Journey of The Soul in Early Christianity

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THE JOURNEY OF THE SOUL: ITS EXPRESSIONS
IN EARLY CHRISTIANITY
BY
DAVID M. REIS
A Dissertation submitted to the Faculty o f the Claremont Graduate University in

partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree o f Doctor o f Philosophy
in the Graduate Faculty o f RELIGION
Claremont, California
1999
Approved by:
7 - ,
Dr/ Gregory J/Riley '
D M ! Number: 9932581
Copyright 1999 by
Reis, David Michael
All rights reserved.
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We, the undersigned, certify that we have read this dissertation and approve it as adequate in
scope and quality for the degree of Doctor o f Philosophy.
Dissertation Committee:
regdry J. Riley/Chair
Karery Jo TorjeseA, Member
Dennis R. MacDonald, Member
Abstract
The Journey o f the Soul: Its Expressions in Early Christianity
by
David M. Reis
Claremont Graduate University: 1999
As myriad opinions on the concept o f the soul survive from antiquity, it is unlikely that
the topic held only a simple theoretical significance. In fact, Greco-Roman philosophers show
that the soul {psyche) is important not only for the delineation of anthropology, but also because,
as the psychological agent that controls and directs the individual, it plays a central role in
acquiring knowledge and initiating bodily movement. With these functions, the soul was thus
integrally related to the philosophical branches Logic and Ethics. As such, defining its nature
became a matter with wide-ranging implications. Consequently, this study claims that the
concept o f the soul and meditations on its journey can act as a template for understanding the
controversies found among some early Christian communities. The purpose o f this work is
therefore to detail the variety of conceptions o f the soul and its journey, to identify its entrance
into the discourse o f early Christianity, and to analyze its significance for the theological
objectives o f Paul and his churches, the communities surrounding the apostles Thomas and John,
and those who valued the Apocryphon o f John from Nag Hammadi.
Two intellectual currents that filter into the discourse o f early Christianity must be traced
in order to appreciate the significance o f the soul for the ancient world. An analysis o f the first,
deriving from the Greco-Roman tradition, will highlight the multivalency of soul and examine the
malleability inherent in meditations on its journey. The second stems from the religious beliefs of
ancient Iran. Although this current is familiar with the journey o f the soul, the importance of
Zoroastrianism lies in its articulation o f salvation history. This phenomenon will provide the raw
material for Greek, Jewish, and Christian authors to place the journey o f the soul within a
historical and linear framework.
By underscoring the value o f soul for late antiquity, this study hopes to contribute to the
growing body o f literature on early Christian diversity and to illuminate a period o f open
speculation that ultimately prepared the way for later theologians to formulate the Christian
concept of the immortal soul.
For my parents
*{'2ih nbcdk. e ^ p a -i n e 't'jMH Nei e n e c H T

Steles Seth 127.20-21
A cknow ledgem ents
This main outlines o f this study grew out o f numerous conversations with my advisor, Dr.
Greg Riley. I would thus like to express my appreciation to him as well as to Dr. Karen Torjesen,
who introduced me to the complexities o f Hellenistic cosmology and psychology during a
seminar on Origen. I would also like to thank Dr. Dennis MacDonald for agreeing to serve on my
committee even though we had only met briefly by the time I began this study. In addition to my
committee, I would especially like to thank Dr. Teresa Shaw for her challenging seminars as well
as her help and encouragement throughout my coursework and qualifying exams. Special thanks
must also be given to Linden Youngquist for reading a partial version o f my first draft and
providing valuable criticisms. I am also grateful for the many years he has spent listening to my
ideas and offering suggestions for further consideration and improvement. The History of
Christianity Seminar should also be commended for intrepidly agreeing to critique an early draft
o f my chapter on Plato even though they had not read any o f the preceding material. On a more
pragmatic level, I would like to express my thanks to Claremont Graduate University for the
dissertation grant that allowed me to devote full attention to this study. Finally, I would like to
thank my family for their support throughout this extended journey in graduate school. Without
them this project could never have been completed.
vii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgements vii
Introduction
PARTI
1. A History of Scholarship on the Soul 16
PART H
1. Archaic Greek Poetry 52
2. Presocratics I: The Ionian Tradition
(Thales to Diogenes o f ApoIIonia) 72
3. Presocratics II: The Western Tradition
(Orphism, Pythagoreanism, and Empedocles) 91
4. Plato 116
5. Stoicism 147
6. Variations on the Soul 169
PART in
1. Zoroastrianism 187
2. Judaism 209
PART IV
1. Paul 235
2. The Gospel o f Thomas and the Gospel of John 264
3. The Apocryphon o f John 297
Conclusions 328
Bibliography 332
viii
INTRODUCTION
In the modem world the soul has been assailed on so many fronts that such a concept
may seem irrelevant or at least innocuous, possessing little more than a rhetorical value.1 Indeed,
in taking its lead from Descartes, whose theory that soul and body interact in the pineal gland
reduced mental activity to biomechanical processes, modem science has made a strong case for
finding the brain responsible for many of the functions once attributed to the soul. A proponent
o f this materialist view o f human nature is the DNA expert Francis Crick, who has declared that
“‘You,’ your joys and your sorrows, your memories and your ambitions, your sense of personal
identity and free will, are in fact no more than the behavior o f a vast assembly o f nerve cells and
their associated molecules.”2 Another scientist dogmatically proclaims that “There is no such
thing as a disembodied self. Our bodies are a mess o f chemicals. Our minds are electrical circuits
firing like chips o f computers. Scientists have plumbed the human machine and found no ghost,
no thing that lingers when the body’s substance turns to d u s t... The soul as a thing separate from
the body has been hunted to its lair. The lair is empty.”3 Such conclusions strike at the heart of
the Christian belief in the soul and have created a fissure between science and religion that seems
insurmountable for some. As the biologist Richard Goss writes, “Assuming that the noblest
human endeavor is to seek the truth, even when the results are iconoclastic, the delicate
sensitivities of those who cling to more mystical interpretations o f what goes on in our brains may
1See William Barrett, Death o f the Soul: From Descartes to the Computer (Garden City, NY:
Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1986).
2 Francis Crick, The Astonishing Hypothesis: The Scientific Search fo r the Soul (New York:
Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1994), 3.
3 Chet Raymo, “Science vs. Religion (I): Some Tough Questions,” Commonweal 121 (Sept. 23,
1994): 12.
2
be offended by the honest attempts o f neuroscientists to explain away their most cherished
delusions.”4
While scientific research would appear to have dealt a mortal blow to the soul, it is
nonetheless true that the concept has yet to become a relic o f the distant past. Proof o f this can be
found in a variety o f quarters. For example, the philosopher Richard Swinburne, who has argued
that the possibilities o f brain transplantation makes the materialists’ position untenable, has
subscribed to a “soft” anthropological dualism that identifies the immaterial soul as the bearer of
personal identity.5 The soul has also been the focus o f a recent publication o f collected essays
that have attempted to find a common ground between scientific advances and religious faith.6
While the authors in this volume, both theologians and scientists, reject a dualistic view of
mankind, they nevertheless contend that the concept o f the soul is not in conflict with modem
science if it is regarded from a “nonreductive physicalist” perspective. In other words, they
recognize that the ability to partake in “higher” capacities such as morality and spirituality proves
that humans are more than simply bodies.7 It is this sort o f contention that has led other biblical
and theological scholars to defend the concept o f the soul and make a case for its continued
existence after death.8 Finally, among physicians and psychologists there is a growing call to pay
closer attention to the soul, an idea that bears striking resemblance to Socrates’ insistence that
medicine should focus on the whole person and that the highest human priority lies in “care for
4 Richard J. Goss, “Biology o f the Soul,” The Humanist 54 (Nov./Dec. 1994): 25. See also Crick,
Astonishing Hypothesis, 261: “the idea that man has a disembodied soul is as unnecessary as the old idea
that there was a Life Force. This is a head-on contradiction to the religious beliefs of billions o f human
beings alive today.”
5 Richard Swinburne, The Evolution o f the Soul (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986). Swinburne’s
“soft” dualism does not confer upon the soul a natural immortality, as argued, for instance, by Descartes or
Plato (10). See also idem, “Body and Soul,” in The Mind-Body Problem: A Guide to the Current Debate,
eds. Richard Warner and Tadeusz Szubka (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1994), 311-316.
6 Warren S. Brown, Nancey Murphy, and H. Newton Malony, eds., Whatever Happened to the
Soul? Scientific and Theological Portraits o f Human Nature (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998).
7 Nancey Murphy, “Human Nature: Historical, Scientific, and Religious Issues,” in Whatever
Happened to the Soul? Scientific and Theological Portraits o f Human Nature, eds. Warren S. Brown,
Nancey Murphy, and H. Newton Malony (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998), 2, 25.
8 John W. Cooper, The Body, Soul, and Life Everlasting: Biblical Anthropology and the Monism-
Dualism Debate (Grand Rapids, MI: Willian B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1989); John B. Cobb, Jr.,
“The Resurrection o f the Soul,” Harvard Theological Review 80 (1987): 213-227.
3
the soul.”9 Thus, despite the attacks against the “outmoded” view o f the soul’s existence, it
remains entrenched in the discourse o f contemporary scholarship.
This study will make no claims for the value o f soul in the modem world, but it does
assume that any attempt to evaluate the contemporary debate must first take into consideration the
historical development o f the concept. For it is the ancient world that originally framed the
questions and offered solutions for understanding the soul, solutions that would be accepted to a
large degree through much of the history of Western Civilization. Even when this framework
was rejected or modified, as in the case o f Descartes or William James, the ancient paradigms still
had to be engaged. The same holds true for those who have critiqued these more recent models.
Thus, although this project will not move beyond the first centuries of our era, it will nevertheless
introduce many ideas that have yet to fully disappear from the modem consciousness.
I. The Soul in the Ancient World
Emerging from the cultural and intellectual melange o f the late Hellenistic period, early
Christianity had at its disposal a variety o f different views on the origin, nature, and destiny of the
soul (psyche). Indeed, in his Tusculan Disputations, Cicero provides a comprehensive catalog of
the major positions circulating in the first century B.C.E. In his attempt to prove that death is a
good rather than an evil, the philosopher first must come to some understanding o f death and the
composition o f the soul.
Some consider death the separation o f the soul from the body; some think there is
no such separation, but that the soul and body perish together and the soul is
annihilated with the body. O f those who think there is a separation o f the soul,
some hold that it is at once dispersed into space, others that it survives a long
time, others that it survives forever. Further, as to what the soul itself is in itself,
or where its place in us, or what its origin, there is much disagreement. Some
think the soul is the actual h eart... Empedocles holds that the soul is blood
permeating the heart; others thought that a particular part o f the brain had claim
to the primacy o f the soul ... some o f them have said that the heart is the local
9 Char. 156d-157b; Apol. 29d-30b. See also David N. Elkins, “Psychotherapy and Spirituality:
Toward a Theory o f the Soul,” Journal o f Humanistic Psychology 35 (1995): 78-98; Otto Rank,
“Psychology and the Soul,” Journal o f Religion and Health 35 (1996): 193-201.
4
habitation o f the soul, while others place it in the brain; others however identify
soul and breath as we Romans practically do.10
He then goes on to discuss in more detail the theories o f specific thinkers: the musician
Aristoxenus argued that the soul is a harmony of the body; Xenocrates followed the Pythagoreans
in thinking the soul was number; Plato introduced the idea of the tripartite soul; Aristotle’s
student Dicaearchus denied the reality of soul altogether; and Democritus understood the soul to
have an atomic structure.11
When reading of such diverse opinions, it is difficult not to think that these investigations
into the soul held more than a simple theoretical significance. Indeed, because the earliest Greek
philosophers regarded the human being as a microcosm of the cosmos,12 it became common to
view the two as operating according to analogous principles: just as psyche came to be regarded
as the primal force that directed and permeated the world, so too did it function in the living
person. Consequently, ancient psychology was formally classified within the philosophical
branch known as Physics. Physics, in turn, was intimately related to philosophy’s two other
branches, Logic and Ethics.13 Thus, if Physics focused on the actual composition o f the universe,
Logic sought to determine how knowledge o f it is possible, while Ethics concerned itself with
how best to live in it.14 Alternatively, investigations into either Logic or Ethics would necessarily
consider what part of the individual does the “knowing” or “acting.” For the Greco-Roman
world, this entity was the soul. As a result, knowing how it operated within the body was a
matter with wide-ranging consequences.15 It is thus not hyperbole for Aristotle to claim that
10 1.9.18-19.
11 1.10.19-11.23. For similar compilations, see Sen. Ep. 88.34; Philo Somn. 1.30-33; Tert. De test.
anim. 1.
12 See, for instance, PL Phil. 30a-b.
13 The intimate relationship between the branches can be seen in the Stoic philosopher
Posidonius’s belief that philosophy should be compared to the living being, with Physics representing the
blood and flesh, Logic the bones and sinews, and Ethics the soul (ff. 88). See also D.L. 7.39-41.
14 For further discussion of the interrelationship between the branches of philosophy, see Gerard
Verbeke, “Ethics and logic in Stoicism,” in Atoms, Pnenma, and Tranquility: Epicurean and Stoic Themes
in European Thought, ed. Margaret J. Osier (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 11-24.
15 The title of Galen’s treatise On the Passions and Errors o f the Soul, which is devoted to both
moral exhortation and epistemology, shows how ancient authors assumed a fundamental link between
psychology, Ethics, and Logic.
5
“knowledge” (yvcncxq) o f the soul is a matter o f “first importance” (ev ttpcoxoiq) that “seems
likely to make a substantial contribution to the whole body o f truth” (rcpoq aXfiSeiav d tta a a v ).16
With such significance attached to the soul, it is not surprising that the available opinions
elicited significant controversy.17 Early Christians were not immune to these debates; like their
pagan and Jewish counterparts, they actively engaged in anthropological speculation and
recognized that different theories o f the soul held implications beyond the immediate issue o f the
construction o f the human being. It could impact, among other things, the conception of
humanity’s relationship with God, the stance adopted toward the world and those within it, and
any number o f beliefs on pre- and post-existence. That the soul was relevant for these broader
theological and ethical questions becomes especially clear in Tertullian’s De anima. Although
this work dates to the first decade o f the third century, it is the earliest Christian treatise on the
subject and thus may act as a heuristic template for understanding the issues at stake for nascent
Christianity.
Written as a defense o f the “orthodox” Christian view o f the soul, Tertullian’s De cmima
begins with a brief rehearsal of his view that the soul originates directly from God.18 This
assertion leads him to a number o f other conclusions: the soul is a simple substance, possessing
within itself the aspects of spirit and intelligence; it is unified and rational, and, as the locus of
bodily activity, it legitimates the sensory world; and its subordination to God means that its is
capable o f change and thus exhibits free will.19 In forwarding these arguments, Tertullian
16 De anim. 402a4-7. According to Tertullian, the Roman physician Soranus devoted four
volumes to the soul {De anim. 6)
17 See, for instance, Plato’s criticisms of the materialist understanding of the soul {Soph. 246a-
247e) and Aristotle’s Forschungsbericht of previous soul theories {De anim. 403b20-411b31).
18 Tertullian understands his De anima to be a supplement to his earlier work De censu animae,
which defended the divine origin o f the soul against the “heretic” Hermogenes. Although this treatise is
not extant, Hermogenes taught that the soul was formed by God out of pre-existent matter {De anim. I; 11;
cf. Adv. Herm. 2). While Tertullian views Hermogenes’ theology as heretical, it is of course anachronistic
to use terms such as “orthodoxy” and “heresy” for this period o f Christian history. From the perspective of
later doctrine, Tertullian himself is not always orthodox, and he would no doubt have been dismayed to
leam that his Traducianist defense of the soul’s origin did not become orthodox doctrine.
19 Soul possesses spirit and intelligence: 11-13; the rational soul as the locus o f bodily movements
and its relationship to the mundane realm: 5-6, 16-20; soul capable o f change and free will: 4, 16, 21, 37-
40.
6
specifically seeks to discredit rival Gnostic psychologies that, he believed, resulted in dangerous
theological positions. For instance, he notes that some Gnostics maintain the spirit is a divine
“spark” distinct from the soul, conferred upon select people without God’s knowledge. This
belief not only enables them to classify humanity into ontological categories based upon the
possession o f this spark, but it also allows them to reject freedom o f the will by denying the
possibility for individuals to move between classes. Moreover, by identifying themselves with
this divine substance, these “spirituals” could devalue the mundane world and claim to have no
essential relationship with materiality. As a consequence, they could contend that the body was
only a lifeless shell that housed the divine spirit, contributing nothing to a person’s individuality.
Such claims obviously presented a challenge to early Christianity, and, by confronting them in his
De anima, Tertullian clearly recognized that a “proper” theology begins with “correct”
understanding o f soul.
Aside from the problem o f the freedom o f the will, Tertullian’s descriptions o f his
opponents’ beliefs are all components of the religio-philosophic meditation known as the
“journey of the soul.” According to this concept, which the apologist correctly links to the
philosophical tenets o f Pythagoras and Plato, the soul originally exists in harmony with the divine
before it descends into the mundane world to enter into a material body. While on earth,
however, the soul bears faint reminiscences o f its divine status that can be increased through the
acquisition o f knowledge. If properly educated, it may re-ascend to its original home after the
death of the body.20 By devoting the entire second section o f his treatise to combating this idea, it
is obvious that Tertullian was well aware o f its theological implications. Not only could it
influence thoughts on creation and eschatology, but it also had an impact on how Christians
presented themselves while in the world. While the Carthaginian was clearly distressed and
offended by its use among his contemporaries, it shows that the soul’s journey was a popular and
fruitful way for many Christians to reflect upon their own place within (and outside of) the
20 Clement o f Alexandria records the classic formulation o f the soul’s journey in his Excerpta ex
Theodoto: “the knowledge of who we were, and what we have become, where we were or where we were
placed, whither we hasten, from what we are redeemed, what birth is and what rebirth” (78.2).
7
cosmos. To take but one example, the Three Steles o f Seth from Nag Hammadi closes with the
soteriological assertion that “the way o f ascent is the way o f descent.”21
II. The Present Study: An Overview
Tertullian’s treatise provides direct evidence that, by the third century, Christians were
both appropriating and interacting with the Greco-Roman philosophical heritage and that their
disputes over the soul had attained a high level o f philosophical sophistication. While this sort of
technical disputation is largely missing from the earliest Christian texts, the polemical atmosphere
that provoked his treatise was certainly not. In fact, many of the same issues that Tertullian found
so crucial are apparent, not only in the writings o f the New Testament, but, mutatis mutandis, in
the larger Greco-Roman as well. This study thus seeks to show that, just as Tertullian and his
contemporaries saw the soul as a useful concept for explicating theology, so too can it help to
make sense of the debates found in some o f the earliest Christian communities.
The purpose of this study is therefore to detail the variety o f conceptions of the soul and
its journey, to identify its entrance into the discourse o f early Christianity, and to analyze its
significance for the theological objectives o f Paul and his churches, the communities surrounding
the apostles Thomas and John, and those who valued the Apocryphon o f John from Nag
Hammadi.22 Yet in order to understand the ramifications of the choices these texts make, it is
first necessary to examine two intellectual currents that flow into the discourse o f early
Christianity. The first, which derives from the Greco-Roman world, is central for recognizing the
manifold constructions of the soul available to the writers o f late antiquity. This examination will
find that, with a history stretching back to the eighth century B.C.E., psyche was a multivalent
21 127.20-21.
22 This study will restrict itself to the journey that centers on pre- and post-mortem existence rather
than opening the field to include texts that describe visionary ascents. The structural differences between
the two models are immediately apparent: whereas the journey as understood here works with the descent
and ascent of the soul, the otherworldly journeys of mystic seers describe a heavenly anodos (often still in
the body) to receive divine instruction, after which time they return to the earth to impart their newly
acquired wisdom. This is not to suggest, however, that the two models are not related, as noted by D.W.
Bousset, “Die Himmelsreise der Seele,” Archivfur Religionswissenschaft 4 (1901): 136.
8
term by the time early Christians begin to create their own literary works. The second stems from
the religious beliefs of ancient Iran. Although this current is familiar with the journey o f the soul,
the importance o f Iranian thought will lie in its formulation o f salvation history (Heilsgeschichte).
This phenomenon will provide the raw material for Greek, Jewish, and Christian authors to place
the journey o f the soul within a historical and linear framework.
After the survey of scholarship on the soul in Part I, Part II will focus on the first current,
the Greco-Roman background. These chapters will be devoted to outlining three related themes:
the development o f the concept o f the soul, its significance for Logic and Ethics while embodied,
and the various ways in which its journey is articulated. As the earliest literature does not possess
a systematic doctrine o f soul, the first three chapters will assess the various intellectual steps by
writers o f the Archaic period that affect later formulations. Chief among these are the poets’
descriptions and elaborations of psychai, the scientific equation o f soul with movement and
perception, and the theologically motivated idea that the soul represents the essential person. The
examination of this early literature is essential because it provides the building blocks for later
authors to describe the soul both within the living person and during its separation from the body.
For example, Homer’s psychai are immaterial shades, yet they retain the appearance o f the living
person and, under certain circumstances, even display cognitive and emotional capacities.
Among the Presocratics, the lonians’ cosmological speculation led them to identify the soul as a
material entity active within the human body as well as the universe at large. Finally, Orphic and
Pythagorean circles, whose anthropological dualism sharply separated body from soul, assumed
that the latter was in fact the essential person, trapped within the encasement o f the body.
These ideas all coalesce in the philosophy of Plato, as the next chapter will show. One of
his lasting achievements was to construct a theory of psyche that integrated all of the other major
psychological entities within it. Thus, previously independent psychic agents devoted to
intellection (nous, phrenes) and courage or spirit (thymos) are classified as aspects o f the soul, the
proper regulation of which becomes a sign o f a harmonious psyche. Along with this, Plato
follows the lonians in characterizing movement as the primary characteristic of soul, and
9
furthermore, states that it is through this entity that knowledge is acquired and bodily movements
initiated, a development that brings psychology within the realm of Logic and Ethics. Finally,
building upon Orphic and Pythagorean speculation, he equates the psyche with the “true” person
and formulates a number o f mythological tales describing its journey. Two points stand out in
these stories for the impact they will have for later expressions of the journey. First, as in Homer,
the post-mortem soul retains the physical and personal identity of the living person, despite the
fact that the philosopher’s dialectical argumentation associates the soul with incorporeality.
Second, Plato molds each o f these tales differently in order to correspond to the point he seeks to
make in the particular dialogue as a whole. This fact provides early evidence that the one
consistent feature of the journey o f the soul is its inherent malleability: it can be reshaped with
little difficulty to suit any author’s specific religio-philosophical interests.
While the dialogues provide later writers with proof-texts for the definition o f soul and
various models for envisioning its journey, Plato’s psychology did not go unchallenged. In fact,
as Cicero’s catalog of soul theories mentioned above proves, it was only one option among many.
Chapter five will underscore this observation with an analysis of Stoicism. Beginning with a
brief overview of cosmology, it will be shown that the Stoics attributed the creation o f the
universe to the deterministic plan o f God. As fire, God interacts with the other elements (air,
water, and earth) in order to create the world and its inhabitants. By definition then, all existing
things, including souls, are “bodies” by virtue o f their elemental mixture. For other reasons based
on Physics, Stoicism also rejects the notion o f the soul’s pre-existence and the limitless survival
of the psyche after death. Consequently, their psychology only allows for a truncated journey for
the soul. Yet the Stoa sought to preserve individual freedom, recognizing the soul’s relationship
with Logic and Ethics, and thus went to great lengths to explain how a deterministic Physics
could admit free will. Because Jewish and Christian writers struggled with the same issue,
examining the Stoic’s answers will provide a framework for approaching the subject in Parts IE
and IV. Finally, this chapter will close with an analysis of the Platonically inspired accounts of
10
the soul’s journey in Seneca and Cicero, showing once again the fluidity o f the concept in the
centuries surrounding the birth of Christianity.
The final chapter o f Part II will survey other approaches to the soul for further proof of
the varied understandings of psyche in the Hellenistic world. An analysis o f Aristotelian and
Epicurean notions o f psyche will show that the journey o f the soul could be rejected on
philosophical grounds. At the level o f popular thought, the concept also held little significance,
as evidenced by the non-technical use o fpsyche in the tragedies, funeral orations, and
inscriptions. These sources attest to the resiliency of the Archaic view of soul and will help
contextualize the non-philosophical use o f psyche in the New Testament. The final section o f this
chapter, a survey o f Apuleius’s Metamorphoses, will reveal that the mystery religions provide yet
another model for the soul’s journey. Specifically, this text, while displaying no knowledge of
the soul’s pre-existence, nevertheless assumes that the psyche can participate in the second half of
the journey through a devotion to the divine. It is this model that proves attractive to Christian
authors who think that the soul and body are simultaneous creations.
Part LH will begin by introducing the second intellectual current that will impact the
concept of the soul’s journey in early Christianity. The first chapter will examine the main tenets
o f Zoroastrianism, with specific emphasis on its construction o f the world and its perspective on
history and salvation. This source, with its belief in two opposing cosmic spirits that battle on
earth until the eventual triumph of good and the destruction of evil, is already visible in
Platonism, but it permeates the Western world more fully by the later Hellenistic period,
becoming particularly attractive to Jewish and Christian traditions. The second chapter will
survey Judaism’s understanding o f the soul. Beginning with the ancient Israelite beliefs, the
chapter will proceed to focus more specifically on the intertestamental period, analyzing Jewish
apocalyptic literature, apocryphal and pseudepigraphal evidence, and the philosophy o f Philo.
This examination will reveal that Hellenistic Judaism had at its disposal a plethora o f ways to
articulate the journey of the soul. Very few o f these descriptions are unambiguous, however.
Particularly troublesome are their views o f the post-mortem state: for instance, does the soul
11
survive alone, or does the body accompany it? can a “bodily” existence refer to the soul alone? if
not, is this bodily existence a return o f the physical frame o f the living person or is it a “spiritual”
body? These ambiguities, which stem in large part from the combination o f Zoroastrian, Jewish,
and Greco-Roman traditions, are not resolved with the advent o f Christianity.
Part IV turns to the early Christian understanding o f the soul. Not surprisingly, the texts
from these first centuries display little uniformity regarding its origin, nature, and destiny.
Tertullian places the blame squarely on the shoulders o f the philosophers, noting with derision
that their speculations have led to “all sorts o f opinions on the soul, many sharp disagreements,
countless questions ... and all kinds o f intricate solutions.”23 On the other hand, Origen notes that
the problems stem from an inadequate treatment of the psyche in the Christian tradition itself.24
The views of these two writers are o f course not mutually exclusive, for the confusion
undoubtedly reflects the attempts o f late antique writers to construct a systematic view o f soul out
o f a complex fund of literary evidence. In spite o f their efforts to clarify the Christian position,
however, even the work of Tertullian and Origen hardly settled the matter for later theologians
who were less willing to accept that words such as “corporeal” and “incorporeal” could have
multiple meanings.25
Before the debate over the soul became laden with such pregnant philosophical terms,
however, early Christians could still view the soul as a source o f controversy and as a means for
explicating different theologies. The first chapter will examine the Pauline corpus for evidence of
how the soul and its journey are viewed by the apostle and his opponents. It will first be argued
that Paul works with an anthropological dualism that allows him to envision the separation o f the
23 De anim. 2.6.
24 De princ. Pref. 5: “In regard to the soul, whether it takes its rise from the transference o f the
seed, in such a way that the principle or substance of the soul may be regarded as inherent in the seminal
particles of the body itself; or whether it has some other beginning, and whether this beginning is begotten
or unbegotten, or at any rate whether it is imparted to the body from without or no; all this is not very
clearly defined in the teaching.”
25 For Tertullian, “corporeal” refers to both visible and invisible bodies {De anim. 8). Similarly,
Origen recognizes that “incorporeal” is also multivalent (De princ. Pref. 8). Such ambiguities exasperated
Jerome, who complains while all assert the resurrection of the body, heretics “use the word body instead of
the word flesh in order that an orthodox person hearing them say body may take them to mean flesh while a
heretic will understand that they mean spirit” {Ep. 84.5).
12
“inner man” from the body at death. Yet as there is no indication that he thinks the soul pre
exists, it is impossible for him to imagine humanity as participants on the fiill journey. Through
an analysis o f the Christ Hymn in Philippians, however, it is clear that he grants this complete
journey to Jesus. Those who have faith in his salvific role, will, according to the apostle, attain
salvation. The model o f the journey adopted by Paul thus most closely conforms to the type
found in some intertestamental Jewish literature and Apuleius’s Metamorphoses. It will then be
shown that Paul’s understanding o f soul can act as a lens for viewing the basic tenets o f his
theology and for assessing the points o f contention within his churches. Specific attention will be
given to his ethical stance and eschatological teachings, and his insistence on a pneumatic
resurrected body will be placed within the context o f Greco-Roman and Jewish traditions.
The second chapter will examine the usefulness o f the soul for uncovering the disputes
between the communities surrounding the apostles Thomas and John. Because both o f these
groups possess their own gospels, which contain similar language and imagery, the areas of
conflict become clearer than in the previous chapter. Beginning with anthropology, it will be
shown that while the Gospel o f Thomas conforms to Greco-Roman dualism, the Gospel o f John
shows little concern for developing a clear constructing o f humanity, preferring instead to discuss
mankind only in its relationship to Jesus. When the emphasis turns to Jesus himself, however,
both texts are in agreement that he is on the complete journey o f the soul. Yet their different
anthropologies mean that each group has a distinct understanding o f the soul’s journey: while the
Gospel o f Thomas develops a standard philosophical formulation, the Gospel of John can only
admit, like Paul, that humans can partake in the second stage. Such divergent approaches to the
soul produce fundamentally different theologies, as the third section will show. Finally, a
comparison o f a few key passages in the Gospel o f Thomas and the Johannine literature will show
how the communities were in direct conflict over the post-mortem state. For Thomas
Christianity, life after death does not include the physical body, either in a fleshly or more
spiritually somatic form. It is this theological position that the community of John, after their
own internal disputes, ultimately rejects. They thus insist on the return o f the body of the living
13
person after death, although it will be argued that the ambiguities inherent in “bodily”
resurrection are such that even John’s physical description o f the post-mortem Jesus does not
conclusively settle the debate.
The focus o f the final chapter will be on the Apocryphon o f John, a Gnostic tractate from
Nag Hammadi that displays a more philosophically oriented debate on the soul. It will be argued
that the author’s cosmological and anthropological polemic aims at Hellenistic philosophy in
general and Stoicism in particular. In its final form the text may also be read as a critique of
second-century Christianity’s adoption o f some o f the tenets o f the philosophical schools, namely,
that the universe is wholly good and directed by God, and that the soul is responsible for attaining
knowledge and initiating bodily activity. The next section will then find that the church fathers
could object to the sort of anthropology found in the Apocryphon o f John because o f the
implications it had on the fields o f Logic and Ethics. When the Apocryphon o f John is judged on
its own merits, however, the fears o f these theologians are not fully justified: while the Gnostic
author imagines his community as members o f an elect group, the “immovable race,” such
assertions do not translate into the libertinist behavior that the church fathers deride. In fact, like
the other texts examined in this study, the Apocryphon o f John values a strict ethical stance
toward the world, using deterministic imagery only as a rhetorical device to distinguish its
community, the “seeds of Seth,” from the rest of humanity. The final section, an analysis of the
Apocryphon o f John’s use of the journey o f the soul, will find that the author’s eschatology
conforms in large measure to the model forwarded in Plato’s Phaedo. While it does not wholly
oppose the eschatological teachings o f the Great Church, its defense o f transmigration, rejection
of the body’s survival after death, and belief in the restoration o f a supercelestial realm (the
Pleroma) all find opposition in the writings o f the fathers.
The evidence from Part IV will show that, along with many other theological issues, there
was no uniform position regarding the soul in the first centuries after Christ. In contrast to the
Church’s later dogmatism, this project focuses on a period that has yet to establish “orthodox”
and “heretical” theologies. Thus, at this stage in Christian history, many subjects, the soul
14
included, remain open to debate. The existence of this fluidity provides the foundation for the
argument that different views o f the soul can both elucidate the theologies o f certain groups and
act as a window through which to view specific moments o f controversy. This study therefore
hopes to contribute to the growing body of literature on the diversity within early Christianity and
to illuminate a period of open speculation that ultimately prepared the way for later theologians to
formulate the Christian concept of the immortal soul.
m . Translations and Abbreviations
This study uses, when available, the Loeb editions for the Greek and Roman sources. I
have occasionally consulted other translations for the purposes o f updating the English, but
overall the modifications have been minor. Chief among these are Richmond Lattimore’s Iliad
and Odyssey, and Plato: The Collected Dialogues, edited by Edith Hamilton and Huntington
Cairns. For the Presocratic material, I have mainly used the translations found in the Kirk,
Raven, and Schofield’s The Presocratic Philosophers, although at times I have consulted
Kathleen Freeman’s Ancilla to the Pre-Socratic Philosophers. All Presocratic fragments and
testimonia are cited according to the edition by Hermann Diels and Walther Kranz, Die
Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, 5th ed., 3 vols. (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung), 1934.
Thus, according to common convention, “22B1” means Diels-Kranz, chapter 22 (in this case
Heraclitus), fragment 1. The notation “B” refers to fragments, while “A” corresponds to
testimonia. For the Stoic material I have used, in addition to the Loeb editions, A.A. Long and
D.N. Sedley, eds., The Hellenistic Philosophers, 2 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1987). I have also followed traditional methods by citing the original source and, when a
cross-reference exists, providing the reference to Hans F.A. von Amim, Stoicorum Vetenim
Fragmenta (=SVF), 4 vols. (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner), 1903-1924.
The NRSV and Nestle-Aland’s Greek-English New Testament (26th ed.) have been my
source for the biblical references. For the Gospel o f Thomas and the Apocryphon o f John I have
relied on the critical texts in the Brill series, although occasionally I have consulted Marvin
15
Meyer’s translation o f the Gospel o f Thomas in the Q-Thomas Reader (Sonoma, CA: Polebridge
Press, 1990). I have also followed Meyer’s subdivisions o f logia. Patristic citations are taken
from the Ante-Nicene Fathers series, although for TertuIIian’s De anima I relied primarily on the
translation by Edwin A Quain from the Fathers of the Church series.
PA RTI
CHAPTER I
A HISTORY OF SCHOLARSHIP ON THE SOUL
Writing a Forschimgsbericht on the journey o f the soul presents a variety of challenges,
not least o f which is the fact that no such work has been done in quite the same manner as this
study proposes. This is not to say, o f course, that research on the soul has been neglected.
Indeed, this chapter will show that this topic has interested a great many scholars over the last
century. Still, viewing the development of the concept o f the soul as it appears in both Greek and
Near Eastern traditions as a prelude to understanding how early Christianity inherited the idea of
the “journey o f the soul,” and moreover, how different expressions o f this journey may help in
highlighting the diversity within early Christianity, has yet to be fully articulated. As the history
of research in this area does not follow a smooth chronological progression, it seems appropriate
to begin by outlining the work that shows the most breadth on the subject o f the soul, Erwin
Rohde’s Psyche. Thereafter, the second section will proceed thematically, showing how
scholarship has evaluated Rohde’s thesis on the major issues. Finally, the chapter will close with
a survey o f scholarship on Zoroastrianism’s influence on the West and the soul in Early
Christianity, two areas that Rohde failed to address but that are essential for this study.
16
17
I. Rohde’s Psyche
The earliest and most comprehensive study on the soul remains Erwin Rohde’s Psyche:
The Cult ofSouls and the Belief in Immortality Among the Greeks.1 As the subtitle suggests, this
book sought to give a “clearer presentation o f the origin and development” o f the cult of souls
and the emergence of the idea of immortality.2 These two subjects, while not completely
unrelated, were nevertheless conceived by Rohde as independent studies.3 In the Preface to the
first edition, he remarks that “The Cult of Souls and the faith in immortality may eventually come
together at some points, but they have a different origin and travel most o f the way on separate
paths.” While he thought that the former could be traced back to the primitive beliefs in ancestor
cult, the concept o f immortality, he argues, “arises from a spiritual intuition which reveals the
souls of men as standing in close relationship, and indeed as being of like substance, with the
everlasting gods. And simultaneously the gods are regarded as being in their nature like the soul
of man, i.e. as free spirits needing no material or visible body.”4 Although the Preface to the
second edition described the aim of the work in rather modest fashion as a “brief and
compendious statement... for the benefit o f those who wished to take a hasty glance over the
subject,”5 it has nevertheless long been recognized as the starting point for all further discussions
on the subject. The following survey will emphasize the contributions of Psyche and identify
areas where his analysis has been challenged.
In the first part of Psyche, Rohde seeks to prove that the cult of souls was a prominent
feature o f Greek religious life prior to the Archaic period. He defends this thesis, not by
appealing to comparative studies or examples of primitive thought in later Greek religion, both of
which enjoyed widespread popularity at this time, but rather to the Homeric poems themselves.
His methodology may be summed up as follows: if it is possible to detect certain “isolated
1Erwin Rohde, Psyche: The Cult o f Souls and the Belief in Immortality Among the Greeks, 8th ed.,
trans. W. B. Hillis (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1925). The first edition was published in
1894.
2 Rohde, Psyche, xiv.
3 The first part of the book was originally published in 1890.
4 Rohde, Psyche, xv.
5 Rohde, Psyche, xvii-xviii.
18
occurrences, customs, [and] forms o f speech” that contrast with the “otherwise so uniform and
rounded Homeric world,” then these aberrations should be viewed as primitive “survivals” whose
original significance was either no longer understood or important.5
Homeric examples of a belief in the cult o f souls are numerous according to Rohde. The
most obvious instance surrounds the funeral ceremonies for Patroclus.7 Here he notes that such
an elaborate ritual cannot be understood if the author has the Homeric soul in mind.8 Instead, he
argues that this ritual must go back to a time when the soul was thought to maintain some level of
power after death: “The whole narrative presupposes the idea that by the pouring out o f streams
o f blood, by offerings of wine and burnt offerings o f human beings and o f cattle, the psyche of a
person lately dead can be refreshed, and its resentment mollified.”9 Such a scene, along with
other cases o f rituals extended to the dead,10 suggest to Rohde that primitive Greeks propitiated
the spirits of dead because the latter were thought to maintain some sort o f connection with the
living.
If the Homeric epics show only traces o f a belief in the cult o f souls, Hesiod’s Works and
Days provides more tangible evidence. Rohde argues that in the story o f the five ages of
mankind,11 a cult of souls may be detected in the post-mortem fate o f those belonging to the
Golden and Silver Ages. Both races of men died and then became immortal.12 Additionally,
6 Rohde, Psyche, 11-12. This implies, as Rohde observes, that “the poems do not stand at the
beginning o f that evolution [of Greek civilization]. Indeed, they only stand at the beginning o f Greek Epic
poetry” (1 1, see also 156). For Rohde, the Homeric break with earlier belief in the cult of souls is a
reflection o f the insular Ionian society in which the epics arose. Distanced from mainland Greece, the
Ionians lost contact with traditional ancestor cults, which had always been localized at the gravesite. This
development was hastened by the institution o f cremation and the nascent tendency to view the soul, not as
a physical substance, but as an abstract quality representing “life” (24-32). He writes, “If, then, we find on
the whole, and apart from a few vagaries in detail, a single unified picture o f the world, o f gods and men,
life and death, given in these two poems, that is the picture which shaped itself in the mind of Homer and
was impressed upon his work, and afterward preserved by the Homeridai” (25).
7 II. 23.
8 The Homeric soul is powerless and has no ability to affect the world of the living. Thus, he
reasons, there would be no need to propitiate it through funerary rituals.
9 Rohde, Psyche, 14.
10 See, for instance, It. 6.418; 23.29-34; 24.802; Od. 9.65-66; 10.517-528; 11.29-33; 12.13.
11 Works 106-201.
12 In contrast to the Homeric concept o f immortality, in which a person does not experience death
but rather lives eternally with both body and soul. See, for instance, II. 20.232-235; Od. 4.561-570; 5.135-
136; 333-335; 23.333-336.
19
Hesiod’s explanation that the Silver Generation is also accorded worship implies that their
predecessors receive it as well. This evidence therefore indicates that Hesiod is recounting the
primitive belief in ancestor worship.13 Yet this cult o f souls is restricted to the distant past, for
Hesiod offers no indication that disembodied souls o f his own Age, that o f Iron, can achieve the
status o f the earliest generations. On this point, Rohde remarks, “the Homeric poems have
triumphed”; the souls o f the present age have no other option than to descend to the house o f
Hades as lifeless and helpless shadows.14
Rohde closes his discussion o f the Works and Days by observing that the cult o f souls,
despite the influence o f Homer, had not completely vanished. The cult of souls, or, more
precisely, a form o f the primitive ancestor worship described by Hesiod, reappears, according to
Rohde, with the emergence of the cult o f heroes. The worship directed toward these select
heroes, who were believed to have the ability to influence the world o f the living, are a survival
kept alive by cult activity rather than the poetic imagination.15 And just as hero cults become
visible after the Homeric period, so too does the cult o f souls, although the former apparently did
not have any direct influence on this development. Rather, Rohde posits that the cult of souls
flourished separately as a product of funerary ceremonies spurred by familial obligation. Rohde
insists that the establishment of these rites for the departed provides the foundation for later
speculation on the immortal soul: “It can hardly be doubted that here we have the root of all belief
in future life o f the soul.” 16
13 Rohde, Psyche, 78. That this material is not an invention o f the poet may be surmised from
Rohde’s observation that “The Boeotian school of poetry to which he [Hesiod] belonged was far removed
from, and indeed, hostile to the free inventiveness and roaming fancy” o f the Homeric school (72).
15 Rohde, Psyche, 120-121. Rohde exclaims: “in the cult o f the ‘Hero’ a still burning spark of
ancient belief is kindled to renewed flame— it is not the appearance o f something entirely strange and new,
but something long past and half-forgotten is awakened to new life” (120). The cult o f ancestors and its
later manifestation as the cult o f heroes are distinguished from the cult o f souls in that the former are
restricted to the famous ancestors of humanity. The cult of souls, on the other hand, refers to a more
general belief that all souls retain a conscious existence after death (117-118).
Rohde believed that the hero cults were closely connected with the history o f chthonic deities,
which itself appears to be o f ancient origin (see his discussion on 158), and thus could not be thought o f as
a post-Homeric invention. Instead, he argues that they “re-emerged from the repressive influence of
Homeric rationalism” (122).
20
Part Two of his study is thus devoted to an analysis o f the more acute forces that led to
the belief in the immortal soul. Although he thinks that the cult of souls provided the deep
background for the emergence of the concept of immortality, it is clear that this alone was not
enough, for it was only so long as the dead spirit was remembered in cult that it could be thought
o f as surviving death: “if that memory dies out, if the venerating thoughtfulness o f the living
ceases, the soul o f the departed is at once deprived of the sole element in which it still maintained
its shadow of an existence.”17 The soul was simply not thought of as immortal, that is, as a god;
only in a few rare and miraculous circumstances, outside the realm o f possibility for the average
Greek, could the chasm that separated man from the divine be bridged.18
Since the notion of immortality could not have been cultivated on Greek soil, Rohde
looks beyond its borders to Thrace. Here, in the ecstatic, mystical worship of Dionysus, he
locates the origins of the immortal soul.19 Yet as it existed in Thrace, the cult of Dionysus
showed nothing more than a vaguely conceived penchant for spiritual enthusiasm in which the
soul was temporarily separated from the body in a moment of divine possession.20 It was left to
the more philosophically minded Greeks to harness and transform this visceral energy into a
coherent anthropological system:
in the ecstatic cult of Dionysus, under the influence o f Greek reflection upon
God, the world, and mankind, the seeds which previously lay undeveloped in the
womb of that cult were unfolded in a mystical doctrine, whose guiding principle
was the divinity of the human soul and the infiniteness of its life in God. It was
from this source that Greek philosophy found the courage to advance a doctrine
o f the immortality of the soul.21
These ideas, always on the fringes of the Greek mainstream, eventually led to the notion that the
soul was actually in opposition to the body. A cathartic regimen was therefore needed to ensure

