(avg. read time: 18–37 mins.)
Epic Poetry
Ennius, Annals (fragments)(LCL 249)
Lucan, Civil War (incomplete)(LCL 220)
Naevius, The Punic War (fragments)(LCL 314)
Ovid, Metamorphoses (LCL 42–43)
Silius Italicus, Punica (LCL 277–278)
Virgil, Aeneid (LCL 63–64)
The first representatives of this genre relevant for our purposes appeared in the late third and early second centuries BCE, penned by Naevius (ca. 270 BCE–201 BCE) and Ennius (ca. 239 BCE–169 BCE), two of the fathers of Roman literature. Although their works exist only in fragments today, in ancient Rome they represented the culture’s first national epics. These poems proclaimed the origin stories of Rome emerging from the ashes of Troy, of Romulus and Remus, of Romulus’s divinization, and of the gods’ favor toward Rome, all of which would be frequent points of reference for Roman authors across genres.
However, Virgil’s (70 BCE–19 BCE) Aeneid would supplant both of their works as the definitive national epic of Rome. The story, set in the days of Aeneas of Troy, contains frequent references to the destiny of Rome to arise from the ruins of Troy to conquer the world (1.234–236, 275–285; 6.781–782, 810–814, 847–853; 8.722–728; 12.166–168, 838–840), with special reference to Julius Caesar and Augustus, both of whom are described as descendants of Aeneas (son of Anchises and Venus), both of whom are considered divine, and both of whom are said to establish world peace (1.286–296; 6.779–814; 8.714–728; 9.446–449). The eschatological sense of these references is even more pronounced in the scene of Book 6 when Aeneas visits the underworld and the Elysian fields, wherein he sees a vision of Rome’s future history, which climaxes with Augustus (6.756–892).
Ovid (43 BCE–17/18 CE), took up Virgil’s mantle and set this imperial climax of history in a larger cosmological and mythical context with his Metamorphoses. Along with the many traditional myths that he catalogs in his extensive collection, Ovid propounds an imperial ideology, in which the gods are located in heavenly Palatine (the name of the hill of the imperial palace in Rome; 1.171–176) and the health of the emperor is tied with the health of the world (1.199–205). Most importantly, Ovid’s account of metamorphoses throughout mythical history climaxes once again with the ascent of Augustus to the throne and the metamorphosis of Caesar into a god (15.745–870), which itself fits the pattern established by his ancestor Aeneas (14.581–609).
In contrast to Virgil and Ovid’s imperial triumphalism, Lucan’s (39 CE–65 CE) Civil War (or Pharsalia) is melancholic in its view of Rome’s transition from a republic to an empire (e.g., 1.668–672). Lucan laments the self-destructive nature of civil war and how it causes the crime of fratricide to become a virtue of dutiful warfare (1.1–7, 30–32, 666–667; 7.470–475), which results in his apocalyptic descriptions of the world coming apart at the seams at this perverted violation of the laws of nature by the greatest world power (1.72–87, 641–672; 2.1–15; 5.597–653; 7.1–6). In this light, Lucan pushes back against imperial ideology as he portrays Julius Caesar as the one who instigates this sin, even against the plea of the spirit of personified Rome (1.183–203), and as one who is inspired to do so because he wishes to restore the glory of his Trojan ancestors in Rome, bringing the ancient story to a climax in himself (9.964–999). In contrast, Pompey and Cato, who sought to resist Caesar’s will to power, are tragic heroes embodying Stoic virtues in the face of their victimization by fate (2.285–323; 7.7–123; 8.613–636, 663–667; 9.368–410, 564–584). Still, although scholars debate whether Lucan’s panegyric dedication of the work to Nero is sincere (since Lucan was ordered to commit suicide due to his role in a conspiracy against Nero), he nevertheless attests to the prevailing imperial ideology as he claims that Nero is destined to be among the stars/the gods because he is already divine and an inspirer of epic verse (1.45–52, 63–66).
Finally, Silius Italicus (ca. 27 CE–103 CE) represents a return to more traditional Roman epic with his Punica (the longest poem in Latin), which is dedicated to the subject of the epoch-defining Second Punic War. Silius stresses, even more thoroughly than his predecessors, the direct speech and action of the gods in the events of Roman history, including in the battles of Cannae (Book 9) and Zama (Book 17), as well as the protection of Rome (Books 10 and 12), and the weakening of Hannibal’s army through their indulgence in the gifts of Bacchus (7.162–211; 11). Most pointedly, he sees divine involvement in the story of Scipio Africanus, who he describes in Herculean terms as fathered by Jupiter (13.637–647), as facing the same choice at a crossroads between Virtue and Pleasure (15.18–128), and as receiving his place among the gods as a result of his heroic triumph (17.646–654). Of course, Silius is also conscious of his intertextual relationship with Virgil’s Aeneid (1.1–55) and the latter’s story of Rome emerging from Troy to rule the world forever (7.458–478), although he adds the belief that Rome’s suffering during the Second Punic War was a test to make Rome stronger for the time to come (3.571–593) and he updates the climax of the prophesied history as coming with Domitian (3.594–629), instead of Augustus.
