3 7, 185 MISHNAH 14.33b 150 3.12 185 Abot 14.33b-35 149 3.25-28 6 3.6 163 Index of References 321

Berakot That the Worse Attacks Poetics 61a 42 the Better 21.7 156 28 56 Kelim Politics 1.6-9 231 On the Creation of the 1.1.4 60 World 1 . 1 .6-77 60 Nedarim 1.3^ 179 3.2.1-3 60 4.3 205 134 180 152-153 180 A thenaeus Sanhedrin Deipnosophists 4.3-4 121 JOSEPHUS 13.54 95 Against Apion 13.573c-f 95 Sot ah 2.38-42 120 13.573c-574c 94 3.4 205 2.77 228 13.574b-c 70,95 2.102-104 36 27d 94 TALMUDS 2.193 154 313c 94 Babylonian 559a 94 Yebamot Jewish Antiquities 63a 42 3.179-180 228 Augustine 4.200 154 On Genesis Literally 14.10.8 120 Interpreted MIDRASH 19.332 136 3.34 56 Genesis Rabbah 9.5.9 46 8.1 41, 180 The Jewish War 8.4-11 184 5.198-200 36,231 Columella 178 49 I / .O ^Z. 5.212-218 228 De re rustica 18.2 42 12.4-5 59 19.10 46 OTHER ANCIENT 12.9 61 AUTHORS Leviticus Rabbah Aelian Cornelius Nepos 14.1 41 Varia Historia Lives 5.21 117 Preface 6-7 61 PHILO A d Caium Aelius Aristides Dio Chrysostom 281 118 For Poseidon Corinthiaca 25-28 94 26 76 Allegorical Interpretation 2.2 181 Oration First Tarsic Discourse 46.25 93 48 189 Questions and Answers on Exodus Alciphron Diodorus of Sicily 1.8 51 Letters of Parasites Library 3.60 95 4.56.1 115 Questions and Answers on 24 94 16.66 87 Genesis 32.10.2-10 55 1.26 39 Ambrosiaster 365-384 150 Diogenes Laertius On the Special Laws Lives 1.66-67 154, Aristotle 6.84 176 228 Generation of Animals 1.67 154 728a 47 Epictetus 2.167 228 73 Ib 47 Discourses 3.169 59 737a 47 2.5.25-26 73 322 Women in Their Place

Gospel of Thomas 2.4.6-7 128 On the Malice of 114 51 2.4.7 89 Herodotus 2.5.1 93 871a-c 94 Hesiod 2.7.6 112,113 Catalogues of Women and 6.20.2-3 92 The Banquet of the Seven Eoiae 7.5.4 123 Sages frg. 63 109 146d-e 94 frg. 90 109 Perpetua Passio Perpetua Timoleon Theogony 10.7 51 8.1 87 116 43 6 53 117 43 Pseudo-Aristotle 570-612 44 Pindar On the Cosmos 586-590 45 Olympian Ode 6 73 591 43, 46 1318-19 111 401a-b 175 598-599 44 13 32b 95 Sayings of the Desert Works and Days Plato Fathers 59-105 44 Menexenus Sarah 81 44 42 2 4 54 90-105 45 9 54 Symposium Jerome 189c-193c 180 Seneca Epistulae Ad Helviam 108.23 54 Timaeus 8.1 47 18c 50 16.1-5 47 Juvenal 42 54 Satire 44d 175 6 107 50-52 44 Ad Mar dam de 50d-51a 15 consolatione Livy 51a 241 1.1 47 Annals of Rome 52b 16 16.1 47 39.8-18 114 52c 241 18.1-2 73

History of Rome Plautus Epistles 39.16.10 164 Cistellaria 66.53 54 156-159 114 Lucian Strabo Eunuch Mostellaria Geography 13 198 935-985 141 8.6.20-22 93 8.6.21 93 Pausanias Plutarch Description of Greece Bravery of Women Tacitus 2.2.3 96, 99 249 67 Annals of Rome 2.2.4 95 262D 70 2.54 123 2.2.5 95 2.2.6 112, 114 Life of Cicero Dialogus 2.2.8 105, 123 20.1-2 61 28.4 66 2.26.1-2.27.6 109 2.3.1 101 On the Error of Tertullian 2.3.6 115, 123 Herodotus De Civitate Dei 2.4.6 97 871a 96 22.17 54 Index of Referencess 323

Thucydides Xenophon IG 112 1672 83 History of the Anabasis IGIV203 112 Peloponnesian IV 3.18 249 IGIV207 113 War IG IV 399 107 2.46.2 61 OTHER P.Oxy. 1647.G 64 CILI 2581 114 SEG XXIX 121 Vergil IG II 300-302 83 SEG XXIII Aeneid IG II 3546 83 170 96 1.286-8 104 IG II 3585 83 INDEX OF AUTHORS