18 To think of the soul as a divine being, Rohde argues, “would have contradicted every single idea
o f Greek popular religion” (Psyche, 254).
19 Rohde, Psyche, 254-266.
20 Rohde CPsyche, 265) remarks that the Thracians “never quite outgrew a sort of semi-animated
torpor o f the intellect.”
21
that the former maintained its purity. Although such ideas can be discerned in certain religious
enthusiasts,22 Rohde finds a more lasting impression of such beliefs in the emergence o f Orphism.
According to Rohde, Orphism emerged in the second half o f the sixth century, after the
Greeks’ initial encounter with the cult o f Dionysus. As the ecstatic cult became “Hellenized,”
however, Rohde imagines that some followers o f Dionysus sought to preserve the original form
o f worship. This second wave o f Dionysian enthusiasm was adopted again by Greeks, who
proceeded to mold it into a distinct Orphic sect based on Greek forms o f piety. As a result, “the
kathartic ideas which had been evolved on Greek soil were combined in a not unnatural alliance
with the old Thracian worship o f Dionysus.”23 It is with this sect that it becomes possible to
speak of the immortality o f the soul, for their anthropogony asserts that through its embodiment,
the soul comes to recognize that “it lives for ever like God, for it comes from God and is itself
divine.”24
While the belief that the soul is immortal and has an individual existence apart from the
body was a fundamental doctrine for the Orphics,25 Rohde emphasizes that this view was by no
means universally held. The Presocratic philosophers, while affirming that psyche exhibited the
power of life, both in the cosmos and in humans, nevertheless did not hold the soul to be a
spiritual essence distinct from the material world, nor did they concern themselves with the
question of individual immortality. For the Ionians the soul was simply a part of the larger primal
force that permeated the universe.26 Rohde also sees little in the tragedians to suggest that they
meditated on the soul’s indestructibility. Indeed, immortality was either viewed in the traditional
22 Such as Abaris, Aristeas, Epimenides, and Hermotimus (see Rohde, Psyche, 300-301).
23 Rohde, Psyche, 338 (see also 335-336).
25 Rohde (Psyche, 337) thinks it probable that the immortal soul emerged in Orphic circles and
was thereupon accepted by the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras’s “doctrine o f the s o u l... simply reproduces in
essentials the fancifiil ideas of the old popular psychology, as it had been enlarged and transformed by the
theologi and the purification priests” (376).
26 Consequently, he states that “Physiology, the science of the world and all the phenomena in the
world could never lead to the conception o f the soul’s separateness from nature and its life” (Rohde,
Psyche, 376).
22
Homeric manner o f fame and glory through poetry or according to the popular conviction that the
soul, as air or aether, simply returned to its original station after death.27
Rohde argues that while the Orphic position was given philosophic legitimization by
Plato, who placed the concept of the immortal soul within his ontological scheme, the dialogues
mark an end to speculation on the subject: philosophic innovation gave way to a focus on
empiricism and rationalism based on Hellenistic science.28 In addition to this shift in philosophic
emphasis, Rohde demonstrates that the popular belief o f the soul, as expressions o f the ancient
cult of the souls, “went on unaltered and with undiminished vigor.”29 Side by side with this
position, funerary inscriptions show that the general population held myriad views regarding the
post-mortem state,30 leading Rohde to conclude that “All the various modes o f conceiving the life
enjoyed by the soul after the death o f the body ... were admitted on equal footing to the
consciousness o f the Greeks in this late period o f their maturity.”31 By the end o f antiquity Rohde
felt that the Greeks had succumbed to a “failure o f nerve” that saw an irrational mysticism, which
was characteristic o f the lower classes during an earlier age, take hold o f the educated as well.
The Greek way of life, which had become moribund, gave way to a “newer faith, veiy differently
endowed and having power to crush the heavily laden soul and point it upwards in absolute
submission to the divine compassion.”32

28 Rohde, Psyche, 490-493. Plato himself shows that his doctrine of the soul was strange and
unfamiliar to even his more erudite friends. See, for instance, Phaedo 69e-70a, 77b, 80d; Republic 608d.
29 The seriousness with which proper funerary practices implies that “the dead survive to enjoy at
least a gloomy sepulchral existence in their last resting-place” (Rohde, Psyche, 526).
30 Rohde (Psyche, 539) remarks that, with respect to funeral inscriptions, “the first thing that must
arrest our attention is the complete silence maintained by the enormous majority o f these inscriptions with
regard to any hope—however formulated—or any expectation of a life o f the soul after death.” These
inscriptions exhibit a variety o f beliefs: that the soul departs to Hades; that the soul ascends into the aither,
and, least prevalent, a belief in the Platonic teaching of the soul (Rohde, Psyche, 540-542).
23
II. The Soul Since Rohde
It is not surprising that a book so provocative and vast in scope as Psyche should have
elicited considerable reaction among scholars. While there have been some sharp criticisms,
most have recognized Rohde’s work to be a seminal accomplishment in the history o f classical
scholarship.33 Yet although Psyche still remains a starting point for studies on a variety o f Greco-
Roman topics, research has not remained still since its publication and many scholars have found
reason to question, modify, and refine Rohde’s conclusions. In general, however, the major
thrust of his thesis remains a valid point of departure for classical studies on the soul. Still, it
must be remembered that the book evinces a late nineteenth-century perspective, and to that
extent it should not be read uncritically.
Homeric Anthropology and a Primitive Cult o f Souls
Rohde begins his analysis o f the Homeric soul (\|/'uxfi) by emphasizing its role as a
wraith or image in Hades. He thereafter seeks to identify what implications this might have for
the soul in the living person. He concludes that the psyche acts as a Doppelgdnger, only
becoming active in sleep or during dreams. This position, which has generated much discussion
for its dependence on the animistic theories o f Herbert Spencer and E.B. Tylor, found its first and
most vocal critic in Walter Otto.34 Otto objects first to Rohde’s use of Pindar to support his
contention that the Homeric psyche acts as a “second self.” In particular, Pindar says that the
aicovoq eiScoXov {-psyche) comes from the gods and acts as the medium through which dreams
33 Typical is the statement o f E.R. Dodds {The Greeks and the Irrational [Boston: Beacon Press,
1957], 65), who, in his analysis of prophetic and ritualistic madness, says “I shall o f course be standing, as
we all stand, on the shoulders of Rohde.”
34 Walter F. Otto, Die Manen oder Von den Urformen des Totenglaubens, 2nd ed. (Darmstadt:
Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1962). See also Maurice Halbwachs, “La Representation de 1’Ame
chez les Grecs: Le Double Corporel et le Double Spirituel,” Revue de Metaphysique et de Morale 37
(1930): 502; Martin P. Nilsson, Geschichte der Griechischen Religion, vol. I (Munich: C.H. Beck’sche
Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1941), 178-179; Wemer Jaeger, The Theology o f the Early Greek Philosophers
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1947), 73-89; Jan N. Bremmer, The Early Greek Concept o f the Soul (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1983), 6-8; Walter Burkert, Greek Religion: Archaic and Classical, trans. John
Raffan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985), 195, n. 8.
24
occur. Neither o f these attributes, however, can be found in Homer.35 Second, Otto criticizes
Rohde’s method o f first looking at the soul as a shade in Hades in order to determine its role in
the living person. The primary meaning o f psyche in Homer, Otto argues, is “life.”36 As he
argues, this term originally had no connection to the wraith, which was itself grounded in
primitive conceptions of the ghosts o f the dead.37 At a later time, however, as the final breaths of
the dying person were observed, it was reasoned that this life-force was that which existed in the
post-mortem world.38
Otto’s hypothesis has its own weaknesses, however, as other commentators have noted.39
For instance, his insistence that psyche always referred to “life” throughout the epics has not gone
unchallenged, and his tendency to attribute rational and logical deductions to early Greek thought
was precisely how he had censured Rohde.40 Moreover, he also relies too heavily on studies o f
primitive cultures, which led him to conclude that two souls appear in Homer 41 Further studies,
however, have helped to highlight the complexity o f soul-terminology in Homer. A few decades
after Rohde, Richard Onians attempted a thorough examination o f the background and
35 Otto, Manen, 16-20. Otto emphasizes that Pindar’s anthropology “einer gSnzlich veranderten
Denkart angehdren” (16). The same criticisms have been echoed by Jaeger, Theology, 75-76; and Dodds,
Greeks and the Irrational, 135, n. 1. Bremmer (Early Greek Concept, 18-19) has remarked that dreams in
Homer serve a specific literary purpose and thus “cannot be taken as informing about the whole real dream-
experience o f the early Greeks.” See also Dodds, Greeks and the Irrational, 104-109.
36 Otto, Manen, 25-31, 56: “In Wirklichkeit ist die Bedeutung ‘Leben,’ wie wir nun wissen, bei
Homer die allein herrschende.”
37 Otto, Manen, 40-45.
38 Otto, Manen, 55-57.
39 A brief summary of opinions after Otto is found in Robert Garland, “The Causation of Death in
the Iliad: A Theological and Biological Investigation,” Bulletin o f the Institute o f Classical Studies 28
(1981): 48-49.
40 See Jaeger, Theology, 76-78, 81. Jaeger, citing the w ork o f Ernst Bickel (Homerischer
Seelenglaube, [Berlin, 1925]), believes that psyche must have originally meant “breath,” a point that Otto
relegated to a pre-Homeric stage {Manen, 57). For a comment on Jaeger’s analysis, see W.K.C. Guthrie,
The Greeks and Their Gods (Boston: Beacon Press, 1950), 299, n. 2.
41 Otto {Manen, 37) thought that Homeric man had two distinct souls: the thymos or “life-soul”
and the psyche, the eidolon of the dead. On this point, see the criticisms of Thomas Jahn, Zum Wortfeld
“Seele-Geist” in der Sprache Homers {Munich: C.H. Beck’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1987), 165-166;
E.L. Harrison, “Notes on Homeric Psychology,” Phoenix 14 (I960): 69-70. Jahn has described this period
in which studies on primitive psychology were applied to Homeric ideas on the soul as “recht unergiebig”
(166).
25
development o f Greco-Roman anthropological concepts.42 The breath-soul, so often equated with
the psyche by modem commentators, appears to be more precisely ascribed to the Gupoq, which
he contends, resides in the lungs or (j>peveq.43 Because Homer distinguishes between the psyche
and the thymos, Onians reasons that the former must be something different. He concludes that
the psyche was more generally regarded as the “life-principle” comprised o f “something gaseous
and so liable to be ‘breathed forth,’ [which is] possibly identified with the shadow.”44 Moreover,
because the head was thought to contain the principle of life, Onians hypothesizes that it was
there that the psyche must reside.45 The high regard in which the psyche was held can thus be
seen in the way in which the epics discuss the head: in addition to representing the entire person
as the seat o f life, it is held to be honored and holy.46
Equating Homeric psychological entities with physical organs in the body was the subject
of a major study before Onians47 and has continued to find varying levels o f support in scholarly
literature.48 Somewhat subtler, however, is the position taken by Bruno Snell49 In his
42 Richard Broxton Onians, The Origins o f European Thought About the Body, the Mind, the Soul,
the World, Time, and Fate, 2ad ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1954). In its original form,
the book was completed in 1929, but it doubled in size by the time o f its first publication in 1951.
43 Onians, Origins o f European Thought, 44-48, 94.
44 Onians, Origins o f European Thought, 94-95. In later literature, the head was thought to
possess the seed of life, which led Onians to conclude that the psyche was probably associated with the
“cerebro-spinal fluid” (108).
45 Onians, Origins o f European Thought, 96.
46 See, for instance, II. 17.240-242; 18.82; Od. 15.260-263; 22.218, 462-463. Onians finds
nodding and sneezing as evidence for this. See II. 1.524-527; 4.266-267; 13.368-369; Od. 17.541-547.
The correlation between psyche and head may be supported by the observation that “in Homer the vyuxo
apparently has no part in ordinary waking life and might well be thought to be resident in the head, the
contents o f which, unlike those o f the breast, also seem not to move in ordinary waking life” (Onians,
Origins o f European Thought, 102).
' 47 Joachim BShme, Die Seele und das Ich im homerischen Epos (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner, 1929).
As Jahn (Zum Wortfeld, 167-171) notes, however, BOhme did not think that all of Homer’s psychological
terms could be directly related to bodily organs.
48 While Harrison (“Notes on Homeric Psychology,” 65) states: “Ultimately, I believe, all mental
terminology in Homer had this sort of physical origin,” D.J. Furley (“The Early History o f the Concept of
Soul,” Bulletin o f the Institute o f Classical Studies 3 [1956]: 3) and Shirley Darcus Sullivan (Psychological
and Ethical Ideas: What Early Greeks Say [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1995], 17) have found that the relationship
between psychological entities and the body varies. Against the “organic” approach is David B. Claus,
Toward the Soul: An Inquiry into the Meaning o f y/v%ri before Plato (New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press, 1981, 13-15, 19-21.
49 Bruno Snell, The Discovery o f the M ind in Greek Philosophy and Literature (New York: Dover
Publications, Inc., 1982), 1-22. This book was first published in 1953. A review o f Snell’s thesis and
26
examination o f the thymos, noos, and psyche, Snell does not locate each in a specific region o f the
body, but rather argues that these psychological agents are defined by analogies to the physical
organs.50 He thus maintains that thymos is the organ that determines physical motion, the noos
the organ o f the intellect, and the psyche as “the breath o f life which ... departs through the
mouth” as “a semi-concrete organ.”sl Against previous studies that have engaged in various
speculations on the function of the psyche in the living man, though, Snell emphasizes that what
can be known from Homer is frustratingly meager. And because his methodological principle
asserts that we cannot know things that Homer passes over in silence, he offers little more to say
on the subject.52
Despite Snell’s caution, the subject o f the conception o f the individual in the epics has
received further attention. Jan Bremmer, in particular, has highlighted the complexity and
richness o f Homeric psychological vocabulary by appealing to the research o f other primitive
cultures.53 Bremmer begins by citing the anthropological work o f Ernst Arbman and his students
on the conceptions o f the soul in India, North America, and North Eurasia. According to
Arbman, whose investigations focused on India,54 the Vedic notion o f the soul consists o f a free
soul, which remains inactive during normal life while the person is conscious but becomes active
during periods of unconsciousness (i.e. in swoons, dreams, trances), and body souls, which
comprised the life soul (associated with breath) and ego souls representing the inner life o f the
criticisms can be found in Shirley Darcus Sullivan, Psychological Activity in Homer: A Study ofPhren
(Ottawa, Canada: Carleton University Press, 1988), 2-12.
50 Snell, Discovery, 15: “what we interpret as the soul, Homeric man splits up into three
components [psyche, thymos, and noos] each of which he defines by the analogy of the physical organs.”
Jahn (Zum Wortfeld, 172), in reference to Snell’s work, says that “seine Version der Wortfeldstruktur stellt
lediglich eine Vereinfachung von Bbhmes Modell dar.” The thesis of his work is that the psychological
words available to Homer were interchangeable and were variously used according to poetic necessities.
51 Snell, Discovery, 9.
52 Snell, Discovery, be: the Homeric poems are o f such a length that “we need not hesitate to draw
our conclusions, if necessary, ex silentio. If some things do not occur in Homer though our modem
mentality would lead us to expect them, we are entitled to assume that he had no knowledge of them.” This
methodology has been rightly criticized by Harrison, “Notes on Homeric Psychology,” 79; Robert
Renehan, “The Meaning o f EQMA in Homer: A Study in Methodology,” California Studies in Classical
Antiquity 12 (1979): 269-282; Sullivan, Psychological Activity, 1-2.
53 See n. 34.
54 Bremmer cites Ernst Arbman, “Untersuchungen zur primitiven Seelenvorstellung mit
besonderer Rilcksicht auf Indien,” Le Monde Oriental 20 (1926): 85-222 and 21 (1927): 1-185.
27
person.55 With this model as a foundation, Bremmer builds the case that in the Archaic Greek
world, the body souls correspond to the thymos, noos, and menos.56 The history o f the psyche, on
the other hand, is a bit more complex: while Bremmer identifies it as the free soul, he posits that
in the poems it also represents the life soul through its etymological link to “breath.” He thus
envisions a scenario in which prior to Homer, “the Greeks in all probability had a word for the
free soul that was gradually replaced by the life so u l... Psyche has already absorbed the role of
the free soul as the soul of the dead, but it has not lost all of its connections with its original
function as breath.”57 He concludes that the Greek conception of the soul was not dualistic but
multiple, and that it would not be until the Classical Age that psyche became the word used to
denote a unitary soul.58
Shirley Darcus Sullivan has also focused her research on examining the intricate portrait
of Homeric psychology.59 In her analysis of psyche in Homer, she identifies three basic
meanings: breath; the shade, or the part o f the individual that descends to Hades; and life in the
sense of an energy or force that “makes a person live.”60 In order to explain how psyche could
become a prominent attribute within the living person after Homer, Sullivan posits, as have many
before her, that psyche gradually incorporated the functions associated with the thymos.61 This
process was furthered, she contends, by Homer’s depiction o f the shade as representing the
character of the individual, and under certain circumstances, having the ability to speak and act.62
55 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 9.

56 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 53-63. Bremmer notes, however, that the Homeric body souls
are more varied than Arbman had realized.
57 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 24. By examining the funerary customs, Bremmer finds
support for his notion o f psyche as the free soul (Early Greek Concept, 70-124). This corresponds well
with Rohde’s thoughts on the cult o f souls.
58 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 66-69. This conclusion supports the work o f Claus, Toward
the Soul, 69-102.
59 Shirley Darcus Sullivan, “A Person’s Relation to yuxT] in Homer, Hesiod, and the Greek Lyric
Poets,” Glotta 57 (1979): 30-39; idem, “A Multi-Faceted Term: Psyche in Homer, the Homeric Hymns, and
Hesiod,” Studi Italiani di Filologia Classica 6 (1988): 151-180; idem, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 14-
122 .
60 Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 78-79.
61 See Sullivan, “Multi-Faceted Term,” 154, n. 6.
62 Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 79-80,
28
This expansion o f the role of the psyche is especially apparent in lyric and elegiac poetry,63 as
well as in the fragments o f the Presocratics. These sources thus reflect an important link in the
development ofpsyche and help explain how the term eventually came “to function as the chief
psychological agent within the individual, the centre o f intellect, emotion, and will.”64
The above studies, while not always addressing Rohde specifically, have all sought to
arrive at a better understanding of the concept o f the Homeric soul.65 While Rohde’s desire to
explain the role o f the psyche in terms o f contemporary theories on animism has not withstood the
critique o f later scholars, in general it may be said that more recent work on the soul has refined
and expanded rather than overturned his research.
Evidence for a Primitive Cult o f Souls
As stated above, Rohde makes the case that the cult o f souls has an ancient history in
Greece that can be detected in Homer and Hesiod. As it stands, this belief appears to rest on solid
evidence, both literary and archaeological. Yet in a few particular instances, Rohde’s hypothesis
has been subject to re-examination.
Rohde, like many of his contemporaries, thought that different forms o f burial customs
signified different views o f the afterlife. Thus, the funeral rites and games surrounding the death
o f Patroclus are evidence for a belief in a cult o f souls, while the predominance o f cremation in
the Homeric poems signaled, for Rohde, a break with the ancient (mainland) belief that the souls
of the dead could influence the lives o f the living.66 Two objections have been made to this
thesis. First, on the existence o f a cult o f souls, Lewis Famell argues that Rohde fails to “clearly
distinguish between ‘tendence’ and cultus.” In other words, he thinks that “There is nothing that
Achilles does for the dead Patroclus that might not be prompted by his strong affection .... All
this need only mean that the departing soul is sent away with eclat to the unknown region where
63 For instance, Hipp. 39; Anacr. 360; Theog. 529-530; Sim. 8.12-13; Pin. Pyth. 4.122; Isth. 4.53.
64 Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 119.
65 Work on this issue did not begin with Rohde, but predates him by over a century. For an
overview of the problem, see the Forschungsbericht of Jahn, Zum Wortfeld, 124-181.
29
once arrived he will trouble the living no more.”67 He continues by questioning whether the
funeral games reflect cult activity, suggesting that the religious aspect need not be “primary and
aboriginal.” While he does note that athletic contests could be arranged for reasons other than
religious worship,68 it remains clear that the games surrounding the death o f Patroclus occur
within a funeral setting. Consequently, while all games may not have had a religious
significance, the burden o f proof rests on those who contend that the scenes in Iliad 23 are devoid
o f religious meaning.
Second, differences in burial customs may not reflect divergent beliefs in life after death.
Walter Burkert and others have noted that such a conclusion cannot be sustained: cremation and
inhumation are simply not as alien from one another as was once thought.69 Bremmer
underscores this point with an appeal to comparative studies, and concludes that “there is now
overwhelming evidence from all parts o f the world that the presence or absence o f burial, the
change from burial to cremation and vice versa, or the gifts o f burial goods, do not in themselves
indicate beliefs in an afterlife.”70 While Burkert hypothesizes that the use o f both forms of
funerary rites may have been due to economic considerations “or simply unpredictable fashion,”71
Bremmer has offered a social explanation. According to him, differences in burial customs
reflect the individual’s social status: cremations were given to those with proper civic status,
while inhumation was restricted to those who were infranormal or marginalized within the
community, for instance, young children, adolescents, and slaves.72
67 Lewis Richard Famell, Greek Hero Cults and Ideas o f Immortality (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1921), 6-7.
68 Famell (Greek Hero Cults, 7) states that games were “in vogue” at weddings, funerals, and
temple-worship, and “it would be an absurdity to suppose that the primitive Hellenes could not arrange a
race or a wrestling-match as a secular frolic.”
69 Burkert, Greek Religion, 191, n. 7. Burkert writes: “Inhumation and cremation are found side
by side in the same— in Crete they even appear together in the same grave; in the accompanying ritual and
in the grave goods no difference can be detected; nor is the purpose to destroy the corpse, for the bones are
collected all the more piously and stored in an um.” This point was already recognized by Famell, Greek
Hero Cults, 393.
70 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 95.
71 Burkert {Greek Religion, 191) cites the possibility of shortages of wood.
72 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 94-108.
30
Rohde’s analysis of Hesiod’s Works and Days has also been challenged. According to
his reading, the description of the Golden and Silver Ages show that Hesiod attests to a worship
o f departed souls. The key phrase, x ip .f] K ai to io iv arcriSei,73 is directed toward the second race
of men and for Rohde provided incontrovertible proof of an archaic cult o f souls.74 More
recently, however, B.C. Dietrich has argued that this line “by itself does not warrant such an
assumption, for it probably does no more than balance Kcri t o u t o yepcxq pacxXfiiov ecxov.”75
Consequently, he denies that the Silver Age, at least, exerts any influence over the living, and
finds no overt evidence for ascribing cult worship to their predecessors.76 Yet Dietrich’s
confidence apparently has not become the communis opinio. In fact, M.L. West, while not
directly engaging Rohde or Dietrich over the problem of 1.142, nevertheless believes that the
(ldK ccpeq Svri'coi in the previous line are probably not divinities but rather were “favoured
mortals” to whom cult ritual was given.77
Yet another area of controversy surrounds the identity of the Keres. Rohde, citing the
famous phrase from the Dionysiac Anthesteria (“Out you Keres, the Anthesteria are over!”),
thought that the Keres must have originally been souls of the dead.78 Yet later commentators
have noticed that there are two variant readings for the subject: Kfjpe<; and Kdpeq. The latter
reading, which appears to have stronger transmission history, would then refer, not to
disembodied souls preying on the living, but rather to the Carians, slaves who had participated in
the Athenian celebration.79 In other sources, the Keres appear as “the actual manifestation o f the
73 Works 142.
74 Rohde, Psyche, 73, n. 39, citing Homeric parallels for support.
75 Works 126. B.C. Dietrich, Death, Fate and the Gods: The development o f a religious idea in
Greek popular belief and in Homer (London: The Athlone Press, 1967), 352-353.
At the same time, however, he seems to agree with Rohde that the first two generations
originated from hero or ancestor worship (Dietrich, Death, Fate and the Gods, 353-354).
77 M.L. West, Works and Days: Edited with Prolegomena and Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1978), 186-187. See also Famell, Greek Hero Cults, 12-13.
78 Rohde, Psyche, 9, n. 10; 168, n. 100. The phrase, “Out you Keres (or Kares), the Anthesteria
are over!” is from Zenobius 4.33.
79 A summary of the issue is found in Walter Burkert, Homo Necans: The Anthropology o f Ancient
Greek Sacrificial Ritual and Myth, trans. Peter Bing (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 226-
230; Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 113-118; and Richard Hamilton, Choes and Anthesteria: Athenian
Iconography and Ritual (Ann Arbor, MI: The University of Michigan Press, 1992), 50-51.
31
activity of a malicious agent,” not as souls o f the dead.80 Thus, in this case at least, it appears as
though Rohde’s zeal to find proof o f a cult o f souls has not succeeded.
These three issues suggest that Rohde’s hypotheses have not always been confirmed by
later studies. It could hardly be otherwise, however, after over a century o f research. Yet, as was
seen in the previous section, while some modifications and reformulations have been made to his
thesis, Rohde’s instincts for identifying layers o f religious thought within Archaic Age literature
have held together rather well.81
Dionysus, Iatromcmteis, and Orphism
Rohde hypothesized that Dionysus invaded Greece sometime after the Dorian invasion,
although by the time o f Homer its significance was negligible. Eventually, its ecstatic power
invaded the cult of Apollo and inspired certain religious enthusiasts to promote a religious
outlook based on the observance o f cathartic ritual practices. In the meantime, the enthusiastic
characteristics o f the Thracian Dionysus were harnessed by the Greeks and “Hellenized” so that it
became an acceptable cult. Eventually, however, the worship came to be regarded as too tame,
which led a group o f foreigners to reestablish its original tenets. This group then found support
from some Greeks, who transformed the cult once again into a religio-philosophical sect known
as Orphism. Ultimately, the cathartic ideas and the Orphic version o f Dionysus coalesced to the
point where the concept o f the immortality o f the soul becomes recognizable.82
Reactions to this part of Rohde’s book are plentiful. Regarding the origin o f Dionysus in
Greece, Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff agreed with Rohde about the late dating, but
thought that the cult came from Phrygia or Lydia, not Thrace.83 Nilsson, balancing the evidence
80 Dietrich, Death, Fate and the Gods, 240-241.

81 See the comments of Guthrie, Greeks and Their Gods, 294-306; Martin P. Nilsson, A History o f
Greek Religion, 2nd ed., trans. F.J. Fielden (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1964), 135-136.
82 Rohde, Psyche, 264-266, 282-284, 289-303, 335-336, 338.
83 Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Der Glaube der Hellenen, vol. 2, 3rd ed. (Basel: Benno
Schwabe and Co., 1959), 60-63. On dating the cult, he notes evidence from the Theogony and the Odyssey
and concludes: “Danach werden wir das Eindringen des neues Gottes in das Mutterland friihestens in das
achte Jahrhundert hinaufrQcken, aber sein Kampf um das Zulassung, sein Sieg und der Beginn seiner
Hellenisierung muB um 700 angesetzt werden” (60).
32
from Thrace and Asia Minor equally, suggests that the cult came to Greece from both regions.84
Walter Otto, on the other hand, has thoroughly critiqued this position in his attempt to show that
the god was autochthonous to Greece.85 He is especially critical of Rohde’s psychological and
physiological theories and his willingness to compare Dionysiac madness with modem
phenomena.86 In particular, he criticizes Rohde’s evaluation o f women and their role in
introducing the cult to Greece.87 Rohde’s contention that prophecy came to Greece through
Dionysus has also been subject to reevaluation. E.R. Dodds, among others, has sought to give the
prophetic role o f Apollo a more significant place in Greek history than Rohde allowed.88 Dodds
has observed that it is unlikely that Apolline prophecy could have been derived from Dionysiac
methods, and furthermore, that Apollo has a long history of cult worship both in Asia Minor
(prior to its colonization) as well as in Greece.89
84 Martin P. Nilsson, Minoan-Mycenaean Religion and its Survival in Greek Religion, 2nd ed.
(Lund: C.W.K. Gleerup, 1950), 492-500; and idem, Geschichte der Griechischen Religion, vol. 1, 532-533,
545-546. See also Lewis Richard Famell, The Cults o f the Greek States, vol. 5 (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1909), 85-86; 92-94; 101.
85 Walter F. Otto, Dionysus: Myth and Cult, trans. Robert B. Palmer (Bloomington, IN: Indiana
University Press, 1965), 52-64. Although his work in general has not been widely accepted, a Linear B
tablet unearthed from Pylos (Xa06) has revealed the name di-wo-nu-so-jo, suggesting that the Mycenaeans
had knowledge of the cult. See Michael Ventris and John Chadwick, Documents in Mycenaean Greek, 2nd
ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956), 127; John Chadwick, The Mycenaean World
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), 99-100; Jaan Puhvel, “Eleuther and Oinoatis: Dionysiac
Data from Mycenaean Greek,” in Mycenaean Studies: Proceedings o f the Third International Colloquium
fo r Mycenaean Studies held at “Wingspread, ” 4-8 September, 1961, ed. Emmett L. Bennett, Jr. (Madison:
University o f Wisconsin Press, 1964), 163; Miriam E. Caskey, “Ayia Irini, Kea: The Terracotta Statues and
the Cult in the Temple,” in Sanctuaries and Cults in the Aegean Bronze Age: Proceedings o f the First
International Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, 12-13 May, 1980, eds. Robin Hagg and Nanno
Marinatos (Sweden: Paul Astroms Forlag, 1981), 133, n. 28.
86 Otto, Dionysus, 122-132. Rohde had compared Dionysiac worship with contemporary mystical
experiences (Psyche, 262, 266), and had written that the cult reflects a “religious impulse that is to be found
all over the earth and which breaks out in every stage of civilization. It must, indeed, answer to an
instinctive need o f human nature ... rooted in the physical and psychical constitution o f man” (Psyche, 261).
He also surmised that this “Dionysiac fever” manifested itself in Greece because “there remained in the
constitution o f the Greek people a certain morbid weakness, a susceptibility to suddenly appearing and as
suddenly disappearing crises in which the normal powers of perceiving and feeling were temporarily
overthrown (Psyche, 286).
87 Otto, Dionysus, 126-127.
88 Dodds, Greeks and the Irrational, 68-70; Guthrie, Greeks and Their Gods, 199-200. On this
point Rohde appears to have been overly influenced by his friend Friedrich Nietzsche’s The Birth o f
Tragedy.
89 See also loan Petru Culianu, Psychanodia I: A Survey o f the Evidence Concerning the Ascension
o f the Soul and Its Relevance (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1983), 24-25.
33
Dodds has, however, agreed with and expanded Rohde’s discussion o f the ecstatic priests
o f the late Archaic Age. By claiming that the soul could leave the body for certain periods, seers
such as Abaris, Aristeas, Hermotimus, and Epimenides reflect a “new religious pattern” that
placed soul in opposition to body and made the former a substance o f divine origin.90 This new
pattern, Dodds argues, originated sometime in the seventh century as Greece, through trade and
colonization, became aware o f the shamanistic traditions found in Scythia. The ecstatic journeys
o f the shaman, as well as his belief in transmigration, were adopted by the religious prophets of
Greece as examples of magical power. The teaching o f metempsychosis was especially
popularized, Dodds hypothesizes, as Greeks struggled to find answers to the problem of evil:
“post-mortem punishment did not explain why the gods tolerated so much human suffering, and
in particular the unmerited suffering of the innocent. Reincarnation did.”91 At this point, the
shamanistic teaching o f reincarnation as a source o f power and privilege became revalued to
signify a burden from which mankind sought to escape, [n order to liberate the soul from this
“wheel o f fate,” purificatory rituals, such as those practiced by the Pythagoreans and Orphics,
became essential.92
Dodds’ attempt to link the Greek iatromanteis with shamanism has been a subject of
much controversy, eliciting strong opinions on both sides o f the debate. Before Dodds, Nilsson
had already made the same connection, and Vemant and Burkert have also voiced their assent
regarding this relationship.93 Yet Carsten Colpe and Bremmer have both noted that Dodds’s
thesis has met with considerable resistance.94 Bremmer, for example, has identified two major
90 Dodds, Greeks and the Irrational, 139.

93 Nilsson, Geschichte der Griechischen Religion, vol. 1, 582-587; idem, “The Immortality of the
Soul in Greek Religion,” Eranos 39 (1941): 6; Jean-Pierre Vemant, Myth and Thought Among the Greeks
(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983), 354-355; Walter Burkert, Lore and Science in Ancient
Pythagoreanism, trans. Edwin L. Minar, Jr. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1972), 120-165.
Burkert, however, is more tentative on this point in the preface to the English edition. See also Culianu,
Psychanodia I, 35.
94 Carsten Colpe (“Die ‘Himmelsreise der Seele’ Ausserhalb und Innerhalb der Gnosis,” in Le
Origini dello Gnosticismo: Colloquio di Messina 13-18 Apr He 1966, ed. Ugo Bianchi [Leiden: E.J. Brill,
1967], 435): “Nybergs [who made a case for shamanistic traits in Zoroaster] wie Dodds’ Interpretationen
haben die UberwSltigende Mehrheit der Iranisten und der Altphilologen gegen sich.” See also Bremmer,
34
reasons why it is unnecessary to posit an external influence on the development o f the Greek
concept of the soul. First, he argues that the “shamanistic” characteristic o f the ecstatic journey
o f the soul correlates to the notion o f the “free soul,” which he finds in Homer. The evidence o f
the transportation o f the soul found in the descriptions o f the iatromanteis is therefore viewed as
an extension of the Homeric psyche. There is no need to posit any influence from Central Asia or
elsewhere. Second, Bremmer finds the thesis connecting Greek seers with shamanism supported
by tenuous evidence. In the case of Aristeas and Abaris, he shows that the shamanistic parallels
are not conclusive, while some evidence that may be connected to the thought world o f the
shamans was not practiced by them exclusively.95 He concludes with the observation that even if
the Scythians viewed the soul in the way Dodds envisions (an argument that Bremmer regards as
“unproven” ), “Ecstasy and the journey o f the soul occur in too many places to be distinguishing
traits.”96
The controversies surrounding the nature and significance o f Orphism are equally
polarized. On one end of the spectrum, Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff and Ivan Linforth
have minimized the Orphic phenomenon and even questioned whether it is possible to speak of
an Orphic religion at all.97 On the other end the research of Rohde and others are willing to assert
the existence of a distinct Orphic sect or community with rites, practices, and dogma.98 In the
middle (but closer to Rohde) lies the work o f Nilsson and Guthrie,99 who, while cautiously
admitting the existence of Orphic groups, at the same time attempt to place it within the larger
Early Greek Concept, 24-53: Dodds’s “interpretation has recently been unanimously rejected by those
scholars who have sought a more detailed definition of the shamanistic complex” (48).
95 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 46-48. This last statement does not rule out shamanistic
influence, as Bremmer himself recognizes.
96 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 47-48.
97 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Glaube der Hellenen, vol. 2, 191-200; Ivan M. Linforth, The Arts o f
Orpheus (New York: Amo Press, 1973), 164-173, 291-292. Linforth’s book was first published in 1941.
98 For a short history of the debate, see Larry J. Alderink, Creation and Salvation in Ancient
Orphism (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981), 7-23; Walter Burkert, “Craft Versus Sect: The Problem of
Orphics and Pythagoreans,” in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, vol. 3, eds. Ben F. Meyer and E.P.
Sanders, (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982), 2, n. 4.
99 Martin P. Nilsson, “Early Orphism and Kindred Religious Movements,” Harvard Theological
Review 28 (1935): 181-230; idem, Geschichte der Griechischen Religion, vol. 1, 642-662; W.K.C. Guthrie,
Orpheus and Greek Religion: A Study o f the Orphic Movement (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1993). Guthrie’s book was first published in 1935.
35
scope o f late archaic religious thought100 Such divergent conclusions hinge largely on
methodological presuppositions and how each scholar understands the term “religion.” For
example, Wilamowitz-Moellendorff and Linforth take a narrow approach to Orphism, only giving
credence to sources that include the name Orpheus.101 Linforth, moreover, understands “religion”
in the sense o f “a body of men, unified and organized, at least to some degree, with common
purposes and ideals, and devoted to common doctrines and practices.”102 The evidence adduced
by Nilsson and Guthrie, by contrast, is wider in scope, and their notion o f religion is less
restricted.103 Not surprisingly, then, their conclusions differ dramatically. Linforth maintains that
“the things associated with Orpheus are so miscellaneous and so disparate that we cannot
recognize a comprehensive and unified institution, however loosely organized, with creed, ritual,
clergy, and adherents. They form, not a unity, but an aggregation.”104 In the judgment o f
Nilsson, however, the genius o f Orphism was its ability to gather together various ideas from
different sectors o f ancient religious thought and mold them into a coherent system of thought.
For that reason, he concludes, “Orphism is the combination and the crown o f the manifold
religious movements o f the Archaic period.”10S
100 Nilsson, Geschichte der Griechischen Religion, vol. 1, 643: “Der Orphizismus darf nicht
isoliert betrachtet werden, er ist nur eine der mystischen und kathartischen Stromungen der archaischen
Z e it... gewisse Ztige teilt erjedoch mit anderen, verwandten Stromungen, wurde von ihnen beeinfluflt und
beeinfluBte sie, worauf immer zu achten ist.”
101 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (Glaube der Hellenen, vol. 2, 197) notes that the ancients commonly
speak of ’Op<|)i.K<x, but in only one fragment (Apollodoros, fr. 139) is ’OpcjjiKoi used. But see now M.L.
West (“The Orphics o f Olbia,” Zeitschriftfur Papyrologie und Epigraphik 45 [1982]: 17-29) for a
discussion o f the bone tablet which appears to read ’Op<j>iKoi. Linforth (Arts o f Orpheus, xiii-xiv) has two
methodological principles: first, that documents sealed with the name Orpheus must be found to express a
consistent and “sound core of knowledge” before ancillary materials are brought into discussion, and
second, that the evidence must be viewed chronologically.
102 Linforth, Arts o f Orpheus, ix.
103 Nilsson’s method is to gather the earliest evidence and supplement them with later material that
“show a necessary connection with the early ones” (“Early Orphism,” 185). Guthrie’s understanding of
religion is not as static as Linforth’s: “in speaking o f this or that religion of ancient Greece we cannot draw
sharp distinctions which we might between this or that religion of the modem world .... Almost all the
different shades o f belief are to be found which in studying Greek religion we take such pains to separate
... Religion in the last resort is of the individual, and no two men’s religions are exactly alike” (7-8).
104 Linforth, Arts o f Orpheus, 291.
105 Nilsson, “Early Orphism,” 230.
36
Such different conclusions brought Orphic studies to a standstill by the middle o f this
century.106 Yet Nilsson’s desire to see Orphism as one of many late Archaic streams o f thought
incorporating “mystic and cathartic ideas” offered a fresh avenue o f interpretation. This approach
was implemented by Walter Burkert, who reconstructed an Orphism that had no definitive
boundaries but which interacted instead with other religious traditions on a variety of different
levels.107 Thus, at certain points, Orphism becomes linked to the Bacchic mysteries, Eleusis, and
the Pythagoreans. In a later article, he reaffirms this position by noting that the Orphic evidence
does not fulfill all o f the basic characteristics needed fora sect.108 Instead, he describes Orphics
as “craftsmen”—those skilled in telestic and cathartic practices who, by handing down their
technical skills to disciples or family members, established a continuity o f tradition analogous to
the Homeridai or Asclepiads.109 Just as regular craftsman, according to Burkert, worked without
the benefit of guilds and achieved success based on individual talents, so too did the Orphic:
“religious practitioners aspire(d) for singularity, and they never came to form any kind of
‘order.’”110 Larry Alderink has followed a similar method in looking for “family resemblances”
from the divergent Orphic data. In his view, all o f the specific “traits” characteristic to Orphism
need not be present in order to group a particular piece of evidence as “Orphic.” Like Burkert,
Alderink envisions an Orphism comprised of “intersections, overlappings, and criss-crossings.”111
By emphasizing the fluid nature of religious thought in the late Archaic Age, these
studies have moved passed the debate over the existence of distinct Orphic communities.
Consequently, while Orphic ideas may have been a “reform” of the cult o f Dionysus or a melding
106 As described by Alderink, Creation and Salvation, 10-13.

107 Walter Burkert, Orphism and Bacchic Mysteries: New Evidence and Old Problems o f
Interpretation, The Center for Hermeneutical Studies in Hellenistic and Modem Culture, Protocol of the
Twenty-Eighth Colloquy, 13 March, 1977 (Berkeley: University o f California Press, 1977), 1-8.
108 While Orphism shows evidence for an alternative lifestyle and “diachronic stability,” it does
not satisfy the requirement of communal organization or a unified set of beliefs (Burkert, “Craft Versus
Sect,” 3, 11).
109 Burkert, “Craft Versus Sect,” 6-7.
110 Burkert, “Craft Versus Sect,” 9.
111 Alderink, Creation and Salvation, 20. The model of family resemblances stems from
Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations.
37
o f Dionysiac and Apolline ideas,112 it has become less pressing to identify a distinct sect o f
Orphics.113 Similarly, the object o f earlier researchers, who tried to determine the direction of
influence between Orphism and Pythagoreanism on the notion o f the immortal soul and
metempsychosis, has given way to the recognition that belief systems were shared and malleable.
In other words, scholarship has shifted away from a desire to identify “origins” to the recognition
that historical phenomena do not always travel along stable, linear paths.114
Classical Greece
In his discussion o f the development o f the immortal soul in Plato, Rohde ignores the role
o f Socrates because he does not find anything new in his ideas: on questions concerning the
“unknowable,” Socrates “never claimed to provide an answer that differed from that which would
be given by the majority of his fellow citizens out o f the accumulated wisdom o f their
ancestors.”115 Thus, Rohde insists that the philosopher “shows little anticipation o f an immortal
life of the soul.”116 While Rohde rests this argument on Socrates’ thoughts on the post-mortem
state in the Apology,111 his rejection o f possible Socratic contributions to the development o f
psyche came to be viewed as a serious omission by classicists such as John Burnet and Jaeger.118
In contrast to Rohde, Burnet argues that Socrates’ introduced a revolutionary way to
think about the psyche that had important implications for the notion o f the immortal soul. Prior
to Socrates, Burnet states, the psyche retained the meaning of “breath o f life” in the popular
imagination of Greece. In theological and scientific circles, however, the conception o f the soul
112 John Burnet, Early Greek Philosophy, 4* ed. (New York: Meridian Books, 1957), 81; Guthrie,
Greeks and Their Gods, 318.
113 Although the possible reading o f Orphikoi from an Olbian tablet may suggest that there were
indeed Orphic communities. Seen. 101.
On the complications inherent in searching for origins, see Michel Foucault, “Nietzsche,
Genealogy, History,” in The Foucault Reader, ed. Paul Rabinow (New York: Pantheon Books, 1984), 76-
100 .
117 40c.
118 John Burnet, “The Socratic Doctrine of the Soul,” Proceedings o f the British Academy 7 (1915-
1916): 235-239; Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals o f Greek Culture, vol. 2, trans. Gilbert Highet (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1943), 40-57, 75-76.
38
was noticeably altered. Specifically, Orphism equated the soul with the divine, while the Ionians
maintained that it was operative during the person’s life. Despite these advances, however, the
soul nevertheless retained its traditional meaning o f breath even among these thinkers, so that
through the fifth century “there is hardly an instance o f the word in any other than its traditional
sense.”119 The genius o f Socrates, then, was in devising an entirely new way of understanding the
psyche by allowing it a role in acquiring knowledge and assessing morality. This was achieved,
Burnet maintains, after the philosopher recognized the compatibility o f the Orphic and
Presocratic conceptions o f the soul and merged them together. This discovery thereafter enabled
Socrates to proclaim his central message o f the “care o f souls.”120 By stressing this teaching,
Burnet concludes, against Rohde, that “From the Apology alone it may, I feel sure, be inferred
that to Socrates the immortality of the soul followed as a necessary corollary.”121
In the figure of Socrates Bumet identified a person who, by synthesizing previous ideas
o f soul, single-handedly changed psyche into an entity on which the human being must direct his
attention. This evaluation has met with the approval o f many subsequent scholars,122 although
not without some modification. T.M. Robinson, for instance, is more tentative in assigning the
development o f the psyche to the “historical” Socrates: after agreeing with Benjamin Jowett that
“the conception of the soul as the true self is doubtless Socratic,” he quickly adds the qualifier
“or, less strongly, that it is not out o f keeping with what other evidence tells us about the views of
soul held by Socrates and/or the younger Plato.”123 A similar historical problem is raised by
119 Bumet, “Socratic Doctrine,” 249-252.

120 Apol. 30a.
121 Bumet, “Socratic Doctrine,” 257.
122 For instance, Jaeger, Paideia, vol. 2, 75-76: “he was a unique event in the history of the Greek
sp irit.... His creed, that we must obey God more than men, is as surely a new religion as his faith in the
all-surpassing importance o f the soul.” See also Jaeger, Paideia, vol. 2, 40-76; W.K.C. Guthrie, A History
o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), 467-473 (with some
reservation); Friedrich Solmsen, “Plato and the Concept o f the Soul {Psyche): Some Historical
Perspectives,” Journal o f the History o f Ideas 44 (1983): 255-367; idem, “3>PHN, KAPAIA, XFYXH in
Greek Tragedy,” in Greek Poetry and Philosophy: Studies in Honour o f Leonard Woodbury, ed. Douglas E.
Gerber (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1984), 265-274; Norman Gulley, The Philosophy o f Socrates (New
York: St. Martin’s Press, 1968), 193-195; T.M. Robinson, Plato's Psychology, 2" ed. (Toronto: University
o f Toronto Press, 1995), 3.
123 Robinson, Plato's Psychology, 10.
39
Friedrich Solmsen, who is less willing to grant Socrates was specifically influenced by Orphic
and Presocratic ideas. Although he agrees that a combination o f religious and secular traditions
informed the Socratic notion o f the soul, he finds a larger place for the Pythagoreans among the
former and replaces the Ionians with the tragedians among the latter.124
The question o f how Greek tragedy influenced the concept o f the soul, a topic examined
by Rohde in a rather one-sided manner,125 has not lacked scholarly interest. For example, T.B.L.
Webster has noted that psyche assumes a wide range o f meanings by the middle o f the fifth
century. In addition to its Homeric usage as life or the shade after death, psyche can be described,
among other things, as affected by various emotions (i.e. sorrow, pleasure, joy), as associated
with courage and endurance, and as possessing an intellectual component.126 This study thus
shows that psyche has extended its abilities and functions within mankind, and more specifically,
within the living person.127 Solmsen’s analysis o f the tragedians, which essentially concurs with
Webster’s, applies these findings to the question o f the originality of the Socratic soul. He
concludes that while psyche acquires new characteristics in the tragedies, it only acts as a
precursor to Socrates: “The central place in the inner life to which psyche has advanced provides
the prior condition for Socrates’ concern about it but what we do not find is a suggestion o f its
supreme worth or the need for its ‘health.’”128 Thus, while the Socratic soul shows some marked
differences from earlier formulations, it appears that the foundations were nevertheless grounded
in the world of popular thought.
The one major work directed against Burnet’s thesis is David Claus’s Toward the Soul.
According to Claus, Bumet thought that Socrates created the doctrine of the immortal soul ex
nihilo because he assumed that until the late fifth century, psyche always exhibited characteristics
124 Solmsen, “Plato and the Concept o f the Soul,” 355.