NT Correlations
This genre is arguably the most relevant for examining correlations with the NT. While in form the NT works mostly represent rhetoric, letters, and history/biography, they proceed from a grand narrative that is starkly different from the type most thoroughly presented in epic poetry. This stark contrast in grand worldview narratives is also what causes the NT texts to be so different from their Greco-Roman generic counterparts in terms of substance. On the one hand, the Romans grounded their identity in the history of Troy and in their ascent from the state of exile to the state of world empire, whereas the NT authors ground their identity in the history of Israel and in the Christ who irrupted into that history as the bringer of God’s kingdom. On the other hand, the Roman epic poets and the political discourse that they produce testify to a realized eschatology, in which the events of eschatological significance have already passed and/or are fully manifest in the present time, whereas the NT authors operate with an inaugurated eschatology, which may or may not stress eschatological events that have already taken place, but still conveys that the consummative events are still to come. This mythology is thus more relevant for direct correlation with the NT, since the contrast between NT literature is more operative at the level of narrative than political theory or teaching per se.
Gospels and Acts One noteworthy point of general correlation between the epic poets and the Gospel authors is the fact that the epic poets are often more extensively explicit and descriptive about the involvement of the gods in historical events than the Roman historians and biographers were. While the perspective is not the same in the Gospels and Acts—since the authors do not provide God’s “behind the scenes” speech in the way most epic poets, with the exception of Lucan, provide the speeches of the gods—it is nevertheless the case that the Gospels and Acts are closer to the epics in being more explicit about attributing action and authorization to God. Although the aforementioned prose texts are more similar in genre, these epic texts are more similar to the Gospels and Acts in terms of the function of narrating foundational stories and the divine involvement in those foundational events.
Another noteworthy correlation between the epic poets (again, with the exception of Lucan) and the Gospel authors is the fact that the epic poets root Roman history in mortal children of the gods who themselves became immortal gods. Namely, they emphasize the roots of Rome in Aeneas of Troy (son of Anchises and Venus), Romulus (son of Mars and Rhea Silvia), and Scipio Africanus Major (son of Jupiter and Pomponia). These poets write of figures that lived centuries in the past and who represented the origins of Rome or its ascension in power, but the Gospel authors write in correlative fashion about the one they describe as the climax of history (whereas Virgil and Silius wrote of climactic figures still in the future of the narrative). Although Jesus is clearly mortal, the Gospels are not stories rooted in a mortal, born from a sexual union between a god and the mortal parent, becoming a god upon his death. On both of these points, the Gospels seem to be deliberate contrasts (even the two that do not mention a virginal conception). Jesus does receive immortality after death, but he is described in various ways as the incarnate God who took on flesh, died as a human, and received back what he already had when he received eternal life in the resurrection. His divine identity is not so much received as it is confirmed.
Finally, both complexes connect the divine man to a royal or noble lineage. With the status-conscious nature of Rome and its literature, as well as its imperial context, it is easy to understand why they would stress royal/noble genealogy. Interestingly, the Gospels also make this point about Jesus’s lineage (as do early gospel summaries, such as Rom 1:4), but not to the same end. Jesus does not claim any earthly seat of power nor insist on his rights to do so. Indeed, such is the state of the line of David in Jesus’s time and location that they could exist in obscurity in a Galilean village. He derived no earthly benefit from his lineage and he could not do so in any case. His royal lineage is only noted because it signified that God was bringing the promises to David and Israel to fruition through him in his work for God’s kingdom.