Aasgaard, R. 211 Boyarin, D. 27-29, 40, 41, 50, 154, Abrahamsen, V, 25 160, 165, 179-81, 186, 205, 222, 230, Adams, J.N. 16 242 Alcock, S.E. 75 Branham, J.R. 71, 163 Amandry, M. 250, 255 Broneer, O. 25, 63, 94, 97, 99, 100, Ardener, S. 79 107, 115, 117 Aspegren, K. 51, 56, 57 Brooten, B.J. 10, 25, 29,40,48, 52-55, Assman, J. 254 70, 121, 122, 155, 185, 186, 191, 194, Aune, D.E. 154, 198 195, 199, 205, 242 Austin, J.L. 34 Brown, C.G. 95 Bruneau, P. 100 Baer, R.A. 51, 180 Bunker, M. 10 Baker, C. 25, 58, 59, 63, 64, 75 Burkert, W. 36, 71 Baldson, J.P.V.D. 106, 249 Butler, J. 17, 221, 222 Barrett, C.K. 31, 37, 174 Barton, S. 32, 134, 139, 140, 144, 149, Cady Stanton, E. et al. 8 152, 203 Carson, A. 43, 193, 203 Bateson, G., and M.C. Bateson Castelli, E.A. 175, 177, 222 131 Cheung, A.T. 160 Bauer, W. 138, 143, 187 Clark, E.A. 18, 52, 172, 194 Baumgarten, A. 29, 30 Clarke, J.R. 49 Beard, M., J. North and S. Price 69, Code, L., S. Mullett and C. Overall 71, 73, 74, 88-90, 92, 100, 103, 104, (eds.) 3 108, 109, 128, 235 Cohen, SJ.D. 122, 200 Beauvoir, S. de 3, 16, 17, 22 Cole, S.G. 81, 82, 90, 247 Bell, C. 33 Conzelmann, H. 31, 94, 154, 174, 178, Benhabib, S, 22 182, 183, 185, 214, 225 Betz, H.D. 10 Cook, A.B. 82 Bird, P.A. 180 Corley, K.E. 231 Birge, D. 112 Blattenberger III, D.E. 10, 25, 190, D'Angelo, M.R. 174, 177, 178, 189, 191, 194 192, 210, 217 Blegen, C.W. 93 Daly, M. 8 Bokser, B. 162, 163 Dautzenberg, G. von 11 Bookidis, N. 81, 87, 247, 248, 257 Davidson, G.R. 97 Bookidis, N., and J.E. Fisher 81, 83, Davis, E. 163 85, 87 Delaney, C. 42 Bookidis, N., and R.S. Stroud 79-82, Delling, G. 184 84-86, 88-91, 111,247,248 Delobel, J. 174, 187 B0rresen, K.E. 10, 50, 52, 54-56, DeMaris, R.E. 25, 83, 90 182 Derrida, J. 16, 237 Bourdieu, P. 59, 67, 79 des Bouvrie, S. 106 Index of Authors 325

Detschew, D. 105 Gleason, M.W. 46, 55, 198, 206, 207, Dinsmoor, W.B. 102 217 Dobbin, R. 104 Gooch, P.D. 25, 125 Douglas, M. 134 Gould, J.P, 68, 223 Dunand, F. 87, 97, 100, 249 Grazia, C.E. de 106 Dunbabin, K.M.D. 83 Griffiths, J.G. 99, 100 Durkheim, E. 161, 162 Grosz, E. 16, 17 Duthoy, R. 108 Gruenwald, I. 32 Gundry-Volf, J. 7, 31, 174, 182, 184, Edwards, K.M. 255 185, 199, 234 Egeland, C. 15 Ehrman, B.D. 203 Habicht, C. 252 Eilberg-Schwartz, H. 122 Halperin, D.M. 40 Eliade, M. 72 Harnack, A. von 149, 204 Ellis, E.E. 149, 175, 203 Harvey, D. 33, 79, 132, 136, 142, 143, Eisner, J. 75, 127, 253, 254 148 Engberg-Pedersen, T. 10, 184, 187, Haussolier, B. 123 189 Hayward, C.T.R. (ed.) 228 Engels, D. 63, 97, 104, 123, 253, 254, Head, B.V. 105 255 Heinrici, C.F.G. 150, 184, 209, 214 Eriksson, A. 9, 10, 12, 18, 37, 149, Hering, J. 171, 185 170-72, 198, 199, 204, 215, 216 Hickling, J.C.A. 220 Hill, B.H. (ed.) 115 Fantham, E. et al, 62, 104 Hirdman, Y. 59, 60, 77, 126, 172, 191 Fatum, L. 7, 9-11, 18, 19, 31, 57, 178, Horsley, G.H.R. et al. (eds.) 121 182, 183, 185, 213 Howgego, C. 255 Fausto-Sterling, A. 49 Hultgard, A. 36, 232 Fee, G.D. 8, 9, 175, 176, 204, 234 Hyldahl, N. 119 Fine, S. 35, 120, 162-64, 230 Fitzmyer, J.A. 183, 184 Imhoof-Blumer, F.W., and P. Foerster, W. 184 Gardner 94, 95, 97, 98, 102, 249 Foley, H.P. (ed.) 70 Irigaray, L. 15-17, 20, 21, 57, 216, 236 Foucault, M. 26, 27, 156, 176, 187, Isaksson, A. 174 197, 199 Fowler, H.N., and R. Sitwell Jameson, F. 32 (eds.) 102 Jervell, J. 174 Fox Keller, E. 22, 209 Jervis, L.A. 174, 182 Foxhall, L. 68, 124 Jewett, R. 7, 8, 174, 175, 182, 185, Frennesson, B. 164, 184 191, 200 Johanssen, J., M. Nygaard and E. Gage, J. 94 Schreiner 175 Gager, J.G. (ed.) 91 Johns, C. 49 Garber, M. 49 Johnson, P.P. 98, 123, 263 Gartner, B. 164 Jordheim, H. 26, 27, 39, 187 Gasparro, G.S. 52 Geertz, C. 34, 36, 226 Kardara, C. 63 Gennep, A. van 212 Kasas, S., and R. Stmckman 110, 111 Gilhus, I. 127 Kasemann, E. 154 Gill, D.W.J. 25 Katz, M.A. 58 Ginzberg, L. 41, 42 Kearsley, R.A. 62, 63, 75 Kee, H.C. 111,120 326 Women in Their Place