125 Rohde, Psyche, 419-438. In this section Rohde appears more concerned with the post-mortem
soul than with the growing complexity of psyche as a psychological agent.
126 T.B.L. Webster, “Some Psychological Terms in Greek Tragedy,” Journal o f Hellenic Studies
77 (1957): 149-151. See, for instance, Soph. Ant. 227,930; El. 218; Eur. Or. 1180.
127 See also Furley, “Early History,” 4, 9.
128 Solmsen, “Plato and the Concept o f the Soul,” 357. See also idem, “ OPHN, KAPAIA,
'FYXH,” 274.
40
of the Doppelganger.129 As a result, Claus argues, Burnet’s analysis was fundamentally flawed
and unable to appreciate the subtleties ofpsyche among the tragedians. Through a philological
study of psyche from Homer to Plato, Claus makes two major points. First, psyche retains its
traditional meaning of “life-force” from the Archaic to Classical periods despite the fact that its
meaning expands.130 Consequently, this traditional meaning, together with the greater role given
to psyche in the popular thought o f the fifth century, provides the background for the Socratic
soul: “by the late fifth century an important confluence was beginning to be formed between
UruXTi as the archaic ‘life-force’ with its traditional psychological characteristics and as a
naturalistic ‘life-force’ whose psychological behavior could be rationally predicted and
controlled.” 131 While he does not think that this merger was complete by the time o f Socrates, he
concludes that “it must have been constantly at hand in the oral speech o f late fifth-century
Athens, and as such constituted a significant antecedent to the Socratic doctrine of the soul.”132
By focusing mainly on philological questions, these studies have given the secular
writings of the fifth century a greater role in the development of the concept o f psyche. In his
concern for understanding the post-mortem state of the soul, Rohde chose not to emphasize how
psyche gradually began to assume the features of other Greek psychological terms (i.e. thymos,
phreri) so that it could be used to refer to the primary psychological agent within the living
person. This will, however, become an important point in the present study, because it is the
integration of other psychic qualities that allows later Greek philosophy to attribute to the soul the
responsibility of attaining knowledge and initiating bodily movement. This development makes
it possible for these philosophers to find an intrinsic connection between the soul, epistemology,
and ethical behavior.
129 Claus, Toward the Soul, 6.

130 Claus, Toward the Soul, 7: “when yvxfy finally begins to appear in contexts giving it a new
moral importance and suggesting that it is properly responsive to rationality, such occurrences are still
intimately connected to the earlier connotations of vj/uxti as “life-force.”
131 Claus, Toward the Soul, 183.
132 Claus, Toward the Soul, 183. Claus (Toward the Soul, 100-102) argues that the archaic use of
psyche as “life-force” was instrumental in allowing its range of meanings to expand among the tragedians.
41
m . Beyond Rohde: Zoroastrian Influence

and the Early Christian Soul
As the subtitle o f Psyche shows, Rohde was mainly concerned with the development of
the soul within Greece. Moreover, in viewing the introduction o f mysticism and the ascetic
world-view into Greece with disdain,133 it is clear that his own sympathies clearly lie with earlier
Greek religion. This perspective may lie behind the lack o f attention to Socratic ideals,134 and
certainly goes far in explaining his cursory treatment o f the Hellenistic period.135 Consequently,
he did not concern himself with the possibility that Oriental ideas impacted Greek philosophy,
nor did he feel compelled to mention the role o f Christianity in furthering the doctrine o f the
immortal soul.
Zoroastrianism
Zoroastrianism receives scant attention by Rohde in Psyche. For him, intellectual
influence travels in one direction, from Greece to the East.136 Consequently, it is only when
Rohde offers his closing remarks on the influx o f cathartic religious practices through the
Dionysiac cult that Iranian religion receives mention: “Greek religion was fast approaching the
condition of Brahmanism or Zoroastrianism and becoming essentially a religion o f
purification.” 137 Whether or not his negative evaluation is justified, Rohde was unable to see the
impact that Zoroastrianism had on the Greco-Roman world.
133 Rohde, Psyche, 302: the cathartic ideals represent the “first step ... towards a purely negative
system o f morality, not attempting the inner reformation o f the will, but aiming simply at averting from the
soul o f man a polluting evil threatening it from without.”
134 It appears that Rohde, along with his friend Nietzsche, viewed the promulgation o f Socratic
thought as the blossoming of the cathartic worldview o f the late Archaic Age.
lj5 Rohde (Psyche, 507) sums up the Hellenistic spirit: ‘“ It is no longer necessary to save the
Hellenes or to win crowns of victory from them in contests of wisdom.’ Such is the decision reached with
a sigh of relief by a civilization that has attained the highest point of its development and is now overcome
by a lassitude in which it no longer sets itself new tasks, but takes its ease as age may be permitted to do
so.
136 Rohde, Psyche, 539: “In the meeting together and conjunction o f Greek and foreign ideas in the
Hellenized Orient it was not Greek popular tradition but solely the influence of Greek philosophy, that,
finding favor even outside the limits of Greek nationality, communicated to foreign nations the arresting
concept of the divine, imperishable vitality o f the human soul— upon the impressionable Jewish people, at
least, it had the profoundest and most deeply penetrating influence.”
137 Psyche, 302.
42
Shortly after the publication o f Psyche, a group of scholars who saw themselves devoted
to the History o f Religions approach to late antique religious thought began to look more closely
at Zoroastrianism as the source for many o f the ideas found in Greece, Judaism, and early
Christianity.138 Richard Reitzenstein139 and Wilhelm Bousset were particularly vocal proponents
o f this thesis, and it is to this end that Bousset published two influential articles on the conceptual
origins o f the journey o f the soul as found in late Hellenistic literature.140 In his attempt to
identify the various strands o f thought on the soul’s ascent, Bousset argues that the earliest Judeo-
Christian literature141 describes a heavenly ascent through three spheres, a notion ultimately
derived from Iranian sources and transmitted to the West by Mithraism.142 The Iranian motif of
three heavens was later replaced by the seven spheres due to Babylonian influence.143 The
Iranian background to the ascent o f the soul is not only seen in late antique religious texts, but
also seems to have a connection with Plato’s eschatology, particularly his description o f Er’s
journey in the Republic.I44
Bousset’s research was undertaken with a goal toward understanding the origins of
Gnosticism. By emphasizing the intellectual contributions o f Babylonian and Persian religion,
Bousset brought Gnosticism out o f the shadow o f church history145 and influenced the work o f
138 For a survey o f scholarly opinions on this subject, see J. Duchesne-Guillemin, The Western
Response to Zoroaster (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1958), 70-102.
139 Richard Reitzenstein, The Hellenistic Mystery Religions: Their Basic Meaning and
Significance, trans. John E. Steely (Pittsburgh: Pickwick Press, 1978).
140 D.W. Bousset, “Die Himmelsreise der Seele,” Archivfur Religionswissenschaft 4 (1901): 136-
169, 229-273.
141 Such as the Enochic literature, the Testament o f Levi, the Apocalypse o f Baruch, 2 Cor 12:2;
and Clement o f Alexandria.
142 Bousset, “Himmelsreise,” 138, 153-154. Bousset ends the first part of his study by asserting
that “der Beweis scheint mir erbracht, dass wir in der eranischen Religion der Heimat jener bunten
Phantasien und jener ekstatischen Mystik zu suchen haben. Die Mithrasreligion ist dann die Briicke
gewesen, auf der jene Ideen dem Westen zugefiihrt wurden” (169).
143 Culianu (Psychanodia /, 17-19) notes that this conclusions emerged as a reaction to the work of
W. Anz (Zur Frage nach dem Ursprung des Gnostizismus. Ein religionsgeschichtliches Versuch [Leipzig,
1897]), who argued that the Babylonian view was earlier.
144 Bousset, “Himmelsreise,” 250-258.
145 As advanced by Adolf von Hamack, History o f Dogma, 3rd ed., vol. I, trans. Neil Buchanan
(New York: Russell and Russell, 1958), 222-252. For Hamack, Gnosticism represented the “acute
secularising or hellenising o f Christianity” (226).
43
such prominent scholars as Franz Cumont and Geo Widengren.146 More recent research,
however, has shown that his Iranian hypothesis does not answer all of the questions surrounding
this late antique religious phenomenon.147 Yet Bousset’s work remains important for at least
three additional reasons. First, it represents a moment in the early period of research on the
journey of the soul that recognized the importance o f looking outside Greece for explanations of
descriptions o f heavenly ascent in late antique texts.148 Second, although his point o f departure
was different, Bousset seems to have affirmed Rohde’s belief that ecstatic visions provided a
foundation for the post-mortem ascent of the soul.149 Finally, the discovery o f Nag Hammadi
tractates, which display affinities with both Greek and Oriental thought, has to a certain extent
justified Bousset’s attempts to find an Iranian background to late antique religious thought.
Although the Religionsgeschichtliche Schule has come under attack for its uncritical use
o f Zoroastrian evidence and overenthusiastic desire to locate the origins of Jewish and Christian
mythological speculation in Persia, research on the influence o f Zoroastrianism on the West has
not subsided. On the contrary, subsequent work in comparative studies has uncovered numerous
parallels between the religio-philosophical thought o f the Greeks and some Eastern ideas. Two
explanations have been proffered, neither o f which excludes the other. First, the research of
146 Franz Cumont, Lux Perpertua (Paris: Librarie Orientaliste Paul Geuthner, 1949), 143-150; Geo
Widengren, The Gnostic Attitude, trans. Birger A. Pearson (Santa Barbara, CA: Institute of Religious
Studies, 1973); idem, “Der iranische Hintergrund der Gnosis” and “Die Urspriinge des Gnostizismus und
die Religionsgeschichte,” in Gnosis und Gnostizismus, ed. Kurt Rudolph (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche
Buchgesellschaft, 1975), 410-425, 668-706.
147 For a critique o f Bousset’s overzealousness with regard to the Iranian material, see Culianu,
Psychanodia I, 18-31. Culianu has not taken into consideration Bousset’s later work, however. As
Anthonie F. Verheule (D. Wilhelm Bousset. Religionsgeschichtliche Studien: Aufsatze zur
Religionsgeschichte des Hellenistischen Zeitalters [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1979], 7) states, “Fur ihn ist der
Gnostizismus eine synkretistische Religion ... Ihre Heimat ist in Syrien zu suchen und babylonische (u.a.
Planetgotter), syrischen (Muttergottin) und persische (u.a. Himmelsgott) Elemente haben sich in der neuen
Religion mit Gedanken aus der griechischen Populdrphilosophie und dem Judentum vermischt.” For
general critiques o f the History of Religions school, see R. McL. Wilson, “Jewish Christianity and
Gnosticism,” Recherches de science religieuse 60 (1972): 261-272; Alan F. Segal, “Heavenly Ascent in
Hellenistic Judaism, Early Christianity and their Environment,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der Romischen
Welt 2.23.2 (1980): 1334-1341; Culianu, Psychanodia I, 16-31.
148 See Culianu, Psychanodia I, 25.
149 Bousset, “Himmelsreise,” 136. For Rohde, of course, the madness of the Dionysiac orgia and
the reports o f various iatromanteis eventually led to the association o f the soul with the divine. On the
visionary journey as a precursor to the ascent o f the soul after death, see Segal, “Heavenly Ascent,” 1341.
44
Bruce Lincoln has shown that the similarities can be explained through the common traditions
found in Indo-European thought: because the Greeks, like the Iranians and Indians, are o f Indo-
European stock, it should be expected that they all draw upon a common fund o f ideas. This is
particularly true in anthropology and eschatology, two important categories for this study. For
example, the notion o f the resurrection o f the body forms some o f the earliest thoughts on life
after death. While Zoroastrianism merges this idea into its linear eschatology to teach that only
one resurrection occurs at the end o f time, Hinduism’s cyclical understanding o f history allows
for individuals to experience successive rebirths.150 Although the Greeks reject the conception of
the resurrected body, Zoroastrian teachings on post-mortem punishments and rewards can be
found throughout Greek literature. Likewise, metempsychosis, which appears in the intellectual
circles o f Orphism and Pythagoreanism and becomes one o f Plato’s cardinal tenets, has parallels
in Hinduism’s Upcmishads}51
A second explanation for the conceptual parallels centers on the belief that Greece came
into direct contact with Zoroastrianism. Mary Boyce, for example, has argued that the
Presocratics likely came under the influence o f Zoroastrian magi who lived in Miletus in the sixth
century,152 while M.L. West has given further consideration to the influence o f Zoroastrianism on
the cosmological theories o f these Ionian philosophers.153 The impact o f Eastern ideas on
Heraclitus is particularly intriguing. The Ionian’s teachings on fire and the Logos parallel
Zoroastrian thought, while the parallels between his fragments and the Upcmishads on the
interchange o f elements leads West to presume a direct influence: “The fact is that the
150 Bruce Lincoln, Myth, Cosmos, and Society: Indo-European Themes o f Creation and
Destruction (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1986), 119-140. See also idem, “Death and
Resurrection in Indo-European Thought,” Journal o f Indo-European Studies 5 (1977): 247-264.
151 Bruce Lincoln, Death, War, and Sacrifice: Studies in Ideology and Practice (Chicago:
University o f Chicago Press, 1991), 53. See also M.L. West (Early Greek Philosophy and the Orient
[Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971], 61), who notes that the developed concept of metempsychosis in the
thought o f Pherecydes is found elsewhere only in India. A primitive form of the idea can be found in the
Vedas, and West’s hypothesis that in India the developed doctrine dates to the seventh century B.C.E. pre
dates Pythagoras and (perhaps) the beginnings o f Orphism.
152 Mary Boyce, A History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 2 (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1982), 153-156.
153 West {Early Greek Philosophy, 239) finds Zoroastrian influence to be at its height among the
Greeks between 550-480 B.C.E.
45
Brhadarcmyaka Upanishad alone throws more light on what Heraclitus was talking about than all
the remains o f the other Presocratics together.” 154 Although West believes that Zoroastrian ideas
are absent after the early fifth century, Anton-Hermann Chroust has found that Plato, via the
mediation of Eudoxus o f Cnidus, was affected by the Zoroastrian teaching that the world was
characterized by a cosmic battle between the forces o f good and evil.155 While correctly
identifying the origins for this cosmic war in Zoroastrianism, Chroust fails to note that the
individual soul’s decision to choose either o f these options is equally Zoroastrian: while choosing
good leads to a blessed post-mortem condition, the evil soul is the recipient o f innumerable
punishments in Hades.156
If Zoroastrian influence on Greek cosmology and eschatology is generally accepted, the
degree to which it acts as the source for Jewish writings is still questioned, mainly because o f the
difficulty involved in dating the Persian texts. The history o f the debate, which has been amply
summarized by John Hinnells,157 is presently characterized by two opposing positions. The first
group argues that Zoroastrianism is not necessary to account for eschatological ideas (such as the
cosmic battle and the resurrection body) found in intertestamental and early Christian writings.
Especially with respect to Judaism, it is thought that such notions could have been the result of
intra-Jewish speculation.158 Yet this line o f thought, which has emerged as a reaction against the
154 West, Early Greek Philosophy, 202: “It is a long walk from Ephesus to India. But the
distribution of the human race proves that people, and what they carry with them, have travelled a good
deal further in the course o f years. In Heraclitus’ time, Ephesus and India were linked by the Persian
empire. Indians came to mainland Greece with Xerxes’ army. The connections between Heraclitus’
thought and Persian religion (as we know it from the literature of Zoroastrian orthodoxy) are
proportionately strong.” For a tentatively affirmative conclusion on Heraclitus’s contacts with
Zoroastrianism, see also Jacques Duchesne-Guillemin, “Heraclitus and Iran,” History o f Religions 3 (1963):
34-49.
155 Anton-Hermann Chroust, “The Influence of Zoroastrian Teachings on Plato, Aristotle, and
Greek Philosophy in General,” The New Scholasticism 54 (1990): 342-344, 354-357.
156 See for instance, Laws 904c-906b.
157 John R. Hinnells, “Zoroastrian Influence on the Judaeo-Christian Tradition,” Journal o f the
K.R. Cama Oriental Institute 45 (1976): 1-23.
158 For instance, James Barr, “The Question of Religious Influence: The Case of Zoroastrianism,
Judaism, and Christianity,” Journal o f the American Academy o f Religion 53 (1985): 201-235; J.N.
Bremmer, “The Resurrection between Zarathustra and Jonathan Z. Smith,” Nederlands Theologisch
Tijdschrift 50 (1996): 96-101. Bremmer notes that resurrection does not appear in the oldest Avestan
literature and concludes that “ it seems virtually certain that Zoroastrian belief in a resurrection does not
belong to its earliest stages” (98). He therefore thinks that the Jewish doctrine o f the resurrection more
46
over-enthusiastic application o f Iranian ideas to Judaism and Christianity by members o f the
Religionsgeschichtliche Schule, has been criticized for restricting its understanding o f “influence”
to an exact reduplication or transference o f ideas from one culture to another.
In response to this narrow view o f “influence,” a second group o f scholars have thus
taken a more nuanced view of Iranian influence by suggesting that Zoroastrian ideas were taken
over and refashioned by Judeo-Christian writers to fit their own needs. This position thus takes
into account the process o f intertextuality that was so prevalent in the Hellenistic period. As Geo
Widengren has observed, when analyzing the Persian contribution to Jewish apocalypticism
we should not commit the mistake o f expecting a wholesale annexation o f

foreign materials ... In the light of new influences and new ideas the old
scriptures were searched for answers, and these were found thanks to special
methods o f interpretation ... Iranian ideas ... are put forward first o f all as an
interpretation of wellknown O.T. doctrines. The point o f departure is always the
O.T.159
Further evidence for the influence o f Zoroastrianism on Judaism stems from the fact that it had a
developed, coherent theological system in place as early as the end of the second millennium. As
a result, Saul Shaked and others have concluded that while it is possible that Judaism could have
developed its eschatology independent o f Iran, it is more probable that contact with
Zoroastrianism provided the impetus for Jewish thinkers to reflect on new ways to conceive the
nature of the world and the place o f mankind within it.160
likely emerged from internal developments. A defense of the Jewish nature of the Qumran “Two Spirits”
treatise has been forwarded by P. Wemberg-Mailer, “A Reconsideration of the Two Spirits in the Rule of
the Community (IQ Serek III, 13-IV,26),” Revue de Qumran 3 (1961): 413-441.
159 Geo Widengren, “Iran and Israel in Parthian Times with Special Regard to the Ethiopic Book
o f Enoch,” Temenos 2 (1966), 176-177. See also Hinnells, “Zoroastrian Influence,” 9: “ It is rather rare for
anyone to be influenced to take over a completely new and strange idea and then to transplant it, without
modification, into his system o f thought.”
160 Saul Shaked, “Qumran and Iran: further considerations,” Israel Oriental Studies 2 (1972): 433-
446; idem, “Iranian Influence on Judaism: First Century B.C.E. to Second Century C.E.,” in The
Cambridge History o f Judaism, vol. 1, eds. W.D. Davies and Louis Finkelstein (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1984), 308-325. Mary Boyce, A History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 3 (Leiden: E.J. Brill,
1991), 408: “The belief in revivification of the body, objectively considered, is a strange and archaic one,
whose evolution can be traced among the ancient Indo-Iranians to the point where it became a integral part
o f Zoroaster’s own eschatological teachings, in the distant second millennium B.C.; it is impossible to
suppose that it could have sprung suddenly into existence among the Jews in response even to the grimmest
circumstances.”
47
The Soul in Early Christianity
Just as Rohde mentions Zoroastrianism only in passing, so too is his discussion o f
Christianity equally superficial.161 In fairness, however, it should be noted that the concept o f the
soul in the writings of the New Testament offers little in the way o f philosophical
sophistication.162 Yet the New Testament shows that life after death was a major concern for
early Christians, and biblical scholars have thus attempted to evaluate the Christian belief within
its cultural environment. One influential way o f explaining the post-mortem condition in early
Christianity has been to contrast it with the Greek conception outlined so thoroughly by Rohde
and other classicists.
A common position among New Testament scholars is that while the Greeks believed in
the immortality o f the soul, early Christianity taught a resurrection o f the body. Representative of
this o f type of argumentation is Oscar Cullmann, who develops this thesis in his article titled,
appropriately enough, “Immortality o f the Soul or Resurrection of the Dead?”163 In this study
Cullmann draws a sharp distinction between the understanding o f life after death in the New
Testament and the Greco-Roman world, arguing that the “concept o f death and resurrection is ...
161 The lack of attention to the impact o f Christianity was already noticed by an unidentified
reviewer in The Athenaeum 2 (1901): 244-245: “he has deliberately ignored the reaction of Christian beliefs
on the theology o f the later Greeks.” This, the commentator notes, is due to Rohde’s personal feelings: “To
him, as to his friend Nietzsche, Christianity was almost odious.” Rohde shows his antipathy to Christianity
at the close o f his book: “A last gleam of the departing sunlight o f Greek sensibility seems to break through
the words in which Plotinus rejects the Christian-Gnostic hatred of the world” (Psyche, 548).
162 See, for instance, Edmond Jacob, Albert Dihle, Eduard Lohse, Eduard Schweitzer, and Karl-
Wolfgang Trdger, in Theological Dictionary o f the New Testament, vol. 9, ed. Gerhard Friedrich
(Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1974), 608-660. Other major treatments
on New Testament anthropology include Rudolf Bultmann, Theology o f the New Testament, vol. 1, trans.
Kendrick Grobel (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1951), 190-269; W. David Stacey, The Pauline
View o f Man: In Relation to its Judaic and Hellenistic Background (New Y ork: St. Martin’s Press, 1956);
Josef Schmid, “Der Begriff der Seele im Neuen Testament,” in Einsicht und Glaube, eds. Joseph Ratzinger
and Heinrich Fries (Freiburg: Herder, 1962), 129-147; Bo Reicke, “Body and Soul in the New Testament,”
Studia Theologica 19 (1965): 207-212; Robert H. Gundry, Soma in Biblical Theology: With Emphasis on
Pauline Anthropology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976); Joseph Osei-Bonsu,
“Anthropological Dualism in the New Testament,” Scottish Journal o f Theology 40 (1987): 571-590; Udo
Schnelle, The Human Condition: Anthropology in the Teachings o f Jesus, Paul, and John, trans. O.C.
Dean, Jr. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996).
163 Oscar Cullmann, “Immortality of the Soul or Resurrection o f the Dead?” in Immortality and
Resurrection, ed. Krister Stendahl (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1965), 9-53. This paper was first
delivered in 1955.
48
incompatible with the Greek belief in immortality.”164 To support this thesis, Cullmann contends
that the Greek notion of immortality does not consist in a “death” for the soul. Rather, it seeks to
release itself from the body in order to experience “true” life. The early Christians, in contrast,
believed that when the individual dies, both body and soul perish before the person is revivified
again by the “miracle of creation.” 165 For Cullmann, this argument allows him to detect a
fundamental difference in anthropology between Greeks and Christians: whereas the former
distinguish between body and soul, the latter, under the influence of Judaism, construct a
dichotomy between the fleshly body living in the realm o f sin and the incorruptible body assumed
at the resurrection.166 Thus, while the New Testament shows a knowledge o f body and soul, the
two are not opposed to one another as they are in Greece.167 Consequently, the telos for the
Greeks, the separation of soul from body, is only an “intermediate state” for Christianity until the
individual is rewarded with a heavenly body.
Cullmann concludes that “The teaching o f the great philosophers Socrates and Plato can
in no way be brought into consonance with that o f the New Testament.”168 Yet this position
relies on a false dichotomy. First, for his evidence of Greek ideas Cullmann focuses exclusively
on Plato’s Phaedo. Yet as this study will show, the Platonic notion o f soul was by no means the
only option available to the Greco-Roman world. In fact, the majority of people in the Greco-
Roman world likely had little knowledge o f Plato’s soul, while the various philosophical schools
all subscribed to views o f the soul that differed from Platonists with respect to its nature, origin,
and destiny. Moreover, Plato himself does not consistently maintain the ideas he developed in
the Phaedo. Indeed, in the Timaeus the body is neither treated with contempt nor placed in sharp
opposition to the soul.
164 Cullmann, “Immortality o f the Soul,” 9.