Revelation Of all the NT literature, no text has more correlations with the epic genre than Revelation. In tone and disposition to the Roman Empire, John’s Revelation is closest to Lucan’s Civil War. Both texts frequently use descriptions of cataclysms, of the world coming apart at the seams because of the crises of their respective narratives. Lucan presents Julius Caesar, who laid the foundation of the dictatorship that would become the permanent office of the emperor, as a villain with an overweening will to power in the way that John describes “the beast” who wages war against the saints and blasphemes against God. Of course, John’s apocalyptic work also identifies the malevolent power behind the beast in the form of a dragon representing Satan, which has no equivalent in Lucan’s epic. As such, Lucan’s critique of the Roman Empire does not operate at as deep a cosmological/theological level as John’s, but for that reason it is also less hopeful. Lucan laments the passing of the age of the Republic, and he expresses no hope that the freer, more harmonious days will ever return; he simply shows that he thinks the foundation of the Empire is something to mourn, rather than to celebrate. But because John can see into the heavenly operations behind earthly events, he knows that there is a power greater than the dragon and the beast he controls: the One who sits on the throne and the Lamb. Because of this knowledge, John has a consistently more hopeful tune than Lucan, even as he sounds the somber notes of condemnation, disaster, and death.
In this way, Revelation is similar to the other epics, since they feature divine speech that frames the events of their stories. Revelation reports many instances of angelic or divine speech throughout to frame the events foretold, to glorify God, to issue promises and warnings, and to exhort the audience. In the Aeneid and Punica in particular, the divine speech is set in the past and it sometimes concerns the narrative future, which is the authors’ present. In these cases, the speeches of the gods tell of the intervening history between the narrative present and the authorial present and they speak of historical climaxes in the authorial present, whether referring to Julius and Augustus in the Aeneid or the Flavians (especially Domitian) in Punica. In contrast, Revelation concerns the future from the author’s perspective and the denouement that is yet to come. The eschatological state of peace, world order, joy, prosperity, and divine governance is in the authorial present for these epic poets, but it is in the future for Revelation. These different orientations of divine speech and of the messages the authors convey to their audience illustrate well the differences between a completely realized eschatology (here in the form of imperial eschatology) on the one hand and an inaugurated eschatology with a view to consummation still to come.
Revelation is also similar to the epics in its apocalyptic qualities of visions and otherworldly companions. Scipio has a vision of the two women, Virtue and Pleasure, whom he must choose between as Hercules chose between Virtue and Vice. Likewise, Aeneas receives a vision of the coming history of Rome when he visits the Elysian fields. Only Aeneas had an otherworldly companion among the dead (his father Anchises) as he saw this vision, but both Aeneas and Scipio speak to others who are dead and receive revelations, advice, and other messages from them. John’s companions in his vision and the regular mediators of revelation are angels, although he may also speak with one of the twenty-four elders or he may hear speech directly from the Trinity. The angels also carry messages directly from God in a way that the dead in the Roman epics do not. However, there is an interesting parallel in the choice between the two women of Virtue and Pleasure in John’s work. John also faces and presents the choice between the city that is the harlot of Babylon (who rides a seven-headed beast identified with the seven-hilled Rome) and the city that is the bride of Christ, which is the New Jerusalem. Of course, this symbolism of the two ways is an image that exists in many cultures and it is not unusual in wisdom literature for it to be signified by two female figures. But the fact that the negatively characterized woman in Rev 17 is linked with Rome (whether or not she is identified with Rome) signifies a deliberate confrontation with Rome, the proper governance of which was identified with virtue in Roman texts (see especially in the works of Cicero).
On this same point about the contrasting cities, a minor correlation exists between Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Revelation. Ovid refers to a heavenly Palatine where the gods live, as opposed to the traditional residence of Olympus in Greek mythology. In this context, the earthly Palatine corresponds to the heavenly residence of the gods and the latter provides the firm foundation for the continued existence of the former. While Palatine refers to one particular hill in Rome, it is also the central hill and probably serves as a synecdoche for Rome (as in Ovid, Trist., 1.4.68–70). John also refers to a heavenly Zion (14:1; cf. Gal 4:26; Heb 12:22) as a synecdoche for the heavenly Jerusalem (3:12; 21). However, we see a difference here between the cosmology of Ovid and the eschatologically driven cosmology of John, as the heavenly Jerusalem is not simply a heavenly correspondence to the earthly city; it is the city that will come from heaven to earth in the eschatological state of the new creation.