Keener, C.S. 10, 149, 175, 178 Merode, M. de 174 Kent, J.H. 98,107,111 Meyer, E.A. 105, 255 Keuls, E.G. 216 Millar, F. 100 Kiilerich, B., and H. Torp (eds.) 138 Milleker, E.J. 97-99 Kimelman, R. 186 Mitchell, M.M. 10, 31, 144, 149, 151, Knipe, D.M. 225 168 Kraemer, R.S. 51, 70, 94, 121, 122, Mitchell, M.M., and H.D. Betz 31 205, 206 Mohler, S.L. 107 Kraemer, R.S., and M.R. D'Angelo Moi, T. 13, 14, 49, 52, 212 (eds.) 58, 69, 205, 231 Moore, S., and J.C. Anderson 51 Kratzert, T. 43 Mora, F. 98, 249 Kroeger, R., and C. Kroeger 114 Morgan, C. 99, 123 Kuchler, M. 174 Moxnes, H. 33, 34, 139 Murphy-O'Connor, J. 25, 120, 121, Lampe, P. 139, 140, 195 139, 191 Land, J.R. 25, 131,133, 155, 156, 168, 244 Neumann, K.J. 120 Lang, M. 110,251 Newton, M.C. 134 Langer, R. 134, 162, 163, 165 Neyrey, J.H. 37, 133, 134, 136, 137, Laqueur, T. 6, 12, 24, 40, 46, 48, 51, 155, 164, 172, 189, 191, 212, 224, 228. 53, 54 229, 234 Lefebvre, H. 76, 79 Niccum, C. 149, 150 Lefkowitz, M.R., and M. Fant Nixon, L. 254 (eds.) 63, 64, 70 Lewis, C.T., and C. Short 16 Oepke, A. 174 Liddell, H.G., R. Scott and H.S. Jones Ogilvie, R.M. 162 (eds.) 43, 138, 161, 175, 202, 206, Okland, J. 10, 16, 29, 52, 63, 134, 153. 210, 214 192 LiDonnici, L.R. 124 Orr, D. 73, 162 Lisle, R. 95, 101, 104, 107, 108, 113, Osburn, C.D. 149 116, 117, 123, 252, 254 Oster, J.E., Jr 25 Loraux, N. 14, 15, 17, 42, 44, 46, 122, 193, 220, 238, 239 Padgett, A. 174 Lotman, J.M. et al. 24, 28 Pagels, E. 174 Loven, L.L. 61 Parada, C. 217 Parker, H.N. 40 McClure, L. 198 Payne, P.B. 150 MacDonald, M.Y. 31, 58, 189, 192, Perring, D. 75 226 Peskowitz, M.B. 6, 22, 24-26, 58, 75 MacMullen, R. 91 Pirenne-Delforge, V. 93, 95-97 Mack, B.L. 34, 145, 147, 203 Pitt-Rivers, J. 69 Malina, B. 23 Picket, H.W. (ed.) 62, 63 Martin, D.B. 2, 27, 46, 48, 50, 53, 64, Polignac, F. de 72, 75, 81 141, 144, 145, 147, 161, 171, 172, 176, Portefaix, L. 25, 73 181, 190, 192, 195, 197, 198, 212, 214-17, 222 Rabinow, P. (ed.) 165, 168 Matrix 66 Rappaport, R.A. 34, 172, 188 Meeks, W.A. 7, 32, 134, 139, 141, 181, Reeder, E.D. (ed.) 44 182, 220, 221 Rendell, J. 92 Meritt, B.D. 107,111,120 Rendell, J., B. Penner and I. Borden Merklein, H. 33 (eds.) 66 Index of Authors 327