165 Cullmann, “Immortality o f the Soul,” 18-19. For Cullmann, immortality is only a “negative
assertion: the soul does not die, but simply lives on. Resurrection is a positive assertion: the whole man,
who has really died, is recalled to life by a new act of creation by God” (19).
166 Cullmann, “Immortality o f the Soul,” 22-23. Cullmann writes that in the New Testament
“Body and soul are originally good insofar as they are created by God; they are both bad insofar as the
deadly power o f the flesh has hold o f them” (27).
49
Second, recent studies have found that the distinction between immortality and
resurrection is not nearly as “radical” as Cullmann has thought.169 On the one hand, as early as
Homer Greco-Roman literature depicts the post-mortem condition o f the soul in bodily terms.
Even Plato’s incorporeal soul looks like the earthly person and is able to suffer punishments or
enjoy blessedness. The potential confusion between a disembodied or somatic afterlife is
furthered by the Stoics, whose psyche was literally a “body” both in this life and after death.170
Among Christians, TertuIIian and the author o f the Apocryphon o f John both conceive of the soul
as corporeal, while the Gnostic writer Theodotus plainly asserts that “the soul is a body” (ft ijruxfi
ad5p.a).171
On the other hand, the raising o f the physical body, which Cullmann apparently believes
is a uniquely Jewish phenomenon, was by no means the only way to conceive o f the resurrection,
either in the intertestamental period or in sub-apostolic Christianity. Regarding the former,
George Nickelsburg and Hans Cavallin have clearly shown that Hellenistic Judaism did not have
a monolithic understanding of the fate o f the person after death, but rather evinced a wide variety
of perspectives ranging from the resurrection o f the identical flesh to the belief in a disembodied
soul.172 Yet the former position was nowhere near as prevalent as earlier scholars have presumed.
It is even possible for some authors to argue for both the immortality o f the soul and the
resurrected state.173 Gnostic literature attests to some o f the diversity regarding resurrection: for
169 See the comments by Gregory J. Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered: Thomas and John in
Controversy (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), 8, n. 3. At the time of Jesus, Riley observes that “ideas
were not yet clearly standardized, and more than one view could be found among those groups that
contributed to the makeup of the early Church” (22). See also Caroline Walker Bynum, The Resurrection
o f the Body in Western Christianity, 200-1336 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), 5, n. 9:
“What Cullmann draws attention to is the difference between seeing the human being as a person that dies
(and then sleeps) until the end o f time and seeing this being as a spirit (a nonmaterial and nondying
element) housed in physicality. Put this way, one immediately sees that the Christian concept as it emerges
by the high Middle Ages is neither.”
170 See, for instance, Vir. Aen. 6.306-307.
171 Clem. Alex. Exc. Theod. 14.2. See also Tert. De anim. 5; 32.6; Ap. John 27.11-14.
172 George W.E. Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Intertestamental
Judaism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1972); Hans Clemens Caesarius Cavallin, Life after
Death: Paul's Argument fo r the Resurrection o f the Dead in I Cor 15. Part I: An Enquiry into the Jewish
Background (Lund: CWK Gleerup, 1974).
173 Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, 179; Cavallin, Life after Death, 197-202.
50
instance, the Exegesis on the Soul views it as a experience for the soul alone: “Now it is fitting
that the soul regenerate herself and become again as she formerly was. The soul then moves o f
her own accord. And she received the divine nature from the father for her rejuvenation, so that
she might be restored to the place where originally she had been. This is the resurrection that is
from the dead ( T 2 iN a .C T a .c ic ... £ N ~ n c t m o o y t ) . ” 174 Following a Pauline trajectory, the
Treatise on the Resurrection describes the post-mortem state as a pneumatic transformation:
“Now if we are manifest in the world wearing him, we are that one’s beams, and we are embraced
by him until our setting, that is to say, our death in this life. We are drawn to heaven by him, like
beams by the sun, not being restrained by anything. This is the spiritual resurrection
( t2 l.N 2 lC T 2 lc ic n ttn s y m m 2 lT I K .h ) which swallows up the psychic in the same way as the
fleshly.”175 A similar understanding o f resurrection as non-fleshly also appears in Plotinus, who
states that “the true wakening is a true resurrection from the body, not with the body.” 176
At the end o f his study, Nickelsburg concludes that “Cullmann has approached the New
Testament presupposing a unitary Jewish view [the post-mortem state] that is a pure fiction”177
As the Gnostic texts have shown, the diversity o f opinions in Second Temple Judaism extends
into Christianity’s formative years. The ambiguities surrounding the “soul” and “body” will be
addressed further in this study through an examination o f the manifold ways in which the concept
of the soul’s journey is articulated. By choosing the Pauline corpus, the gospels attributed to
Thomas and John, and the Apocryphon o f John, this work will attempt to build upon recent
studies that have sought to evaluate the social environment o f the early Christian world.178 In
174 134.6-12. See also Auth. Teach. 34.32-35.10: “But the rational soul who (also) wearied herself
in seeking—she learned about God. She labored with inquiring, enduring distress in the body, wearing out
her feet after the evangelists, learning about the Inscrutable One. She found her rising (xcdiNe
FfrecxNXTOAH). She came to rest in him who is at rest” (?FT neTMOTFTMMoq).
175 45.28-46.2.
176 Enn. III.6.6: “f| 5’ &Xti0ivt) eypfiyopaiq dcXriOtvfi dcito crcopaxoq, ob |ietcx crcopatoq,
av&axacng.”
177 Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, 180.
178 For instance, Robert Jewett, Paul's Anthropological Terms: A Study o f Their Use in Conflict
Settings (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1971); Wayne A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,”
Journal o f Biblical Literature91 (1972): 44-72; Helmut Koester, “Gnostic Sayings and Controversy
Traditions in John 8:12-59,” in Nag Hammadi, Gnosticism, and Early Christianity, eds. Charles W.
Hedrick and Robert Hodgson, Jr. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1986), 97-110; Takashi Onuki,
51
particular, this project will use the soul as a template for assessing the theology o f each
community and showing how, even when psyche does not appear as an integral term, the
controversies in these texts can be read as disputes over differing views o f the soul’s journey.
This survey o f the history o f scholarship on the soul began with a summary o f Psyche,
the seminal work o f Erwin Rohde. Although this book was published over a century ago, it has
left an indelible mark on classical scholarship not only in its attempt to synthesize evidence from
the pre-Homeric period through late antiquity, but because it has served as a whetstone for later
scholars to test and sharpen their own theses. Although Psyche may still be read with profit, it is
apparent that not all o f its ideas have stood the test of time. Yet it is natural that this should be
the case, for the study o f ancient religious thought has witnessed a number o f major discoveries
over the last century. Moreover, scholarly concerns have and will continue to evolve as new
methodological approaches are employed and contemporary perspectives change: the concerns of
the nineteenth century are not the same as those today. Still, Rohde and subsequent classicists
have cast a long shadow on research centered on the development o f the soul. It is hoped that the
following study will show that this shadow extends to cover the literature o f early Christianity.
Gnosis und Stoa: Eine Untersuchung sum Apokryphon des Johannes (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck and
Ruprecht, 1989); idem, “Traditionsgeschichte von Thomasevangelium 17 und ihre christologische
Relevanz,” in Anfange der Christologie: Festschrift fu r Ferdinand Hahn zum 65. Geburtstag, eds. Cilliers
Breytenbach and Henning Paulsen (GQttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1991), 399-415; Riley,
Resurrection Reconsidered, passim.
PART n
CHAPTER 1
ARCHAIC GREEK POETRY
It may initially seem strange to begin a study on the journey o f the soul with a discussion
o f Archaic Greece. Indeed, because the literature o f this period displays no conception o f what
has come to be understood as “soul,”1any analysis o f its “journey” would appear to be
anachronistic. Yet the poetry of Homer and Hesiod is important for a number o f reasons. First, it
represents a natural starting point for determining the earliest Greek conceptions of the world and
individual, and while subsequent thinkers ultimately re-evaluated these primitive views, this
literature nevertheless acts as the foundation for their inquiries. Specifically, it will be argued
that the concept of the psyche in the Homeric poems, particularly the First and Second Nekyia,
will provide later writers with a foundation for envisioning how the soul functions within the
living person. Second, despite the advances o f the philosophers, the Archaic construction of the
cosmos and the soul did not disappear. In fact, such formulations remained strong throughout
antiquity, particularly among those outside select intellectual circles. Third, an analysis of
Homer’s use of soul (vj/’uxfi) will underscore how this concept acquired a greater degree of
complexity among later Greek writers. This chapter will therefore examine the Archaic period’s
1See, for instance, Rohde, Psyche, 5-6; Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Glaube der Hellenen, vol. 1,
364; Snell, Discovery, 8; Jean-Pierre Vemant, “Psuche: Simulacrum of the Body or Image of the Divine?”
in Mortals and Immortals: Collected Essays, ed. Froma I. Zeitlin (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1991), 186; Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 76-77; JanN. Bremmer, “The Soul, Death and the
Afterlife in Early and Classical Greece,” in Hidden Futures: Death and Immortality in Ancient Egypt,
Anatolia, the Classical, Biblical and Arab-Islamic World, eds. J.M. Bremer, Th. P.J. van den Hout, and R.
Peters (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1994), 91.
52
53
understanding o f the cosmos and soul, and conclude by offering some insights into the
development o fpsyche through an investigation of later Archaic poetry.
I. The Archaic Cosmos
A glimpse into the earliest Greek cosmological and cosmogonical formulations stems
from the poetry of Homer and Hesiod. From these works it becomes clear that the Archaic
Greeks, much like the civilizations of Mesopotamia and Israel, maintained a rather simple
conception of the universe. Lacking the scientific knowledge of later centuries, these authors
describe a cosmos divided into three stories: a heaven, earth, and underworld. Iliad 15.184-199
serves as the locus classicus for this construction. In this passage, Poseidon complains to Iris that
Zeus has overstepped his authority by ordering him to stop interfering in battle and to return to
the sea:
Great though he is, this that he has said is too much, if he will force me against
my will, me, who am his equal in rank. Since we are three brothers bom by
Rheia to Kronos, Zeus, and I, and the third is Hades, lord o f the dead men. All
was divided among us three ways, each given his domain. I when the lots were
shaken drew the grey sea to live in forever; Hades drew the lot o f the mists and
the darkness, and Zeus was allotted the wide sky (obpavov), in the bright air and
the clouds (ev aiGepi. kcci ve<j>eA.Ticn.). But earth and high Olympus are common
to all three.
Hesiod makes the same division at the beginning of his Theogony. 2 In these condensed verses,
the author quickly covers the creation of the primal deities. Accordingly, he states that “First of
all Chaos came into being” (Xaoq yevex’), a phrase that appears to describe a gap or space
leading to the separation of Heaven and Earth.3 The third level of the cosmos, “dim Tartarus,” is
thereafter described as existing “in the depth o f the wide-pathed Earth.”
2 116-129.
3 So G.S. Kirk, J.E. Raven, and M. Schofield, The Presocratic Philosophers: A Critical History
with a Selection o f Texts, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 34-41; Richard D.
McKirahan, Jr., Philosophy Before Socrates: An Introduction with Texts and Commentary (Indianapolis:
Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 1994), 9-10. See also M.L. West, Theogony: Edited with Prolegomena
and Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966), 192-193.
54
The poets imagined the heavens as a solid mass, describing it alternatively with the
epithets “bronze,” “iron,” or “starry.”4 Moreover, it appears that they thought it was shaped like a
hemisphere or bowl, since both writers speak o f the rise and descent o f the heavenly bodies/ The
heavenly world, not surprisingly, is the abode o f the gods and is characterized by a purity
unknown in the earthly realm. This distinction can be seen most clearly through the use o f the
terms aither (aiBfip) and air (dcfip). While aither is the bright, rarified air o f the divine world that
exists above the regions nearest the earth, air consistently refers to the lower atmosphere familiar
to humans.6 Traveling upward, then, the movement from air to aither marks the boundary
between the mundane and celestial realm.
The heavens thus arch over the earth like a vault or firmament, and a boundary between
the two regions is clearly envisioned. The earth itself is flat and disk-shaped, and although the
poets figuratively refer to it as “boundless” (dwcetpova), it was in actuality thought to be both
surrounded and supported by water.7 Indeed, the sun does not travel under the earth but moves
around it after its descent into Oceanus.8 This river, which lies at the limits (iceipaxa) of the
4 II. 1.426; 4.44; 5.504, 769; 17.425; Od. 3.1-2; 11.17; 15.329; 17.565; Theog. 106, 737. On the
solidity of the heavens, see Alfred Heubeck, Stephanie West, and J.B. Hainsworth, A Commentary on
Homer’s Odyssey, vol. 1 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 158.
5 II. 5.5-6; 8.485; 16.777; 18.239-240,489; Od. 5.275; 11.17-18; 15.403-404; 22.197-198; Works
383, 564-567; Theog. 760-761. On the shape of Heaven as a hemisphere, see Kirk, Raven, Schofield, The
Presocratic Philosophers, 9-10; McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 12-13. Against this view, see
West, Theogony, 198. A hemisphere-shaped heavens seems to be implied in the enigmatic passage on the
“sources and limits” in Theog. 736-740. See Michael C. Stokes, “Hesiodic and Milesian Cosmogonies—I,”
Phronesis 1 (1962): 16; Mark D. Northrup, “Tartarus Revisited: A Reconsideration o f Theogony 711-819,”
Wiener Studien n.s. 13 (1979): 25-26. See also Theog. 125-126, where Ouranos is meant “to cover her
[Earth] on every side.” For the astronomical knowledge o f Homer and Hesiod, see D.R. Dicks, Early
Greek Astronomy to Aristotle (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1970), 27-38.
6 For the use o f aither and air, see II. 14.287-288; Works 548-549. Air is the term used to describe
the thick mist that makes both gods and men invisible {II. 3.380-381; 8.50; Od. 7.143; Works 254-255).
Although the gods are often said to dwell in the aither {II. 2.412; 4.166; 15.192; Od. 6.41-46; 15.253;
Works 18), Homer can also say that the divine world lies above the aither {II. 2.458; 17.425; 19.351). The
heavenly affiliation o f Zeus may be seen in the epithets “cloud-gatherer,” “lord of lightning,” and “the one
who delights in thunder” {II. 1.419-420, 511, 560, 609; 2.146; 4.30; 5.888; 14.293; Od. 5.4; 13.139; Theog.
558, 567-568, 601, 687-693, 853-854). On the distinction o f aither and air in the ancient world, see M.R.
Wright, Cosmology in Antiquity (New York: Routledge, 1995), 109-125.
7II. IM S ', 20.58; Od. 1.98; Works 487. The size o f die earth may be gauged from Homer’s
description of Odysseus’s journey to and from Hades {Od. 11). According to this tale, the hero travels
around the circumference of the earth in one day. On this point, see Alfred Heubeck and Arie Hoekstra, A
Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey, vol. 2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 78.
8 In one instance, Homer says that the sun descended under the earth (Into yoriav) {Od. 10.191),
but Dicks argues that “this expression means no more than that it disappears from view below the horizon”
55
earth, is called “backward-flowing” (d\j/oppoq), or in other words, that which flows in a circular
fashion, and is depicted on the outer rim o f the shields o f Achilles and Heracles.9 The epithet of
Poseidon—“earth-encircler” or “earth-bearer” (ycaf|oxo<;)— also testifies to the early Greek
image o f water encompassing and upholding the earth.10
Water thus lies directly below the earth as its foundation. Further below that, however,
“beneath the depths o f the earth,” exists the underworld, referred to as Hades, Tartarus, or
Erebos.11 Like the heavens, this region is surrounded by bronze and appears to be envisioned as a
hemisphere, with the lowest depths directly under the center o f the earth.12 The entrance, itself a
gate o f bronze, lies at the horizon, or the ends o f the earth beyond Oceanus where the heavenly
boundary meets the earth.13 Yet while the heavens are bright and idyllic, the underworld is
consistently described as “dim,” “murky,” and “loathsome,” a place that even the gods “abhor”
(aTuyeco) and find “terrifying” (Seivoq).14
The two hemispheres o f heaven and the underworld thus surround the earth to form a
symmetrical universe. This symmetry is further supported by the idea that the boundaries o f each
(Early Greek Astronomy, 31). The path o f the sun is detailed in II. 7.422; Od. 11.17-18; 15.403-404;
Theog. 760-761; Mimnermus, fr. 10. The notion that the sun set in the West and then traveled back to the
East along the river Oceanus (rather than under the earth) must have been logical to a culture that thought
that the earth possessed roots (piâi) to secure it in place {Theog. 727-728).
9 Oceanus at the limits o f the earth: II. 14.200-201; Od. 11.13; “backward-flowing”: II. 18.399;
Od. 20.65 (see also II. 21.195-197, where Oceanus is the source o f all rivers, sea, springs, and wells); the
shields: II. 18.606-607; Hes. Shield o f Herakles, 314-315.
10 II. 13.59, 83, 125, 677; 14.355; 15.174,201, 222; 23.584-585; Od. 1.68; 9.528; 11.241; Theog.
15.
11II. 22.482-483; Od. 24.204: torco keuGectl ya'rnq. The underworld is “underneath the earth and
the barren water” (ycdri? v£p6e KaGeicre icai dcrpuyfeToio GaA.dccraT|<;) according to II. 14.204. Hesiod
preserves a detailed, if enigmatic, picture of Tartarus in Theog. 713-814. Robert Garland {The Greek Way
o f Death [Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985], 51) writes that “the Greeks were not much
concerned to produce a consistent and clearly mapped-out picture o f the landscape o f Hades. Nor did they
expend much creative imagination upon the topography.” Kirk, Raven, and Schofield {Presocratic
Philosophers, 9) concur: “There was a certain vagueness about the relationship o f Hades, Erebos, and
Tartarus, although Tartarus was certainly the lowest part of the underworld.”
12 Bronze: Theog. 726, 811. Hesiod asserts that it would take a year to reach the bottom of
Tartarus {Theog. 740-741). For a reconstruction ofTartarus, see McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates,
11-13; Stokes, “Hesiodic and Milesian Cosmogonies— I,” 15-18.
13 The gates: II. 8.15; Theog. 732-733; the entrance: Od. 10.503-512; Theog. 736-740.
14 II. 8.368; 15.191; Od. 4.833-834; 11.13-19; 12.382-383; 15.349-350; 20.207-208; 23.322;
Theog. 729-730, 743-744, 761. Hesiod states that three layers of Night surround Tartarus {Theog. 726-
727).
56
level are equidistant from one another. Accordingly, Hesiod reports that the Titans were
imprisoned in Tartarus, “as far beneath the earth as heaven is above earth.”15 A variation o f this
sentiment is also found in the Iliad, as Zeus threatens to throw the other divinities “to the murk of
Tartarus, far below, where the uttermost depth o f the pit lies under earth ... as far beneath the
house of Hades as heaven is from earth.”16 Furthermore, the evidence suggests that the distance
between these stories is not exceedingly large. Notwithstanding Hesiod’s contention that an anvil
dropped from the heavens would travel for ten days before reaching the earth, and then another
ten days before landing in Tartarus,17 it appears that the Archaic Greeks envisioned a compact
universe in which the boundaries between the respective levels were not beyond reach. For
example, Homer records a story o f a pair of brothers who sought to reach the heavens to battle
Zeus by placing three mountains on top o f one another, and both the Odyssey and Theogony
record the belief that Atlas was responsible for upholding the heavenly firmament.18 Elsewhere,
Homer refers to a pine tree on Mt. Ida that was tall enough to break through “the close air to the
aither (S f frspog a ’tGep itcavsv)” or in other words, from the lower atmosphere to the realm of
the gods.19 With such a short distance between earth and the heavens, then, it is not surprising
that the gods themselves are able to observe the unfolding o f the Trojan War from their home on
Olympus.20
15 Theog. 720-721.
16 8.13-16. According to Kirk, Raven, and Schofield (Presocratic Philosophers, 9), the reference
to “Hades” in this passage “seems to be an illogical variant upon an original ‘earth,’” as found in Theog.
720. West (Theogony, 358) suggests, however, that a four-story universe is envisioned here, “possibly an
attempt to outdo Hesiod.” For a brief summary of the history of this debate, see Stokes, “Hesiodic and
Milesian Cosmogonies—I,” 5-6.
17 Theog. 722-725. The expression “nine ... and then the tenth” is formulaic, according to West,
Theogony, 341. Stokes (“Hesiodic and Milesian Cosmogonies—I,” 7) and Charles H. Kahn (Anaximander
and the Origins o f Greek Cosmology [Philadelphia: Centrum Philadelphia, 1985], 95-96) have also called
attention to the religious significance of the number nine. Cf. II. 1.590-593, where Zeus throws Hephaestus
off Olympus, and he does not reach the earth until sunset. Here, then, the distance between heaven and
earth appears to be one day’s travel.
18 Mountains: Od. 11.311-320; Atlas: Od. 1.52-54; Theog. 517-518, 746-747. The position of
Atlas in the two Hesiodic passages is disputed: while the first places him at the “ends o f the earth,” the
latter would appear to have him in Tartarus. On this problem, see, Northrup, “Tartarus Revisited,” 30-31.
19II. 14.287-288.
20II. 14.153-156; 16.228-232; 20.22-23.
57
Although such cosmological speculation obviously reflects a primitive understanding o f
the universe, it is this conception o f the universe that remained popular throughout antiquity.
Even the later philosophers, whose advances in cosmological theory would overturn the Homeric
vision of the world, would not reject all aspects o f the epic worldview. In fact, the Archaic notion
o f the cosmos as a divinely-ordered, animate being will persist throughout antiquity and become
useful for philosophical speculation on the soul and its journey.21 Specifically, as these thinkers
begin to exploit the idea that an essential kinship exists between the divine principle that orders
the universe and the human psyche, they are able to envision how the latter departs from and
returns to the former. Thus, in addition to the fact that the Homeric cosmos remains an
acceptable way to envision the universe in more popular circles, it also provides philosophers
from the Presocratics through the Hellenistic period with a foundation for articulating the concept
o f the journey o f the soul.
II. The Archaic Soul
If the cosmic architecture o f the Archaic Greeks is unfamiliar to modem sensibilities, so
too is their construction of the individual. The later distinction between body and soul, with the
soul comprising the essence of the person in opposition to the body, is nowhere in evidence. As
many commentators have noted, the Homeric world maintains neither a dualistic anthropology
nor rigid lines of demarcation between psychic entities.22 In fact, although psyche becomes the
21 The notion of the divinely-ordered cosmos becomes apparent in Archaic meditations on the
“will” or “plan” of Zeus. See, for instance, II. 1.5; 8.473-477; 15.58-77; Od. 8.82; 11.297; 14.328; 19.297;
Works 105; Theog. 881-900. For the cosmos as animate, see II. 9.568; 14.200-201, 246, 301; Od. 12.386;
Works 563. See also William Chase Green, Moira: Fate, Good, and Evil in Greek Thought (New York:
Harper and Row Publishers, 1944), 10-46; West, Theogony, 397-403; Hugh Lloyd-Jones, The Justice o f
Zeus, 2nd ed. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 1-54; Arthur W.H. Adkins, “Cosmogony and
Order in Ancient Greece,” in Cosmogony and Ethical Order: New Studies in Comparative Ethics, eds.
Robin W. Lovin and Frank E. Reynolds (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), 39-66; Sullivan,
Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 174-228.
Rohde, Psyche, 5; Furley, “Early History,” 2; Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 14-18;
Jahn, Zum Wortfeld, passim. Although the Homeric psychological vocabulary is rich and varied, the
characters in Homer could nevertheless grasp the notion o f the individual as a unified whole. On this issue,
Snell (Discovery, 1-22), who argues for a fragmented notion o f self in Homer, and also Harrison (“Notes on
Homeric Psychology,” 78-80) and Sullivan (Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 14), both of whom contest
Snell’s thesis.
58
term that encapsulates the notion o f “soul” in subsequent literature, in this early period it was
simply one o f many “psychological entities.”23 Moreover, psyche actually plays a minor role in
Homer and Hesiod when compared with other psychic agents such as noos, phren, and thymos?4
Thus, these other terms must be examined along with psyche in order to make sense o f the
complexities of Archaic psychology.
The Homeric poems assign vital characteristics to the noos in both the gods and
humans.25 Noos appears to have originally been connected with vision and its most primitive
meaning probably centered on the ability to apprehend a concrete situation.26 Thus, Paris, in a
life-threatening duel with Menelaus, would have died had not Aphrodite perceived the impending
danger and transported him to safety.27 In general, though, the range o f meanings for noos
includes general intellectual activity (including deliberation and planning), the result o f decision
making, or the “plan” itself. For instance, Epicaste’s “ignorance o f mind” (&i6pe'ur|cn. vooio)
leads her to marry her son Oedipus; Odysseus shows “great wisdom in his heart” (7coA.m8pevricn.
vooio) by compelling his nurse Eurycleia not to reveal his identity; and Zeus directs the other
gods to help either the Trojans or Achaeans according to their own minds.28
23 On the usefulness o f this term, see Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 16. Bremmer
(Early Greek Concept, 13-69) argues that the Archaic Greek soul included the psychic agents psyche,
thymos, noos, and menos.
24 According to Sullivan (Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 18, 36, 54, 77), Homer uses noos over
100 times, phren over 300 times, thymos over 750 times, and psyche over 85 times. Hesiod uses psyche
only four times: in Works 686 and in three fragments. In addition to these four major psychological
entities, Homer mentions kardia, kradie, ker, and etor. These last four terms, which are used to describe
the heart, are less important for the purposes o f this study.
25 For discussions o f noos, see Kurt von Fritz, “NOOZ and NOEIN in the Homeric Poems,”
Classical Philology 38 (1943): 79-93; Onians, Origins o f European Thought, 82-83; Harrison, “Notes on
Homeric Psychology,” 72-75; Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 56-58; Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical
Ideas, 18-35; idem, “How a Person relates to voo<; in Homer, Hesiod, and the Greek Lyric Poets,” Glotta 58
(1980): 33-44.
26 Snell, Discovery, 12-13; von Fritz, “NOOZ,” 88, 92-93; Harrison, “Notes on Homeric
Psychology,” 72-73.
27II. 3.369-382, esp. 374: ei pfi dp’ oq-b voqae Aioq S-uydcTTip ’A<{>po5iTr|. The notion of vision is
also found in II. 3.21, 30, 396.
28 Epicaste: Od. 11.272; Odysseus: Od. 23.77; the gods: II. 20.25: “otcti vooq ec-riv fexdcTou”;
22.378-382. For noos as “plan,” see also II. 2.192.
59
Noos can also represent an inner essence or vision, or, in other words, the basic element
that determines the way an individual thinks or acts.29 Accordingly, although Circe transforms
the bodies o f Odysseus’s men into pigs, “their minds remained unchanged” (obxap voug fjv
epjteSoq); Odysseus’s dog “recognizes” (evoriasv) his master by his voice even though the latter
has been physically transformed; and Patroclus concludes that the “mind (vooq) o f Zeus is
stronger than that o f men.”30 Yet despite the close relationship between the person and noos, it is
nevertheless possible for the latter to be altered by outside influences. In particular, “desire,”
“youth,” and the activity of the gods can all change the normal functions o f the noos?x In
addition to all of these possibilities, Homer can also use noos (and noeiri) to express an element of
volition. For example, in the Odyssey the suitor Antinous explains to Telemachus that his mother
has “devised improperly” (evaioipov oi)K svoriCTe) in refusing to accept remarriage and warns
him that his property will continue to diminish “as long as she keeps this purpose (voov) which
the gods now put into her heart.”32 Similarly, Athena informs Odysseus that the Phaeacians gave
him treasure through her “counsel and will” (PonA/p xs vocp xe).33 Finally, the connection
between noos and volition is supplemented by its association with the emotions.34 Homer may
therefore say that the noos can “rejoice” (xodpco), and that “to recognize” (voeiv) a particular
person can lead to joy, fear, amazement, or grief.3S
Just as Homer attributes a variety of functions to noos, so too does the phren (pi. phrenes)
act in manifold ways.36 Although it was originally conceived in physical terms,37 the epics also
29 This point is emphasized by Darcus (see “Sullivan” in bibliography), “How a Person relates to
vooq,” 33-44.
30 Odysseus’s men: Od. 10.240; Odysseus’s dog: Od. 290-300 (see also Od. 13.397-403); Zeus: II.
16.688; see also Od. 5.103-104; Works 483. For other descriptions o f the noos of Zeus, see Sullivan,
Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 19.
31 Desire: II. 14.217; youth: II. 23.604; the gods: Od. 19.479.
32 Od. 2.122-125. For other passages that express purpose or will, see II. 8.143; 16.103; 22.25;
23.149; Od. 22.215.
33 Od. 13.304-305.
34 One-fourth of the passages that use noein link it with the emotions, according to von Fritz,
“NOOZ,” 84.
35 Noos: Od. 8.78; for the relationship between noein and the emotions, see II. 3.21-23,30-31;
396-398; 11.248-250; von Fritz, “NOOZ,” 84, nn. 45 and 46.
36 For analyses of phrenes, see Furley, “Early History,” 2-10; Onians, Origins o f European
Thought, 23-43; S. Ireland and F.L.D. Steel, “Opevs^ as an anatomical Organ in the Works of Homer,”
60
repeatedly describe this entity as taking part in intellectual, volitional, and emotional activities.38
The phrenes can deliberate and plan a course o f action as well as act as the place in which this
intellection occurs. Thus, the phrenes o f Achilles can devise “evil deeds”; Priam and his herald
can both have “close counsels in their phrenes”; and Zeus is said to contrive “in his phrenes a
woeful return for the Argives.”39 The phrenes as the source o f speech is yet another example o f
their intellective nature. Thus, Agamemnon castigates Calchas with the assertion that “Always
the evil things are dear to your phrenes to prophesy,” while Thers ites is accused o f knowing
“within his phrenes many disorderly words.”40 Finally, the phrenes are often characterized by
their hope, fear, rage, or shame, and they can be vulnerable to the vicissitudes o f outside forces.41
The thymos is yet another entity essential to the psychological composition o f the
individual in the Homeric period. Like the noos and phrenes, the thymos refers to a multitude of
intellectual, volitional, and emotional situations.42 Homer employs thymos regularly to depict
individuals in various stages o f thinking, deliberation, and planning. For instance, Odysseus is
told to “take thought in phren and thymos” about how to slay the suitors, and later is pictured
devising evils “ in his thymos” (evi Bupcp) for them.43 The thymos is also the place o f intellection
for the gods: Zeus, Athena, and Hermes all use this faculty to ponder and carry out plans.44
Glotta 53 (1975): 183-195; Bruno Snell, “<j>p£veq—4>povr|cn.(;,” Glotta 55 (1977): 34-64; Sullivan,
Psychological Activity, passim', idem, “A Person’s Relation to (ppTjv in Homer, Hesiod, and the Greek Lyric
Poets,” Glotta 57 (1979): 159-173; idem, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 36-53.
37 Suggestions for the location of the phrenes include, the lungs, diaphragm, pericardium, and,
more generally, in the chest. See Sullivan, Psychological Activity, 21-36. Evidence for its physical
composition may be seen in II. 15.80; 16.480-481, 502-505; 18.419; Od. 9.301.
38 According to Harrison (“Notes on Homeric Psychology,” 67, n. 24, 75), the primary meaning,
occurring 70 percent of the time, refers to intellection.
39 Achilles: II. 21.19: “kcckcx 8e <t>pecri pfiSeTO fepya”; Priam and herald: II. 24.282; Zeus: Od.
3.132 (see also II. 13.631, where the phrenes o f Zeus is above all others).
40 Agamemnon: II. 1.107; Thersites: II. 2.212-213.
41 Hope: II. 21.583; Od. 21.157; fear: II. 1.555; 13.394; rage: II. 24.114; shame: II. 10.237; outside
forces (often, but not exclusively, divine): II. 4.104; 13.788; 15.724; 19.87-89. For a more detailed
analysis, see Sullivan, Psychological Activity, 133-162.
42 For discussions of thymos, see Furley, “Early History,” 3-10; Snell, Discovery, 10-16; Onians,
Origins o f European Thought, 44-65; Harrison, “Notes on Homeric Psychology,” 65-72; Sullivan,
Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 54-75; idem, “The Function o f Bupoq in Hesiod and the Greek Lyric
Poets,” Glotta 59 (1981): 147-155.
43 Od. 1.294; 20.5.
44 Zeus: II. 16.646; Athena: Od. 13.339; Hermes: II. 24.680.
61
Despite this relationship with intellectual activity, though, the thymos is more often used in scenes
that highlight the emotions. Often described as located within the phrenes*5 the thymos can be
the locus o f a wide spectrum of emotions, from joy and fear to anger and despair.46 Thus, if the
Homeric Greeks might have originally used this word to describe “breath related to blood,” as
Onians suggests, then it is not difficult to understand how the epics might use this word to
characterize the quickening of an individual’s heartbeat during moments o f violent emotion.47
It is through the thymos, therefore, that the individual is spurred into action48 Homer
says that the beating o f Hector’s thymos compelled him in battle, while Apollo restores the
strength to the thymos o f Glaucus so that he can continue fighting.49 Moreover, it is generally
recognized that rage, boldness, and anger are all associated with the thymos during times o f
heightened emotional activity.50 In addition to this motive function, the importance of the thymos
may be determined by its ability to act as an independent agent within the individual. At times it
is depicted as a completely separate entity from the person: thus, Hector’s thymos urges him to
speak to the Trojans and Achaeans; Odysseus speaks to his thymos in order to decide on the
correct plan o f action; and Penelope’s thymos is said to be divided over whether to stay with
Telemachus or to remarry.51 Taken together, then, the functions o f the thymos help explain the
supreme value the Archaic Greeks placed on its existence. Indeed, although life may be
preserved if it is temporarily lost, its permanent departure from the body through the “limbs”
(pe0t|; (leXri) signals certain death.52
45II. 8.202; 9.636; 21.385-386; 22.475; Od. 5.456-458. Cf. II. 4.152; Od. 10.461.
46 For instance, II. 5.869; 9.189; 13.163; 14.475; 17.625; 24.672; Od. 1.4; 9.295; 18.212; Theog.
98,611-612, 868.
47 Onians, Origins o f European Thought, 47-49; Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 60.
48 Snell (.Discovery, 9) describes the thymos as that which “determines physical motion,” a point
also discussed by Onians (Origins o f European Thought, 49-53) and Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 56.
49 Hector: II. 7.216-219; Glaucus: II. 16.527-529.
50 Rage (pfevoq): II. 3.8-9; 16.529; 20.174; 22.346; boldness (Odcpcroq): Od. 1.320-321; and anger
(xpkoq): II. 6.524; 18.112-113. See also II. 10.482-483; 19.202; Od. 24.520. Achilles’ thymos is called
“mighty,” “great-hearted,” and “made o f iron”: II. 9.496, 629; 18.5; 22.357.
51 Hector: II. 7.68; Odysseus: II. 11.403-407; Od. 20.10; Penelope: Od. 19.524.
52 While Menelaus and Andromache experience a temporary loss of thymos {II. 4.153; 22.475), the
warriors Diores, Epicles, and Euchenor die after losing their thymoi in battle {II. 4.524; 12.386; 13.671).
For the departure of the thymos through the limbs, see//. 13.671; 22.68; Snell, Discovery, 10-11.
62
The discussion o f Archaic psychological entities thus far has focused on those which act
while the individual is alive. These “body souls” are thus placed in opposition to the psyche,
which is inactive while in the body and only receives the poet’s attention when a person dies or is
near death.53 In Homer psyche may be reduced to two essential meanings: “life” in a general
sense, and the image of the person after death. At an early stage in the language’s development,54
psyche was probably related to breath, and etymological analyses have noticed a relationship
between this psychic agent and the verb vjruxeu/ (“to blow” or “to breathe”).55 This connection,
which was most likely made based on the simple observation that breath is necessary for life, may
be detected in a few Homeric passages. First, the Iliad records the belief that the “throat”
(XauKaviri) is the place where the “destruction ofpsyche comes most swiftly.”56 Second,
Achilles realizes that at death the psyche “crosses the barrier of the teeth” (dcp.euye'tai epicog
o S o v t c o v ) . 57 Third, after speaking to Achilles, the psyche of Patroclus goes underground “like
vapor” ( t i m e k o o t v o q ) . 58 Finally, the fainting Andromache “breathed forth” ( s K & J C u a a - s ) her
psyche, and only after she began breathing again was “life” (thymos) returned to her.59
53 Bremmer (Early Greek Concept, 11), distinguishes between “body” souls and the “free” soul
(=the psyche). For discussions o f psyche in Archaic literature, see Rohde, Psyche, 3-87; Wilamowitz-
Moellendorff, Glaube der Hellenen, vol. 1, 364-371; Furley, “Early History,” 3-10; Snell, Discovery, 8-17;
Onians, Origins o f European Thought, 93-122; John Warden, “'FYXH in Homeric Death-Descriptions,”
Phoenix 25 (1971): 95-103; Vemant, “Psuche,” 186-189; Claus, Toward the Soul, 59-68; Bremmer, Early
Greek Concept, 14-53; idem, “The Soul, Death, and the Afterlife,” 91-106; Sullivan, Psychological and
Ethical Ideas, 76-122; idem, “Person’s Relation to vuxf|,” 30-39; idem, “Multi-Faceted Term,” 151-180.
54 Sullivan (“Multi-Faceted Term,” 152) emphasizes how, due to the dynamic nature of language,
new meanings can attach themselves to a word without displacing older meanings.
55 E. Benveniste, “Grec Bulletin de la Societe de Linguistique de Paris 33 (1932): 165-
168; Snell, Discovery, 9; Claus, Toward the Soul, 93, n. 3; Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 21, n. 21. See
also Onians, Origins o f European Thought, 93-96. Sullivan (Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 78-79)
includes “breath” as one of the meanings o f psyche, although Furley (“Early History,” 3) rightly notes,
“The word ‘psyche’ probably had some original reference to breath, but it is never used in a description of a
man breathing: it does not mean ‘breath.’” On this point, see also the comments by Bremmer, Early Greek
Concept, 5,22-24.
56II. 22.325.
57II. 9.408-409. But Homer also has the psyche leaving from the limbs (II. 16.856; 22.362), chest
(II. 16.505), or through a wound in the side (II. 14.518). On the discussion o f the term p£0r|, see Snell,
Discovery, 10-12; Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 17, n. 10.
58II. 23.100.
59II. 22.466-475. See also II. 5.696-698, where Sarpedon’s psyche “left” and his thymos “breathes
forth.” In neither of these cases is the psyche explicitly said to have returned to the body, a point that
Onians (Origins o f European Thought, 93-96) emphasizes to challenge the relationship between psyche and
breath. Bremmer (Early Greek Concept, 15, n. 4; 22), however, remarks that the return o f the psyche is
63
It is this association with breath that makes it easy to see how psyche could also assume
the broader designation “life.” Thus, on two occasions Homer relates that the Trojans “lost their
psychai at the hands o f the Argives,” and elsewhere the poet explains that the direct result o f a
battle wound is the loss of psyche™ At the beginning o f the Odyssey, Homer introduces the
theme o f the work as the struggles o f Odysseus to “win his own psyche and the return o f his
comrades” (dtpvup-evoq fjv xe yuxfiv kco. voaxov fexatpcov); in other words, to save his own
life.61 Odysseus also appears to equate psyche with life when he reproaches Polyphemus with the
words, “Would that I were able to rob you o f soul and life (yuxfi? xe Kod cdcovoq) and to send
you to the house of Hades.”62 In one o f the few instances where Hesiod uses psyche, he
understands it to mean “life” as well. In Works and Days, he argues that it is foolish to sail at the
wrong time o f year, but sympathizes with those who do, because “wealth means life to poor
mortals.”63
Moreover, because life ends when the psyche leaves the body, its value is repeatedly
emphasized. For example, when Achilles chases Hector around the walls o f Troy, they are said
to run for the psyche o f the latter.64 Similarly, Achilles declines to return to battle despite the
pleadings o f the Greek embassy because he sees no advantage “in forever setting my psyche on
the hazard of battle.”65 Achilles clearly knows that the loss o f psyche leads to the end o f life, a
fact confirmed by both the formulaic phrase “his life and strength were scattered” (xou 5’ ct66i
implied because the body revives; Homer shows “no further interest” in mentioning the psyche precisely
because the person is once again conscious. A similar point is made by Harrison, “Notes on Homeric
Psychology,” 75, n. 69.
60II. 13.763//24.168; 14.518; 16.505. On the last two passages, see Warden “'FYXH,” 98.
61 Od. 1.5. See also Od. 9.420-423.
62 Od. 9.523-525. Because the psyche is precisely that which descends to Hades, Odysseus can
only mean that he wishes that he had ended the Cyclops’ life. See Warden “'FYXH,” 95; Sullivan, “Multi-
Faceted Term,” 163. See also Od. 9.423, where Odysseus, speaking o f his encounter with Polyphemus,
says, “I wove all sorts o f wiles and schemes, as a man will in a matter of life and death” (cog xe rcept
VUXhS)-
63 686: “xpfpcxxa yap vj/uxf) 7tfeXexax SeiXoiox Ppoxoiarv.” See West ( Works and Days, 325)
for parallels to this meaning.
64II. 22.161; Hector seeks to take Achilles’ psyche in II. 22.257; see also II. 24.754. Od. 22.245
describes the suitors fighting for the psychai (irepi xe yuxfecov ep&xovxo).
65 II. 9.322.
64
AX)0l m/uxti xe p.evo<; xe).66 That this end was looked upon with dread can be detected in both
epics: in the Iliad Hector’s psyche descends to Hades “bewailing her fate” (Ttoxpov yoocoaa),
while in the Odyssey Achilles utters the famous lines that he would rather be a slave living on
earth than the lord over all the dead.67
Those o f whom Achilles speaks are also called psychai, the second meaning o f the term
in Homer. While the other psychic entities mentioned above die along with the body, it is only
the psyche that remains, descending into the underworld to dwell as a pale, powerless
representation o f the individual’s earthly existence.68 Although Homer is not entirely consistent
in his depiction o f these souls,69 the psyche after death is generally equated with an “image”
(et5coA.ov) or a “shade” (cxicx), lacking all o f the conscious attributes found in the living.70 Thus
Achilles, after failing to embrace the psyche o f Patroclus, exclaims, “Oh wonder! Even in the
house o f Hades there is left something, a soul and an image (v|ruxri kco . etSoAov), but there is no
real heart o f life ((jjpeveq) in it.”71 Likewise, Anticleia informs Odysseus that at death, “once the
spirit (Gupoq) has left the white bones ... the soul (yoxfi) flitters off like a dream and flies
away.”72
Such thoughts clearly show that although the psyche survives death in the underworld,
this existence should not be thought o f in the later sense o f immortality. On the contrary, the
gods are never said to possess psyche, which might be expected if there were an essential kinship
66II. 5.296; 8.123, 315. On these passages, see Warden ‘,VPYXH,” 99.
67 Hector: II. 22.362-363; Achilles: Od. 11.488-491.
68 For examples of the descent o f the psyche at death, see II. 1.3; 5.654//11.445//16.625:
16.856//22.362; Od. 10.560//11.65.
69 Sullivan (Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 84-89) identifies four categories o f psychai: those
yet unburied, those existing in Hades without drinking blood, those souls having access to blood, and the
souls described in the Second Nekyia (Od. 24.1-204). Rigorous consistency should not be expected, of
course, due to the stages in the composition of the epics. On this issue, see Rohde’s Psyche, 3-87; Gilbert
Murray, The Rise o f the Greek Epic, 4th ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1960); G.S. Kirk, Homer
and the Epic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965); J.B. Hainsworth, Homer (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1969).
70 The exception is Tieresias, who retains his phrenes and noos in the underworld (Od. 10.492-
495).
71II. 23.103-105; for the psyche as an eidolon, see also II. 23.72; Od. 11.83; 213, 476, 602; 24.14.
For psyche as a shade or shadow, see Od. 10.495; 11.207.
72 Od. 11.219-222. Rohde (Psyche, 36) has remarked that this passage “sounds almost like an
official confirmation o f the orthodox Homeric view” of life after death.
65
between the human and divine.73 Moreover, Homer suggests that it is the life lived in the body
that represents the “true” self, that which comes closest to divinity.74 In fact, those humans who
do receive the gift o f immortality—such as Ganymede, Menelaus, Ino Leucothea, and Heracles—
do so without dying. They are transported both body and soul either to Elysium or to live with
the gods.75 The high value placed on bodily existence also may be detected in two instances
where the disembodied psyche is negatively contrasted with the living person. In the opening
lines of the Iliad, Homer sings of the anger o f Achilles, which “sent forth to Hades many strong
souls (\j/ux,a.q), but gave themselves (cdmyuig) to be the delicate feasting o f dogs”; and a passage
in the First Nekyia explains that while Heracles’ eidolon was in the underworld, “he himself’
(abxoq) was among the immortal gods.76
Once in Hades, these images or ghosts have limited physical and psychological abilities.
As the above statement from Anticleia shows, these psychai do not move in a normal manner. In
fact, both at death and in the underworld souls “flit about” (ttfexo|iai; ddaaco), and while in
Hades Odysseus fears the souls that swarm around him in an attempt to drink the blood he
possesses.77 Moreover, without the benefit o f the sacrificial blood, these shadows cannot speak as
they had during life: Homer relates that they “gibber” (xpi^co), create a “clamor” (KA.ayYfi), and
utter “eerie” (Gscmeaiog) cries.78 The physical limitations o f these psychai are also matched by
73 The fact that the epics only use psyche in episodes relating to death may help explain why this
term is not used in relation to the gods. Yet Homer sharply distinguishes between divine and human based
on the concept of mortality: while the gods are immortal, mankind is fated to die (//. 5.440-442; 12.322-
328; Od. 3.236-238). This position remains consistent despite the fact that the heroes’ lineage often stems
from divinity.
74 On this issue, see Jean-Pierre Vemant, “Mortals and Immortals: The Body o f the Divine,” in
Immortals and Immortals: Collected Essays, ed. Froma I. Zeitlin (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1991), 27-49; and idem, “Psuche,” 186-189.
75 Ganymede: II. 20.232; Menelaus: Od. 4.561-570; Ino Leucothea: Od. 5.333-335; Heracles: Od.
11.601-604. Circe also laments that she is not able to keep Odysseus and make him “immortal and
ageless” (dcOdvaxov Kod ayfipaov) (Od. 5.136). For Hesiod’s reference to Elysium, see Works, 169-173.
It is also important to distinguish between the fates of Ino, Ganymede, and Heracles, all of whom dwell
with the gods, and those who went to Elysium, which was located at “the ends of the earth” (kq Jteipam
Ycc'vnq), not in the heavens with the gods.
1611. 1.3-4; Od. 11.601-602.
77 Od. 10.495; 11.228. See also Od. 11.385-386, where Persephone “scatters this way and that”
(ajt£axE&xCT’ dckXTj) the souls o f the noble women.
78II. 23.100-101; Od. 11.605, 633; 24.9.
66
certain cognitive deficiencies. For some souls (Anticleia, for example), it is not possible to
identify others without first drinking blood. Yet even after this act, which broadens the abilities
of the psychai, they nevertheless still remain uninformed about events since their descent and
must ask Odysseus for information.79
Despite these limitations, the souls retain some important characteristics o f the living.
The physical traits of these shadows are perhaps the most striking: the soul o f Patroclus is
identical in appearance to the body he possessed on earth, and Odysseus has no trouble
recognizing the various shades he encounters in Hades.80 Thus, even though these shadows
cannot be grasped—as Achilles and Odysseus both realize—they are nonetheless substantial in
some sense.81 Indeed, Orion holds a bronze club “in his hands” as he tends to his animals;
Odysseus recounts that the psyche o f Agamemnon tried to reach him by stretching out his hands;
and Tityus, Tantalus, and Sisyphus all suffer physical torments.82 The substantiality o f the psyche
is further attested in Archaic iconography that details famous battle scenes from the Trojan War.
In these depictions, the psyche of the fallen hero is represented as a miniature replica o f the
person while alive on earth.83
These souls can also display some cognitive and emotional faculties. Before they are
buried, the psychai of Patroclus, Elpenor, and the suitors exhibit the widest range o f abilities:
79 Anticleia: Od. 11.141-162; Agamemnon: Od. 11.457-461; Achilles: Od. 11.492-497. See also
II. 23.69-70, where Patroclus’s psyche accuses Achilles of having forgotten him, apparently unaware o f the
funeral games that the latter had previously ordered (II. 23.43-53).
80 Patroclus: II. 65-67, 107: the soul was “in all things like his very self (mxv-t’ au-tcn), in stature
and the lovely eyes, and voice, and in clothing as Patroclus had worn on his body .... [he] was wondrously
like his very self’ (eiK-ro 8k 06ctkeXov ainrn). Odysseus recognizes the heroes o f the Trojan War
(Agamemnon, Achilles) and the wives and daughters of former aristocrats (Antiope, Alcmene, Epicaste,
Ariadne).
81II. 23.99-104; Od. 210-222. On this paradox, see Vemant, “Psuche,” 189. See also II. 5.449-
453, where Apollo creates an “image (eidolon) in the likeness of Aeneas and in armor like him.”
82 Orion: Od. 11.575: “xepcrtv &xcov”; Odysseus’s remembrance: Od. 11.392: “izvzvaq eiq epe
XEipag”; Tityus, Tantalus, and Sisyphus: Od. 11.576-600. See also Patroclus’s command to Achilles at II.
23.75: “give me your hand” (icod pot 86q zr\v xetp’).
83 The deaths of Sarpedon and Hector are popular scenes for Archaic vases. See K. Friis Johansen,
The Iliad in Early Greek Art (Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1967), 140-141; John Boardman, Athenian Black
Figure Vases (New York: Oxford University Press, 1974), 130, pi. 198; Susan Woodford, The Trojan War
in Ancient Art (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993), 84; H.A. Shapiro, Personifications in Greek
Art: The Representation o f Abstract Concepts, 600-400 B.C. (Zurich: AKANTHVS, 1993), 136-137.
67
Patroclus and Elpenor can give orders to the living, speak in their normal voices, and express
affection and sorrow, while the suitors recognize the heroes o f the Trojan War.84 Yet even souls
completely incorporated into Hades show signs o f intellectual capacity. Thus, Homer describes
Minos as “giving judgment (0ep.iax£-Oovi:a) to the dead” in response to those souls who sought
“judgment” (8ikti), while Achilles and Agamemnon can reminisce about their respective fates.85
Moreover, the powerless psychai to whom Odysseus gives blood regain the ability to converse
and recall past events. Not surprisingly, these dialogues contain poignant expressions o f emotion.
Agamemnon comes to Odysseus “sorrowing” (&xvt>|J.£vr|), and after drinking blood “he wept
aloud [and] shed big tears.”86 Homer has Anticleia explain that her “longing” (uo8og) for her son
led to her death; while conversely, Achilles becomes “joyful” (yr[0oauvri) after hearing o f his
own son’s achievements and departs from Odysseus with “long strides” (paKpd ptpdcra).87
Finally, Ajax stands aloof from Odysseus in “anger” (xoXoco), unmoved by the latter’s attempt to
assuage his “wrath” (jj.£voq) and “proud spirit” (0-up.oQ).88
Homer thus gives to the psychai in Hades a limited degree o f the qualities available to the
living person: their appearance parallels that o f the body, and they can, under certain
circumstances, move, speak, and show emotions. These tendencies therefore make it easy for the
poet to equate the psyche with the actual person.89 Accordingly, when Homer says that the dead
sons o f Antenor “filled out their destiny and went down to the house o f Hades,” the meaning is
that they themselves (theirpsychai) descended to the underworld.90 Similarly, Odysseus
identifies the psyche o f Polyphemus that will descend to Hades with the personal pronoun “you”
(ce).91 Moreover, when Odysseus arrives in Hades, he addresses the shades by their living names
84 Patroclus: II. 23.65-107; Elpenor: Od. 11.51-83; suitors: Od. 24.1-204.

85 Minos: Od. 11.568-571; Agamemnon and Achilles: Od. 24.19-97. Agamemnon also
“recognized” (eyvcn) the suitor Amphimedon at Od. 24.102-103.
86 Od. 11.391: “kAxxie 5’ 6 ye Xiykaiq, OaXepov Kcecd Sdtcpuov eipcov.” See also Od. 11.387-
388//24.20-21; 11.466, 541-542.
87 Anticleia: Od. 11.200-203; Achilles: Od. 11.538-540.
88 Od. 11.544, 553-562.
89 Rohde ( Psyche, 6) was thus correct to say that “both the visible man (the body and its own
faculties) and the indwelling psyche could be described as the man’s ‘self.’”
90II. 11.262-263.
91 Od. 9.523-525. See also Sullivan, “Multi-Faceted Term,” 163.
68
and recognizes them as the actual people who once lived on earth.92 This observation will
become important for understanding how the concept o f the soul emerged among later writers, for
it will be shown that the characteristics that Homer gives to the psyche in Hades are eventually
applied to the soul in the active, living person.93
HI. The Development of the Soul

in Later Archaic Poetry
The above examination has revealed that the epics do not imagine that the individual
person possesses a unified soul in contrast to the body. Yet this division becomes axiomatic in
subsequent Greek literature, and psyche is the term that comes to be used to represent the totality
o f one’s inner qualities. Thus, psyche must have gradually expanded its range o f meaning,
incorporating the other psychological aspects into itself. By identifying some instances in which
this process appears to occur, it should be possible to locate the initial stages in the development
o f the concept o f the soul.
The earliest indications that Homer’s psychological terms were not rigidly distinguished
from one another come from the epics themselves. Some o f the clearest examples derive from
the poet’s tendency to closely associate or confuse the roles o f the thymos and psyche.94 For
instance, both are mentioned during the fainting episodes of Sarpedon and Andromache, and
Diomedes robs his enemies o f “spirit and life” (0up.ou kcci M''uX'ns)> a phrase that is also repeated
by the suitors to refer to the destructive power of Odysseus’s bow.95 It is also possible for each to
exit the body through the limbs, and the thymos is even said to descend into Hades after its
departure from the body.96 In animals, the thymos is usually the primary psychic entity lost at
92 For instance, Odysseus addresses the shade of Elpenor by his name (’EXjcqvop) (Od. 11.57) and
Anticleia with “my mother” (p.fVcep ep.ri) (Od. 11.164). Odysseus recognizes the noble women of the past
with the phrase “I saw” (iSov) i.e. Tyro, Antiope, Alkmene etc. (Od. 11.235, 260,266). See also Od.
11.139, 271, 321, 326, 553, 568, etc.
93 Sullivan (Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 88) emphasizes this point.
94 This point has received much attention. See Furley, “Early History,” 6; Jaeger, Theology, 81-
83; Harrison, “Notes on Homeric Psychology,” 77; Warden, “'FYXH,” 101-103; Sullivan, “Multi-Faceted
Term,” 162.
95 Sarpedon and Andromache: II. 5.696-698; 22.467,475; Diomedes: II. 11.334; suitors: Od.
21.153-154, 170-171.
96 Limbs: p£A.T|: U- 7-131; 13.671-672; p£0r|: II. 16.8567/22.362; 22.68; thymos to Hades: II. 7.131.
69
death, although in one instance the poet uses psyche?1 Finally, the formulaic nature o f passages
involving thymos and psyche shows how the two terms could easily overlap with one another.98
This merging o f psychological entities becomes even more prevalent in later Archaic
literature. The lyric and elegiac poets in particular evince a distinct tendency to expand the role
o f psyche by attributing to it qualities that Homer had solely reserved for the psychic agents
active in the living person. Although these (and later) poets could still use psyche in the Homeric
sense o f “life” or “shade,”99 the tendency toward broadening its characteristics can be detected as
early as the seventh century, when Semonides exhorts a person to “give delighf ’ (xocpiôpai) to
his psyche. Other early passages suggesting that the soul is open to the influence o f the emotions
may be found in the poetry o f Anacreon and Hipponax. Both emphasize the psyche as the locus
for suffering: Anacreon, after he is spumed by a young boy, exclaims “you I seek but you do not
heed, not realizing that you are the charioteer of my psyche,” while Hipponax asserts that he will
give his “much-enduring” (uoAaxttovov) psyche to evils if a medicine is not found to relieve his
condition.100 Pindar also transfers to the psyche characteristics normally found in the thymos or
phren\ in Pythian 4 he asserts that Aeson “rejoiced (ydG'naev) about his psyche” when he saw his
son Jason; while elsewhere he can speak of the psyche as “steadfast” (xXdcpcov) or “unflinching”
(dcKcqutToq).101
In addition to its inclusion in the emotional makeup o f the individual, the psyche can also
function, much like the Homeric noos, as that central quality which defines the person. For
97 Thymos: II. 16.469; Od. 19.454; psyche: Od. 14.426. On this issue, see Harrison, “Notes on
Homeric Psychology,” 77; Bernhard Uhde, “Psyche—Ein Symbol?: Zum Verstandnis von Leben und Tod
im ffiihgriechischen Denken,” in Leben und Tod in den Religionen: Symbol und Wirklichkeit, ed. Gunther
Stephenson (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1980), 108, n. 44.
98 Both thymos and psyche can “leave” (A-slrao): II. 4.470; 5.696; 14.134; 16.410, 453; Od. 14.426;
“be taken away” (ccipeco): II. 12.386; 22.68, 257; Od. 3.455; and “be destroyed” (oA.A.u(ai): II. 1.205;
13.763//24.168; 16.681. Psyche can also be paired with menos (II. 5.296; 8.123, 315) and aion (II. 16.453;
Od. 9.523).
99 See, for instance, Tyr. 10.14, who exhorts his army not to spare their psychai; Hesiod, who
writes o f those who weep for “psyche and biotos” (730) and mentions the dark gates that restrain the
psychai of the dead” (710); and Pindar’s statement that Achilles lost his psyche in battle (Pyth. 3.102).
100 Anacr. 360; Hipp. 39.
101 Pyth. 4.122; 1.48; Is. 4.53. See also Simonides (8.12-13), who exhorts the reader to “endure to
the end o f your life, delighting your psyche with good things.”
70
instance, Theognis insists that there is nothing “slavish” (SouAaov) in his psyche because he has
“never betrayed a friend or true comrade.”102 Pindar likewise writes that the men of the house of
Chromios “have psychai superior to wealth” ( k t e & v c o v \ |/ D X d q exo^xs? icpeaaova?).103 These
two passages show, in other words, that the soul’s condition directly relates to how the individual
acts or carries himself. This exemplary state o f the psyche must be cultivated, however, just like
other Homeric psychic entities. Thus, when Bacchylides speaks o f the “virgin” (rcapGevia)
psychai o f the daughters o f Proteus, he apparently implies that souls can undergo a process o f
maturation.104 Alternatively, psyche can “decrease” (jaivuGsv) in a person nearing death.105 In
sum, then, the lyric and elegiac poets apply the qualities found in the Homeric shades and in the
other psychic entities active in the body to the psyche, and as a result, it is with these authors that
the process o f the development of the concept of the soul begins.
This chapter has surveyed the cosmology and psychology of Archaic Greece. It has
shown that the poems o f Homer and Hesiod reflect a pre-scientific understanding of the structure
o f the universe: the cosmos was thought to be comprised o f three compact levels, with the outer
two, the heavens and the underworld, surrounding the flat earth in a symmetrical pattern. While
this architectural framework does not remain immune to the critical challenges o f later
philosophers, it is important for two reasons. First, the popularity of the Homeric poems ensured
that its cosmology would not simply disappear from the discourse of the ancient world, even long
after it becomes scientifically untenable to subscribe to such a model. Thus, later texts, such as
Apuleius’s Metamorphoses and the Christ Hymn in Philippians, occasionally adopt the three-
story model in their formulations of the journey o f the soul. Second, while later cosmological
theories discover a universe much larger than the Archaic poets had imagined, their belief in a
102 529-530.
103 Nem. 9.32.
104 11.48. On this passage, see Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 97.
105 Bacch. 5.151.
71
divine and animate world allows Greco-Roman philosophers to construct a notion o f the soul’s
journey that has the psyche originate and return to its divine home in the heavenly atmosphere.
This examination has also found that Archaic anthropology consists of varied and
overlapping psychic entities, no single one o f which corresponds to the later idea o f the soul.
Moreover, the psyche, which later becomes the term used for this concept, receives limited
treatment in the epics: its use is limited to death scenes and, although it survives the body, Homer
does not consider its continued existence in the underworld as a form o f immortality. At this
early stage in Greek thought, then, it is impossible to speak of a “journey” o f the soul for two
reasons: first, because the psyche is not considered a divine essence that moves from the heavens
to the mundane realm before returning to its original home in the celestial world; and second,
because the Archaic world did not even possess the concept o f a unified soul. Yet, by attributing
certain cognitive and emotional characteristics to this shade, Homer provides later poets with a
foundation for expanding the role o f psyche as an active agent within the living individual. This
marks an important early step in the development o f the concept o f the soul, one which the
Presocratics, as the next chapter will suggest, would adapt to their own philosophical
speculations.
C H A PT E R 2
PRESOCRATICS I: THE IONIAN TRADITION