Finally, Revelation can be correlated with the epics in how these texts respond to the problem of suffering for their characters or their audience. Both Virgil and Silius present the fact that the Trojans and the Romans suffer is a necessary step to their eventual exaltation. Silius is even more explicit in the dialogue between Jupiter and Venus that Rome’s suffering in the Second Punic War was not punitive but pedagogical in nature, to prepare them for trials to come. Lucan, however, adopts a more Stoic view of suffering, since the heroes of his story are tragic victims of fate, powerless to change what is decreed for them. When they realize they must suffer and die, they endure it with composure and equanimity, knowing that they cannot change their circumstances, but they can change their responses to it. John’s Revelation, in a way that is emblematic of the NT as a whole, encourages people in the midst of suffering (or under threat of suffering) to persevere in faithfulness unto death. As Hebrews ties perseverance in faithfulness to the history of faith culminating in the completer of faith (10:32–12:3) and as 1 Peter ties suffering for doing what is right to the story of Jesus (2:19–24; 3:14–4:2; 4:15–19; 5:10), Revelation ties perseverance in faithfulness to the concept of an eschatologically victorious life (2–3), which is itself tied to the victory of Christ in his faithfulness unto death, resurrection, and exaltation (3:21; 5:5–10; 12:10–11; 15:2; 17:14; 21:3–7). This theme of participatory victory, and the larger eschatological hope in which it makes the sense that it does, both present a stark contrast between John’s perspective on the suffering of faithful Christians and Lucan’s melancholic Stoic perspective on the suffering of his heroes.
Suggestions for Further Research
Generally, more work needs to be done on the correlations between Revelation and the epics. The potential connections between these works require deeper examination and consideration of why they are connected as they are. John seems to show awareness of the general discourse and narrative produced by these epics, but is it possible that he was aware of specific works, particularly Virgil’s, since they would be publicly recited? However this question is resolved, what is the significance of the links between Revelation and the epics?
Specifically, one possible avenue for further research would be a comparative intertextual analysis of Revelation and one of these works. Other texts and stories shaped Virgil’s work and his work in turn shaped the works of the later epic poets. Conversely, Revelation is, with the possible exception of Hebrews, the NT text that is most thoroughly indebted to the OT in terms of its language, imagery, themes, and narrative. With the differences that we have noted between Revelation and the epics, it is worth exploring how their different intertexts shaped both the individual works and the differences between them.
Another area worth exploring in greater depth is the correlations in how these works responded to suffering. On the one hand, the different social locations of John and the epic poets has some degree of influence here, as the epic poets had wealthy patrons from the uppermost classes in Rome and the support of the emperors (at least for a time), but John does not write from a position of socio-political power. On the other hand, the differences also arise from philosophical/theological differences, especially in the differences in the nature of hope between John and the epic poets. But for all of their differences, both Revelation and the epics encourage perseverance in the face of suffering, instead of a change in course to make life easier.
Hymns
Horace, Hymn for a New Age (Carmen Seculare)(LCL 33)
One representative of this genre is particularly relevant to our investigation of socio-political discourse. Horace (65 BCE–8 BCE) was and is mostly known for his lyrical poetry written during the transition of Rome from a republic to an empire, but he also wrote a hymn celebrating this transition. His Hymn for a New Age (Carmen Seculare), written a decade after Augustus’s consolidation of power (27 BCE), resonates with theological fervor as he writes of divine favor for Rome (7–8), the resultant fertility and prosperity of the imperial age (13–36), and his assurance that the gods will preserve the current cycle for 110 years (21; or 100 more years after he wrote this hymn). One can also see how Horace appeals to the prevailing narrative of Roman history as a people that emerged out of the ashes of Troy to rule the world (37–52).
NT Correlations
As noted above, the imperial eschatology that Horace exemplifies is starkly different from the inaugurated eschatology represented in the NT. For Horace, the new age has already arrived and has been in full effect for some time. For NT texts, the culmination of the ages is already underway (Heb 9:26; 1 Pet 1:20), but the consummation of the eschaton remains in the future (Matt 13:40, 49; 24:3; 28:20). There is a sense of living in a time between times, in which the Messiah has already come, God has made reconciliation, one resurrection to eternal life has occurred ahead of the general resurrection, and the Holy Spirit’s promised presence is an experienced reality as a down payment of everlasting life, but not all of God’s promises have yet come to pass. The Messiah must come again, reconciliation must reach its ultimate goal in the salvation process, the general resurrection and final judgment remain in the future, and God is not yet “all in all” (1 Cor 15:28).