Rengstorf, K.H. 204 Spivak, G.C. 19 Richardson, P. 120 Stambaugh, I.E. 35, 71, 75-77, 79, 81, Richlin, A. 62, 70 102 Riley, D. 18, 20, 57 Staples, A. 68, 71, 95, 96, 109, 124, Roebuck, C. 110,111 244 Rose, P. 58 Stewart, A. 45, 193 Roux, G. 95, 102, 105, 111, 117, 123 Stillwell, R., R.L. Scranton and S.E. Runesson, A. 120 Freeman 102, 115, 116 Ruprecht, L.A. 127, 253 Stowers, S. 10, 32, 243 Rutgers, L.V. 119-21 Stroud, R. 81, 83-87, 248, 249 Rykwert, J. 74, 75 Theissen, G. 13, 64, 139, 142, 148 Saffrey, H.D. 104 Thompson, C.L. 25, 189, 190 Sampson, K. 48, 50 Tomlinson, R.A. 71, 72 Sande, S. 138, 139 Totti, M. (ed.) 97, 227 Sandnes, K.O. 139 Treggiari, S. 63 Sawicki, M. 25 Trompf, G.W. 149, 174 Scheid, J. 34, 67, 70, 89, 90, 96, 109, Tuan, Y.-F. 33, 169 128, 235 Turner, V. 37, 208-10, 220, 221 Schilling, R. 104 Schlier, H. 182, 188 Vasaly, A. 76 Schmidt, K.L. 135, 136 Vernant, J.-P. 20 Schottroff, L. 31, 174 Viden, G. 53 Schreiner, J.H. 61, 62 Vidman, L. 97, 100 Schiissler Fiorenza, E. 2, 7, 9-11, 13, Viviano, B.T. 163 18, 22, 57, 149, 157, 158, 170, 171, Vogt, K. 55, 56 174-76, 178, 199, 203 Schweitzer, B. 72, 73 Wachsmut, D. 162 Scott, J. 14, 18-22, 27, 28, 57, 64 Waele, F.J. de 110,251 Scranton, R.L. 98, 103 Walbank, M.E.H. 101-103, 106, 249, Scroggs, R. 174, 175, 191 250, 253 Seim, T.K. 50 Wallace-Hadrill, A. 60, 61, 65, 66, 69, Shaw, T.M. 52 101, 104, 140 Shear, T.L. 98 Weeber, K.-W. 141 Siebert, G. 97, 98 Wegner, J.R. 69, 205 Siegert, F. 10 Weinel, H. 135 Slane, K.W. 254 Weiss, J. 2, 31, 149, 150 Sly, D. 21, 51, 56, 181, 182, 240 West, A.B. 101, 105, 107, 108, 250 Smallwood, E.M. 120 White, L.M. 120, 139 Smith, D.E. 97-99 Wild, R.A. 98 Smith, J.Z. 32, 33, 34, 72, 73, 98, Williams, E.R. 97 145-48, 154, 155, 162, 179, 183, 190, Williams, C.K., II 93, 96, 97, 101, 102, 229 105, 115, 123 Snyder, G.F. 139 Williams, C.K., II and O.H. Soleim, K.R. 12, 172 Zervos 98, 101-104 Songe-Moller, V. 15, 43-^5, 48, 180, Winkler, J.J. 60, 67, 68, 70, 81, 89, 181, 240, 241 100, 194 Sourvinou-Inwood, C. 35-37, 79 Winter, B. 25, 78 Spaeth, B.S. 70, 74, 75, 87, 89, 90, 104 Wire, A.C. 2, 7, 10-13, 21, 26, 144, Spawforth, A.J.S. 108 145, 149, 150, 171, 172, 175, 177, 185, Spitzer, B.C. 113,114,264 328 Women in Their Place

196-98, 200, 205, 207, 213, 215, 229, Young, F. 165 243, 245 Wise, M., M. Abegg Jr, and E. Zaidman, L.B. 89, 109 Cook 164, 167, 168, 170 Zeitlin, F.I. 36, 37, 40, 43-46, 49, 69, Wiseman, J. 81, 82, 116, 123, 128 100 Wissowa, G. 108, 124 Zervos, O.H., and C.K. Williams Woolf, G. 76 II 105 Wuellner, W. 10, 31 Zeusse, E.M. 37 Zscharnack, L. 8, 9, 18 Yeo, K.-K. 10