(THALES TO DIOGENES OF APOLLONIA)
The previous chapter closed by intimating that the psychology o f the Homeric world
would provide a foundation for later philosophical speculation on the soul and its characteristics
within the living person. This chapter will begin to trace this development by analyzing the
philosophical movement that emerged in sixth-century Asia Minor. A brief survey o f Presocratic
cosmology will show that the notion o f a geocentric universe replaces the compact, three-story
cosmos of the Archaic age and makes it structurally possible to speak about the soul’s journey
from and back to the heavenly spheres. Thereafter, more specific attention will be given to the
evidence concerning the nature, origin, and destiny of the soul attributed to those philosophers
located in Ionia or affiliated with their traditions. Three points will be emphasized in this section
for their influence on the philosophy and literature o f the late Hellenistic period: the
macrocosmic-microcosmic relationship between the cosmos and the individual, the corporeality
o f the soul, and the soul as the entity responsible for acquiring knowledge and initiating bodily
movement. The latter two aspects will become especially prominent in the polemical atmosphere
o f early Christianity. As Part IV will show, corporeality plays a centra! role in the debate
between the communities of Thomas and John, while the implications o f psyche's relationship
with Logic and Ethics exist in a nascent form from the time of Paul and are drawn out and
contested more clearly in the philosophical argumentation o f the patristic age. This chapter will
72
73
thus identify one current o f Presocratic thought that informs the Greco-Roman world’s
understanding of the soul.1
I. Presocratic Cosmogony and Cosmology
As the last chapter has shown, the worldview constructed by Homer and Hesiod was
simplistic and wholly based upon mythological precepts. By the sixth century, however, a
combination o f social, political, and economic factors led to the emergence o f a new intellectual
spirit that found the poetic descriptions o f the world inadequate.2 Instead o f relying on the
traditional mythological lore, these philosophers believed that cosmic phenomena could be
explained through reasoned argumentation and according to rational, scientific principles.3 This
general perspective marked the transition from mythos to logos and led to a revision o f Greek
cosmology that would provide later authors with an architectural model for envisioning the
journey of the soul.
Although Presocratic thought is marked by a striking diversity and innovation, and the
evidence is often marred by historical and textual difficulties,4 a few general characteristics
1It should be emphasized here that these physiologoi represent only one current that feeds into the
stream o f Presocratic intellectual thought. A second current, which may be characterized as more religious
or mystical, will be treated separately in the following chapter. Taken as a unit, then, the two chapters will
attempt to highlight the various ways that Greeks prior to the Classical period began to envision the concept
of the journey o f the soul. Dividing the Presocratics into scientific and religious thinkers is, o f course, a
modem construction. As the next chapter will show, even more religiously inclined thinkers assumed some
of the basic cosmological tenets o f the Ionian tradition, while the Presocratics Heraclitus and Empedocles
could approach their philosophical program from a theological position. The parallels between the two
intellectual currents are discussed (but perhaps overestimated in the end) by Aryeh Finkelberg (“On the
Unity o f Orphic and Milesian Thought,” Harvard Theological Review 79 [1986]: 321-335). The present
study nevertheless adopts the distinction heuristically in order to evaluate the various traditions that
contributed to the notion o f the journey of the soul.
2 See Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic Philosophers, 72-74; W.K.C. Guthrie, A History o f
Greek Philosophy, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962), 26-38; Vemant, Myth and
Thought, 176-189; 343-374; McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 20-22.
3 Aristotle describes this new method of thought in Met. 982b8-28. Jonathan Bames ( The
Presocratic Philosophers [New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1989], 4-5) and Guthrie ( History o f
Greek Philosophy, vol. 1, 82-83) examine further the notion of Presocratic rationality.
4 The accuracy o f the testimonia is generally regarded as uneven, and the fragments often contain
anachronistic terminology. For discussions o f methodology, see Dicks, Early Greek Astronomy, 39-41;
Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic Philosophers, 1-6; Bames, Presocratic Philosophers, 13-16.
74
emerge from the fragments and testimonial The first and most noticeable tendency centers on
their efforts to propose reasoned explanations for the origins o f the cosmos. Instead o f relying on
the Hesiodic model o f divine generation, these philosophers thought that the existence o f the
universe could be explained by identifying the one primary substance or arche from which all
others derived. The transformation from unity to multiplicity was thus explained as the result of
the reactions between the opposites hot, cold, dry, and moist. This emphasis on change also
meant that the arche, whether water, air, fire, or Anaximander’s “indefinite” (dntetpov), was
characterized by motion. For example, Anaximander hypothesized that the cosmos was created
when the eternal motion o f the apeiron caused a “germ” (Yovtpoq) containing hot and cold to
“separate o ff’ (dcjtoKpivco). A flame thereupon emerged from and enveloped this vaporous
sphere, and when it was broken, the planetary bodies were formed.6 His pupil Anaximenes,
reverting to a more empirical approach, explained the diversity of phenomena through the
movement of air. While invisible when existing in its “most even state” (b|j.aXd>TaTO<;), air’s
inherent motive quality allows it to undergo the process of “felting” (mAoco) through which it
becomes transformed into a denser condition such as water, earth, or stone.7
In this cosmogonical process, the heaviest elements (earth and water) sink to the lower
regions of the universe, while those that are lighter (air and fire) ascend to the heavenly regions.8
The planetary bodies were thus composed of fire, revolving around rings at the highest regions of
the universe.9 Yet for these physiologoi the cosmos was not as small as Homer and Hesiod had
suggested. Thus, the second major departure from the poetical construction of the world lies in
the size of the cosmos itself: rather than accepting the three-story model, the Presocratics
5 On the cosmological ideas, both explicit and implicit, forwarded by the Presocratics, see W.K.C.
Guthrie, “The Presocratic World-Picture,” Harvard Theological Review 45 (1952): 87-104; W. Emmanuel
Abraham, “The Dialectic o f Milesian Cosmology,” in Ionian Philosophy, ed. K.J. Boudouris (Athens:
International Association for Greek Philosophy, 1989), 11-13.
6 12A10.
7 13A7 (see also 13A6). “Felting” is a term used to describe the process of matting fibers together
through heat and moisture instead o f by weaving. The elemental flux is also found in 22B31, 60, 76.
8 Aristotle (Met. 985a3 l-985b2) notes that the four elements were not officially classified together
until Empedocles. For speculations on the elements, see 13A7; 59B15; 31B17; 67A1; 64A6.
9 Ideas on the composition and placement o f the heavenly bodies were diverse. See, for instance,
12A10, 11; 13A7; 59A42; 67A1; 68A40.
75
assumed that the earth was surrounded by concentric circles around which the heavenly bodies
revolved.10 Anaximander provides the first unambiguous step in this direction by arguing that the
earth remained stationary, not due to the support o f water or Hesiod’s “roots,” but because that
which is in the center need not move in any one direction: “a thing established in the middle, with
a similar relationship to the extremes, has no reason to move up rather than down or laterally; but
since it cannot proceed in opposite directions at the same time, it will remain where it is ‘by
necessity’” ( s ^ & v d y K T |<;).11 With this mathematical explanation Anaximander gives the universe
a geometrical structure that would become axiomatic for subsequent cosmologists.12 The
appearance o f mathematical principles can also be seen in his belief that the earth was shaped like
a drum, with its breadth three times that of its depth, as well as his supposition that the orbits of
the stars, moon, and sun are, respectively, nine, eighteen, and twenty-seven times greater than the
size o f the earth.13
The cosmological changes initiated by the Presocratics had a corresponding influence on
theology, for in their expansive universe the Homeric gods were hardly adequate. In the epic
world, the superiority of the gods was one of degree: they were bigger, faster, and stronger than
humans.14 Yet despite their superior gifts, even these deities paled in comparison to the vastness
of the Presocratic cosmos. The solution o f the physiologoi, however, was not to eradicate the
notion o f divinity but rather to transform it. In place o f the poets’ anthropomorphic gods, the
10 An alternative to the geocentric model is proposed by the Pythagorean Philolaus (44A16; see
also 58B37). But cf. D.L. 8.25. Bames (Presocratic Philosophers, 27) says that the Pythagorean
innovation “was deemed bizarre, and remained unfashionable.”
11 12A26.
12 Although the belief that the earth rested freely in the middle o f the universe proved too radical
for many later physiologoi (see, for instance, 13A7, 14, 20; 59A42), those who still insisted that the earth
was supported by another substance still thought the universe to be much larger than the poets had
imagined.
13 Although all o f the ratios of the heavenly bodies are not explicitly given in the testimonia, it
appears likely that this is what Anaximander had in mind. See 12A10, 11, 18, 21. For an analysis of these
passages, see Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic Philosophers, 133-137; Kahn, Anaximander, 81-89;
McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 38-39.
14 For instance, II. 3.380-381; 5.835-839, 859-860; 8.17-27; 9.496-501; 14.284-285; 16.688; 22.7-
10; Od. 22.287-289.
76
Presocratics ascribe divinity to their particular archai.15 For these philosophers, this primary
substratum surrounds and regulates the order of the cosmos. For Anaximander the apeiron was
“eternal” (ddStoq) and its role was “to encompass all things and steer all,” a sentiment that would
find expression in later Presocratic formulations as w ell.16 Xenophanes echoes these thoughts
with his strident rejection o f the anthropomorphic conception o f divinity, insisting that god is one
and eternal, “in no way similar to mortals either in body or in thought.”17 Furthermore, although
Xenophanes, like the other Presocratics, did not work with the concept o f incorporeality, he still
manages to develop an abstract notion of god that, he argues, directs the universe from the outer
reaches o f the cosmos: “Always he remains in the same place, moving not at a l l ... without toil he
shakes all things [i.e. the cosmos] by the thought o f his mind.18
The Presocratic introduction of divinity in an abstract sense resulted in a new way to
articulate the concept of justice. No longer simply the “will o f Zeus,” justice could be expressed
as the continuous interplay between opposite and equal forces.19 For example, Anaximander
states that “the things that are perish into the things out o f which they come to be, according to
necessity (koctoc to xpecov), for they pay penalty and retribution to each other for their injustice
(& 5 ik Icx) in accordance with the ordering o f time.”20 In this much-discussed passage,
15Anaximander: the apeiron is “divine” (to GeIov), “immortal and indestructible” (dcGdvaxoy yap
r a t dvc6Xe0pov) (12A15); Anaximenes: “air is a god (deum) ... measureless and infinite and always in
motion” (immensum et infinitum et semper in motu) (13A10); Heraclitus: the Logos is eternal and “an ever-
living fire” (ttup dei^coov) (22B30).
16 12A15: nspiexeiv &toxvtcx tcod raxvra tcuPepvav (see also 12A10, 11). For 7t£pi£xsiv, see
13B2: “breath and air enclose the whole world” (oXov tov koctjiov TtvEupa Kod dfjp reepifexEi-); and 59B2:
“air and aether are separated off from the surrounding (jtEpifexovroQ) multitude, and that which surrounds
(7tepi£xov) is unlimited in amount.” For jcupepvav, see 22B41: “the wise is one thing, to be acquainted
with true judgment; how all things are steered (tcuPepvaToa) through all” (see also 22B64); 28B12: “the
goddess who steers (lcupepva) all things”; 64B5: “all men are steered” (icupepvdc0ai) by air.
17 21B23; see also 2 IB 11, 14-16; 21A12. Jaeger ( Theology, 32) calls attention to the distinction
between the Olympian deities, who were created in time, and the eternal and infinite cosmos of the
Presocratics.
18 21B25. See also 21B24. For Xenophanes conception o f god, see John Bumet, Early Greek
Philosophy, 4th ed. (New York: Meridian Books, 1957), 128-129; Jaeger, Theology, 38-54; Guthrie, History
o f Greek Philosophy, vol. I, 373-383; Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 27-28.
19 On this issue, see Gregory Vlastos, “Equality and Justice in Early Greek Cosmologies,”
Classical Philology 42 (1947): 156-178.
20 12B1.
77
Anaximander appears to have in mind the continuous flux o f opposite elements.21 As one
element increases, it commits an “injustice” against another, for which it must necessarily pay
reparations to restore equality to the world. Overseeing this process, so it would appear, is the
apeiron, the principle from which the opposites emerged. Perhaps as a conscious reformulation
o f Anaximander’s formula, Heraclitus maintained that the clash o f opposites was the natural order
o f things: “war is common and justice is strife (8ucr|v epiv) and that all things happen by strife
and necessity.”22 Yet above the forces at work in the endless generation and corruption,
Heraclitus’s arche reigns supreme: “fire will advance and judge and convict all things.”23 Thus,
encompassed and permeated by the divine, the Presocratics’ universe could be described quite
appropriately as a /cosmos?4
EL The Individual in Presocratic Thought

In antiquity it was common to suggest that the Presocratics focused mainly on questions
o f the physical world at the expense o f the individual. Cicero states that “from the ancient days
down to the time o f Socrates ... philosophy diligently investigated the sizes o f the stars, their
distances and paths, and all heavenly matters.” It was left to Plato’s teacher, according to Cicero,
“to call down philosophy from the heavens (caelo), establish it in the cities and even bring it into
homes. He compelled it to investigate life and customs and things that are good and evil.”25 Yet
this distinction is artificial, for not only do some o f the testimonia show that these early
21 See Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic Philosophers, 117-122; Guthrie, History of Greek
Philosophy, vol. 1, 76-82; Kahn, Anaximander, 166-196; Paul Seligman, The Apeiron o f Anaximander: A
Study o f the Origin and Function o f Metaphysical Ideas [Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1962], 66-83;
McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 43-47.
22 22B80.
23 22B66: to irup feueXGov xptvei Kod Ka'caXfuj/ETca (see also 22B64: “Thunderbolt steers all
things”). Heraclitus appears to associate fire and the totality o f opposites with God (22B65, 67), and argues
that while humans may not perceive the true nature o f justice, to God all things are just (22B102). See also
G.S. Kirk, Heraclitus: The Cosmic Fragments (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1954), 184-201.
24 According to Plato, “wise men ... say that heaven and earth and gods and men are bound
together by fellowship and friendship, and orderliness (Koap.i6rqTa) and temperance and justice
(SiKcciomrKx), and for this reason they call the sum o f things the ‘ordered’ (xoapov) universe ... not the
world of disorder (dtKoapiav) or riot” ( Gorg. 507e-508a). On the history of the term Koapoc;, see Kahn,
Anaximander, 219-230; Wright, Cosmology, 3-7.
25 Cic. Tusc. Disp. 5.4.10-11. See also Xen. Mem. 1.1.11.
78
philosophers had a clear interest in individuals,26 but their cosmological terminology is clearly
indebted to human conventions 27 This section will build upon these observations by suggesting
that the Presocratic use o f psychological terminology created a nexus between the cosmology and
anthropology that helped further the concept o f the soul as a unitary and divine element within the
individual.
Thales (ca. 624-ca. 548-545)
O f the various stories, anecdotal or otherwise, surrounding the Milesian cosmologist
Thales, the most important for this study are three: first, that he proclaimed water to be the arche;
second, that he thought “all things are full o f gods”; and third, that he connected motion with soul
{psyche). With such scanty evidence there can be little hope o f recovering the full import of his
teachings; it is only possible here to make a few conjectures. To say that water is the “first
principle of existing things” (&pxf)v ... xahv ovxcov), Thales apparently meant that out of water all
other substances arise, and moreover, that after their transformation, all things retain to some
degree the properties o f water.29 As the original substratum, water must have had no beginning in
time, while its ability to transform itself meant that it possessed the capacity for self-motion.
Therefore, Thales may have reasoned, water must be eternal and divine.
If water is divine, then the final two statements fall into place. For to say “all things are
full o f gods” (tc&vtcc 7uA.f]pt( Gecov etvca) is nothing more than to suggest that all things partake
in divinity precisely because all things contain some degree o f moisture. Consequently, not only
26 12A10, 30; 2IB18, 34; 22B1, 2, 35; 59A42, 92: 3IB57-62, 65, 67, 100, 105; 68A139; 64B6.
27 The Presocratic emphasis on cosmic order and justice reflects late Archaic thinking on medicine
and politics. According to the treatise Regimen (1.2), because illnesses arise from the cosmic elements,
doctors must be familiar with the cosmos as a whole. Another text (On Human Nature 7.58-60) argues that
both the cosmos and man are dependent on the proper elemental balance. The influence of medical and
legal developments in cosmological speculation are examined by Vlastos (“Equality and Justice,” 156-
158), Vemant (Myth and Thought, 343-352); and McKirahan (Philosophy Before Socrates, 45).
28 11AI, 12,22.
29 This supposition stems from Anaximander’s critique of Thales and his own introduction of the
apeiron (12A16)
79
is water divine, but, through this association with water, so too is everything else.30 Moreover,
psyche, which Thales reportedly thought was “in some sense the source of movement”
(tcLvr)TLKov xi mqv vyuxfiv), must be characteristic o f all things as well, and to emphasize his
point, he proclaimed that even things traditionally regarded as “inanimate” (to dhjruxa), such as
a magnet or amber, possess psyche because of their motive capacities.31 For the history o f the
concept o f the soul, three points are of interest. First, like the poets o f the later Archaic period,
Thales gives the psyche a role in living things by suggesting that motion is its fundamental
characteristic. Second, he seems to make a connection between the primary, divine element o f
the cosmos and that which exists in living things. Finally, he appears to assume that through its
relationship with the divine arche, psyche is a “bodily” (i.e. watery) substance. O f course it is
impossible to know if this was his explicit intention, but the fact that this type of speculation will
appear among other Presocratics suggests that such innovative thinking was not impossible at this
time.
Anaximander (ca. 610-ca. 545)
The testimonia related to Anaximander is significantly larger than that o f Thales, his
older contemporary, yet what has survived still represents only a fraction of his total teachings.
While this evidence is essential for cosmological theory, virtually nothing remains of his thoughts
on mankind.32 Two points are nonetheless of interest. First, consistent with the method of
inquiry in the period, Anaximander makes analogies between cosmogony and the emergence o f
30 Abraham, “Dialectic o f Milesian Cosmology,” 16; Kathleen Freeman, The Pre-Socratic

Philosophers: A Companion to Diels, Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, 3rd ed. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1966), 53-54.
31 Burnet (Early Greek Philosophy, 50) reaches a much different conclusion: “to say the magnet
and amber are alive is to imply, if anything, that other things are not.”
32 Although Aristotle does not mention him in his De anima, it is probable that Anaximander said
something in his works about the soul. According to Themistius (12A7), Anaximander “was the first to
produce a written account on nature” (itepl (jruaecoi;), and the Suda (12A2) lists his writings as “On Nature,
Circuit o f the Earth, On the Fixed Stars, and Celestial Globe, and some others.” Kirk, Raven, and
Schofield ( Presocratic Philosophers, 102) think that the title On Nature should be viewed “with reserve,”
but Kahn (Anaximander, 6-7) accepts the title and views it as an ancestor to works such as Plato’s Timaeus
and Lucretius’s De Rerum Natura (both of which contain sections on the composition of man). Regarding
the comprehensive nature of the IIspi <t>uaeco£ genre, see Bames, Presocratic Philosophers, 19-20.
80
living beings. Cosmic creation, it will be recalled, occurred when the elements hot and cold were
surrounded by fire like “bark around a tree” (d><; xcp 5ev5pco <j>Xolov). After the fire “broke o ff’
(a7ioppfiYvu|j.i), the universe was created (12A10). Similarly, Anaximander hypothesizes that the
first living creatures were “bom in moisture, enclosed in thorny barks” (<j>XoioTq Jtepi£xop.svot
&Kav9c65ecx) that eventually “broke o ff’ (TtepippfiYimp.1.) after they increased in age.33
Admittedly, this report, as well as the other few devoted to living creatures,34 does not
say anything about the precise composition o f mankind or the soul, but it does provide another
example o f how these thinkers viewed the relationship between the cosmos at large and
humanity. There is, however, one passage from the late antique writer Theodoretus that
specifically mentions Anaximander among those Presocratics who thought that the psyche was
“o f an airy nature” (&epc65r| xfjq lyoxjk tfiv (Jrucriv) (12A29). Here again the soul is equated
with a corporeal substance, and despite the textual problems associated with this source, there is
no reason to think that such a formulation is incorrect from a history of ideas perspective.35
Indeed, the link between psyche and breath, appears to have been made prior to Homer, and was
widely accepted by a variety o f sixth-century thinkers.36 Moreover, Anaximander’s pupil
Anaximenes specifically maintains such a position, as will be shown below. Thus, while the
doxographers do not elaborate on Anaximander’s concept of soul, to think o f it as air would not
have been inconsistent with contemporary theory.
Anaximenes (ca. 586-ca. 516)
The two previous Milesians intimated that the individual operates in a fashion analogous
to that o f the cosmos at large. With Anaximenes, this assumption is explicitly stated. Rejecting
the hypothetical apeiron o f his teacher, Anaximenes argues that air is the universal substratum,
33 12A30. See also the comments by H.C. Baldry, “Embryological Analogies in Pre-Socratic
Cosmogony,” Classical Quarterly 26 (1932): 29-30.
34 For instance, 12A10.
35 On this passage and its significance, see Kahn, Anaximander, 71, 114.
36 21A1: “the soul is breath” (f| vj/uxfi Jtvevpoc). According to Aristotle (De anim. 410b28-31),
the Orphics thought that the soul was “borne by the winds” and enters into animals “when they breathe.”
81
and thus that it is a god, infinite and without measure (13 A10). Consequently, air surrounds the
universe, and change is explained as in terms o f density: rarified air leads to the creation o f finer
substances, while condensed air produces more compact material (13A7). This impetus for this
discovery appears to have its origin in simple human observation. For as Plutarch records,
Anaximenes recognized that “breath becomes cold when compressed and condensed by the lips,
and when the mouth is relaxed, the escaping breath becomes warm through the rareness” (13B1).
This passage suggests that the cosmos, as an animate, breathing organism, operates in a manner
similar to that o f humans.
Such an analogy becomes even more pronounced in the famous fragment preserved by
Aetius. According to the doxographer, Anaximenes maintained that “Just as our soul, being air,
holds us together and controls us, so do breath and air surround the whole cosmos.”37 Although
the comparison is not precise and the sentence probably does not preserve the actual words of
Anaximenes, the fact remains that its basic meaning is consistent with earlier Milesian thought
that compares cosmological phenomena with individual activity.38 In this passage Anaximenes
employs a microcosm-macrocosm analogy, making explicit what his predecessors only implicitly
assumed—that the human soul can be used as a model for explaining the structural foundations of
the cosmos. The fragment also attests to the notion that the soul, regarded in typical Archaic
fashion as airy, is a “bodily” entity active in the living person. Yet Anaximenes goes even further
than the later archaic poets by recognizing that it is the most important psychological agent: it
holds together and controls mankind. Moreover, in direct contrast to the Homeric notion o f soul,
the Milesian identifies an essential relationship between the human psyche and god, or that divine
j7 13B2: “diov f| yo^f), (jjriolv, f| tiuetepoo cScfjp of)era croytcpaxEi kcc! oXov t o v Koapov
JtvEupa iced ocfip Tispifexei-”
38 For analyses o f this fragment, see Bumet, Early Greek Philosophy, 74-75; Guthrie, History o f
Greek Philosophy, vol. 1, 127-132; Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic Philosophers, 158-162; Karin
Alt, “Zum Satz des Anaximenes tlber die Seele: Untersuchung von Aetios IIEPI APXHN,” Hermes 101
(1973): 129-164; Claus, Toward the Soul, 123-125; McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 54-55;
Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 102-106. Both Alt and Kirk, Raven, and Schofield outline the
textual problems with this fragment. Still, Bumet, Guthrie, and McKirahan are among those who interpret
this passage sympathetically. On the other hand, Alt, followed by Claus, thinks that Aetius confused
Anaximenes with Diogenes of Apollonia.
82
substance which encompasses and organizes the cosmos. This formulation, which receives more
extensive meditation by later philosophers, becomes axiomatic for late Hellenistic philosophers
and is fundamental for the development o f the concept o f the journey o f the soul.
Heraclitus (ca. 540-ca. 480)
With Heraclitus Presocratic philosophy shifts from dispassionate observations about the
composition o f the universe to the world of religion and prophecy.39 Indeed, many of his
fragments survive as pithy apothegms, challenging and exhorting the masses to recognize the
truth and to follow him by living in accordance with the Logos.40 With this temperament, it is not
surprising that he does not simply follow his predecessors’ cosmological ideas. In fact, although
Heraclitus does view fire as the primary element o f the universe, he moves away from the
Milesians’ strict monism. Instead o f maintaining that all things retain to varying degrees the
property o f this divine substance, Heraclitus only claims that all things were once fire. In other
words, while every substance was fire at one point, these different substances do not retain an
essential identity with fire 41 In Heraclitus’s terminology, fire is always changing into other
elements, “kindling in measures and going out in measures.”42 Elsewhere, he writes: “The
turnings (xpcrta'i) o f fire: first sea, and o f sea the half is earth and half lightning-flash (7tpr|<xnp)
... <earth> is poured out as sea, and is measured according to the same ratio (Xoyov) it was
before it became earth.”43 With these sayings Heraclitus emphasizes that the basic characteristic
o f the world is its continuous and eternal flux.44 Moreover, this flux is marked by an essential
39 See Jaeger, Theology, 109-112; Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 1,413-415.
40 For instance, 22B 1,2,29,72, 86, 104, 108, 116, 119.
41 Bames (Presocratic Philosophy, 62) writes that the formula “Everything is from X” was taken
by the Tomans to mean that at some time everything was X. For Heraclitus, however, this meant that
everything was at some time X. See also Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic Philosophers, 198.
4 22B30. On this fragment, see Kirk, Heraclitus, 307-324.
43 22B31. On this difficult fragment, see Kirk, Heraclitus, 325-338. See also 22B76: Fire lives
the death of earth and air lives the death o f fire, water lives the death of air, earth that o f water”; and
22B90: “All things are an equal exchange for fire and fire for all things, as goods are for gold and gold for
goods.” The use of air in 22B76 is probably a Stoic addition. See Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic
Philosophers, 204, n. 1.
44 22B60: “The road up and the road down are one and the same.”
83
tension between opposing elements. Thus, he asserts that “It is necessary to know that war is
common (£uvov) and right is strife (5'ucnv epiv) and that all things happen by strife and
necessity” (spiv Kcxi %pec6v).45
Yet paradoxically, this tension produces a cosmic harmony or equilibrium, a precondition
for the universe to exist at all: “What is opposed brings together; the finest harmony (&ftp.oviav)
is composed o f things at variance, and everything comes to be through strife.”46 For Heraclitus,
then, the world’s diversity is proof o f its underlying unity: “out of all things there comes a unity,
and out o f a unity all things.”47 The unity o f the cosmos is ensured through the direction o f the
divine, called alternatively fire, the Logos, or God. Heraclitus contends that fire “steers all” and
“will judge and convict all things,” and that everything comes to be in accordance with the Logos,
which is “one” and “common” (£uvo<;) to all despite the fact that most people do not recognize
it.48 The divine thus oversees and acts as the totality o f all opposition: “God is day and night,
winter and summer, war and peace, satiety and hunger, but changes the way <fire,> when
mingled with perfumes, is named according to the scent o f each.”49
More so than the previous philosophers, Heraclitus’s cosmology is intended to highlight
his thoughts on humanity. Just as divinity appears in the cosmos through the elemental nature o f
fire, so too does it exist in mankind in the form of psyche. This may be inferred by the
replacement o f “fire” in B 31 with psyche: “For souls it is death to become water, for water it is
death to become earth; from earth water comes-to-be, and from water, soul” (22B36). This
fragment shows that for Heraclitus, as with the other Presocratics, the soul is clearly conceived of
in terms of corporeality. Moreover, a medieval scholiast preserves Heraclitus’s belief that it
played a dynamic role within the living person: the soul (cmima), so it is reported, is “joined
firmly and proportionately” (firme etproportionaliter iimcta est) to the body (corpus), so that it
45 22B80. “Common” should be understood as “universal,” according to Kirk, Heraclitus, 240-

241 and Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 113, n. 48. See also 22B53: “War is the father of all
and the king o f all.”
46 22B8; see also 22B84a, 125.
47 22B10; see also 22B50, 51, 54, 123.
48 Fire: 22B64, 66; the Logos: 22B1,2, 50.
4922B67. On this fragment, see Kirk, Heraclitus, 184-201. See also 22B30, 31, 90.
84
immediately perceives when the body has been harmed, much like the spider who quickly runs to
a damaged area o f his web.so Here the psyche is connected with internalizing the sense
perceptions. Finally, by underscoring both the motive and regulatory functions o fpsyche, these
fragments accentuate the correspondence held by Heraclitus between the cosmic fire and the
human soul.
Heraclitus’s entire philosophical program is directed toward recognizing the divine nature
of the cosmos: “The wise is one thing, to be acquainted with true judgment (fe7naxac0ai
Yvc6p.T|v), how all things are steered through all.”51 It is through the psyche, as the divine spark in
mankind, that this knowledge is obtained. As such, psyche is closely related to the intellectual
capacities of the noos and phren. While sense perceptions can distract “barbarian psychai" (those
that do not comprehend the reality of the Logos),52 the intelligent psyche possesses an ability to
recognize and relate the truth o f the divine. Heraclitus therefore remarks that “Those who speak
with understanding (£i>v vocp) must rely firmly on what is common (^'uvcp) to a l l ... for all the
laws of humans are nourished by one law, the divine law”; and “Right thinking (aaxfjpovelv) is
the greatest excellence, and wisdom (ao<j)vri) is to speak and act in accordance with nature, while
paying attention to it.”53 Conversely, those who uncritically follow tradition possess deficient
understanding (noos) and intelligence (phren) (22B104). It is in this context that Heraclitus’s
dictum “A dry soul is wisest and best” should be understood: a dry psyche is one that has retained
50 22B67a. On this fragment, which is generally but not universally regarded as preserving the
thought o f Heraclitus, see Martha C. Nussbaum, “X PYXH in Heraclitus, I” Phronesis 17 (1972): 6-9.
51 22B41; see also B35.
52 22B107; but cf. 22B55 and 101a, where sense impressions receive a positive treatment. On
22B107, see Nussbaum, “'PYXH in Heraclitus, I” 9-13.
53 22B114, 112. On 22B114, see Kurt von Fritz, “NOYX, NOEIN, and Their Derivatives in
Presocratic Philosophy (Excluding Anaxagoras): Part I. From the Beginnings to Parmenides,” Classical
Philology 40 (1945): 232-234. According to Sextus Empiricus, Heraclitus thought that “we become
intelligent by drawing in this divine reason (logos) through breathing.” This conscious state is then
contrasted with the loss o f one’s cognition during sleep (22A16).
85
its “fiery” nature through the acquisition o f knowledge.54 Alternatively, the soul that drinks
excessively becomes wet (both literally and figuratively) and consequently, is easily led astray.55
Each person, however, has the capacity for correct thinking, and thus the psyche can, in
principle, comprehend the nature o f cosmic divinity.56 Unfortunately, however, Heraclitus
concludes that the requisite demands for acquiring and maintaining this high level o f wisdom
prove to be too much for the masses—they live, not in concert with the universal Logos, but
rather according to their own, weak principles.57 With this negative appraisal o f mankind the
philosopher admits that the cognitive functions o f the psyche can be threatened: the soul, like the
cosmic fire, can experience “turnings.” Specifically, the philosopher concedes that the thymos
can act in opposition to the best interests o f the soul: “it is difficult to fight thymos, for what it
wishes it buys at the expense of psyche’’’ (22B85). Contrary to other texts where these two
psychological entities begin to merge together, in this fragment thymos represents anger, or the
desires that hinder the intellectual capabilities o f the psyche. Yet in another sense the
transformation of soul is an essential part o f the cosmic plan in which elements are constantly in
the process o f becoming something else. Indeed, as 22B36 shows, even if the soul may die if it
becomes wet, it nonetheless emerges from water at the opposite end of the cycle. Still, Heraclitus
would have the soul remain as aetherial as possible, for it is in this state that a person possesses
wisdom.58
With his increased emphasis on the actions of the living person, Heraclitus distinguishes
himself from his Ionian predecessors. If life should be directed toward recognizing the Logos,
how, it must be asked, did Heraclitus understand death? What is immediately clear is that the
body’s value is negligible. In contrast to the ethos of the epic, Heraclitus shows disdain for
54 Heraclitus (22B45, 115) apparently recognized that the soul possessed a limitless potential for
acquiring wisdom.
55 22B118, 117; see also 22B77: “It is pleasure or death (xkpyiv f] Gdvccrov) for souls to become
wet.”
56 22B113: “Thinking (<J>povE£iv) is common to all”; and 22B116: “all men have the capacity
(p£tEt|j.t) to know themselves and think rightly” ( y i v g o c t k s i v fecowcmg k c c l aaxfuroveiv).
57 22B1,2, 78, 79, 83, 102. Guthrie (History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 1, 416-419) stresses
22B101 (“I searched myself’) as an important fragment detailing the philosopher’s method.
58 See Martha C. Nussbaum, “'PYXH in Heraclitus, II,” Phronesis 17 (1972): 160.
86
bodily pleasures and teaches that “Corpses (vkKveq) are more fit to be thrown out than dung.”59
His assessment of the post-mortem state o f the soul, however, presents no simple solution.60 On
the one hand, it is possible to read a few o f the fragments as expressions o f some type o f
individual immortality. For instance, Heraclitus thought that “Souls slain in war are purer than
those that perish in diseases”; that “Greater deaths gain greater portions” (or destinies, p.oipaq);
and that some souls arise to become “guardians” ((fruXaKOcg) o f the living and the dead.61 Such
meditations, then, suggest that all souls are not drawn back into the divine fire in equal measure.
Moreover, because the reference to “guardians” consciously alludes to the figures o f Hesiod’s
Golden Age, while another fragment observes that “Gods and humans honor (xi|xdocn) those slain
in war,” it is possible that the philosopher is making a concession to the cult o f souls. Finally, it
might be argued that to emphasize wisdom and ethics while simultaneously denying that souls are
somehow distinguishable after death creates more questions regarding Heraclitus’s philosophical
consistency than it solves.62
On the other hand, it is possible, based upon his cosmological tenets, that Heraclitus
rejected any type of personal survival after death.63 Indeed, he challenges traditional Homeric
thinking on the fate o f the psyche by claiming that it can perish if it becomes wet.64 His
contention that “Things unexpected and unthought o f await humans when they die”65 may suggest
the un-Homeric notion that at death the elements that comprise the individual simply separate; the
59 22B96; see also 22B29: “the many stuff themselves like cattle.”
60 The lack o f agreement on this issue is pervasive in secondary scholarship. For instance,
Freeman (PreSocratic Philosophers, 126) says, “If it is absorbed into the primal Fire or World Soul, it is
difficult to see how it can continue to exist as a separate personality; yet he clearly taught that it did, and
was subject to rewards and punishments.” Yet John Bumet {Greek Philosophy: Thales to Plato [New
York: St. Martin’s Press, 1964], 49-50) writes “There are certainly fragments that seem to assert the
immortality of the individual soul; b u t... they cannot bear this interpretation. Soul is only immortal in so
far as it is part of the everliving fire which is the life o f the world. Seeing that the soul o f every man is in
constant flux like his body, what meaning can immortality have?”
61 22B136, 25, 63. On the text-critical problems of 22B63, see Nussbaum, “TYXH in Heraclitus,
n,” 166-168.
62 Based on his cosmogony, Finkelberg (“On the Unity,” 328-332) has argued that Heraclitus
believed in transmigration.
63 So Rohde, Psyche, 370; Sullivan, Psychological and Ethical Ideas, 119.
64 22B36, 77.
65 22B27.
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body goes into the ground while the psyche ascends to the higher reaches o f the cosmos to be
reabsorbed in the cosmic fire. In this case there can be no question o f individual immortality. In
fact, this fragment suggests that nothing happens after death. This, then, may help to explain
Heraclitus’s interest in the unending glory o f warriors slain in battle: “The best renounce all for
one thing, the eternal fame o f mortals” (tcXeoq dcevcxov Qvrycdiv) (22B29). Because there can be
no hope for personal existence after death, Heraclitus seems to say, immortality can only be
attained through the remembrances o f the living.66 Although there can be no absolute certainty
on this issue, this latter option at least has the advantage o f corresponding to the cosmological
theories propounded in this period.
Diogenes o f Apollonia (fl. 440-430)
Tradition regards Diogenes of Apollonia as an eclectic philosopher whose significance
stems not from his innovation but from his ability to bring together many o f the ideas o f earlier
cosmologists.67 Like Anaximenes, Diogenes taught that the primary substance was air, which he
called “both great and strong and eternal and immortal and much-knowing.”68 Possessing
intellect as its essential characteristic, this arche actively directs the cosmos. Moreover, this
divine principle resides in mankind as its ruling faculty: “that which has intelligence (voti<tlv) is
what men call air (cftfip), and that all men are steered (leupepvaaGca) by this and that it has power
over all things. For this very thing seems to me to be god (Geog) and to have reached everywhere
and to dispose all things and to be in everything.”69 As a “small portion o f god” (piKpov ...
p.6piov xov Geob),70 this air is explicitly associated with the psyche: “Men and other living
creatures live by means of air (xcp &6pi.), through breathing it. And this is for them both soul and
66 This argument, which corresponds to the Homeric perspective on immortality, is developed by

Nussbaum, “'FYXH in Heraclitus, II,” 153-170.
67 See 64A5. See also the evaluations of Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic Philosophers,
436-438; Bames, Presocratic Philosophers, 567-571; McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 344-352.
68 64B8: “Kai p&ya K od 'icrx'opov xai <5d8iov xs K o d dcG&vaxov K o d izoXXa etSoq eaxi.”
69 64B5. The hymnic feel of this passage has been detailed by Jaeger, Theology, 31, n. 44; 166, n.
59.
70 64A19.
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intelligence (icoa \jruxfi feaxi Koti voTicnq) ... and if this is removed, then they die and
intelligence fails.”71
This reference to the psyche as breath or the life principle recalls the traditional Greek
position, but Diogenes also follows more contemporary philosophical theories by associating it
with the highest faculty in the individual, that which controls and directs the living person.
Theophrastus (64A19) reports that he attributed “thinking and the senses (to (fjpoveiv ... Kai xac,
dia&qaeiq) to air,” and continues by providing several explicit examples of this process. He first
records Diogenes’ belief that “The sense of smell is produced by the air around the brain ...
Hearing is produced whenever the air within the ears, being moved by the air outside, spreads
toward the brain. Vision occurs when things are reflected on the pupil, and it, being mixed with
the air within, produces a sensation.” Continuing, Theophrastus attributes to Diogenes the
hypothesis that “ if the smell were symmetrical with the air, with regard to mixture, man would
smell perfectly.” Finally, Diogenes is said to have asserted that pleasure and pain are caused by
the combination o f air and blood: “whenever air mixes in quantity with the blood and lightens it
... pleasure is produced; but whenever the air is present contrary to nature and does not mix ...
pain is produced.” The soul for Diogenes thus initiates and processes the sense perceptions.
While the psyche exists in all living things, Diogenes, like his predecessors, taught that its
level of intelligence is dependent on its degree o f purity:
there are many fashions both of air itself and o f intelligence. For it is many-
fashioned, being hotter and colder and drier and moister ... And yet o f all living
creatures the soul (v^X1!) is the same, air that is warmer than that outside, in
which we exist, but much cooler than that near the sun. But in none o f living
creatures is this warmth alike (since it is not even so in individual men) ... living
creatures are many-fashioned and many in number, resembling each other neither
in form nor in way of life nor in intelligence.72
Diogenes, just as Heraclitus before him, assumes that human psychai are not qualitatively
identical. According to Theophrastus, Diogenes argued that “Thought... is caused by pure and
dry air; for a moist emanation inhibits the intelligence; for this reason thought is diminished in
71 64B4. Compare with Heraclitus’s belief that cognition occurred through breathing (22A16).
72 64B5.
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sleep, drunkenness, and surfeit” (64A19). Although none o f the philosopher’s ideas on the post
mortem state o f psyche are extant, it may be that he, like many other o f his fifth-century
contemporaries, believed that at death this element simply dissipates and returns to the celestial
regions o f the cosmos.
This chapter has focused on the contributions made by the philosophical stream of
Presocratic thought in developing the concept o f the journey o f the soul. With nascent
expressions o f a geocentric cosmos, these thinkers overturned the three-story cosmos o f the poets
and provided a model for later writers to envision the sojourn o f the soul through the heavenly
spheres. This discovery also led to a revaluation of earlier anthropomorphic representations of
the divine, for the gods of Homer and Hesiod became inadequate in an expansive universe
operating according to rational, ordered principles. For these philosophers, then, god was not the
Zeus or Hera o f the epics but rather an eternal arche encompassing and permeating the whole
world. These formulations were aided by the idea that human beings operated according to the
same principles as the universe at large. Thus, while tradition may credit Democritus as the first
to assert explicitly that man was a mikros kosmos, such an analogy appears implicitly throughout
the thoughts o f these first scientists: just as the universe is directed and controlled by one primary
substance, so too, through the soul, is mankind.73 With this claim the Ionians offer a number of
significant contributions to the history of the development of the soul: they make it possible to
think that one’s essential makeup was in some way consubstantial with the divine, they provide a
scientific formulation for the soul’s corporeal nature, and they ascribe to the psyche a greater
degree o f activity within the living person, responsible for movement, knowledge, and bodily
actions.
These points mark significant reformulations o f Homeric ideas and are essential for the
construction of the notion of a “journey” for the soul. Yet with the possible exception of
73 68B34. See also W.K.C. Guthrie, A History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 2 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1965), 471-472.
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Heraclitus, there is little evidence to suggest that these philosophers recognized or were even
concerned with the theological implications o f their theories. They do not seem to have thought
through the idea o f a pre-existent soul that possesses individuality both before its incarnation and
after the death of the body. Instead, their speculations led them only to claim that the psyche
would, if it existed in its pure state at death, ascend to its proper sphere within the cosmic arena.
While this assertion provided a scientific explanation for the ascent of the soul, it would be left to
those o f a more religious temperament to draw out and underscore these consequences, as the
next chapter will suggest.
CH A PTER 3
PRESOCRATTCS II: THE WESTERN TRADITION

(ORPMSM, PYTHAGOREANISM, AND EMPEDOCLES)
If the Ionians represent a more scientific approach to the individual’s place in the cosmos,
the Orphic and Pythagorean systems evince a desire to explain this phenomenon according to
religious ideas.1As a result, thoughts on the nature, origin, and destiny o f the soul are taken in
new directions and ascribed with a deeper, more personal significance. This chapter will assess
the impact that this religious temper has on the concept of the journey of the soul, first through an
analysis o f Orphism and Pythagoreanism and thereafter by examining the impact that these
traditions had on the fifth century Presocratic philosopher Empedocles. It will be shown that this
theological current reverses the Homeric notion o f the individual by introducing into Greece a
dualistic anthropology that regards the soul alone as the true person, that which looks toward its
separation from the body. These thinkers therefore exploit the Ionian discovery that the psyche is
the divine element within mankind, and, by arguing for an individual pre- and post-existence,
provide the foundation for imagining that the soul undergoes a “journey” from its divine home to
the material world and back again. This meditation, which will be viewed as the journey of the
soul in its full sense, receives further elaboration in later Greco-Roman philosophy and enters into
1 While this remains true in a general sense, determining the precise beliefs and activities of these
two movements has proved controversial because of the difficulties inherent in the extant evidence. By
grouping Orphism and Pythagoreanism together, this study follows the basic methodological principles
outlined first by Nilsson and further explicated by Burkert. This chapter will thus assume that the
intellectual climate of the sixth century was fluid and open, allowing diverse individuals and groups free to
exchange and borrow ideas with one another and develop them according to their own particular needs. As
a result, Orphic and Pythagorean traditions display a number of parallel beliefs on the soul despite the fact
that in other areas their thoughts do not show similar affinities. This chapter will also assume that later
writers, if used with appropriate caution, can inform and expand the understanding o f these two
movements.
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the discourse of some early Christian communities as their fundamental theological statement.
Yet as Part IV will show, the complete journey is not accepted by all Christians and therefore
becomes a source o f controversy among rival Christian groups.
I. Soul and Cosmos

Like some o f the Ionians, Orphism and Pythagoreanism taught that the psyche was
associated with the physical element air. According to Aristotle, the poems traditionally
attributed to Orpheus allege “that the soul, borne by the winds, enters from the universe into
animals when they breathe.”2 Similarly, he reports that “some” (tlvsc;) Pythagoreans “have
declared that the soul is identical with the particles in the air (xoc ev tc5 dept ^'Oap.axa), and
others with what makes these particles move. These particles have found their place in the theory
because they can be seen perpetually in motion even when the air is completely calm.”3
Diogenes Laertius also records Pythagoras’s contention that the “faculties o f the soul are winds”
(xovq 5e Xoyouq ij/'ux'n? dvepouq eivca), and notes that he taught the abstention o f beans
because they “partake most of the breath o f life” (tot) vj/dxiko'u).4 As the last chapter suggested,
the recognition of an essential relationship between air and the life principle in human beings was
not only characteristic o f the sixth and fifth centuries, but its origins probably stretch back beyond
the historical record. The Orphics and Pythagoreans thus appear consistent with traditional views
in this regard.
They also seem to have recognized, as had the Ionians, an analogous relationship
between the cosmos and human beings. Thus, just as the Orphic contention that the soul is
breathed in “from the universe” (ek too 0A.00) suggests that the air had a central role in their
anthropology, so too does it have a cosmogonical and cosmological function. According to the
Derveni Papyrus, the air “governs all,” is responsible for creation, and, the commentator
2 Arist. De anim. 410b28-31 (=1B 11).