Poetry
Horace, Odes (LCL 33)
Horace, Epodes (LCL 33)
Martial, Epigrams (LCL 94–95, 480)
Ovid, Tristia (LCL 151)
Ovid, Ex Ponto (LCL 151)
Ovid, Fasti (LCL 253)
Propertius, Elegies (LCL 18)
Statius, Silvae (LCL 206)
Virgil, Eclogues (LCL 63)
Virgil, Georgics (LCL 63)
This genre category consists of non-epic poetry, including lyrical poetry (primarily). Most of this work comes from the Augustan age. As noted above, Horace is one of the chief representatives of Latin poetry that contributes directly to Roman socio-political discourse. In his Odes he writes exultingly of Augustus (including of his divinity), the involvement of the gods in Roman conquest and rule, as well as the greatness of Rome (both how it is expressed and how it is undermined; esp. 1.2; 1.6; 1.12; 2.9; 3.2–6; 3.14; 4.2; 4.5; 4.13; 4.15). And in his Epodes he writes in lament over the state of Rome during the civil war between Marc Antony and Octavian as well as in celebration of the latter’s victory (esp. 9 and 16). Three of his contemporaries—Propertius, Virgil, and Ovid—also contribute to this discourse in their own ways. Propertius (50 or 45 BCE–15 BCE) writes in his Elegies of the story of Rome’s emergence from Troy (brought to its climax in Augustus) and the involvement of the gods in Caesar’s victories (esp. 4.6). Virgil’s Eclogues and Georgics primarily concern agricultural and rural subjects, but he writes in the frame of divine Octavian’s victory as the foundation of the peaceful life he describes and of the reemergence of the Golden Age (esp. Ecl. 4 and Georg. 3; 4). Ovid contributed to this discourse from angles of both exultation and grief, the former represented in Fasti (which proceeds through the first six months of the Roman calendar in describing the origins of festivities and linking them to the metanarrative of the Roman Empire and the work of divine Caesar; esp. 1.277–288; 2.131–144; 3.1–86; 4.19–62) and the latter represented in his frequent laments over being exiled from Rome in Tristia (esp. 1.2; 1.3; 2) and Ex Ponto (esp. 1.2; 2.2). The later representatives of this genre come from the Flavian era. Statius’s (45 CE–96 CE) poetry collected in the Silvae is an important source of information for life in Flavian Rome and it is notable for its lauding of Domitian (including Domitian’s statue) in terms that describe him as divine and superior to his Trojan forebears (1.1; 4.1). Martial (b. 38–41 CE, d. 102–104 CE) wrote his Epigrams in the reigns of Domitian, Nerva, and Trajan, although most of his material relevant to our interest appears in dedication to Domitian, as he compares Domitian favorably to gods and heroes and refers to him as the restorer (and even superseder) of ancient glory (4.1; 5.19; 8.55, 80; 9.1, 3, 6, 20, 64, 91, 101).
NT Correlations
Of all the genres of Roman literature, the poetic works I have cited here have the most material that is pertinent to the conceptualization of the emperors as divine (after death as well as, in some cases, before it). Roman poetry is thus relevant to the task scholars have frequently undertaken in analyzing theological (especially christological) statements in light of statements about the Caesars.
The emphasis of the poets on the victories of the emperors (especially Augustus) is most fruitfully compared to the Johannine corpus, since it contains most of the victory terminology in the NT. Twenty-four of twenty-eight uses of νικάω (“I conquer” or “I overcome”) appear in this corpus. It also contains the noun νίκη, the name of the Greek goddess of victory (Nike), which occurs only once in the NT in 1 John 5:4. But its application in the Johannine texts is starkly different than the references to victory in the poems cited above. The poems refer to victory in battle as the foundation of peace and order that characterizes their setting. In 1 John, this victory is characterized as conquering the temptations, deceptions, and lusts of the world through a life of faithful obedience in love to Christ (2:13–17; 4:1–4), the destroyer of the evil one’s works (3:8). The believing community has victory by virtue of their bond to God and Christ through faith and love, which is signified by obedience (5:1–5). The fact that this victory language is attributed to believers in 1 John (while it is attributed to Jesus in John 16:33) is significant because of the recognition that these people are in a hostile environment and lacking in worldly power. When Caesar achieves victory, he does so by virtue of his military might and the favor of the gods on this military; he attains victory by war. But when believers have victory, they have it by virtue of their union with God and Christ, which they express in practical ways, not by conforming the world to their will, but by obedience to the God who is above the world around them.
The final book in the NT canon is also the one with the most prevalent use of victory terminology (νικάω appears seventeen times out of all twenty-eight uses in the NT). The portrayal of victory here is also the most complex. I have already noted the most prominent dimensions of this victory language in reference to the victorious life of believers in faithful perseverance unto death, the victory of Christ, and how the former participates in the latter. However, a couple uses of this verb do not fit into this predominant paradigm. The beast who comes up from the abyss conquers the two witnesses of God (11:7). The beast is also said to receive power to conquer the saints in general (13:7; cf. Dan 7:21, 24–25). They are victories in the more worldly sense and their character as such is obvious when and where they happen in the present world. However, that is the extent of their scope. The beast, linked as he is to Rome, tries to silence the two witnesses by killing them, but God raises them to life and brings them into heaven (11:11–12), in imitation of the path of victory laid out by the Faithful One (3:21). Likewise, even as the beast is able to conquer, he can only conquer for now. Those who worship the beast do not have their names written in the Lamb’s book of life (13:8), in contrast to those who persevere against the beast (13:10). The fact that this book belongs to the Lamb who was slain—but now is obviously alive—is a reminder that the fate of the slain Lamb awaits his slain followers. They are assured of this reality by their perseverance and by their names being written in that book.
Another correlation exists in how John responds to his exile and how Ovid responds to his. John does not state any emotional response he had to being exiled to Patmos because of the gospel and his testimony thereto. He simply seems to accept it, especially since it establishes his solidarity with his brothers and sisters in that they all share in the affliction of the holy community, the perseverance in suffering faithfulness, and the kingdom promised to them (1:9). Ovid, on the other hand, portrays himself as at times hysterical, even bordering on histrionic, in his sorrow for his situation. He incessantly proclaims his desire to present his plea for mercy to Caesar, he prays to Caesar (calling him a god), and frequently begs for Caesar’s anger concerning the offense that sent him into exile to be mollified (even if he never explains what that offense was, except that it involved a poem and a mistake [carmen et error; Trist. 2.207]). His deep love for Italy and Rome in particular, as well as his seeming devotion to Caesar, made his separation from them in exile intolerable, but he died there nevertheless.
Suggestions for Further Research
The most obvious area for further research is in the rhetoric of victory in the NT (especially the Johannine corpus) and Roman poetry. What are the similarities and differences in these texts’ visions of what victory means? What images are employed in the rhetoric of victory? What are the undergirding assumptions in the rhetoric of victory? Exploring these questions will help illuminate how the NT authors participated in socio-political discourse and how they used that discourse to declare a distinct message.
Political Philosophy
Cicero, Republic (portions)(LCL 213)
Cicero, On Laws (portions)(LCL 213)
Both of these works are presented as dialogues in the tradition of Plato and both works are indebted to Plato’s works of the same names (at least in English). Unfortunately, both texts are incomplete, as the extant texts have several significant portions missing from them. Still, what remains is significant for our analysis of socio-political discourse.
Cicero’s mouthpiece in Republic—as Socrates was in Plato’s dialogues—is Scipio Africanus Minor, his main dialogue partner is Laelius, and the setting in time of this dialogue is 129 BCE, which, from Cicero’s perspective, was the last time Rome had known a sustained period of peace. As Cicero presents his vision of the ideal state, one sees several subjects that are important in other works of Cicero and in later socio-political discourse of Rome. For example, one of the fundamental beliefs expressed here is that the noblest use of virtue is in the government of the State (1.2, 4, 34). This dialogue features an extensive analysis of three basic forms of government—kingship, aristocracy, and democracy—and Scipio’s argument that the ideal State should be a combination of all three (1.45). Naturally—and this point sets Cicero apart from Plato—Rome is the pattern of the ideal State (1.46), and Scipio demonstrates that Rome is such through his examination of Rome’s history (2.1–39). If there is an ideal State, there is also an ideal statesman, one who should be constantly self-improving and self-examining, so that he may be an example for others to follow (2.42). Interestingly, especially for the purpose of correlating this text to the NT, the extant text ends with an apocalypse for Scipio as he sees Scipio Africanus Major in a dream (6.10). The elder Scipio reveals the heavenly destiny of all those who preserve, aid, or enlarge the fatherland (patria; 6.13). The reason for this destiny is because the rulers and preservers come from the heavens and will return to the heavens when they die (6.13–15). This duty is fundamentally to enact the rule of Jupiter through his natural law. The individual must do this over his own life to demonstrate that the spirit is the true self and god over the body (6.24–26). Likewise, rulers must ensure the harmony of the State so that it is in harmony with the cosmos (2.43; 3.33; 6.18).
Cicero’s Laws features him speaking for himself in the dialogue and it is in many ways similar to Republic, but it is focused on how laws can form the ideal State. For this state of affairs to obtain, individual laws must live up to the idea of what the law is: right reason in harmony with nature (1.6–7). Humans are capable of justice/following the law because of the spark of divinity in them (1.9–12; 2.4–5). To be clear, justice is not identified with following human laws, but following natural law, which human laws do not always conform to (1.15–16; 2.5–6). Book 3 represents Cicero’s attempt to formulate a constitution for a republic that better reflects natural law. Of course, Cicero realizes that following these laws will not be possible without the virtue of loyalty to the State, and so he includes a discussion citing the example of Cato the Elder as one who had two fatherlands (Tusculum and Rome). Cicero argues that one can have two fatherlands—the land of one’s birth and the land of one’s citizenship—but the greater love should be reserved for the Roman republic that unites people from multiple cities in citizenship (2.2).