3 Arist. De cmim. 404al7-19 (=58B40). See also Cic. De nat. deo. 1.11.27.
4 D.L. 8.30, 24.
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maintains, is called Oceanus, the hypostatic power o f Zeus.5 For the Pythagoreans, the airy soul
likewise has as its correlative the animate nature o f the universe. In a passage that echoes
Anaximenes’ theory o f condensation and rarefaction, Aristotle notes that “The Pythagoreans also
said that the void exists, and enters the universe from the unlimited breath ( ek tot3 dwueipo-u
TO’Eup.axoq); the universe so to speak breathes in the void, which distinguishes things.”6
Respiration, a natural function in the formation o f animal life, is thus involved in the creation and
existence of the universe as well.7 Such examples are further proof o f how widespread the
macrocosmic-microcosmic relationship was among late Archaic intellectuals.8
II. The Journey of the Soul

While Orphic and Pythagorean thoughts on the composition o f the soul and its
relationship to the basic operations o f the universe parallel the teachings o f Anaximenes,
Heraclitus, and Diogenes, their theory of soul develops in a way that, in the end, bears little
resemblance to that o f these cosmologists. Specifically, Orphism and the followers o f Pythagoras
teach an anthropological dualism that highlights the intrinsic difference between body and soul.
While the former is corruptible and transient, the soul is the true self, an immortal essence that
has both a pre- and post-mortem existence. Yet unlike the Ionians, the soul in its disembodied
state is not simply reabsorbed into the cosmic arche or transformed into another substance.
Rather, the psyche maintains its individuality throughout its series o f incarnations before it
escapes from the “cycle o f becoming” to return to its divine home. Consequently, Orphic and
5 Derv. Pap. cols. 15.3; 17.1-13; 19.1-9. See also the Orphic Hymn to Aither. “O, tamer o f all,
fire-breather, life’s spark for every creature.” O f the various Orphic commentaries on cosmology, these are
only two examples. For other versions, see Nilsson, “Early Orphism,” 195-202; Guthrie, Orpheus, 69-147;
Alderink, Creation and Salvation, 25-53.
6 Arist. Phys. 213b22-27 (=58B30). This same fragment continues with Stobaeus mentioning a
passage o f Aristotle’s On the Philosophy of Pythagoras: “the universe is one, and from the unlimited there
are drawn into it time, breath, and void.” For analysis, see Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic
Philosophers, 340-341; Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 1,276-282; McKirahan, Philosophy
Before Socrates, 102-103.
7 Philolaus offers a parallel to the cosmic process with a description o f the importance o f breathing
in the creation of animals (44A27).
8 See also Baldry, “Embryological Analogies,” 30-34.
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Pythagorean traditions emphasize to a greater degree than the Ionians certain moral or ethical
principles that must be followed in order to be released from embodiment and to achieve
salvation. This section will analyze these themes in order to show that this intellectual current
develops a theory o f soul that contributes to the formulation o f the journey o f the soul.9
Orphism
The Anthropogonical Myth
The Orphic theogony describes the succession o f five generations o f gods, culminating in
the reign o f Zeus. The sixth generation, so the Orphics taught, began after Zeus appointed
Dionysus, his son through Persephone, to rule as king over all the other gods. Yet the Titans,
roused to jealousy, dismembered and ate the body o f the young god after distracting him with
toys. Enraged at this act o f impiety, Zeus hurls a thunderbolt at the Titans, reducing them to
ashes. From the remains o f this immolation, mankind is created. Thus, the myth relates, humans
are comprised o f both a Titanic and Dionysian element: the Titans, as the offspring o f Earth,
represent the mutable body, while the Dionysian portion is the immortal soul.
As only Neoplatonic sources preserve this myth in full, its value for early Orphism has
been questioned.10 Yet there are a number o f reasons for thinking that some form o f the myth
was known in the Classical period, if not before." First, Pausanias reports that the late sixth-
century writer Onomacritus composed a poem detailing the dismemberment o f Dionysus.12
Second, a fragment from Pindar speaks of the “grief o f Persephone,” which can only refer to her
sorrow at the death of Dionysus.13 Third, Plato’s student Xenocrates refers to the “Titanic” prison
9 This section will treat Orphism and Pythagoreanism under separate headings, although it should
be emphasized that, particularly with respect to the soul, the teachings between the two cannot always be
easily separated. On this issue, see the remarks of Burkert, Lore and Science, 125-132.
10 See Burkert, Greek Religion, 298, n. 15. While Linforth (Arts o f Orpheus, 331) and Alderink
(Creation and Salvation, 65-66) are cautious in using this myth as evidence for sixth-century Orphism,
Rohde (Psyche, 341), Nilsson (Geschichte der Griechischen Religion, vol. 1, 649), Guthrie (Orpheus, 82-
83), and Dodds (Greeks and the Irrational, 155-156), accept it as a witness to early Orphic belief.
11 See also Burkert, Greek Religion, 298, n. 17.
12 8.37.5.
13 As found in the Meno 81b-c. This passage will be analyzed below.
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that “culminates in Dionysus.”14 A final allusion to this myth comes from Thurii, where two o f
the gold leaves speak o f the penalty paid by the soul for “wrongful deeds” (i.e. the “Titanic”
crime for which atonement is necessary).15 Thus, there is good reason to think that this myth,
whose salient feature centers on its description o f a dualistic anthropology and the emphasis on
the soul as immortal and consubstantial with the divine, has archaic origins. It will therefore be
necessary to determine how this central teaching impacts other elements found in the Orphic
theory o f the soul.
Dualism and Pre-Existence
It was argued above that Aristotle’s reference to the airy nature o f the Orphic soul was
consistent with sixth-century meditations on the relationship between the divine element within
humans and primary element o f the cosmos.16 This passage also provides some insight into two
other features of Orphic anthropology.17 First, it becomes clear that their theory o f soul was
meant to underscore its intrinsic difference from the body. This much may be inferred both by
the fact that the soul is said to “enter into” (£taet|ii) the body from the primary universal
principle and because Aristotle felt compelled to include the Orphics among those whose
dualistic anthropology was at odds with his own notion o f the soul.18 With this passage it thus
becomes possible to see how the soul’s relationship with the body could be viewed as
antagonistic rather than complementary. Indeed, in a discussion on the etymology of “body”
(ad3p.a), Plato mentions that some view it as a “tomb” (afjpoc) o f the soul, and thereafter
14 According to the Neoplatonist Olympiodorus (fr. 20), Xenocrates said that “the prison (j]
<f>paupd) is the Titanic, and it culminates in Dionysus.” See Richard Heinze, Xenocrates: Darstellung der
Lehre und Sammlung der Fragmente (Hildesheim: Georg Olms Veriagsbuchhandlung, 1965), 166.
15 A2-3: “7ioivdv 8’ divzankxeiq fepycov fevetc’ oim S i k c x ' k o v . ” See Gtinther Zuntz, Persephone:
Three Essays on Religion and Thought in Magna Graecia (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), 303, 305, 313;
Fritz Graf, “Dionysian and Orphic Eschatology: New Texts and Old Questions,” in Masks o f Dionysus, eds.
Thomas H. Carpenter and Christopher A. Faraone (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993), 253. Graf
also includes the Pelinna tablet in his analysis.
16 See n. 2.
17 This section is indebted to Alderink (Creation and Salvation, 55-85), although my interpretation
of the evidence diverges from his on a number of points.
18 Aristotle’s definition o f the soul as the form of the body will be discussed in chapter 6, section
one.
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attributes to the Orphic poets the belief that it is the soul’s “prison” (Seap.oamfipiov): the psyche is
thus imagined to possess an independent existence, surrounded by an alien enclosure.19
From the Titan-Dionysus myth, it is clear that Orphism thought this difference between
soul and body hinged on the notion o f immortality. In one of the so-called Orphic gold leaves,
the soul exclaims T a m a child o f Earth and starry Heaven; but my race is o f Heaven alone.”20
As a child o f Earth and Heaven, the author appears to refer here to his bodily, Titanic element,
while the concluding phrase confidently asserts the immortal nature o f the soul. In a fragment
from Pindar often cited for its affinities with Orphism, the same distinction is made: while the
body “is subject to over-mastering death,” the soul is the “image o f life” (aicnvog et.8coA.ov) that
survives the body because “it alone comes from the gods” (ex Qecov).21 This viewpoint is also
confirmed by Plato, who draws on the Orphic belief in the immortality o f the soul in order to
support his theory o f recollection.22
Aristotle’s description o f the soul entering into the body from the air also suggests that
the Orphics taught the pre-existence of the soul. Elsewhere Aristotle makes essentially the same
point when he argues that the Orphics maintained that the body grew in stages like the “plaiting
o f a net.”23 The soul, in contrast, experiences none o f the growth and eventual degeneration of
19Crat. 400b-c. The major controversy in this passage surrounds the soma-sema doctrine: while
Wilamowitz-MoellendorfF (Glaube der Hellenen, vol. 2, 199), Dodds ( Greeks and the Irrational, 148, n.
87), Linforth (Arts o f Orpheus, 147-148), Alderink (Creation and Salvation, 59-62), and Rein Ferwerda,
“The Meaning o f ZQMA in Plato’s Cratylus 400C,” Hermes 113 (1985): 266-279 are among those who do
not think it Orphic, Rohde (Psyche, 359, n. 73), Nilsson (“Early Orphism,” 205; “Immortality o f the Soul,”
4; Geschichte der Griechischen Religion, vol. 1, 650), Wemer Jaeger (“The Greek Ideas of Immortality,”
Harvard Theological Review 52 [1959]: 140), and Guthrie ( Orpheus, 156-158; Greeks and Their Gods,
311, n. 3) do consider it genuine. While the former group of scholars emphasize two different groups in
this passage as represented by “some people” ( n vkq) and “those about or surrounding Orpheus,” i.e. the
Orphic poets (or d p ^ i ’Op<t>ea), the two metaphors for body (“tomb” and “prison”) express the same idea.
Additionally, it might also be mentioned that the soma-sema doctrine appears in the Gorgias, together with
the Orphic teaching on the post-mortem judgment o f the soul (493a-c). This evidence makes it likely that
such a formulation was at home in Orphic circles. See also Phaed. 62b.
20 B 1: ‘Tfiq Jtdiq e ip i K o ri Obpavov darepdevxoi;- aircdp spoi ykvoc, obpavtov.” This plate
comes from Petelia, Southern Italy and is dated to either the fourth or third centuries B.C.E. See also the
Thurii tablets (A 1-3), in which the soul states to the chthonic gods, “I am o f your blessed race.” For
analysis, see Guthrie, Orpheus, 172-174; Zuntz, Persephone, 355-359, 364-367.
21 Fr. 131.
22 Meno 81a-d.
23 Gen. Anim. 734al6-21.
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the body because it exists separately and enters into the body as a unified whole.24 From dualism
and the belief in an immortal, pre-existent soul, it becomes possible for Orphics to speculate on
other facets o f the soul’s existence, such as reasons for its incarnation, its post-mortem fate, and
the concept o f transmigration.
Incarnation, Judgment, and Metempsychosis
Returning to the Cratylus, Plato states that the Orphics “were under the impression that
the soul is suffering the punishment o f sin, and that the body is an enclosure or prison in which
the soul is incarcerated, kept safe, as the name acopa implies, until the penalty is paid.”25 In the
Gorgias, Plato once again mentions that “wise men say that we are now dead, and that our body
is a tomb,”26 while the Phaedo picks up the theme o f the body as prison: “The allegory which the
mystics tell us— that we men are put in a sort of prison ((jjpoupd), from which one must not
release oneself or run away—seems to me to be a high doctrine with difficult implications. All
the same, Cebes, I believe that this much is true, that the gods are our keepers, and we men are
one o f their possessions.”27 The incarnation o f the soul is thus viewed negatively, as a
punishment for some sort of crime.
Although Plato remains silent in these texts regarding the precise details o f this crime,
some clues may be detected from other sources. The evidence from Xenocrates shows that the
Platonic tradition equated the “prison” (<j)po\>pd) with the Titanic,28 while Plato himself lists in his
Laws the “Titanic” crimes of rebellion against authority, parents, and religion.29 As mentioned
above, the gold leaves o f Thurii also record the soul’s assertion that it has paid its penalty.30
Taken together, these passages suggest that the crime for which the soul must atone is associated
with the anthropogonical myth outlined above. Specifically, as humans are comprised o f both
24 For an analysis of this passage, see Alderink ( Creation and Salvation, 59).
25 400c. The point here turns on a wordplay between odoga (body) and ctcd^co (to save).
26 493a.
27 62b.
28 See n. 14.
29 701b-c.
30 See n. 15.
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Titanic and Dionysian elements, they are inheritors o f Titans’ ancient guilt, and the incarnation of
the psyche becomes a punishment inflicted on the human soul for this primal crime against
Dionysus. This hypothesis is confirmed by a fragment from Pindar preserved in the Meno. In
this passage, Plato reminds his interlocutors about the immortality o f the soul and introduces the
idea of metempsychosis. For those who lead a righteous life, he argues, “Persephone receives
requital for [her] ancient grief, [and] in the ninth year she restores again their souls to the sun
above; from whom rise noble kings and the swift in strength and the greatest in wisdom. And for
the rest o f time they are called heroes and sanctified by men.”31 As H.J. Rose has shown, this
passage can only refer to the grief that Persephone experienced after her son Dionysus was killed
by the Titans.32 Once again, the human soul must atone for the ancient transgressions o f the
Titans by living life on earth.33 After this debt has been paid, it attains the status of an immortal
hero.
The disembodied soul descends to Hades to face judgment. This decidedly un-Homeric
belief is an indisputable part o f Orphic eschatology. In the Republic, Plato writes that “Musaeus
and his son” teach that one of two destinies await the psyche in Hades. If the soul is just, it can
look forward to a life o f pleasure, resting on couches and drinking wine; yet if it be deemed
impious, it is buried in the mud, endures sufferings, and is forced to retrieve water in a sieve.34
Yet this judgment, as Pindar’s fragment suggests, is not the end of the psyche’s journey: its
existence in Hades is simply part of the cycle o f rebirth that eventually leads to another
31 Pind. fr. 133 (=Meno 81b-c).

32 H.J. Rose, “The Ancient Grief,” in Greek Poetry and Life: Essays Presented to Gilbert Murray
on His Seventieth Birthday, eds. Cyril Bailey, E.A. Barber, C.M. Bowra, J.D. Dennison, and D.L. Page
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1936), 79-96; idem, “The Grief of Persephone,” Harvard Theological Review 36
(1943): 247-250. See also Guthrie (Orpheus, 165), who follows the work of Rose, and Linforth (Arts o f
Orpheus, 345-350), who is more skeptical.
33 Compare the Orphic gold leaves A2, 3, where the disembodied soul meets Persephone and
exclaims : “ I have paid the penalty for deeds unrighteous” (jtoivdv 8’ d.vxa.Kkieiq fcpyoov fevex’ oxm
Succricov). On this line, Zuntz (Persephone, 313) writes: “The soul speaking ... is expected immediately
after death to be appearing before Persephone; its ‘penalty’ therefore was ‘paid’ before death.”
34 363c-e. See also Phaed. 68d; Gorg. 493b-c; Ep. 7.335a (where judgment is considered
“jtaX aioi t e Kodiepol X6yot”). Guthrie ( Orpheus, 191, n. 2) notes that Musaeus “always appears in
connexion with Orpheus ... He seems to have been little more than an indistinct double of Orpheus, to
whom some of the writings in the Orphic corpus were attributed ... Many of the writings attributed to
Orpheus himself were addressed to Musaeus.” See also Linforth, Arts of Orpheus, 85-87.
99
incarnation.35 This may be seen as well in the gold leaves from Thurii, which imply that the soul
does not appear to envision its final release from the cycle o f reincarnation. Rather, it remains on
the “sorro wful, weary circle” until its debt has been paid. At that time it approaches Persephone
as a suppliant, imploring her to send it to the “seats o f the blessed.”36 The Orphic teaching o f
reincarnation also manifests itself in Pindar’s Olympian 2, which speaks o f the necessity o f three
incarnations before a final liberation is achieved.37 Plato adapts this formulation in his Phaednes,
where the time frame between incarnations is put at one thousand year intervals.38 Only after the
soul experiences ten lives can it hope to escape the cycle o f rebirth. Yet it may exit after only
three thousand years if it chooses the philosophical life three consecutive times 39
The Orphic Life and Soteriology
These last examples show that Orphism was primarily directed toward securing the soul’s
release from the continuous cycle of rebirth so that it could return to its original home in the
divine world.40 In order to achieve this salvific goal, the Orphic was required to participate in
35 This passage suggests that the soul, by coming back to earth as a heroic figure, is nearing the
end o f the cycle o f incarnations. A comparable fragment is also attributed to Empedocles (31B 146). It is
well known that no ancient source directly connects Orphism with metempsychosis. Yet the Orphic
background behind Pindar’s fragment is persuasive, and it fits in so well with their other beliefs that it is
difficult to think that this idea was not part o f Orphic teaching. See Nilsson, “Early Orphism,” 212-219;
idem, Geschichte der Griechischen Religion, vol. 1, 658.
36 A2-3: “vuv 5 ’ ik £tti£ f]KC0 rocp’ &Yvhv êpcreôveiav, cog pe 7up6<t>pcov itfepynt hSpag eg
eixxyecov.” In contrast, A1 speaks o f a final release from the cycle o f reincarnation: “I have flown out of
the sorrowful, weary circle ( k u k X o u 5 ’ e^feitt c c v PapmevGsog dpyaXeoio).” The Thurii tablets thus
evince two different stages in the process o f salvation. This distinction was noticed by Rohde (Psyche,
417-419) and is followed by Zuntz, Persephone, 336-337.
37 This poem will be discussed under Pythagoreanism.
38 248e-249a.
39 See also Herod. 2.123, whose discussion of the immortality o f the soul includes the (mistaken)
information that the Egyptians teach that human reincarnation occurs every three thousand years. Yet he
concludes: “Some Greek have adopted this doctrine, some earlier and some later, as if it were peculiar to
them. I know their names but I do not write them.” Orphism, Pythagoreanism and Empedocles all have
been suggested as possible candidates. It could, o f course, be a combination of the three, and it should be
noted that Herodotus does associate Orphic and Pythagorean rituals in an earlier passage (2.81). On this
issue, see Burkert, Lore and Science, 126-128.
40 The gold tablet from Petelia (B l) records how the soul should drink from the lake o f Memory in
order to attain salvation. For an analysis o f this reference, see Zuntz, Persephone, 379-381.
100
certain religious acts (teletai). These rites remain obscure, although the neologism Orpheotelestai
attests to their popularity.41 Still, Plato provides some insight into their nature in the Republic-.
begging priests and soothsayers go to rich men’s doors and make them believe
that they, by means of sacrifices and incantations (Gooicaq xe kc& enxoScdq),
have accumulated a treasure o f power from the gods that can expiate and cure
with pleasurable festivals any misdeed o f a man and his ancestors ... And they
produce a bushel o f books by Musaeus and Orpheus, the offspring o f the Moon
and Muses, as they affirm, and these books they use in their ritual
(GtnptoX.ouoiv), and make not only ordinary men but states believe that there
really are remissions o f sins and purifications for deeds o f injustice (X-baeiq xe
Kai KaGapjioi &StKT|p.dToov), by means of sacrifice and pleasant sport for the
living, and that there are special rites for the dead (xeXe-uxnaaotv), which they
call initiations (xeXex&q), that deliver us from evils in that other world, while
terrible things await those who have neglected to sacrifice.42
There is nothing positive in this portrait: it is “Orphism at its worst,” according to Guthrie.43 Yet
Plato’s condemnation o f these itinerant priests appears to be directed at isolated instances of
abuse. Elsewhere he treats the theoretical background behind these teletai in a more sympathetic
light. Indeed, in the Phaedo they are alluded to support his contention that wisdom is a sort of
purification (m0app.6<;):
Perhaps these people who direct the religious initiations are not so far from the
mark, and all the time there has been an allegorical meaning beneath their
doctrine that he who enters Hades uninitiated and unsanctified (&p.t>rixoq m i
dtxekeaxoq) shall lie in the mud, but he that enters there purified and initiated
(K£m0app.fevoq xe m i xexeX.eap.evoq) shall dwell among the gods.”44
It is equally clear that such teletai had real meaning for the initiate. The opening line o f one of
the gold leaves from Thurii, the soul boldly proclaims to Persephone, “Out o f the pure I come
41 Plut. Lac. apophth. 224e; Theophr. Char. 16.12; Aristoph. Frogs 1032. See also Guthrie,
Orpheus, 202-205; Burkert, Greek Religion, 297.
42 364b-365a.
43 Guthrie, Orpheus, 159. See also Laws 909b.
44 69b-c. For the Orphic background to this passage, see Guthrie, Orpheus, 160, 194. In his
commentary on the Phaedo, the Neoplatonic philosopher Olympiodorus (8.7) understood this passage to be
an allusion to Orphism.
101
pure.”45 Thus, after becoming indoctrinated in the Orphic teachings, the soul can confidently
assert that it is o f the race o f the blessed gods 46
Yet attaining salvation in Orphism was more than simply becoming initiated. Unlike the
Eleusinian mysteries, Orphism was a way o f life (P'tog) that demanded its initiates follow certain
moral and ethical precepts.47 This may first be seen in some o f terminology used in the above
passages. For instance, in Plato’s discussion o f the Orphic belief in afterlife, the individual is not
simply guaranteed a blessed afterlife because of the fulfillment o f certain teletai. In fact, in the
Republic these rites do not figure in the passage at all. Rather, justice or righteousness proves to
be the criterion: while the pious (ootoq) and righteous (5'ucoaoq) are given blessing by the gods,
the impious and unjust (dvocio'uq ... Kai 6t.5iK.ovc,) are buried in the mud of Hades.48 Similarly,
in what appears to be an allusion to Orphism in Aristophanes, those who commit crimes against
traditional morality—against strangers, parents, or the court o f law—become mired in the
underworld’s mud.49
Orphism thus required its initiates to adhere to certain standards o f conduct in order to
keep their “Dionysian” psychai from becoming overly contaminated by their “Titanic” nature.50
The most prominent feature of this life according to the ancient sources was the practice of
4 3 A I - 3 : “ ' E p x o p o c i e t c K o Q a p o o v K o O a p a . ” See the reconstruction and analysis of Zuntz,
Persephone, 306-308.
46 A 1-3: “Kai Y“ P evcov bpcov ysvoq oXpiov ebxopai eip.ev” (with slight variations). The
initiatory setting o f the gold leaves has been argued by Susan Guettel Cole (“Voices from beyond the
Grave: Dionysus and the Dead,” in Masks o f Dionysus, eds. Thomas H. Carpenter and Christopher A.
Faraone [Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993], 277), who hypothesizes that the plates were “buried
with the dead to remind them of ritual responses, perhaps already learned in initiation ceremonies, to be
used upon arrival in the underworld.” Zuntz (Persephone, 307) and Graf (“Dionysian and Orphic
Eschatology,” 248-250) both consider the possibility that the leaves refer to initiation, although they
suggest that this is only one of the possibilities.
47 At Eleusis, initiation was the sole condition for a blessed afterlife. See, for instance, Pind. fr.
137: “Blessed is he that has seen this among earthly men; but he who is unintiated in the sacred rites and
who has no portion, never has the same lot once dead down in the murky dark”; and Soph. fr. 837: “Thrice
blessed are those mortals who see these rites before they depart for Hades; for them alone there is life, for
the others all is misery.”
48 3 6 3 c - e .
49 Aristoph. Frogs 145-150; for another description of improper conduct, see also Laws 701b-c.
50 For a brief summary, see Burkert, Greek Religion, 301-302.
102
vegetarianism. Euripides and Aristophanes both refer to this characteristic in passing,51 and Plato
alludes to the notion in the context o f a “Golden Age” which knew nothing o f shedding sacrificial
blood. Remarking on the phenomenon o f human sacrifice, he observes that there are some who
do not even sacrifice animals:
other peoples ... shrank from tasting even the flesh o f oxen, and offered no
animals in sacrifice; they honored their gods with cakes and meal soaked in
honey and other such “pure” sacrifices, but abstained from flesh, counting it
criminal to eat it, or to pollute the altars o f the gods with blood. Man’s life in
those days conformed to the rule known as Orphic (’Op<j>iKoi xiveq Xeydjj-evoi
pior), universal insistence on vegetarianism, and entire abstention from all that is
animal.52
Although it is unclear whether Plato means that people from this early period thought o f
themselves as living an Orphic life, or whether he simply was comparing this age with
contemporary Orphic practices, it is worth noting that Orphism taught that a Golden Age did exist
before the present race o f mankind was composed out o f Dionysian and Titanic elements.53 Thus,
by reinstituting vegetarianism, the Orphics claimed to be the true representatives o f this idyllic
epoch.
The rejection o f sacrifice therefore had a soteriological significance for Orphism.54 This
fact can also be detected in its contentious relationship this movement maintained with the cult of
Dionysus. For whereas followers of the latter thought that they could become filled with the
divine (entheos) through the ritualized dismemberment and ingestion of an animal related to
Dionysus, the Orphics, as a Dionysian reform movement, taught that sparagmos and omophagia
were heinous offenses.55 Indeed, their anthropogonical myth was meant to explain that the death
51 Eur. Hipp. 952-953: “Go, boast that you eat no meat, that you have Orpheus for your king”;
Aristoph. Frogs 1032: “Orpheus taught you initiations, and to keep your hand from shedding blood.” See
also a fragment from Euripides’ Cretans, preserved by Porph. De abst. 4.19.
52 Laws 782c-d.
53 This belief would have been an adaptation of Hesiod’s myth in Works and Days. See Guthrie,
Orpheus, 196-198.
54 It should not be forgotten that the Orphic practice o f vegetarianism was also linked to their
doctrine o f metempsychosis—they did not want to eat anything that possessed soul. See Eur. Hipp. 952:
“&yvrxpc; Popd.”
55 On Orphism as a reform o f the cult of Dionysus, see Rohde, Psyche, 335-341; Nilsson, “Early
Orphism,” 190-191, 203-205; Guthrie, Orpheus, 41-44.
103
o f Dionysus at the hands o f the Titans was the primal crime for which all Orphics were
attempting to atone. By refraining from animal sacrifices, then, the Orphics underscored their
opposition to the cult o f Dionysus for its impiety while at the same time professing to worship
Dionysus in the proper manner. Thus the saying recorded by Plato—“Many are the thyrsus-
bearers, but the Bacchantes are few”— was derived from Orphic circles to emphasize their status
as the true followers o f Dionysus.S6 It in this context that the appearance o f Dionysus on the gold
leaves asserts the liberation of the soul through the power o f Dionysus.57
By adhering to a distinct bios, the Orphic believed that his soul would escape from the
wheel o f rebirth and return to the divine world. One o f the gold leaves from Thurii confidently
speaks o f the soul fleeing the revolution o f reincarnation, gaining the crown, and becoming god.58
The Pelinna tablet similarly asserts, “Now you have died and now you have come into being, o
thrice-happy one.”59 The same assurance in salvation can also be detected on bone tablet found at
Olbia: along the top of the tablet the votary inscribed the words “Life-Death-Life” (BIOZ-
0ANATOE- BIOE), and immediately below, “the Truth” (H AAH0EIA). While this inscription
lends itself to numerous interpretations,60 such a formulation neatly reflects the Orphics’
optimism on a future life lived without the fleshly body. As to the precise nature of this final
state o f bliss, the evidence is unfortunately ambiguous. It might be that they thought the soul
retained its individuality as it reascended to the supercelestial realm. Yet it is equally possible,
56 Phaed. 69c: tuoA.X.oI pev vap0T|KO <t>6poi, pdcxxot 8e xe raxupoi.” See also n. 44.
57 The fourth-century tablet from Pelinna contains the following instruction to the soul: “Tell
Persephone that Bakkhios has set you free” (hXixre). For analysis and parallels, see Graf, “Dionysian and
Orphic Eschatology,” 243-245. Orphism’s re-appropriation o f Dionysus can also be detected on the bone
tablet from Olbia, upon which is inscribed AIOOPOIKOI. See West, “The Orphics,” 18,21-22.
58 A l: “I have flown out of the sorrowful, weary circle, I have passed with swift feet to the longed-
for crown, I have sunk beneath the bosom o f the Queen of the Underworld. Happy and blessed one, you
will be a god instead o f mortal” (6A.pte m i pam piaxfe, 0eoq 5’ £ c t t |t . drvxi Ppoxoio). For analysis, see
Zuntz, Persephone, 335-336.
59 PI, 2: “vuv kQaveq m i vuv eyfevoo, xpicrbA.pie.” See Graf, “Dionysian and Orphic
Eschatology,” 241.
Death” could mean either the actual physical death or the life lived in the body. If it is the
latter, then “Life” would refer to the pre- and post-mortem existence o f the soul. See West, “The Orphics,”
18-19; Burkert, “Craft Versus Sect,” 12.
104
and perhaps more likely considering the scientific theories available in the sixth and fifth
centuries, that the soul simply became reabsorbed into the divine atmosphere o f the cosmos.61
Pythagoreanism
Dualism, Pre-Existence, and Metempsychosis
The Pythagoreans’ anthropology also centered on the concepts o f dualism, pre-existence,
and metempsychosis. In his survey o f soul theories at the beginning o f his De anima, Aristotle
notes with derision that the Pythagoreans supposed it was possible for “any soul to find its way
into any body.”62 Once again, then, Aristotle’s criticism centers on the concepts o f dualism and
pre-existence. What he finds particularly objectionable is the fact that such thinkers emphasize
the nature and quality of the soul without also taking into consideration the particular body to
which it is attached. To this extent, Aristotle’s criticism appears justified, for the Pythagoreans
repeatedly emphasize and meditate on the immortality of the soul as a substance independent of
the body. As a “harmony” (6cpp.ovla) o f the numbers,63 it has no essential relationship with
materiality. As a result, any evaluation o f the soul need not include an examination o f the body.
This evidence, which attests to the belief in dualism and an immortal, pre-existent soul, is
directed at the Pythagoreans as a group, but there is reliable evidence to suggest that such
teachings go back to Pythagoras himself. For instance, Xenophanes chastises him for claiming to
recognize the psyche o f a friend in a barking dog, while Ion of Chios writes that “Pherecydes ...
even after death has a joyful life for his soul (yuxfi xeprcvov s^ e i P'torov), if the wise Pythagoras
had insight concerning all men and knew them thoroughly.”64 Porphyry, probably on the
61 So Guthrie, “Presocratic World-Picture,” 94; Finkelberg, “On the Unity,” 326-328.

62 Arist. De cmim. 407b22-24 (=58B39).
63 Plato (Phaed. 86b-d) and Aristotle (De anim. 407b27-408a34) say that the Pythagoreans thought
the soul was a harmony o f the body. This would preclude, as many commentators have noted, the concept
of immortality. The inconsistency is removed, however, if the harmony is of the numbers (cf. Arist. Meta.
985b23-986a22=58B4-5) rather than the body. See Francis MacDonald Comford, “Mysticism and Science
in the Pythagorean Tradition,” Classical Quarterly 16 (1922): 137-150; Guthrie, History o f Greek
Philosophy, vol. 1, 306-319; Kirk, Raven, and Schofield, Presocratic Philosophers, 346. For an
interpretation that attempts to preserve both the concept o f immortality and harmonia of the body, see
Barnes, Presocratic Philosophers, 492-495.
64 21B7; 36B4.
105
authority o f Aristotle’s pupil Dicaearchus, states that the best known doctrines o f Pythagoras
include the immortality o f the soul and metempsychosis.65 Pythagoras not only seems to have
promoted these doctrines, but he also claimed to offer concrete proof for them through his own
personal experiences. Thus, Heraclides of Pontus reports that Pythagoras declared he had
previously existed as Aethalides, the son o f Hermes, and had been given by his father the ability
to recollect past lives. Thereafter, he could recall other incarnations as Euphorbus, Hermotimus,
Pyrrhus, and various plants and animals.66
Metempsychosis also receives a central position in Pindar’s Olympian 2.67 Written for a
Southern Italian audience familiar with Orphic and Pythagorean teachings, the poet begins by
suggesting that after death, the soul receives the judgment o f Zeus: while the good, having kept
their “oaths” (ebopKtai) during their lifetimes, escape strenuous toil and share in a life that
knows no tears, the “lawless spirits” (<5craxA.ocp.voi (Jjpeveq) “suffer punishment” (7totvaq exicrav)
and “endure labor that none can look upon” (c5t7tpoa6paxov okxeovxi teovov). But, the poet
continues, “whosoever, while dwelling in either world for three lives (eaxpiq exaxepcoGt), has
been courageous in keeping their souls (\\tv%av) pure from all wrongdoing (<5c51kcov), they pass
by the highway of Zeus unto the tower o f Kronos, where the ocean breezes blow around the
Islands of the Blessed.” Pindar probably has in mind a total of six existences for these pure souls:
after each of the three incarnations it is subject to judgment in Hades before it is finally liberated
from the cycle o f rebirth.68
65 Porph. VitaPyth. 19 (=14A8a). See also Herod. 4.95 (=14A2). Porphyry’s passage is evaluated
by Burkert, Lore and Science, 122, n. 7. See also Barnes, Presocratic Philosophers, 102-103.
66 D.L. 8.4-5 (=14A8). See also n. 39. Empedocles also appears to allude to Pythagoras’s
superhuman abilities (31B129) (=D.L. 8.54): “And there was a man knowing an immense amount, who had
acquired a great treasure of thoughts, master especially of all kinds of wise works; for whenever he reached
out with all his thoughts, easily he saw each of the things that there are, in ten and even twenty generations
of men.” See Burkert, Lore and Science, 137-138; M.R. Wright, Empedocles: The Extant Fragments (New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1981), 256-258.
67 See especially 2.56-77.
68 Kurt von Fritz, “’Ecrxpiq feKocxfepcoOt in Pindar’s second Olympian and Pythagoras’ Theory of
Metempsychosis,” Phronesis 2 (1957): 85-89; R.S. Bluck, “Plato, Pindar, and Metempsychosis,” American
Journal o f Philology 79 (1958): 405-414; Donal McGibbon, “Metempsychosis in Pindar,” Phronesis 9
(1964): 5-11. See also the comments on metempsychosis in Rohde, Psyche, 398, n. 50.
106
Incarnation, The Pythagorean Life, and Soteriology
Although the Pythagoreans did not develop or employ an elaborate mythological tale in
order to explain the composition o f mankind, they, like Orphism, viewed the soul’s incarnation
into the body in a negative light. According to tradition the soma-sema doctrine was also a
component o f their thought,69 and Iamblichus, drawing on Aristotle, records that the Pythagoreans
taught that “the pleasures are evil at all events; for whoever has come in for punishment must be
punished.”70 As a result o f this anthropology, they also developed a distinct way o f life. Yet in
contrast to Orphism, the Pythagoreans were from the first a distinct and recognizable sect that
operated according to specific rules and regulations.71
These rules, called either akousmata or symbola, often took the form o f enigmatic
maxims that purported to stem from Pythagoras’s own teachings.72 Divided into three classes,
these precepts provided the Pythagorean with a proper orientation toward the divine world.
Indeed, as Iamblichus notes, “All the rules they define for action or refraining from action are
devised with a view to our relationship with the divine.”73 The akousmata often take the form o f
prohibitions meant to preserve the individual’s purity: for example, members were forbidden to
touch a white rooster; dip one’s hand in holy water; pour libations over the handle of the cup; kill
lice in the temple; stir fire with a knife; and turn around at the border while on a journey. The
most important rules, however, center on correct performance o f sacrificial rituals.74 Thus, some
sayings detail the proper time and manner for sacrifices to be conducted while others include
69 44B14, although doubts regarding its authenticity have been raised by Burkert, Lore and
Science, 247-248, and Ferwerda, “The Meaning of the Word ZQMA,” 270-271. In addition to an allusion
to Orphic teaching, Plato also has the Pythagoreans in mind in Phaed. 62b (=44B15). Simmias and Cebes
were students of Philolaus, as Plato notes in Phaed. 61d (=44B15). Compare also a passage from
Alcmaeon, a philosopher and physician acquainted with Pythagorean teachings: “Men die for this reason,
that they cannot join the beginning to the end” (24B2). In other words, the corruptible body does not, like
the soul, possess the characteristic of immortality.
™Vit. Pyth. 85.
71 On Pythagoreanism as a sect, see Burkert, “Craft Versus Sect,” 12-22.
72 From Aristotle (fr. 196), Porphyry writes: “Pythagoras said certain things in a mystical and
symbolic way” (Vit. Pyth. 41) (=58C2).
73 lam. Vit. Pyth. 137 (=58D2). “Action or refraining from action” (rapt too updczxexv f) pfj
rcp&Tcexv) was one of the three divisions of the Pythagorean akousmata (see lam. Vit. Pyth. 82 (=58C4).
74 lam. Vit. Pyth. 82 (=58C4): “What is the most just thing (Sucoaoxaxov)? To sacrifice.”
107
admonitions against sacrificing certain animals, eating sacred fish, and eating some parts of
sacrificial animals.75 These last regulations thus show that the vegetarian lifestyle, which would
normally be expected for a group believing in metempsychosis, was not always strictly
observed.76
Along with these stringent requirements for ritual purity, the Pythagorean bios also
included teachings that may be characterized as moral or ethical, for they recognized that earthly
behavior affected the soul’s post-mortem fate as well as its subsequent incarnations.77 Recalling
the fragment from Ion o f Chios mentioned above,78 Pherecydes’ soul is said to experience a
joyful fate after death because it “excelled in manhood and honor” (f|voper] ... Kai a ’lSot).
Similarly, Pindar’s Olympian 2 attests to the idea that the just soul avoids punishments in Hades
and can escape from the cycle o f reincarnation to the Islands o f the Blessed. Exemplary behavior
includes, above all, devotion to religious custom, one’s parents, and the law.79 Other, more
specific commands include the rejection o f suicide, the practice o f moderate eating and sexual
habits, and respect for the sanctity o f marriage.80
The soul that adhered to the appropriate ritual activity and behavioral tenets could expect
to be released from the wheel of reincarnation. As Pindar remarks in his Olympian 2, the
righteous travel to “the tower of Kronos, where the ocean breezes blow around the Islands of the
Blessed.” It is tempting to surmise, particularly because of the cosmological theories of
Philolaus, that the Pythagoreans developed the doctrine of the ascent o f the souls through the
heavenly spheres in the manner described from Plato through the Hellenistic Age. Yet there is
75 For a detailed list of akousmata and parallels with other Archaic magic-religious rituals, see
Burkert, Lore and Science, 170-178.
76 See n. 54. For the conflicting testimonia regarding Pythagorean vegetarianism, see Burkert,
Lore and Science, 180-182; Robert M. Grant, “Dietary Laws Among Pythagoreans, Jews, and Christians,”
Harvard Theological Review 73 (1980): 299-302.
77 See McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 87-88.
78 See n. 64.
79 lam. Vit. Pyth. 137 (=58D2), 175 (=58D3).
80 Phaed. 61c-62c; D.L. 8.9; 8.34 (=58C3). See also Burkert, Lore and Science, 171-172, 178, n.
94, 185. Although Pythagoras is said to have been celibate, there are other traditions which state that he
had a wife and children. In any event, monogamy was a well-known Pythagorean tenet, and procreation
was encouraged because it was mankind’s duty to leave behind people to worship the gods.
108
little to suggest that the Pythagoreans had constructed anything more than what has already been
seen in Orphism; namely, that the soul, as an immortal, divine substance, would ascend to the
heavenly heights to exist with the divine. This lack o f precision appears in the saying, “What are
the Islands o f the Blessed? The sun and moon.”81 There does not seem to be a concern here for
the fact that the sun and moon are at the lower end o f the cosmos’ architecture; it appears to be
enough to simply say that the soul’s final destination is in the heavens.82
Empedocles (ca. 492-ca. 432)
The writings o f Empedocles present numerous difficulties for interpretation,83 yet they do
show how Orphic and Pythagorean ideas could be integrated into a philosophical system.84
According to his cosmology, the eternal and opposing forces “Love” (<f>iXicx) and “Strife”
( v e iK o g ) direct the universe by managing the four elements or “roots.” These elements, which
are equally eternal, alternate between existing in perfect oneness and harmony under the guidance
o f Love and in absolute separation and discord under the rule o f Strife. The process is thus
cyclical: Empedocles describes it as a “twofold tale” in which the elements “never cease their
81 lam. Vit. Pyth. 82 (=58C4).

82 This subject is examined by Burkert, Lore and Science, 357-368; Sullivan, Psychological and
Ethical Ideas, 108-110.
83 Scholarship traditionally divides Empedocles’ work into two poems: the “scientific” On Nature
and the “religious” Purifications. Yet only about one-fifth of the line are extant, and there is no clear
evidence which fragments belong to which poem. Moreover, some have argued that there was in fact only
one poem (see McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 255-258). Aside from these problems, many who
think that there were two poems have found them to contain fundamentally incompatible ideas. More
recent work, to which this section is indebted, has tried to show that the poems can supplement and inform
one another. For a summary of the state of research, see Wright, Empedocles, 57, n. 1. See also Rohde,
Psyche, 378-384; Jaeger, Theology, 130-134, Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 2, 122-128;
Charles H. Kahn, “Religion and Natural Philosophy in Empedocles’ Doctrine of the Soul,” in Essays in
Ancient Greek Philosophy, eds. John P. Anton and George L. Kustas (Albany, NY: State University of New
York Press, 1971), 3-7.
84 Empedocles was a citizen of Akragas in Sicily. He probably became acquainted with
Pythagorean thought there, as Pindar’s Olympian 2 was dedicated to Theron, the early fifth-century tyrant
of this city. For other ties to Pythagoreanism, see D.L. 8.54-56; 3 IB 129. Empedocles may have come into
contact with Orphic ideas during his travels in Southern Italy, particularly in the city of Thurii, the site of
the discovery of some of the gold leaves.
109
continual exchange o f position, at one time all coming together into one through Love, at another
again being bome away from each other by Strife’s repulsion.”85
In the absolute states o f Love and Strife the world is non-existent: while the former is
described as a “rounded Sphere rejoicing in joyous rest,” the latter is marked only by utter
separation and wrath.86 It is only when one force begins to encroach upon another that
compounds are formed.87 Thus, creation ensues either when Strife separates the elements from
the perfect mixture o f Love, or alternatively, when Love gradually reunites them after their
complete division by Strife.88 At the human level, Empedocles envisions a four stage process in
creation (31 A l l) . As Strife begins to increase, “whole-natured forms” (ot)A.o(jruaeiq si5soq)
arise first. These beings, similar to Fire, possess neither “form o f limbs or voice, nor the organ
that is proper to men”; in other words, they are only slightly removed from the Sphere o f Love
(31B62). When fire becomes increasingly separated, however, the elemental harmony breaks
down even further and human beings are formed (31B62). The final two stages complete the
process of the separation o f the elements: the third group is marked by the formation o f strange,
hybrid creatures, while the final stage witnesses the wanderings o f individual limbs devoid o f
whole bodies.89 When the situation is reversed and Love begins to invade Strife, the process of
creation works back from stage four.90
Empedocles understood the present condition o f the cosmos to be one o f increasing
Strife.91 He calls it a “joyless place where there are murder and hatred and hordes o f other violent
85 3 IB 17; see also 3 IB 16, 21,22. For a fuller description of this process, see Edwin L. Minar, Jr.,
“Cosmic Periods in the Philosophy of Empedocles,” in Essays in Ancient Greek Philosophy, eds. John P.
Anton and George L. Kustas (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1971), 39-41.
86 31B27: “cnjxxipoq KUKXoxepTiq povtTi rcepiyTiOfei ycrioov.” See also 3 1B22, 28, 29.
87 Thus, both Love and Strife have creative capacities, as noticed by Vlastos (“Equality and
Justice,” 160) and Wright (Empedocles, 31). See also Simp. De caelo 528.11: “Empedocles says that this
cosmos comes to be under the influence of Strife separating out the elements, just as the Sphere does under
the influence of Love combining and uniting them.”
88 See 31B27, 30,31,35.
89 For stages three and four, see 31B76-80.
90 See McKirahan, Philosophy Before Socrates, 278-281. Other interpretations are given by
Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 2,200-211; Minar, “Cosmic Periods,” 50-53.
91 Arist. De gen. corr. 334a5-7 (=31A42): “He says that the cosmos is in like state both now in the
period of Strife and previously in the period of Love.” See also Bumet, Early Greek Philosophy, 234-235.
110
deaths (and parching fevers and consumptions and works o f dissolution).”92 Strife not only
affects the cosmic harmony o f Love, however. It also has a corresponding influence at the human
level, causing the soul o f mankind, which Empedocles calls the daimon,93 to fall from its celestial
home.94 This moment is vividly described by Empedocles at the beginning o f his Purifications:
There is an oracle o f Necessity, ancient decree o f the gods, eternal, sealed with
broad oaths: when anyone sins and pollutes his own limbs with bloodshed, who
by his error makes false the oath he swore— daimones whose portion in life is
long—for thrice ten thousand years he wanders apart from the blessed, being
bom throughout that time in all manner o f forms and living things, exchanging
one hard path o f life for another. The force o f the aither pursues him into the
sea, and the sea spews him out onto the floor o f the earth, the earth casts him into
the rays o f the blazing sun, and the sun into the eddies o f the aither', one takes
him to the other, but all abhor him. Of these too I am now one, an exile from the
gods and a wanderer, having put my trust in raving Strife.95
Pre-existence is explicit in this passage: the daimon before the fall exists in a state akin to Love—
it is composed o f an almost pure or harmonious mixture 96 Yet from this “high rank” and at the
“height of bliss,” it descends as a refugee in this world to migrate into various bodies at each of
the cosmic levels.97 Empedocles believes that he himself is a victim o f this devolution, and
claims to have experienced multiple incarnations, as “a boy and a girl and a bush and a bird and a
leaping, journeying fish.”98 As a result, he categorical denies that earthly life is the only form of
existence available: “A wise man in such matters would not think in his mind that while they live
what they call life, so long do they exist, and good and evil befall them, but that before they were
92 3 IB 121. See also 3 IB 122, where opposing forces characterize the world “Earth and far-seeing
Sun, bloody Discord and serene Harmonia, Beauty and Ugliness, Haste and Slowness, lovely Truth and
Blind Obscurity.”
93 Instead of psyche, which he uses only once, as a designation for “life” (B138), Empedocles uses
daimon to refer to that divine essence within mankind.
94 This parallel is based on Empedocles’ reference to the “broad oaths” (nAauruq o p K o q ) in both
cosmogonical and anthropogonical contexts (31B30, 115). See Kahn, “Religion and Natural Philosophy,”
8.
95 3IB115.
96 Kahn (“Religion and Natural Philosophy,” 14) has argued that the daimon corresponds exactly
to Love. Yet Empedocles does not say this, and if this were the case, it is difficult to understand how it
could be individualized.
97 3 IB 119. Empedocles also calls this world a “roofed cave,” contrasting the dimness of earthly
life with the brilliance found in divine realm (3 IB 120). See also 3IB 118, which records Empedocles’
thoughts as he entered the material world: “I wept and wailed when I saw the unfamiliar place.”
98 31B117.
Ill
formed as mortals and once they are dissolved they do not exist at all.”99 Life lived in the body is
thus a degeneration of the daimon's state o f purity: its fate is to be enclosed “in an alien garment”
while on earth and to “wander in darkness over the field of Ate.”100
The reason behind this exile is also found in the poems introductory lines. Because it
committed murder, the daimon fell from its state of purity. Empedocles describes this moment in
his own life with horror: “Alas that the pitiless day did not destroy me first, before I contrived the
wretched deed o f eating flesh with my lips” (3 IB 117). Yet just as in Orphism, Empedocles
believes that before mankind had sunk to this present stage o f pollution, there existed a Golden
Age which knew nothing of sacrificial offerings. The Purifications describes this as a period
when:
no war-god Ares was worshipped nor the battle-cry, nor was Zeus their king nor
Kronos nor Poseidon, but Cypris [Aphrodite] was queen. Her they propitiated
with holy images ... with sacrifices of pure myrrh and sweet-scented
frankincense, throwing to the ground libations o f yellow honey. Their altar was
not drenched by the unspeakable slaughters o f bulls, but this was held among
men the greatest defilement—to tear out the life from noble limbs and eat
them.101
It is precisely to this period that Empedocles attempts to revert through his doctrine of
vegetarianism. As with earlier theories, this practice prevented an individual from ingesting an
ensouled being. He thus implores his fellow citizens: “cease from the din o f slaughter. Do you
not see that you are devouring each other in the heedlessness of your minds?”102 Vegetarianism
also signified, in a way reminiscent of Orphism, an attempt to re-establish the purity of the
99 31B15; see also 31B8, 12.