NT Correlations
One text that is peculiarly concerned with devotion to a fatherland (although it does not use the language of citizenship) is Heb 11:13–16. In fact, this is the only text in the NT that uses the term “fatherland” (πατρίς) without reference to Jesus’s hometown or his proverb about a prophet being rejected in his hometown. The context concerns Abraham and his family leaving his fatherland in search for the one promised by God. In the meantime, they were strangers and exiles without a fatherland, since they would not return to the one whence they came. Instead, the author of Hebrews tells his audience that what they were seeking all along was a heavenly fatherland, which God prepared for them in the form of the heavenly Jerusalem. In a way, the author is similar to Cicero in saying that properly following the way of faithfulness exemplified by Abraham and his family means forsaking one fatherland in favor of another. But the author is different in insisting on a more decisive separation from the original fatherland in favor of the heavenly fatherland of God’s people, while Cicero simply allowed that one could have two fatherlands, although one would have to choose which one is greater.
Suggestions for Further Research
Cicero’s Republic and its exposition on the nature of the afterlife presents an obvious contrast to the NT expectation of resurrection from the dead, based as it is on Jesus’s own resurrection. But truly productive research in this area would explore how assumptions about cosmology, anthropology, and political ideals influence these visions of post-mortem existence. After all, Cicero’s notion of astral immortality is clearly linked with the function of the stars in his cosmology (and of his concomitant belief that the exalted people of this life come from the stars and return to the stars after death), his anthropological beliefs about what humans are, and his beliefs about the teleology of political conduct. How, then, are NT expectations of resurrection shaped by assumptions about cosmology, anthropology, and the kingdom of God?
Moral Philosophy
Cicero, On Duties (LCL 30)
Cicero, On Friendship (LCL 154)
Seneca the Younger, Moral Essays (LCL 214)
While most of Cicero’s philosophical work lies outside the scope of this review, something should be said of its importance. Cicero produced most of this voluminous philosophical literature between 46 and 44 BCE. The fact that he was able to write so much in such a short time indicates that his work was not especially original. Cicero added much less to philosophical conversations than he preserved and summarized them. As such, the value of this philosophical work does not primarily consist of the originality of his thought—although he does make his own comments and evaluations throughout his oeuvre—but consists rather of the record he provides of the philosophical conversation in his own time and of his demonstration of how Greek philosophy was incorporated into Roman thought.
Cicero’s On Duties is exemplary in how it articulates his political ideals in the days following Caesar’s assassination, as Cicero allowed himself to dream once more of the restoration of the Republic. His thorough interweaving of Greek and Roman tradition is on full display as he reflects on the four cardinal virtues (courage, prudence, temperance, and justice) by drawing on sources from Plato and Aristotle to the Twelve Tables, as well as examples from an authoritative body of knowledge consisting of a fusion of Greco-Roman mythology, philosophy, and political history. Cicero is insistent at several junctures that his assertion of traditional Roman morality in terms of fulfilling duties is a repudiation of Caesar and his tyrannical ambition (1.8, 14, 31; 2.7, 8; 3.1, 21). Indeed, he claims that Caesar’s vice as a leader supplied the impetus for this text (2.1). In contrast to Caesar, the ideal citizen and the ideal ruler should embody these virtues in pious service to the State (esp. 1.17, 22, 41, 43, 45; 2.12).
His On Friendship is less political, but it still illustrates the dynamics of social relations (or at least, ideals for them) in his time. Through the character of his father-in-law Laelius (the work is constructed as a dialogue), he argues that true friendship is not possible without virtue (5–6; 25–26); the virtues that make good politicians also make good friends. There is also a clear sense of status-consciousness and class-consciousness in these explorations of what constitutes true friendship (19–20).
Seneca’s (ca. 4 BCE–65 CE) ethical writings represent the climax of Stoic ethics in this era and the only representation of it in Latin that is relevant to socio-political discourse. All of these works have potential pertinence to our subject, not least since Seneca had the ear of Nero as his tutor and then his advisor for roughly a decade. Before his influence declined in the darker days of Nero’s reign, Seneca addressed one of these essays to Nero specifically: On Mercy (or De Clementiae). His description of mercy is decidedly stately in nature and of one piece with the Stoic emphasis on apatheia (especially as it manifests in self-control of passions like anger). In the process of this teaching, Seneca uses Augustus as an exemplar of a leader for Nero to follow in being a leader with the wisdom and self-control to show mercy (1.9–11). However, Seneca only cites his example in order to illustrate for Nero how he could attain glory even surpassing Augustus.