100 31B126, 121.
101 3 IB 128; see also 3 IB 130. The Golden Age must be placed just after Strife begins to encroach
upon the absolute oneness existing in the Sphere of Love. See Kahn, “Religion and Natural Philosophy,”
15-16.
1023 IB 136. See also 3 IB 137: “The father lifts up his own son changed in form and slaughters
him with a prayer, blind fool, as he shrieks piteously, beseeching as he sacrifices. But he, deaf to his cries,
slaughters him and makes ready in his halls an evil feast. In the same way son seizes father and children
their mother, and tearing out the life (Gopou) they eat the flesh of those they love.” Empedocles also
admonishes others to stay away from the laurel tree and beans, ostensibly because they contain souls
(31B140-141; see also n. 104).
112
daimon and prevent it from sinking even further into differentiation through the effects o f Strife.
For the same reason, Empedocles also taught sexual abstinence.103
Through ritual purity, then, a daimon can increase its chances that its subsequent
incarnations will be increasingly superior so that it will ultimately escape from the cycle of
reincarnation and share “the same and hearth and table with the other immortals (<5c0avdxoiq
dXXoiaiv), without part in human sorrows or weariness.”104 Thus, Empedocles implores his
audience to “fast from evil” (vricxeuaai k o c k o x t ix o i ; ) , and warns that “while wandering in harsh
evils, you will never relieve your spirit from wretched distress.”105 Yet it is not only through
practice that salvation occurs. Indeed, because god is a “mind” (<j>pf|v), “darting through the
whole cosmos with swift thoughts” (<f>povxtcn), the only way humans can grasp it is by exercising
their own intellectual capabilities.106 Consequently, it is through the acquisition o f wisdom and
knowledge that an individual’s daimon can experience god.107 Empedocles therefore states that
“It is not possible to reach and approach [the divine] with the eyes or grasp it with our hands,
although this is the main road o f persuasion entering the minds (eiq <)>peva) o f men” (3 IB 133).
Similarly, the blessed man is one “who has gained the wealth of divine understanding” (0eicov
TtpcxTuScov), while the wretched is “he who cherishes an unenlightened opinion about the gods”
(oK oxoecaa 0ec5v jtept 5oâ) (3 IB 132). Empedocles undoubtedly thought that he himself had
achieved this exalted state.108 Indeed, because he embodied all of the professions representative
o f the highest form of human life—“But at the end they come among men on earth as prophets,
bards, doctors, and princes; and thence they arise as gods highest in honor” (0sol xqifjcn.
103 Hipp. Ref. VII.2.9: “He teaches his listeners to be continent regarding sexual intercourse with a
woman, lest they collaborate and cooperate in the works which strife produces, always dissolving and
destroying the works of Love.”
1043 IB 147. In the animal world, Empedocles taught that the life of the lion was best; in the plant
world, the laurel (3 IB 127).
10531B144, 145.
106 31B134. Because it is most like god, it is the daimon which possesses the ability to
comprehend god.
107This is based on the idea that like attracts like (see 3 IB 109). See also 3 IB 17: “For learning
increases wisdom (pdOri Y&P T°i- abêi)”; and 3 1B110: “all things possess thought (<J>povr|cn.v)
and a portion of intelligence (vcbpaxcx; aiaav).” See also Kahn, “Religion and Natural Philosophy,” 17.
108 Various distractions, however, prevent others from reaching this level (31B114).
113
<t>epu?Toi)— he could confidently assert, with the flair o f a poet, that he had become an immortal
god .109
Salvation thus occurs when Strife becomes virtually insignificant in the daimon. Yet
because o f his cosmogony, this state does not appear to be absolute immortality, despite
Empedocles’ above assertion. Because it is a created compound, the daimon, like the gods,
cannot enjoy immortality—this is reserved for Love, Strife, and the four elements alone110— but is
only said to possess long life.111 Yet it does survive the body, and to the extent that the daimon
that has not escaped from reincarnation must account for its prior deeds, this existence may be
regarded as individualized. The liberated soul, on the other hand, may perhaps have been
imagined by Empedocles to be akin to the “whole-natured forms” which eventually unite in
complete harmony with the other elements and become subsumed into the perfect Sphere o f
Love.112
III. Analysis and Conclusions
The intellectual current found in Orphism, Pythagoreanism, and the philosophy of
Empedocles has a decisive impact in the history o f the concept o f the journey of the soul. The
psyche is no longer thought of, as in Homer, as a passive agent in the body which descends to
Hades at death to exist as a pale, consciousless representation o f the individual’s earthly
existence. Rather, because it is composed o f a divine substance, it is active in the living person.
Yet the Ionian philosophers, with their inquiries into the concept of self-motion, had said much
109 3 IB 146; 3 1B112: “An immortal god, no longer mortal, I go about you honored by all” (eyco 5’
bfjlv 0s6i; dnPpoxo;, crbicfrn. Girtyros TccoXeonai (xe-kx rocai xe-np^voq). See also his advice to Pausanias
in 3 1B110, 111.
110 3 IB 115; see also n. 85. Empedocles classifies all of these elemental compounds, from plant
life even to the honored gods themselves, as “mortal forms” (eiSt) Gvryccov) (31B71). See also 31B22: “For
all these—shining sun and earth and sky and sea—are one with their own parts which are scattered in
mortal things (ev Gvirtounv)”; 31B21: “from these [elements] come all things that were and are and will
be; and trees spring up, and men and women, and beasts and birds and water-nurtured fish, and even the
long-lived (8o;Ux°dau'£<;) gods too, highest in honor.” See also 3 IB 17,23.
111 3 IB 115: “pocKpcdcovot; XeX6.ya.cn (3toio.”
112 For other remarks on the fate of the daimon, see Kahn, “Religion and Natural Philosophy,” 18-
19; Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 2,263-265; Bames, Presocratic Philosophers, 495-501.
114
the same thing. What is distinctive about this religious outlook, then, is not that the soul animates
the body, but that it is literally the individual’s true “self.” This view is explicitly found in all
three spheres o f thought: the soul in the Orphic gold leaves uses the first person to speak of its
activities; Pythagoras claims to recognize the soul of a friend in a dog; and both he and
Empedocles explain that “they themselves” (their souls) had experienced previous incarnations.113
From this perspective, then, the body is no more than a “tomb,” “prison,” or an “alien garment of
flesh,” in no way connected with the arche of the cosmos. With these assertions, a dualistic
anthropology enters Greece to challenge the monistic theories of Ionian philosophy.
This radical reconstruction o f the individual means that the soul, as an essentially
separate essence from the body with both a pre- and post-mortem existence, may now be viewed
as participating in a “journey” : from the divine realm, it descends into materiality, whereupon it
seeks to return to its original home. Yet the return leg of the journey does not automatically
occur at death, however. With the introduction of the concept of metempsychosis, these thinkers
make it plain that the soul must undergo a number o f incarnations before it is sufficiently purified
to reascend to its proper place in the supercelestial sphere. Purification can take the form of ritual
prescriptions, but it also is intimately tied to ethical precepts and a correct understanding of god.
Consequently, the soteriology o f Orphism, Pythagoreanism, and Empedocles emphasizes proper
conduct—ascetic behavior, for instance—as well as the necessity o f acquiring knowledge of
mankind’s relationship with the divine.
The Presocratics thus make two important contributions to the concept of the journey of
the soul. The Ionian philosophers’ desire to identify the one primary substance from which all
others derived led them to make claims about the human condition. Specifically, they conclude
that the corporeal cosmic arche, which possesses both divinity and self-motion, also exists in the
individual as soul. Thus, the psyche becomes responsible for directing the living person through
its role in acquiring wisdom and initiating bodily movements. The religious strain of Presocratic
113 Orphism: A 1-3; Pythagoras and the dog: 21B7. When speaking of past lives, Pythagoras said
that “he had once been” ( e \ t | naze, yeyov<bc,) (14A8), while Empedocles says “I have been” (eyco yev6|XT|v)
(3 IB 117).
115
thought also accepts as axiomatic the notion o f a divine soul, yet its emphasis on individual
salvation results in the construction o f a more comprehensive theory o f soul that includes the
concepts of sin, purification, and ethical behavior. The following chapter will show how Plato,
who inherited ideas from both streams o f Presocratic thought, develops the notion o f the soul and
meditates on its journey.
CH A PT ER 4
PLATO
While the earliest expressions o f the journey o f the soul must be reconstructed from the
scattered evidence attributed to Orphism and Pythagoreanism, the Platonic dialogues provide a
fuller and more accessible source for evaluating how this concept developed and became
integrated into the Greek philosophical tradition. Yet Plato’s psychological theories remain
complex and problematic due to the fact that they are constantly subjected to revision and
refinement.1 This chapter, however, will focus primarily on placing Plato’s theory ofpsyche
within the Greek intellectual tradition and showing how it relates to the concept o f the journey of
the soul. The first section will begin by identifying how Plato inherits earlier psychic theories
both by characterizing the soul as that which initiates motion and by identifying it with the true
1Joseph Vincenzo, “Plato and Aristotle on the Soul,” Philosophia 19-20 (1989-1990): 273: “it
would not be an overstatement to say that, in one way or another, all of Plato’s dialogues are concerned
with the nature of the soul.” Dodds (Greeks and the Irrational, 208) and R. Hackforth (Plato's Phaedrus
[New York: The Liberal Arts Press, 1952], 75), among others, have argued that Plato’s theory of the soul
undergoes development over time.
Particularly troublesome is the degree to which Plato’s philosophical and mythological discussions
of soul can be reconciled. T.M. Robinson {Plato’s Psychology, 128) argues that “Plato is prepared to
accept in his myths a view of soul which stems from religious circles and is often apparently at variance
with much of what he has to say about soul in the body of the dialogues.” Plato is of course aware of the
difference between myth and dialectic, and sometimes treats the former with disdain (i.e. Rep. 377a, and
Books II and in in general). Yet Ludwig Edelstein (“The Function of the Myth in Plato’s Philosophy,”
Journal o f the History ofIdeas 10 [1949]: 463-481) and Julia Annas (“Plato’s Myths of Judgement,”
Phronesis 27 [1982]: 119-122) have both shown that his mythological discussions should be viewed as a
complement to his dialectic.
Equally difficult is the question of whether Plato’s dialectical arguments show a uniform
consistency. For a general introduction to the major issues, see Robert W. Hall, “'Puxf) as Differentiated
Unity in the Philosophy of Plato,” Phronesis 8 (1963): 63-65; Lloyd Gerson, “A Note on Tripartition and
Immortality in Plato,” Apeiron 20 (1986): 81-84. A more comprehensive analysis can be found in
Robinson, Plato’s Psychology.
116
117
person. These conclusions enable Plato to construct an argument that integrates the soul’s
activity with the fields o f Logic and Ethics.
This discussion will act as a foundation for the next section’s analysis o f his treatment of
the soul’s journey. This examination will begin with a brief survey o f Plato’s understanding of
the universe in order to establish the sort of cosmological assumptions that would become
axiomatic in the Hellenistic period. A survey the four major eschatological passages addressing
the journey of the soul that will follow will emphasize two points. First, it will be shown that
Plato’s articulation of the journey, which is dependent upon the particular dialogues’ context,2
displays a fluidity that will become typical o f later Greco-Roman, Jewish, and Christian
formulations. Second, despite his dialectical defense o f the incorporeality o f psyche, these myths
describe the discamate soul in corporeal terms, a fact that introduces ambiguities into the early
Christian debate over the “bodily” nature o f the post-mortem state.
I. The Platonic Soul

Immortality and Pre- and Post-Existence
The cornerstone o f Plato’s psychology, the belief in the immortality o f the soul, is
indebted, as the last chapter showed, to both the philosophical and religious aspects o f Presocratic
thought. The clearest example o f the former can be found in the Phaedrus, where Socrates
prefaces his mythological tale on the fall o f the soul with a dialectical proof for its immortality:
Every soul is immortal ('Puxti n a a a dx.ddva.xoq). For that which is ever in

motion (dteudvriTov) is immortal... this self-mover is the source and first
principle of motion (TCTyyn K0Cl &PX"n Ktvtjaecog) for all other things that are
moved. Now a first principle cannot come into being (d)cp%ri 8s dtyevriTov)... if
it did, it would cease to any longer to be a first principle. Furthermore, since it
does not come into being, it must be imperishable ... The self-mover, then, is the
first principle o f motion, and it is as impossible that it should be destroyed as that
it should come into being ... And now that we have seen that that which is
moved by itself is immortal, we shall feel no scruple in affirming that precisely
2 Plato’s discussion of the journey of the soul changes in order to provide support for the major
themes of each particular dialogue. The importance of context is discussed in Annas, “Plato’s Myths,”
122-143; Helen F. North, “Death and Afterlife in Greek Tragedy and Plato,” in Death and Afterlife:
Perspectives o f World Religions, ed. Hiroshi Obayashi (New York: Greenwood Press, 1992), 60.
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that is the essence and definition o f soul, to wit, self-motion .... And if this last
assertion is correct, namely that “that which moves itself’ is precisely identifiable
with soul, it must follow that soul is not bom and does not die.3
The echoes from Ionian argumentation are unmistakable, and in fact by stating that immortality
rests on the soul’s intrinsic characteristic o f self-motion, Plato appears to be developing an
argument first proffered by the fifth-century philosopher and physician Alcmaeon.4 Here, as well
as in the fourth argument for immortality in the Phaedo and in Laws X, Plato follows earlier
philosophical proofs that use self-motion as an essential feature for proving the soul’s
immortality.5
Like the Ionians, Plato also accepts the belief that the cosmos is animate and essentially
related to the souls o f mankind. In the Timaeus, he states that the universe is a living entity,
constructed by the Demiurge according to the Form called the “Eternal Living Creature” (i^dxx),
which “embraces and contains within itself all the intelligible Living Creatures.”6 Thereafter, the
text describes how the Demiurge created the World Soul, and explains that he molded the rational
soul o f mankind out o f the same, albeit less pure, substance: “and once more into the cup in
which he had previously mingled the soul o f the universe he poured the remains o f the elements,
and mingled them in much the same manner; they were not, however, pure as before, but diluted
to the second and third degree.”7 By maintaining that the rational soul is composed out o f the
same material as the cosmic soul, Plato develops the Presocratic notion that the human soul is
essentially linked to the basic structural element o f the universe.8
3245c-246a.
4Arist. De anim. 405a29-405b2 (=24A12). See also W.K.C. Guthrie, A History o f Greek
Philosophy, vol. 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), 420; Barnes, Presocratic Philosophers,
115-120.
5Phaed. I05d: the soul “brings life” (<j>£pou<ro ^cnfig) to anything it possesses; Laws 894b-896a.
For critiques of Plato’s argumentation, see Richard Bett, “Immortality and the Nature of the Soul in the
Phaedrus,” Phronesis 31 (1986): 3-16; David Bostock, Plato’s Phaedo (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986),
189-193.
6 Tim. 30c. See also 29a, 30b-d, 39e-40a. For an analysis of this idea, see Francis MacDonald
Comford, Plato's Cosmology: The Timaeus o f Plato Translated with a Running Commentary (New York:
The Liberal Arts Press, 1937), 39-41; W.K.C. Guthrie, A History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 5 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1978), 257-259.
7 4 Id; 34b-36d.
8 Because the same elements are used in the construction of both souls, Guthrie (History o f Greek
Philosophy, vol. 5, 307-308) argues that it is better to think of the rational soul’s composition as “less
119
If Plato’s discussions o f the immortality o f the soul rely on the Ionian philosophical
tradition, so too do they show a close affinity with the Orphic and Pythagorean thought. In fact,
his proofs in the Phaedo are an attempt to provide philosophical justification for the notion of a
pre-and post-mortem existence for the soul.9 Socrates first proof states that because everything
emerges from its opposite, life must come from death. Consequently, the psyche must exist both
before and after its incarnation. To this argument a second thesis is proposed based on the theory
o f “recollection” (&vdp.vr|cn<;).10 This section tries to prove that knowledge must be imbedded in
the soul before it enters the body. This doctrine, while attempting to confirm the pre-existence of
the soul, does not convince the philosopher’s friends that the soul survives after death. To this
objection Socrates forwards the remaining two proofs in an attempt to show that the soul, which
most closely resembles the indestructible and invisible, is akin to the Forms and can never admit
its opposite, namely death.11 Another argument for the soul’s immortality is found at the end of
the Republic, when Socrates and Glaucon agree that because a thing is destroyed by evil, and
since injustice, the evil element o f the soul, cannot destroy it, then the psyche must be immortal.12
Despite the persistent flaws and ambiguities in argumentation,13 Socrates’ interlocutors
ultimately accept his proofs, and the immortality o f the soul, with both a pre- and post-mortem
existence, becomes axiomatic for Plato. In the process, the philosopher places the soul at the
center o f the living person’s psychic consciousness. Thus, like the late Archaic poets mentioned
in the first chapter, Plato expands the meaning o f psyche by incorporating other psychic agents
perfectly blended” rather than less pure. See also Comford, Plato's Cosmology, 142-143; Robinson,
Plato’s Psychology, 85-86, 104-106.
9 This point is noticed by Solmsen, “Plato and the Concept of the Soul,” 360. The four proofs are
found at Phaed. 70d-72e; 72e-77e; 78c-80e; 100b-I07a.
10This doctrine was earlier introduced in the Meno (81a-86c).
11Phaed. 79d-e: the soul has “greater likeness” (opoioxepov) and “kinship” (ûyYevfecrcEpov) with
the pure, the everlasting, the immortal, and the changeless. On the soul’s “kinship” (cnrfyevfi^) with the
Forms, see also Phaed. 84b; Rep. 490a-b, 61 le.
lz608d-611a.
13On the problems inherent in Plato’s proofs, see Rohde, Psyche, 468-469; Guthrie, History o f
Greek Philosophy, vol. 4, 341-347, 555-556; Bostock, Plato's Phaedo, passim-, David Bolotin, “The Life of
Philosophy and the Immortality of the Soul: An Introduction to Plato’s Phaedo," Ancient Philosophy 7
(1987): 44-55; Robinson, Plato's Psychology, 26-29, 48-50.
120
into its domain.14 This can be seen most clearly in Plato’s discussions o f the soul’s composition,
as nous and thymos are both viewed as aspects o f the psyche}5 For instance, Plato calls the nous,
the rational principle within humans, “the pilot o f the soul” (xiroxfig KuPepvfjTri), and argues that
it cannot be found within anything devoid o f soul.16 The cognitive capabilities o f soul are also
emphasized in the Phaedo, where phronesis (wisdom) and dianoia (intelligence) are the desired
goal of the philosopher, and in the Republic and Phaedrus, where the highest part o f the soul is
“reason” (XoyiaxiKOv) .17 Its responsibility, so these last dialogues suggest, is to act in concert
with the “spirited” part (frupoEiSeg) to control the “desirous” element (EmSup.ri'tiKo v ) . In these
dialogues, then, the thymos is clearly subsumed under the agency of psyche}* For Plato, then, the
soul takes an active role in the individual by guiding and controlling the other psychic entities.19
By ascribing cognitive and emotional functions to the soul, Plato not only gives psyche
an expanded role within the living person, but he views it as the person’s “true” self. This
elevation of the status of psyche, which the last chapter found to be an integral part o f Orphic and
Pythagorean thought, represents a foundational tenet of Socrates’ philosophy and remains
pervasive in Plato’s dialogues even after his mentor’s influence fades into the background.20 This
idea, which is first stated in the Apology}1 is elaborated upon in the Protagoras and Laches,
14For an overview of this development, see Onians, Origins o f European Thought, 115-117.
15James Beckman (The Religious Dimension o f Socrates' Thought [Ontario, Canada: Wilfrid
Laurier University Press, 1979], 23) notes that this development can be associated with Socrates’
philosophy as shown in the aporetic dialogues.
16Phaedr. 247c; Tim. 30b. See also Tim. 46d: “the one and only existing thing which can properly
have nous is the psycheP hil. 30c: “reason and mind (crania ... Kod vcrGq) could never come into being
without psyche.”
17Phaed. 65b-c, 66a, 67c, 69b-c, 70b (see also Men. 88c-d; Robinson, Plato's Psychology, 22-24);
Rep. 435b-444e; Phaedr. 246a-249d (where the charioteer acts as the metaphor for reason).
18The Timaeus (41c-42a, 69c-71d, 72) also speaks of the soul’s tripartite structure, although in
this scheme the rational part is alone immortal.
19For the importance of placing nous within psyche, see Solmsen, “Plato and the Concept of the
Soul,” 361-362.
20 Scholars divide Plato’s work into three distinct periods. The early dialogues (i.e. Apology,
Crito) are dominated by Socrates and come to no definitive conclusions (thus they are called the aporetic
dialogues). The middle texts (i.e. Phaedo, Republic) show a maturation of Plato’s own thoughts on the
subjects such as the soul and the Forms. The final group of dialogues (i.e. Timaeus, Laws), Socrates is only
marginally visible as Plato continues to develop his own philosophical ideas.
21 Apol. 29d-e, 36c. Socrates uses the verb “to care for” (ejnp.eX£o|j.ai) in reference to both the
psyche and the person himself.
121
where the importance o f choosing the appropriate sophist is discussed. In these passages,
Socrates argues that such a decision must not be made in haste, for what the student entrusts to
this teacher is nothing less than his psyche, his very self.22 In the Charmides, however, this
equation is included within a more nuanced view ofpsyche and its relationship to the individual.
Upon meeting Charmides, Socrates recounts a story about how the Thracians approach the issue
of health. They maintain, the philosopher says,
that as you ought not to attempt to cure the eyes without the head, or the head
without the body, so neither ought you to attempt to cure the body without the
soul. And this, he said, is the reason why the cure o f many diseases is unknown
to the physicians o f Hellas, because they disregard the whole ( t o o o A.o o ) , which
ought to be studied also, for the part can never be well unless the whole is well.
For all good and evil, whether in the body or the whole man (raxvri xco
&v0p<£mxp), originates, as he declared, in the soul, and overflows from thence, as
if from the head into the eyes. And therefore if the head and body are to be well,
you must begin by curing the soul.23
In this passage the original equation initially appears secure: the psyche is related to the whole as
head is to eyes and body is to head. Yet at the end o f the passage Socrates appears to distinguish
between the whole man and the psyche: the soul first experiences good and evil and thereafter
transmits these feelings throughout the body. It would seem, then, that this discussion concludes
by arguing that a close relationship exists between body and soul, and that, taken together, they
comprise the living person.24
Although Plato also recognizes the impact that body and soul can have upon one another,
his attraction to Orphism and Pythagoreanism leads him to develop a more consistent
anthropological dualism that identifies the body as the material enclosure that surrounds the true
person, the soul.25 Thus, the identification o f soul as the essence o f the individual becomes
22Prot. 312c, 313a-b; Lach. 179d, 185e-186a. In these passages, psyche is equated with the
pronouns c t c c u t o v and sairaov. See also Robinson, Plato's Psychology, 12; Beckman, Religious
Dimension, 21.
23 156d-157a.
24 Robinson, Plato's Psychology, 4-7; Beckman, Religious Dimension, 21-23. Although Socrates’
anthropology can identify the soul with the person, this does not mean that he views the body negatively.
On this point, see Jaeger, Paideia, vol. 2,46-49.
25 On the close relationship between soul and body, see Phil. 35b-d. 39a-b; Tim. 86b-87b; R.C.
Lodge, Plato's Theory of Ethics: The Moral Criterion and the Highest Good (New York: Harcourt, Brace
and Company, 1928), 177-201. On Platonic dualism, see Phaed. 64c; Gorg. 524a-b.
122
commonplace. In the Phaedo, for instance, Plato’s use o f psyche in this sense is pronounced.
Near the beginning o f the dialogue, he has Socrates meditate on the possibility o f attaining pure
knowledge: although it is impossible while embodied, the philosopher imagines such wisdom
might be possible at death, “for then the psyche will be by itself apart from the body.” In the
meantime, however, Socrates insists that “we must avoid, so far as possible, intercourse and
communion with the body ... and ... keep ourselves pure from it until God himself sets us free.
And in this way, freeing ourselves from the foolishness o f the body, and being pure, we shall, I
think, be with the pure and shall know o f ourselves all that is pure.”26 As the dialogue closes,
Crito’s concern for giving Socrates a proper burial leads the philosopher to exclaim:
I cannot persuade Crito, my friends, that the Socrates who is now conversing and
arranging the details o f his argument is really I (eycb eipi. o-Grog ZcoicpdTriq); he
thinks I am the one whom he will presently see as a corpse (vexpov), and he asks
how to bury me. And though I have been saying at great length that after I drink
the poison I shall no longer be with you, but shall go away to the joys o f the
blessed you know of, he seems to think that was idle talk uttered to encourage
you and myself.27
Plato stresses that it is the soul that makes Socrates Socrates; the body is merely its temporary
dwelling place. Socrates continues his speech by asking his friends to encourage Crito “not to be
troubled when he sees my body being burnt or buried, or think that I am undergoing terrible
treatment, and [not to] say at the funeral that he is laying out Socrates, or following him to the
grave, or burying him.”28 This passage thus acts as a conscious critique o f the Homeric view that
a person is defined by his existence in the body. More explicit, however, is a passage from the
Laws in which Plato asserts that
the psyche is wholly superior to the body, and that which gives each one o f us his
being is nothing else but his psyche, whereas the body is no more than a
semblance which keeps us company. And it is well said of the deceased that the
corpse is but a ghost (ei5a>A.a); the real man—the immortal thing called the
psyche— departs to give account to the gods of another world.29
26 Phaed. 67a: “&AAd xaGape-ucnpev 6lk’ arnoii, §coq dv o Geoq a m o ; dtjtoAAxxri fipaq- kccl
otitco pev xaGapoi duKxAAartopEvoi. xfjq toG crcapaToc; d<|>pocri)VTig, cbq to eixoq, pexd toioutcov te
eaopeGa kccI yvcoaopeGa Si’ t|P<5v airccov raxv to ETA.LKpiv6q.”
27 I15c-d.
28 115e.
29 959a-b.
123
With this sentence, Plato consciously revalues Homer’s anthropology and assures a place for the
Orphic and Pythagorean conception o f mankind in the Greek philosophical tradition.30
While it is clear that Plato’s dialogues defend the post-mortem survival o f the soul, they
unfortunately do not evince the same clarity when addressing the precise nature o f this existence.
Particularly divisive questions include whether Plato taught that the entire soul or only the
rational faculty is immortal, or whether his accounts admit some variation o f the two; whether the
discamate soul is the same as the soul in its final condition outside the cycle o f metempsychosis;
and whether or not the post-mortem soul is, in some sense at least, still embodied.31 These issues
all address, in varying degrees, the problem o f an individualized immortality for the soul released
from the circle o f rebirth. Plato’s own speculation on this matter does not appear
incontrovertible, but it is at least possible to gamer evidence that supports the notion that the type
o f immortality he has in mind is personal.32
For instance, in a discussion o f the soul’s immortality in the Republic, Plato states that we
must not “think that in its truest nature (&Xri0eCTTOCTri cjruaet) the psyche is the kind o f thing that
teems with infinite diversity and unlikeness and contradiction in and with itself... It is not easy
(Oh paSiov) ... for a thing to be immortal that is composed o f many elements (ahvGexov) not put
together in the best way.”33 Although it may not be easy, Plato does not say it is impossible for a
30 For other examples see Rep. 469d; 588b-589a. See also Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy,
vol. 5,359, n. 2; Erland Ehnmark, “Some Remarks on the Idea of Immortality in Greek Religion,” Erartos
46 (1948): 1-21; Vemant, “Psuche,” 190-191.
31 See, for instance, W.K.C. Guthrie, “Plato’s Views on the Nature of the Soul,” in Plato: A
Collection o f Critical Essays, vol. 2, ed. Gregory Vlastos (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Company,
Inc., 1971), 230-243; Hall, “'PYXH as Undifferentiated Unity,” 63-82; D.D. McGibbon, “The Fall of the
Soul in Plato’s Phaedrus,” Classical Quarterly n.s. 14 (1964): 56-63; Roger A. Shiner, “Soul in Republic X
611,” Apeiron 6 (1972): 23-30; Bett, “Immortality and the Nature of the Soul,” 19-22; Gerson, “Note on
Tripartition,” 81-96; Erik Nis Ostenfeld, “Self-Motion, Tripartition and Embodiment,” Classica et
Mediaevalia 4 I (1990): 43-49; Robinson, “Tripartite Soul,” 103-110; Andrew S. Mason, “Immortality in
the Timaeus," Phronesis 39 (1994): 90-97; Bartel Poortman, “Death and Immortality in Greek Philosophy:
From the Presocratics to the Hellenistic Era,” in Hidden Futures: Death and Immortality in Ancient Egypt,
Anatolia, the Classical, Biblical and Arab-Islamic World, eds. J.M. Bremer, Th. PJ. van den Hout, and R.
Peters (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1994), 207-214; Robinson, Plato’s Psychology, 50-58,
119-131.
32 See also the comments of Rohde, Psyche, 472.
33 61 lb.
124
discamate soul to admit diversity.34 Moreover, the last sentence does imply that there is a best
way for the disembodied soul to be composed. And in fact, the Phaedrns provides just such an
example in its description o f the psychai o f the gods.35 It appears, then, that Plato understood that
human souls, while attached to the body, do not evince the perfection that they might enjoy
without such an encumbrance.36 Yet even outside the body, the soul cannot equal the perfection
o f the divine— because of the rebellious nature o f the desirous element, there is still something
inherently defective in it from the very beginning.37 Still, the best soul after death is one that
harmonizes to the best of its ability its various elements.
The Incarnate Soul
Thus far the discussion has focused on the Presocratic inheritance found in Plato’s notion
o f soul: the psyche is characterized by motion and represents the true, immortal essence o f the
person. Yet his work is too creative to portray him as a simple compiler of these older theories.
This section will thus show that he advances the discussion on the nature o f the soul and
integrates the discoveries of his predecessors into his own philosophical system.
Incorporeality
In his discussions on the characteristics o f the soul, Plato works to connect his
anthropology with a metaphysical dualism that makes a sharp distinction between the “real”
world of true being and the mutable world o f becoming. In essence, Plato reasons that if soul is
34 Hall, “'PYXH as Undifferentiated Unity,” 73; Shiner, “Soul in Republic X 611,” 26; Robinson,
Plato's Psychology, 53.
35 246a-b, 246d-247e. The gods’ souls are comprised of a “composite of powers” (crujKtmroq
5-uvap.ig), all of which are good. The necessity of all the elements is emphasized by the image of the lower
faculties’ responsibility in transporting the rational soul through the heavens. Moreover, the function of all
soul is “to care for all that is inanimate” (eTnjieXevaxt too dyoxou), a job that requires more than simple
rational contemplation. Guthrie (“Plato’s Views,” 232) has argued that Plato must have only thought the
rational soul was immortal in the Phaedo because of the argument that whatever is compounded and
composite is liable to decomposition. Yet if development in Plato’s psychology is taken seriously, then
interpreting an earlier dialogue through the lens of the later notion of tripartition would appear to be
anachronistic.
36 Rep. 6 llb-c.
37 Phaedr. 253c-e; McGibbon, “The Fall of the Soul,” 60-61; Gerson, “Note on Tripartition,” 93.
125
distinct from body, then the former’s ontological makeup must also be wholly different.
Moreover, if the body is composed from the matter o f the corruptible sphere, then the soul must
logically bear an intrinsic affinity with its opposite, the realm o f perfection. Thus, he arrives at
the conclusion that psyche is “akin” to the incorporeal realm of the Forms.38 The Sophist builds
upon this assertion by classifying the soul with “real existence [that] consists o f certain ideas
which are conceived only by the mind and have no body” (fracop.ocxa).39
In the history o f Greek philosophy, the idea of incorporeality is new with Plato. The
following two chapters will show that not all philosophers would agree with his evaluation,
insisting instead that everything real must possess some form o f materiality. While Plato’s
arguments retain currency throughout antiquity among both pagans and Christians, it is the
objections to Plato on the part o f the Stoics and Epicureans that serve to further the notion o f the
soul’s bodily composition, an idea that, as Part IV will show, creates confusion for early
Christians engaged in debate over the nature o f the resurrected state.
Logic, Ethics, and the “Care o f the Soul”
From the above discussion it will be recalled that Plato places the nous within the soul
and identifies the latter as the locus o f reason. These statements suggest that he understands that
psyche has an essential connection with the realm o f Logic, a supposition that is confirmed in his
Theaetetus. Devoted to the question o f defining knowledge (feiaaxf)|j.ri),40 the Theaetetus asserts
that it is only through the psyche that true knowledge is attained. Distinguishing between sense
perceptions and knowledge, Socrates and Theaetetus conclude that the former are unable to grasp
true reality—that which “exists” (earn*) or “does not exist” ( o L k eaxi).41 By contrast, it is only
38 For this point, see Renehan, “On the Greek Origins,” 130; L.P. Gerson, “Platonic Dualism,” The
Monist 69 (1986): 352-369. For Plato’s use of asomatos, see H. Gomprez, “AZOMATOE,” Hermes 67
(1932): 155-167; Renehan, “On the Greek Origins,” 124-132; ps.-Pl. Epin. 981b-c. On the soul’s
relationship with the Forms, see n. 11.
39 246b. Continuing, Plato has his interlocutor concede that even some materialists, who think
everything real must be corporeal, will concede that “a small part of reality is bodiless” (dCTCopaxov)
(247d).
40 146a; 184a-b.
41 185b.
126
the soul, working by itself, that can apprehend existence and attain episteme, the highest level o f
intellectual achievement.42
If the soul, through its own movements, guides the individual to true knowledge,43 it is
also active in spurring the body into movement. This is clear from the Laws, where Plato
differentiates between the self-motion o f the soul, which places soulless things in motion, and
things which are moved (i.e. bodies).44 Applied to the realm o f Ethics, this assertion leads to the
conclusion that it is the soul that first receives sense impressions, thereafter translating them into
bodily movement.45 As Socrates hypothesizes in the Theaetetus, “it would surely be strange that
there should be a number o f senses ensconced inside us, like the warriors in the Trojan horse, and
all these things should not converge and meet in some single nature (iSsav)— a psyche, or
whatever it is to be called— with which we perceive all the objects o f perception through the
senses as instruments.”46 The same point is made in the Philebus, where the psyche again has
priority over the body in recognizing feelings o f pleasure and pain: “it is to the soul that all
impulse and desire (opp.T]v Kcd ejn.0-up.iav), and indeed the determining principle o f the whole
creature (Tf|V &p%fiv xot) f^cpon), belong.”47 In addition to its work independent of the body (the
acquisition o f knowledge), then, the soul also intersects with the body in the field o f ethical
activity.48
The soul, as the true self, always retains primacy in Plato’s philosophy. It is therefore not
surprising that the dialogues often focus on evaluating its condition. That this focus was not
unique to Plato, but was derived from Socrates, can be seen from the Apology. As the
42 I85c-186a. For a distinction between episteme and doxa, see also Rep. 509d-51 le.
43 See Theaet. 153b: “The soul acquires knowledge and is kept going and improved by learning
and practice, which are of the nature of movements” (Kivfiascov).
44 894b-896c. See especially 895b: “as the source of all motions whatsoever, the first to occur
among bodies at rest and the first in rank in moving bodies, the motion that initiates itself we shall
pronounce to be necessarily the earliest and mightiest of all changes, while that which is altered by
something else and sets something else moving is secondary.”
45 This is an elaboration of the position held by the Presocratics Heraclitus and Diogenes of
Apollonia.
46 184d.
47 35d.
48 For a distinction between these two features of psyche, see Theaet. 185e.
127
philosopher reminds his accusers: “I spend all my time going about trying to persuade you, young
and old, to make your first and chief concern not for your bodies nor for your possessions, but for
the highest welfare of your souls.”49 In other early dialogues, he continues to remind his
interlocutors that the value o f the soul’s health far outweighs any material concerns that they
might have.50 The supreme value o f the soul thus makes its proper care essential, especially
because it is generally regarded to be susceptible to the influence o f outside forces.51 Through the
teachings o f Socrates, then, the “care o f the soul” becomes a central concern for Plato,52 who
addresses the problem in two different ways.
One approach to assessing the soul’s condition in the material world appears in the
Phaedo. In this dialogue, Plato constructs a starkly dualistic picture o f mankind in which the
immortal soul is placed in opposition to the corruptible body. In order for the former to remain
pure, it must abstain from contact with the bodily passions and contemplate only what is truly
real: “Surely the soul can best reflect when it is free of all distractions such as hearing or sight or
pain or pleasure of any kind—that is when it ignores the body and becomes as far as possible
independent, avoiding all physical contacts and associations as much as it can, in its search for
reality.”53 Plato recognizes, however, that this ideal state is ultimately impossible while the soul
was embodied; even the philosopher’s psyche becomes contaminated by virtue o f its relation to
body. Therefore, he argues that the soul should act as the body’s disciplinarian in preparation for
its ultimate release. Appealing to a passage from Homer,54 Plato states that the control that the
49 Apol. 30a: “n.f|xe cjcop&icov e in .p E A .E ia 9 c a (ifitE xpripdTcov Ttporspov p-riSe obxco <j(j)6Spa dag
xfi<; vupcn?-” Other early dialogues show that the “care of the soul” was Socrates’ most important concern.
See, for instance, Char. 157a; Lach. 185e; Prot. 313a-c. For analysis, see Burnet, “Socratic Doctrine,”
243-245, 256; Solmsen, “Plato and the Concept of the Soul,” 357-358.
50 See, for instance, Lach. 185a; Prot. 313a; Hipp. Min. 372e-373a.
51 This phenomenon was surveyed among the late Archaic poets in the first chapter. In addition to
the above passages in the Charmides, Laches, and Protagoras, see Ion 534a, 535a, b-c; 536a-b; Menex.
235a; Gorg. 463a-465e; Phaedr. 261a, 271c-d; Rep. 377b.
52 For instance, Phaed. 107c: “If the soul is immortal, it demands our care (ETnpeXeiag) not only
for that part of time which we call life, but for all time” (obx im£p xou xpovou t o u t o u povov, 'ev <5
K a X o u p e v t o £fjv, &.W.' ujtep t o o jxavxog).
53 Phaed. 65c; see also 65e-67d; 79d.
54 Od. 20.17-18: “But he struck his breast, and rebuked his heart (>cpa8ir|v), saying, ‘Endure, my
heart (tcpaS'm); a worse thing even than this you once endured’” (said by Odysseus, as he contemplates
whether to attack the suitors).
128
soul must exercise on the body is constant, sometimes taking the form o f “severe and unpleasant
methods” such as physical training and medicine, while at other times employing a milder course
through the use o f threats and admonishments.55
While the anthropology o f the Phaedo remained influential throughout antiquity,56
Plato’s more sophisticated psychological statements show another approach to the problem o f the
care of the soul. Rather than regarding the body alone as the locus o f discord, a number o f other
dialogues show that Plato had become acutely aware that “disorder” (cxacrig) could occur within
the soul itself. In the Republic, for example, a properly balanced soul can only be achieved when
the rational part is able to subdue and control its passionate elements.57 To illustrate how this
faculty harnesses the power o f the thymos, Plato appeals to the Homeric lines that earlier had
been used in the Phaedo to describe the soul’s power over the body.58 Here, however, Odysseus
words receive a different interpretation: “Homer has clearly represented that in us which has
reflected about the better and the worse [the rational soul] as rebuking that which feels
unreasoning anger (xco <5cA.oYtoxco<; 0\3(j.ou(j.evcp) as if it were a distinct and different thing.”59
Once this spirited element unites in harmony with the rational soul, the two then act as allies in
regulating the desires, which comprise the largest and most dangerous part o f the soul.60 The
rational soul that succeeds in harmonizing the entire soul does not absolutely repress the passions.
Rather, in this condition the two lower parts recognize and submit to reason, and in turn their
passions are regulated so that they operate for the well-being o f the whole: “when the entire soul
accepts the guidance of the wisdom-loving part and is not filled with inner dissension, the result
for each part is that it in all other respects keeps to its own task and is just, and likewise that each
55 94c-e.
56 See, for instance, John M. Dillon, “Rejecting the Body, Refining the Body: Some Remarks on
the Development of Platonist Asceticism,” in Asceticism, eds. Vincent L. Wimbush and Richard Valantasis
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 80-87; Dodds, Greeks and the Irrational, 212-214.
57 Other passages that address the relationship between the rational element in the soul and its
desires include Men. 88d-e; Gorg. 493a; Phaedr. 237d-238b, 246b-249d.
58 See n. 54.
59 441b-c.
60 Rep. 441e-442a; see also 589a-b.
129
enjoys its own proper pleasures and the best pleasures and, so far as a thing is possible, the
truest.”61
Attaining this harmonious state rests on the soul’s acquisition o f knowledge.62 Plato, who
never abandons Socrates’ contention that wisdom prevents an individual from knowingly
committing evil, refers to learning and knowledge as that which “nourishes” (xpe<jxo) the soul.63
The philosophical life thus represents the highest goal or telos for the soul because it leads to the
contemplation o f heavenly perfection, and in fact, allows the soul to govern the person as the
divine element within the individual.64 Wisdom, then, replaces Orphic teletai as the
“purification” through which the soul advances to the perception o f the intelligible world.65 The
ascent to this level o f cognition, which is outlined as a pedagogical program in Book VII o f the
Republic, culminates in the practice o f dialectic, so that “through discourse o f reason and apart
from all perceptions o f sense” the individual “finds his way to the very essence o f each thing and
does not desist until he apprehends by thought itself the nature o f the good in itself.”66 Yet just
like the rational part o f the soul, which does not work solely for itself but rather for the good of
the entire soul, the “initiate” in the highest levels of knowledge feels a responsibility for the well
being o f the entire state. Thus, he descends from the heights of heavenly wisdom in order to
educate others about the true realities that exist beyond the visible world 67 By acting as a guide
for the next generation, the philosopher ensures a place for divine wisdom on earth, and after
death he is rewarded for this service by finding a dwelling-place on the Islands o f the Blessed.68
This statement, by linking the cultivation of the soul to post-mortem existence, introduces
61 Rep. 586e-587a; see also 443b, 485d.