NT Correlations
I have already noted the correlations that could be described here in broad terms with the letters.
Suggestions for Future Research
Although scholars have written much on the correlations between Paul’s writings and the ethics of philosophers, their studies tend to pay less attention to Cicero. This is understandable, since Cicero is hardly an innovative thinker in his philosophical work. His discussions of the four cardinal virtues essentially replicate what one can find elsewhere. However, his emphasis on a view of ethical conduct as consisting of fulfilling duties presents an underexplored correlation, especially since Cicero writes much of duties to the State. What might one say about the correlations of NT ethics and the duties to the kingdom of God and its King with the duties of a Roman to the State? What do the continuities and discontinuities between these duties illustrate about the different political entities and what it means to declare allegiance to them?
Satire
Juvenal (LCL 91)
Persius (LCL 91)
Seneca the Younger, Apocolocyntosis (LCL 15)
Persius’s (34 CE–62 CE) Satires, framed as letters, were aimed at the moral decadence of his society, especially as he saw it in the literary and poetic tastes of his contemporaries. His satirical work includes a critique of prominent religious attitudes of his day, in which some people observed proper religious ceremony, even at times making expensive offerings for the sake of, hopefully, getting more money (2). He insists that what the gods really want is justice, righteousness, purity of mind, and honor (2.71–74).
Despite its title, Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis (“Pumpkinification”) does not describe Claudius turning into a pumpkin rather than a god. The title is simply a play on “apotheosis,” the process a worthy emperor was thought to undergo after death. Seneca humorously describes how Claudius fails at every step in this process. First, his manner of death is far from dignified, as he expends a last loud blast of gas and says, in contradistinction to Vespasian’s famous words, “Dear me, I suppose I have **** myself” (4). Seneca confirms that these were fitting last words. Second, when Claudius beseeches Hercules to take him before the gods so that he may join their company, neither Hercules nor the gods initially recognize him (5–9). Third, when Augustus himself gives his speech on the matter of Claudius’s deification, he expresses how ashamed he is of Claudius and states that making Claudius a god would tarnish the names of all others who share godhood (10–11). Fourth, the gods reject Claudius’s appeal to become a god and Mercury takes him to Hades, where Claudius is surrounded by people he had sent there (13). There he is judged in the same manner he judged others and is sentenced to a fate of craving without satisfaction, signified by rattling dice in a box with holes in the bottom. That is, until Caligula claims Claudius as a slave and he eventually becomes a slave of a freedman (14–15).
Juvenal, who wrote his satires in what is known as the Silver Age of Latin Literature (18 CE–133 CE), is arguably the pinnacle of Roman satire. Juvenal’s Satires are divided into five books with sixteen total satires present. Juvenal essentially explained his proclivity to satire by saying that it was “hard not to write satire” (1.30). He also decries the influence of Roman Greeks (3.60–78). Here and elsewhere we see that Juvenal was not simply a jaded man who was harshly critical of everything, but he rather believed that Rome had declined and would rather see it return to its traditions. Juvenal is also noteworthy for being the source of many popular sayings, such as in his description that the Roman people had become interested only in “bread and circuses” (10.81), and the ever-present concern of “who will watch the watchers” (6.347–348).
NT Correlations
Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis is not correlated to any specific NT text or theme. What makes this satire correlative to the NT is its attitude toward the emperor and apotheosis. The NT fits with its Jewish context in its critique of idolatry and of worshiping any god that is not the one God. Thus, the NT texts saw no validity in the concept of the emperors becoming gods. Seneca’s vivid illustration of an apotheosis failing at every stage would put him in continuity with the NT writers and how they regarded apotheosis, if not for the fact that Seneca is restrained in his scope of a satirized apotheosis. He does not reject the concept as a whole or the institutions around it, as the NT authors did; he simply satirizes the idea that a specific emperor could become a god.
Gospels Persius’s critique of the Roman practice of religion finds a correlation with the NT that illustrates trans-cultural values of religion. Persius critiques not only empty ritualism, but excessive focus on it to gain the favor of the gods. Likewise, Jesus critiques the tendency towards excessive focus on ritual and on purity, especially among the Pharisees, without concern for the more fundamental matters of right, just, and godly conduct (Matt 9:10–13; 12:7–8; 23:23–28; Mark 12:32–33).