62 See Euthyd. 295e, where Euthydemus understands the soul to be the entity through which
knowledge is attained.
63 Evil never done willingly: Prot. 345d; 358c-d; Hipp. Min. 373c, 375a-b; Men. 77a-e; Tim. 86d-
e; Laws 860d (see also Prot. 345b, where lack of knowledge is the only real evil); learning as nourishment
for the soul: Prot. 313c; Phaedr. 247d.
64 Tim. 47b-c; Rep. 590d; see also Laws 863a-864b.
65 Phaed. 69c-d; Rep. 490a-b. See also Rohde, Psyche, 470-471.
66 Rep. 532a-b. For a more poetical description of this process, see Symp. 201c-212a.
67 Rep. 519c-520a.
68 Rep. 540b-c.
130
eschatological implications into Plato’s psychology that will be further elaborated upon in the
passages that specifically address the journey o f the soul.69
n . The Platonic Cosmos and the Journey of the Soul

The Platonic Cosmos
The chapter on the lonians introduced a fundamental change in the Greeks’ perception of
the universe. Eschewing the compact, three-story cosmos o f the epics, these physiologoi
hypothesized that the cosmos was much larger than the poets’ had ever imagined. Yet not all of
the Presocratics agreed on the specifics regarding this new cosmological structure. In Plato’s
dialogues, the geocentric model o f the universe, which becomes axiomatic for the rest of
antiquity, receives full expression. A brief summary will therefore provide the architectural
foundation for understanding how the ancient world conceived of the soul’s ascent into the
heavens.
The earliest indication of Plato’s use o f the geocentric model appears in the
eschatological myth o f the Phaedo. Echoing Anaximander’s theory, Socrates affirms the
spherical shape o f the earth, which exists in the middle o f a uniform heavens. This creates a state
of equilibrium that makes it unnecessary to posit a supporting foundation of air or any other
force.70 From the Republic Plato then asserts that a series o f eight concentric spheres containing
the heavenly bodies surround the earth. Although he does not name them explicitly, the
architecture that he has in mind consists o f the sun and moon, the five planets, and the fixed stars.
From the highest to lowest sphere, the heavenly realm is partitioned in the following manner:
Fixed Stars
Saturn
Jupiter
Mars
69 The same point is made in the Phaedo 69c, where philosophy, because it replaces Orphic teletai,
acts as the pre-condition for a blessed afterlife.
70 108e-109a.
131
Sun71
Venus
Mercury
Moon
In this system the sub-lunar world corresponds to the corruptible world o f materiality. Above
this, however, is the non-mutable realm o f divinity. Beyond the fixed stars lies the sphere o f pure
perfection, which, in Plato’s scheme, consists o f God and the Forms.72 Although not all
discussions of the soul’s journey will mention the exact end point for the psyche, in some
instances both pagan and Christian authors will specify that different types o f souls can expect to
arrive at different heavenly destinations.
The Journey o f the Soul
Gorgias (523a-527a)
Beginning as a discussion on the nature and value o f rhetoric, the Gorgias quickly turns
to questions o f a moral and ethical nature.73 At issue is the problem o f whether it is better to
commit or suffer evil, and what value should be placed on submitting to punishment. Against
Polus and Callicles, Socrates argues that to do evil is worse than to suffer it, and that an
individual who possesses wickedness but consents to punishment is in better condition than one
who refuses treatment.74 This position then leads him to insist that the acceptance o f punishment
before death is essential, because “to arrive in the other world with soul surcharged with many
wicked deeds is the worst of all evils” (522e). As proof o f this assertion, Socrates recounts a
71 In the Timaeus (38c-d), Plato follows the Pythagoreans by putting the sun in the second sphere
and Mercury in the fourth. Although this scheme is also used by the author of De mundo (392al7-31), the
Pythagorean model remains the minority view through the late Hellenistic period.
72 God here refers to the highest deity, the One or Nous, not the Demiurge of the Timaeus, for this
deity looks to the eternal realm (i.e. the Forms) when he creates the universe (29a).
73 For Plato’s thoughts on the subject of the text, see 500c. The original problem of rhetoric,
however, is not completely pushed into the background. See E.R. Dodds, Gorgias: A Revised Text with
Introduction and Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1959), 1-5; Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy,
vol. 4, 298-299.
74 For Socrates’ arguments, see 469b-c, 472e, 478d-e, 479d. For his interlocutors’ beliefs, see
469c, 471a-e, 472d-e, 491e-492c.
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“fine story” (kcxA.6 <; Xoyoq) concerning the post-mortem fate o f souls.75 Taken as a whole, Plato
uses this dialogue to reflect on the trial o f Socrates and indict his judges for their injustice.76 At
the same time, he employs the closing myth to show that despite this injustice, Socrates’ soul will
experience a proper judgement after death.77
O f all o f Plato’s eschatological myths, the account in the Gorgias is the most
straightforward.78 According to the tale, the dead were originally judged, both body and soul,
before traveling to their final abode. Yet because o f the fineries associated with the body, the
judges o f the underworld were often unable to make accurate assessments o f the condition of
these souls. As a result, they were often fooled by the dead and would send them to the wrong
place. To rectify this problem, Zeus ordained that at death the body and soul should be separated
so that the judges could easily scan these “naked” souls and determine whether their fate lie either
in Tartarus or the Islands o f the Blessed.
Three important points emerge from Plato’s commentary on the myth. First, he finds in
the story a confirmation o f mankind’s dualistic character: death “ is nothing else but the separation
from each other of two things, soul and body” (524b). The continuation o f this sentence leads to
the second point: “when therefore they [body and soul] are separated from one another, each of
them retains pretty much the same condition as when the man was alive” (524b). While Homer’s
First Nekyia had shown that the psyche could retain a person’s bodily traits in the underworld,
Plato argues here that the same is true for the soul: it is judged according to “its natural
characteristics and the experiences (xa xe xrjq (jmcrecot; koc! x a 7ta0fi(iaxa)... encountered
through occupations of various kinds.”79 Moreover, these souls have a corporeal nature, for Plato
asserts that the psychai o f kings and tyrants are often “tom to ribbons by the scourge and full of
75 523a-524a. Socrates maintains his faith in this “true” (dXTi&rig) story (523a; 524b). This is the
Platonic Socrates however, for the Socrates of the Apology shows no such confidence in the conditions of
the afterlife (40c-d). See also Jaeger, Paideia, vol. 2, 150-152.
76 See, for example, 521d-e.
77 Annas, “Plato’s Myths,” 122-123.
78 Dodds, Gorgias, 372-373.
79 524d. See also Dodds, Gorgias, 379.
133
scars due to perjuries and crime—the marks branded on the soul by every evil deed.”80 Third,
while Homer mentions Minos as judging disputes among those already in Hades, Plato, showing
an affinity for Orphic and Pythagorean teachings, transforms Rhadamanthys, Aeacus, and Minos
into judges o f the soul’s purity based on its earthly life. Thus, the soul’s condition while
embodied has direct consequences on its post-mortem existence.
Plato continues his discussion o f this myth by suggesting that, after death, the soul can
expect to experience one of two fates. The first option awaits those souls that are afflicted with
disease. In a psyche of this type “there is no sign o f health ... but it is full o f scars due to
perjuries and crime ... and everything is crooked through falsehood and imposture, and nothing
straight because it has been reared a stranger to truth.” Consumed by “license and luxury and
presumption and incontinence” (eôxxjiaq real xpixjnjq Kai ijppsooq Kai dcKpaxiaq), this soul is
sent away “in ignominy straight to the prison-house (Trjq <t>poupd<;), where it is doomed on its
arrival to endure the sufferings proper to it” (524e-525a). Yet these punishments can produce two
results. On the one hand, the suffering may lead to a rehabilitation of the soul, in which case it is
classified as curable.81 On the other hand, those souls that were “guilty o f the most heinous
crimes and whose misdeeds are past cure” are incurable and receive everlasting torment in
Tartarus. In this latter group Plato includes kings, tyrants, and other powerful political figures
(525b-526c).
The second fate available to disembodied souls is markedly different from the first.
Instead o f committing crimes, these psychai lived “in piety and truth” (ooicoq ... Kai pex’
6cA.ri0etaq) while on earth, and because of this, are rewarded with a direct path to the Islands of
the Blessed. Although Plato concedes that this group represents the minority, he argues that both
philosophers and private citizens can achieve this status (526a-d). Yet because there is no
evidence for metempsychosis in this story, the soul has only one chance to ensure its salvation.82
80 524e-525a: “8ia(i.ep.aatiYcopfevnv Kai obXcov pscrunv hrro emopKidov xai aSitdaq, &
eKdarri t| npdfy.q aircou s£cop.6p£ato ei? xfiv vjrux'nv-”
81 Here Socrates’ earlier arguments for the salutary effects of punishment become relevant. See n.
74.
82 See Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 4, 306 (contra Dodds, Gorgias, 381).
134
Thus, without an opportunity for the soul to improve its condition over numerous lifetimes,
Socrates’ plea for his fellow citizens to lead a righteous life becomes particularly acute: the
eternal fate of the soul, whether in Hades or in Elysium, rests solely on its condition in this life.
Phaedo (108e-l 15b)
Compared with the simplicity o f the Gorgias tale, the eschatological myth in the Phaedo
contains a complex discussion of the underworld based on contemporary scientific principles.
Yet because these ideas are grafted onto a myth, Plato’s discussion o f cosmography resists any
easy interpretation, and the discussion o f the journey of the soul in this section presents additional
difficulties when compared with statements from earlier sections in the dialogue (80c-84b, 107c-
108c).83 It is clear that in the Phaedo Plato is now attempting, with limited success, to combine
the idea of a single judgment as presented in the Gorgias with Orphic-Pythagorean teachings, in
particular their anthropological dualism and notion of reincarnation.84 Because this dialogue
focuses on the demands and rewards o f the philosophical life from the perspective o f the
impending death of Socrates, these latter ideas become particularly pronounced.
The first statement o f the soul’s journey begins just after the third argument for
immortality has established that the soul is most like that which is “divine, immortal, uniform,
indissoluble, and ever self-consistent and invariable” (80b). Consequently, Plato states that at
death, the components that comprise the human being separate and seek out the place with which
they have the most affinity. While the body disintegrates into the earth, the soul seeks to travel to
“another place, which is, like itself, noble and pure and invisible”; that is, the realm o f the “good
83 Socrates raises the issue for the first time near the beginning of the text as an addendum to his
third proof of immortality, the argument from affinity. Although the discussion of the post-mortem fate of
the soul thus appears first within the context of dialectic, it nevertheless does not rigidly hold to this
method. Indeed, at the beginning of the proof (77e), Socrates views his attempt to assuage his
interlocutors’ fears concerning the post-mortem state of the soul as a “charm” or “magic spell.” Here, then,
rigorous proof is not demanded, and in fact Socrates’ explanation bears some resemblance to the more
elaborate, mythological discussion of the soul’s journey that closes the dialogue, which Socrates also calls a
charm (114d). On the relationship between the two passages, see David A. White, Myth and Metaphysics
in Plato s Phaedo (London: Associated University Presses, 1989), 114-115, 118, 226-227, 237-238.
84Annas, “Plato’s Myths,” 126-127.
135
and wise God” (80d). Yet souls that have willingly associated with the body and its desires are
impure at death,85 and thus cannot ascend to these heavenly heights. Instead, these “base souls”
(ijxx\)A.a>v) are forced to remain near the earth as punishment for their wrongdoings, eventually
satisfying their corporeal urges by entering once more into another body. By contrast, the
“happiest souls” (eb5ai|iov£crxaxoi), which go to the “best place” (PeXxiaxov xonov) are those
who, through habit and practice, acquire the civic virtues “moderation and justice” (aco<j)po<ri)vriv
xe K ai 8tKato<ruvT|v) (82a). While Plato uses the superlative to describe these psychai, it
becomes apparent that they do not possess the highest levels o f purity, for they attained their
virtues “without philosophy and reason” (&vet> (fjiAocoîaq xe K ai voi5), and ultimately, they
too experience reincarnation.
As the entire dialogue represents a defense o f the bios o f the philosopher, it should not be
surprising that the soul that chooses this existence receives a reward even greater than the one
outlined for the civic-minded. Thus, the soul that has practiced philosophy correctly
is pure and carries with it no contamination o f the body, because it has never
willingly associated with it in life ... then it departs to the place which is, like
itself, invisible, divine, immortal, and wise, where, on its arrival, happiness
awaits it, and release from uncertainty and folly, from fears and uncontrolled
desires, and all other human evils, and where, as they say of the initiates in the
mysteries, it really spends the rest o f its time with the gods ((J.exa xcnv Gecov).86
This soul, then, it would appear, is the only type to secure a release from reincarnation and depart
for the heavenly realm toward which all souls naturally gravitate. Indeed, Plato explicitly states
that “no one who has not practiced philosophy ((f)i>.oao<t)f|aavxi.) and is not absolutely pure when
it leaves the body is allowed to enter into the communion o f the gods, but only the lover o f
wisdom” (xcp (jnXopaGsi.) (82b-c).
Thus far Plato has identified three distinct types o f souls based upon the degree to which
they associate with the body. After the final proof for the soul’s immortality, Plato again returns
85 Specific behavior singled out for condemnation includes gluttony, selfishness, drunkenness, and
lawlessness (81e-82a).
86 81a. Here Socrates refers back to 69c-d, when he interpreted Orphic teletai as philosophic
wisdom.
136
to this theme, although purity now becomes the defining characteristic o f soul that determines the
judgment it receives.87 At death, he states, every soul is directed to Hades for judgment. After
submitting to this fate, it travels to its appropriate dwelling place, residing there until it is led to
the earth for another existence (107d-e). The “orderly and wise” ( K o a p .i a xe K a i <j>p6vip.o<;) soul
follows its guide to Hades without incident, and because o f its “purity and temperance”
(K a S a p co g xe Kai p.expicog) resides among the gods. By contrast, the “impure” (6cKd0apxov)
soul only arrives at Hades after much resistance and struggling, and is scorned by others until it
receives judgment and is sent to its appropriate place (108a-c).
Plato only speaks o f two types o f soul in this passage, presumably in order to reinforce
the previous statement that since the soul cannot escape from wickedness, it demands constant
care, both during and after its incarnation in the body (107c). Yet when he moves to a
mythological description of the cosmos, Plato introduces a more complex discussion of the
distinctions between souls and their respective fates. In this passage, Socrates argues that the
traditional understanding of the earth fails to capture its true magnitude and reality. What humans
perceive to be the surface o f the earth is in actuality only various hollows or chasms below the
aetherial realm, the “real” surface o f the earth. Thus, “if someone could reach to the summit, or
put on wings and fly aloft, when he put up his head he would see the world above, just as fishes
see our world when they put up their heads out o f the sea” (109e). While this “true” earth
contains things as they exist in a state o f purity, the areas inhabited by mankind can offer only
pale reflections o f this glory. Moreover, this upper realm sustains a purer form o f human life, and
acts as the true home of the gods.
Under the hollows, the underworld is connected together by a network of rivers that both
originate from and return to Tartarus. O f the many rivers below, three stand out for their role in
transporting souls to their appropriate station after judgment. The Acheron takes the majority o f
87 In the first section, Plato only briefly alludes to the punishment of the wicked soul at 8 Id. Its
absence may be explained by the immediate context of the discussion. Here Socrates is not interested in
providing a detailed description of the fate of other souls; rather he seeks to comfort his friends and teach
them about the rewards inherent in the philosophic life (see 82d-84b).
137
souls to the Acherusian Lake. These psychai, which are neither wholly good nor evil, undergo
purifications and remain there for varying amounts o f time before they are once more sent forth
into living beings (113a, d-e). A second group o f souls is divided, like the Gorgias myth, into
two subcategories. The first are “those who on account o f the greatness of their sins
(6cp.apxr|iJ.cxxcov) are judged to be incurable ... are hurled by their appropriate destiny into
Tartarus, whence they emerge no more” (113e). The second are also cast into Tartarus, although
they are deemed curable because their crimes are less severe. After a year these souls are divided
into the Cocytus and Pyriphlegethon rivers, which transport them near the Acherusian Lake so
that they can beg their victims for forgiveness. If their entreaties are accepted, the curable soul is
able to escape from the river into the lake; if rejected, they descend once more into Tartarus,
where they must atone for their crimes for another year.
Plato also ranks the third group o f souls, those that ascend up toward the heavens, into
two subcategories. The first class are comprised o f psychai that “have lived a life o f surpassing
holiness” (xo baton; Pidovai); the reward for this group is to be “released and set free from
confinement in these regions o f the earth, and passing upward to their pure abode, [they] make
their dwelling upon the earth’s surface” (1 14b-c). The purest souls among this group, which form
the second division, rise to even greater heights: “of these, such as have purified themselves
sufficiently by philosophy (oi cj>iA.oao<[)ia 'itcavco; Koc6r|pdp.evoi), live thereafter altogether
without bodies (&vet> xe acop.dc.xc0v £coai xo na.pa.Kav), and reach habitations even more
beautiful, which is not easy to portray” (114c).
Taken together, the arguments presented in these passages are not without their
difficulties.88 First, Plato has attempted to infuse the idea o f reincarnation, which he introduces
somewhat casually at 81d-82b, onto a myth o f judgment similar to that found in the Gorgias. In
this earlier section, metempsychosis itself is the punishment or reward, yet in the closing myth
Plato makes the soul submit to judgment after death in Hades. Moreover, while the earlier
passage states that even the worst souls enter into other bodies, Plato now has this group
88 See Annas, “Plato’s Myths,” 126-129.
138
permanently condemned to Tartarus. Second, while it is the philosopher that can look forward to
existing with the divine at 81a, in the eschatological myth this level is reserved for those deemed
holy. By the close of the dialogue Plato imagines an even higher existence for the philosophic
soul above the realm of the gods and with the Forms.89 Third, Plato states that the holy souls are
transported to the “real” surface o f the earth, where humans live with the gods; o f those souls the
purest, that o f the philosopher, travels to a higher region to exist “altogether without bodies.”
Does Plato thus envision that the psychai commended for their holiness may anticipate another
embodied existence, a condition which the text otherwise views as a punishment? And finally, is
it possible to reconcile Socrates’ statement at 63b-c that he expects to find himself “among good
men” after his death with the myth’s contention that such an existence would be embodied?
Although this is the logical conclusion, it is difficult to believe that Plato meant to argue that his
mentor’s soul was not sufficiently purified to rise above embodied existence to the highest levels
o f the cosmos.
Despite these problems, the discussion o f the journey o f the soul in the Phaedo provides
an influential defense o f the philosophical life and the relationship between wisdom and the
condition o f the soul, both in this world and the next. Plato characterizes the soul as a helpless
prisoner o f the passions of the body until philosophy “takes possession o f’ (raxpaA.cxp.pdcvco) it.
Thereafter, the soul realizes the benefits that such wisdom offers and does not reject this
“opportunity for release.” Instead, it “abstains as far as possible from pleasures and desires and
griefs, because it reflects th a t... [this is] the last and worst calamity o f all.”90 Although no one
exhibits an absolutely pure soul while still embodied, a “rigorous training” (7iapaoxet>f|) in
knowledge can help the soul in this life to avoid the body, if not completely, at least to a high
degree.91 The philosophic life thus acts as a propaedeutic for the soul, so that after death it might
experience the vision of the highest reality: as Plato asserts, the psyche “takes nothing with it to
the next world except education and nurture (xrj<; 7cai6eta<; xe m i xpo<|n]q), and these, we are
89 White, Myth and Metaphysics, 265-266.

90 82d-83c; see also Rep. 586a-b.
91 66d-68b, 69a-b; see also Theaet. 176a-b.
139
told, are o f supreme importance in helping or harming the newly dead at the very beginning of its
journey there” (107d).
Republic (614b-621d)
Like the Gorgias and Phaedo, the Republic also focuses on outlining how individuals can
make the proper moral and ethical choices in order to live in accordance with the divine.92 In
particular, the dialogue focuses on classifying the concept o f justice and attempting to secure it
both within the individual and state. As Book II opens, Socrates classifies justice as a part o f the
“fairest” category, that which includes things that are desired for their own sake as well as for
their results (357b-358a). Since Socrates’ interlocutors consider justice to belong to a lesser
category, that which is practiced only for its rewards, they challenge the philosopher to elaborate
upon his notion o f justice and assess the impact it has on the soul.93 As the dialogue closes, Plato
has Socrates recount the Myth of Er, a “tale” (dtTtoXoyoq) meant to underscore the arguments
found in the body o f the text.94
According to this story, the body of the slain warrior Er is taken from the battlefield ten
days after his death. Yet two days later, while on the funeral pyre, he revives to tell his
compatriots about the journey that his soul had taken to the world beyond. His disembodied soul,
he relates, first came to a place of judgment. There it saw two openings marking the passageways
into the earth, and above those, two that led up to the heavens. For each pair, one opening
represents the entrance into the world beyond for souls that had just received judgment, while the
other marks the exit through which souls return after completing their post-mortem existence.
These latter souls, Er explains, then travel to a place where they encounter Necessity and the
Fates, who make the preparations for them to become incarnate once again. At that time, the
92 See, for instance, 353d-354a, 590d. See also H.S. Thayer, “The Myth of Er,” History of
Philosophy Quarterly 5 (1988): 370.
93 358a-b. Glaucon notes that most people believe that justice “belongs to the toilsome class of
things that must be practiced for the sake of rewards and repute due to opinion but that in itself it is to be
shunned as an affliction.”
94 On the problem of how the central theme of the Republic relates to the myth, see Annas,
“Plato’s Myths,” 129-138.
140
souls are directed to choose lots to determine the order in which they would select their new lives.
To prevent the last soul from being at a disadvantage, however, the patterns o f life available to
choose from far outnumber the present group of souls. Thus, “Even for him who comes forward
last, if he makes his choice wisely and lives strenuously, there is reserved an acceptable life, no
evil one” (6I9b). At this point Er describes the souls he saw in terms o f their previous life lived
in the body: the psyche of Orpheus becomes a swan, Ajax a lion, and Agamemnon an eagle
(620a-b). After choosing their new lives, these souls then journey through the stifling heat of the
Plain o f Oblivion, whereupon they are forced to drink from the River o f Forgetfulness. This act,
which obscures the soul’s knowledge o f its previous existence, thus marks the final event before
it is once again transported into the material world.
Whereas the Gorgias and Phaedo promise the philosophic souls an escape from
reincarnation and a life o f endless bliss, the Myth o f Er dismisses such optimism with assertion
that all souls must continually submit to metempsychosis.95 Moreover, Plato’s description o f this
cycle o f incarnations can be interpreted in a deterministic fashion: the soul chooses its next life
based on its former condition in the body, and this choice becomes inexorable after the Fates’
ratification allows it to move through the throne of Necessity and back into the material world.96
Perhaps sensing that such statements would inevitably raise objections to mankind’s capacity for
moral improvement that the earlier dialogues had maintained,97 Plato explicitly affirms that souls
possess free will. Accordingly, the prophet of the Fates explains to them that “No divinity shall
cast lots for you, but you shall choose your own daimones ... each shall have more or less of her
95 Although Plato’s reference to the “incurably wicked” (615e; cf. Gorg. 525a-c) may suggest that
these souls do not experience reincarnation, the preceding proof for the soul’s immortality contains the
premise that the number of souls does not change (61 la). In other words, no souls escape from the cycle of
metempsychosis. Continuous reincarnation is also a feature of the Timaeus and Laws. See James V.
Robinson, “The Tripartite Soul in the Timaeus,” Phronesis 35 (1990): 107-108; Trevor J. Saunders,
“Penology and Eschatology in Plato’s Timaeus and Laws," Classical Quarterly n.s. 23 (1973): 232-244.
96 620a, 620d-621a. See also Jaeger, Paideia, vol. 2, 368-369; Thayer, “Myth of Er,” 371-375;
Annas, “Plato’s Myths,” 132-134.
97 Gorg. 525e-526a: “There is nothing to prevent good men from finding a place even among the
powerful, and those who do so are deserving of special admiration, for it is difficult, Callicles, and most
praiseworthy to pass through life in righteousness when you have every license to do wrong.” See also
Socrates’ closing exhortation in Phaed. 115b-c.
141
[virtue] as he honors her or does her despite. The responsibility (a’m a ) is his who chooses. God
is blameless” (dtvaixioq).98
I f souls are allowed the freedom to choose their next existence, they also, Plato insists,
can become better and progress toward virtue while embodied. As good and evil elements are
said to commingle with one another, the most important skill an individual can obtain in this life
is the ability to discern between the two. This is done by seeking the guidance o f someone who
already possesses this knowledge: “our main concern,” Socrates asserts, is to
discover the man who will give him the ability and the knowledge to distinguish
the life that is good from that which is bad, and always and everywhere to choose
the best that the conditions allow ... so th a t... he will be able to make a reasoned
choice (ouA.Xoyio'dcp.evov odpeiaGoa) between the better and the worse life, with
his eyes fixed on the nature o f his soul, naming the worse life that which will
tend to make it more unjust and the better that which will make it more ju st."
A just soul is thus one that makes positive moral and ethical choices through the help o f a
“spiritual guide.” When a soul chooses virtue for its own sake, it exemplifies “justice”
(SiKcxioauvTi) and “moderation” or “temperance” (crco(f>pocrui/r|):100 “a man m u st... know how
always to choose in such things the life that is seated in the mean (xov p.ecov) and shun the
excess in either direction, both in this world so far as may be and in all the life to come, for this is
the greatest happiness for man.”101
While Plato insists in the Myth o f Er that the fate o f the disembodied soul is contingent
on its condition while on earth, it is nevertheless clear that this life does not necessarily guarantee
that the subsequent incarnation will also be honorable. In fact, Plato ironically notes that an
exchange of good and evil often occurred among the souls, for while the souls from heaven often
chose their next life with haste because they had been unfamiliar with suffering, those that had
spent their post-mortem life in the underworld picked more judiciously. Yet as in the earlier
98 617e; see also 380a-c. Plato also affirms the freedom of the will in later dialogues (Tim. 41d-
42d; Laws 903d-904c). See also Greene, Moira, 306-310.
99 618c-e.
100 Here Plato finds a parallel between individual and societal behavior, which he outlined in
Books VHI-IX. See also Jaeger, Paideia, vol. 2, 365-366.
101 619a-b; see also 353c-e, 444d-e.
142
myths, the soul o f the philosopher is again singled out for commendation because o f its ability to
choose its life with wisdom: “if at each return to the life o f this world a man loved wisdom sanely
(•bytco? <j>tXocro<{)ot), and the lot o f his choice did not fall out among the la st... not only will he be
happy here but that the path of his journey thither and the return to this world will not be
underground and rough but smooth and through the heavens” (619d-e). While no soul can
disembark from the wheel of reincarnation, the psyche of the philosopher will at least show none
of the ill effects of those that remain less enlightened.102 With this belief secure, Socrates ensures
Glaucon that the soul is “capable o f enduring all extremes o f good and evil,” and exhorts him to
“pursue righteousness with wisdom always and ever ... and thus both here and in that journey o f
a thousand years, whereof I have told you, we shall fare well” (621c-d).
Socrates’ final words show that the conception o f justice developed throughout the text is
not given from the perspective of any one earthly existence. On the contrary, because justice acts
on a cosmic level, it resists the simplistic interpretations o f judgment put forth in the earlier
dialogues. In effect, Plato seems to argue that justice does not operate according to the standards
proposed by humanity. Because rewards have nothing to do with true justice, it is unnecessary to
suppose that they will be permanently given to the good soul after death. Rather, as this virtue
must be sought after for its own sake, metempsychosis offers a model for showing how this can
be achieved throughout time.
Phaedrus (246a-249e)
Returning to the theme developed in the Gorgias, the Phaedrus once more addresses the
problem o f the relationship between rhetoric and philosophy.103 This time, however, the
introduction o f the myth of the soul occurs near the middle o f the text as Socrates speculates on
102Laws 904c-905a evinces a similar position regarding the various destinations available to the
post-mortem soul.
103 For a discussion of scholarly opinions on the subject matter of the Phaedrus, see Wemer
Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, vol. 3, trans. Gilbert Highet (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1944), 182-196; Hackforth, Plato’s Phaedrus, 8-12; Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 4,
412-417.
143
the nature o f eras and attempts to show that it is a form o f divine madness (245b-c). He begins
with a dialectical proof that establishes the soul as an immortal essence, ungenerated,
indestructible, and, as the first principle of motion, that which generates life in soulless things.104
After describing the soul as that which does not need a body, Socrates must explain why
the soul becomes incarnate at all. To do so he appeals to myth. Accordingly, he starts by
observing that the soul’s nature is tripartite, comparing it to that o f a charioteer guiding two
winged horses. While the gods’ souls are wholly good, traversing harmoniously through the
universe in their contemplation o f the eternal Forms, those o f lesser beings struggle to maintain
this level o f perfection because o f the unruly nature of the steed representing desire. Distracted
by its internal passions, the soul thus tends to forget about the contemplation o f the divine. As a
result, it loses its wings, descends into a mortal body, and enters into the wheel o f reincarnation
that lasts for up to ten thousand years. During this period of incarceration,105 the soul can enter
into a variety of human (or animal) bodies. After the first incarnation, the soul receives judgment
and is sent either below the earth for punishment or into the heavens, depending upon the degree
of justice it possessed while on earth- When the soul completes this first millenium, it is allotted
a number and again chooses its next life. For the majority o f souls, this cycle o f incarnation
continues for the entire ten-thousand year period. The philosopher, however, receives a special
exemption, for if a soul chooses this life three consecutive times, it regains its wings and is
immediately transported back to the eternal realm, where it can once more engage its reasoning
faculty in divine contemplation.106
This myth contains obvious parallels with the myths outlined above. Judgment and free
will play a role in all o f the eschatological passages, while the Phaedo and the Republic work
with the concept of metempsychosis. On the whole, however, with the references to tripartition,
the distribution o f lots, and a fully developed description of reincarnation, the Phaedrus story
104 See n. 3. For Plato’s interpretation of the myth, see 249b-257b.

105At 250c, Plato employs the metaphor of the body as a prison house for the soul.
106 Here Plato refers to the philosopher’s use of “recollection” (dtvdpvricn^) to perceive the Forms.
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bears closest resemblance to the Myth o f Er.107 Nevertheless, the two are not absolutely
identical.108 For instance, reincarnation is not an eternal activity for the soul— it is possible to
escape from rebirth. Indeed, Plato not only imposes a time limit on the cycle o f generation, but
he also states that not every soul must necessarily descend into bodies: “Whatever soul has
followed in the train o f god, and discerned something o f truth, shall be kept from sorrow until a
new revolution shall begin, and if it can do this always, it will always remain unharmed.”109 Even
for those incarnated souls, however, the journey is not exactly the same. Thus, while the
Republic only promises an easier path in this world and the next for the philosophic soul, the
Phaedrus speaks o f a permanent release from metempsychosis after a shorter number o f
incarnations. Moreover, it is only the soul o f the philosopher that can experience this final return
to its original home: “And therefore it is just that the mind o f the philosopher only has wings
(|iovr| itxepouxca f| xou (tnAocrofJjou Su&voia), for he is always, so far as he is able, in
communion through memory with those things which causes God to be divine” (249c). In
language reminiscent o f the Phaedo, it is this man, Plato insists, that is “always being initiated
into perfect mysteries and alone becomes truly perfect.”110
To understand why Plato does not invoke the model o f endless reincarnation proposed in
the Republic, but instead reverts back to the Phaedo's position o f an ultimate release for the soul,
the myth must be placed back into its context. The first thing that must be considered, then, is the
significance that Plato himself attaches to the story. According to Socrates’ commentary, this tale
o f the soul is introduced to illustrate the power of eros. By coming into contact with physical
beauty, the lover is reminded o f true beauty. This then produces in the person a form o f madness,
and as a result his wings begin to grow once more.111 While this physical love can produce
violent turns o f emotion, if both parties can control their desires the relationship becomes one of
107 Hackforth, Plato's Phaedrus, 4.

108 For the parallels and differences between the soul in the Phaedrus myth and the Republic as a
whole, see Gerson, “Note on Tripartition,” 88-94; Bett, “Immortality and the Nature of the Soul,” 19-21.
109 248c: “ k & v del xouxo 5uvr|xai j t o ie l v , del dpXapfj si vat.”
110249c: “xeXfeouq del xeêxdq xeA-oupevoi;, zkXeoq 6vxcoq p6voq yiyvexat.”
111 249e, 250e-252b.
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philosophical love, the necessary condition for the soul to rejoin the gods after death: “they have
won self-mastery and inward peace. And when life is over, with burden shed and wings
recovered they stand victorious in the first o f the three rounds in that truly Olympic struggle; nor
can any nobler prize be secured whether by the wisdom that is o f man or by the madness that is of
god” (256b).
The second reason that Plato employs a final escape for the soul follows from this last
statement. Like the athletic agon, life in the material world is a struggle. It is not meant to be
cherished as the product o f a benevolent artificer, as the Timaeus would insist.112 On the
contrary, the most fortunate souls never become embodied, while those that meet this fate are
described as “imprisoned (SeSeanenpevoi) in the body like an oyster in its shell.”113 While the
distinction between the “real” and “illusory” realms in the Republic shows a tendency to devalue
the mutable world, nothing in that text compares with the pessimism directed toward the soul’s
embodiment as expressed in the Phaedrus. Because the descent o f the soul in the latter dialogue
is clearly a “fall,” Plato constructs the Phaedrus myth to show how this mistake can be rectified.
This chapter has sought to show how the psychology o f Plato, the Classical period’s most
vocal and influential proponent o f the immortal soul, was influenced by both the philosophical
and religious currents o f Presocratic thought. As the true essence o f the individual, Plato
contends that the psyche is immortal and enjoys both a pre- and post-existence. Along with this,
Plato asserts that the soul is defined by self-motion, a characteristic that leads to the acquisition of
knowledge and the initiation o f bodily movement. As the next chapters will show, these
formulations bring Greco-Roman psychology into the fields of Logic and Ethics, a development
that philosophically minded Christians will perceive and exploit. The first part closed with the
observation that the importance o f soul led Socrates and Plato to demand that it receive constant
attention, for deeds done while embodied directly affect the soul’s discamate existence. The
112 Tim. 29d-30a, 41b-d.

113 248c, 250c. Dillon (“Rejecting the Body,” 80-87) has noted that Plato employs both a world-
rejecting and world-affirming stance in his dialogues.
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second part offered a brief survey o f the cosmological structure of the universe that would
become axiomatic for the rest o f antiquity. Thereafter, an analysis o f four eschatological myths
revealed that the journey o f the soul was a flexible concept, molded to fit the particular context of
each dialogue. Moreover, it was shown that these myths occasionally have different destinations
for different souls, and that disembodied existence is often described in bodily terms despite the
fact that other dialogues defend the notion o f psyche’s incorporeality. While both o f these points
will become relevant for early Christianity, it is important to note that Plato does not exhaust all
o f the possibilities for speculating on the soul’s origin, incarnation, and post-mortem existence.
As the next chapter will show, Stoicism, another philosophical school that had a profound
influence on Christian thought, will make its own distinctive contributions as it works with the
concept of the soul.
CHAPTER 5
STOICISM
The last chapter showed how Plato’s construction o fpsyche, which stresses immortality,
pre-, and post-existence, makes it possible to for him to speak o f a complete journey for the soul.
It was also suggested, however, that his psychological theory failed to gain universal acceptance
and simply remained one option among many for writers o f the Greco-Roman world. This
chapter will underscore this point by examining the Stoic understanding o f the soul and its
journey. In order to appreciate the differences found in the Stoa’s psychology, it will first be
necessary to survey their Physics. Through an analysis of cosmology and cosmogony, section
one will make three major points: first, as composites o f God and matter, all existing things can
only be corporeal; second, as temporal creations, all existing things have a beginning and an end;
and third, as Fate or Providence, God controls the events o f cosmic history through a
predetermined plan.
These points will provide a foundation for the second section’s treatment of the Stoic
view of the soul. It will be shown that the soul, as a combination o f divine spirit and air, is a
corporeal entity responsible for both internalizing knowledge and moving the physical body. It is
also created, which precludes discussions, at least among earlier Stoics, o f the psyche’s
immortality. Even so, the centrality o f the soul in Stoic anthropology allows them to develop the
philosophical contention that the psyche impacts the fields o f Logic and Ethics. The latter plays a
particularly large role in Stoicism, and some philosophers who argue that moral improvement in
this life can affect the post-mortem condition appear to envision a partial journey for the soul.
Yet as this position is seemingly at odds with their deterministic scheme o f cosmic history, the
final part of this section will address the ways in which Stoicism negotiates the gulf between strict
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determinism and free will. Although their assertions do not solve the problem, it will be argued
that they can serve as a template for interpreting Jewish and Christian texts that work with the
same issue. Finally, the third section will show that later Stoicism was not adverse to Platonism
through an analysis o f the journey of the soul in Seneca and Cicero. It will be argued, however,
that for all o f their dependence on Plato, they do not slavishly restate his work. Rather, by
incorporating their own interests into their discussions, they further highlight the malleability o f
the concept.
I. Stoic Physics
Stoic physics begins with the belief that two ungenerated and indestructible archai, God
and matter, comprise the totality o f the cosmos.1 As Diogenes Laertius reports, the Stoics “think
that there are two principles of the universe, that which acts and that which is acted upon (to
Tto'io’uv Kcd to 7idox,ov). That which is acted upon is unqualified substance, i.e. matter (xqv
ijXriv); that which acts is the reason in it, i.e. god” ( t o v 0eov).2 While this distinction makes it
theoretically possible for the Stoics to speak o f these principles as essentially independent or
mutually exclusive, in practice they insist that God and matter are linked together eternally and
inexorably.3 Thus, Zeno states that matter has “no form or shape or any quality at all intrinsic to
[it] ... it is always united and inseparably connected with some quality or other. And since it is
equally without origin or perishing ... it does not lack breath (spiritum) and vitality from eternity,
to set it in motion rationally.”4 Because the archai are essentially joined with one another, the
Stoics conclude that God too must possess materiality. Reminiscent of Presocratic thought, this
monistic view of the cosmos ensures that every existing thing possesses at least some degree of
1For a discussion of these principles, see David E. Hahm, The Origins o f Stoic Cosmology
(Columbus, OH: Ohio State University Press, 1977), 29-56; Josiah B. Gould, The Philosophy o f Chrysippns
(Albany, NY: State University ofNew York Press, 1970), 93-99.
2 D.L. 7.134 (=SVF2.300).
3 On this issue, see Eduard Zeller, The Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics, trans. Oswald J. Reichel
(New York: Russell and Russell Inc., 1962), 153-154; F.H. Sandbach, The Stoics (New York: W.W. Norton
and Company, Inc., 1975), 73-75; A.A. Long and D.N. Sedley, eds., The Hellenistic Philosophers, vol. 1
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 274.
4 Chal. In Tim. 292 (=SFF 1.88).
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divinity. Cleanthes expresses this idea in mythological guise when he exclaims that with his
thunderbolt Zeus accomplishes “all the works o f nature ... [and] administers] the universal
reason which passes through everything.”5
According to Stoic cosmogony, the “creation of the universe” (StaKoapriCTn;) occurs
with the interaction between God, as either fire or divine “spirit” (pneuma), and a material
substratum.6 As fire begins to penetrate matter, it creates the elements air, water, and earth.7
These elements in turn combine to form the cosmos itself as well as all other existing bodies.8
While every created entity is a combination o f some degree o f divine fire and the material
principle, the particular form that a body takes is determined by the degree o f “tension” (xovog)
or “coherence” (<2|i<;) that the active principle exerts on matter: while those with a higher level o f
tension (such as the heavenly bodies) display a rarified purity that naturally allows them to ascend
to the upper regions, bodies possessing lower levels (such as animals and humans) descend
accordingly.9 Yet because all elemental constructs are generated entities created in time, the
Stoics reason that they must also have a temporal end.10 If this is true o f sensible bodies, it must
also be true o f the cosmos as a whole.11 As a result, they taught that the universe must eventually
5 SVF 1.537: “cfrucrECoq rcdvx’ fepya ... KaxaeuBuveK; k o i v o v Xayov, oq 5 i a rcdvxcov <|>otxct.” See
also Alex. Aphrod. De mix. 216.14-16 (=SVF 2.473): “the whole of substance is unified by a certain
pneuma which extends throughout it and by means of which it is held together and remains together and by
which the whole is in sympathy with itself’ (cruvexexat xe k c u cruppivei. k c q . <xugrax0£q eaxiv ahxco xo
jcav); SVF2.912; De mund. 396b23-29.
For analysis, see S. Sambursky, Physics o f the Stoics (New York: The Macmillan Company,
1959), 7-11; A.A. Long, Hellenistic Philosophy: Stoics, Epicureans, Sceptics, 2nd ed. (New York: Charles
Scribner’s Sons, 1986), 150-151; Marcia L. Colish, The Stoic Traditionfrom Antiquity to the Early Middle
Ages, vol. 1 (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1985), 23-24; Hahm, Origins o f Stoic Cosmology, 56-90. Hahm shows that
Presocratic thought was only one of the currents that influenced Stoicism; Plato’s discussion of the
transformation of the elements in the Timaeus (49b-c), as well as Hippocratic and Aristotelian biological
ideas, also resonate in Stoic physics.
6 God is the craftsman that shapes matter (Cic. De nat. deo. 2.22.57; Chal. In Tim. 293).
7 Plut. De stoic, rep. 1053a (=SVF2.579); see also 5 KF2.580, 581, 605. For variations between
Zeno and Cleanthes, see also Hahm, Origins o f Stoic Cosmology, 90, n. 64.
8 SVF 1.102; 2.413, 1027.
9 Plut. De comm. not. 1085c-d (=SVF2.444); D.L. 7.137 (=SVF2.580); see also SVF 2.434, 555;
Cic. Tusc. Disp. 1.17.40-41. For analysis, see Sambursky, Physics, 29-33; Sandbach, Stoics, 76-78; Hahm,
Origins o f Stoic Cosmology, 91-135.
10For the distinction between the immortal archai and the corruptible elements (stoicheia), see
D.L. 7.134 (=SVF 2.299)
11 D.L. 7.141 (=SVF 2.589): the Stoics “suppose that the world is perishable, since it is generated
on the same principle as perceptible objects, and anything whose parts are perishable is perishable as a
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break apart and that the elements contained therein will once again return to their original state of
pure fire. After this “conflagration” ( e k t c u p o k x i q ) , the divine fire begins the creative process
anew, initiating the formation o f another, identical universe.12
The world cycles both begin and end with God, the totality o f all existence. In this sense
the Stoics found it appropriate to refer to god as nature, universal law, or the universe itself.13 To
highlight the activity of the divine in the cosmos, Stoicism could equally call God the Logos,
“Fate” (sip.apii.evTi) or “Providence” (mpovoia). The Stoics employ these terms to emphasize the
immanence of God, whose divine plan unfolds according to rational principles, and to suggest
that this force actively controls the events o f the created realm in a deliberate, intelligent fashion.
This is clear from Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus,XAas well as from Zeno’s contention that God, who is
equivalent to “Mind” (nous) and Fate, infuses his “seminal reason” (a7repp.axiK6q Xoyoq)
throughout the entire world.15 According to Stobaeus, Chrysippus spoke in a similar manner,
asserting that “the substance of fate is a pneumatic power, carrying out the orderly government of
the all.” Furthermore, he argues that Fate is the “‘the logos o f the cosmos,’ or the '’logos of
Providence’s acts of government in the world,’ or ‘the logos in accordance with which past events
have happened, present events are happening, and future events will happen.’” 16 As such
statements become ubiquitous in later Stoic writings, Cicero is doing nothing more than uttering a
commonplace when he asserts that “the universe is governed by the wisdom (consilio) and
providence (providentia) o f the gods,” and that “all things are ruled by divine intelligence and
wisdom” (dtvina mente atqueprudentia).17
whole; but the parts of the world are perishable, since they change into one another; therefore the world is
perishable.”
12 For Stoic thoughts on the conflagration, see SVF 1.98, 510, 511; 2.596. On the eternal
recurrence, see SVF 2.599, 623, 624, 625. For analysis, see Zeller, Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics, 163-
169; Gould, Philosophy of Chrysippus, 123-126; Sandbach, Stoics, 78-79; Hahm, Origins o f Stoic
Cosmology, 185-199.
3 For a list of Stoic terms for god, see Zeller, Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics, 148-151.
14 See n. 5.
15D.L. 7.135-136 (=SVF 1.102).
16Stob. 1.79.1-12 2.913); see also SVF 1.98, 102; 2.1027.
17De nat. deo. 2.31.80. For expressions of god’s benevolence, see SVF 1.537; 2.1021.
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By highlighting the dynamic role o f God in directing the cosmos toward its proper end,
the Stoics underscore their belief that the divine is wholly in control o f the universal order. As
Fate, God is thus regarded as “an endless chain of causation.”18 As Cicero describes it, “Fate”
(fatian) is
the same that the Greeks call heimarmene—an ordering and sequence o f causes,
since it is the connection o f cause to cause which out o f itself produces anything.
It is everlasting truth, flowing from all eternity. Consequently, nothing has
happened which was not going to be, and likewise nothing is going to be o f
which nature does not contain causes working to bring that very thing about.
This makes it intelligible that fate should be, not the “fate” o f superstition, but
that o f physics, an everlasting cause o f things.19
Not only do the Stoics maintain that events proceed from one to another in logical fashion, but
they also insist that there is only one way in which these things can transpire: “all things are
bound together, and neither does anything happen in the world such that something else does not
unconditionally follow from it and become causally attached to it, nor can any o f the later events
be severed from the preceding events so as not to follow from one o f them as if bound fast to
it.”20 With such argumentation, Stoic Physics moves along the path o f strict determinism, a fact
that, as will be shown below, causes them problems when seek to preserve the freedom o f the
will.
II. The Soul in Stoicism
Because Stoicism repeatedly underscores the pervasiveness o f God throughout the
animate cosmos,21 it becomes natural for them to appropriate Presocratic speculations on the
18 D.L. 7.149 (=SVF 2.915); see also SVF 2.916, 925, 997. Sambursky (Physics, 49-57) shows
how the Stoic ideas of continuity and materiality provide the background for their theory of causation..
19 Cic. De div. 1.55.125-126 (=SVF 2.921); see also SVF 2.944.
20 Alex. Aphrod. Defato 191.30-192.28 (=SVF2.945). Alexander also states the Stoic position
that “For something to happen causelessly is ... both similar to and as impossible as something’s coming to
be out of what is not.” For a discussion of the Stoic position in the context of other Greek philosophical
systems, see Josiah B. Gould, “The Stoic Conception of Fate,” in Essays in Ancient Greek Philosophy, vol.
2, eds. John P. Anton and Anthony Preus (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1983), 478-
482.
21 D.L. 7.142-143 Q=SVF2.633): “the cosmos is a living being (£cpov), rational, ensouled, and
intelligent.” See also Sex. Emp. Adv. math. 9.104, 108-109. On Stoic cosmology as cosmobiology, see
Hahm, Origins o f Stoic Cosmology, 136-184.
152
relationship between macrocosm and microcosm. Consequently, they assert that just as the
mixture o f divine and material principles produces the cosmos, so too does the same mixture
comprise individual bodies.22 Likewise, it is common for Stoics to construct analogies between
the ensouled cosmos and the human psyche, a “fragment” (&7t6o7tcxancc) o f the whole.23 But the
concept o f soul among the Stoics is multivalent: as Sextus Empiricus notes, the term could either
denote “that which sustains the whole compound o f soul and body or, in particular, the
commanding faculty.”24 In other words, psyche can refer to the soul in a general sense, or more
specifically, to its rational aspect. Moreover, as a combination o f pneuma and air, it also is a
created, corporeal construction. These points, which appear to militate against any simple
understanding ofpsyche, suggest that identifying the Stoic soul with precision must also take into
consideration this school’s views on bodies.
Pneuma, Psyche, and Bodies
Stoic physics asserts that bodily forms are the result o f the blending that occurs when the
divine principle and material substratum interact. The tension o f the pneuma varies in different
compounds, however, and these variations enable the Stoics to distinguish between bodies that
are merely “unified” (tivco|j.evcx) and those that, in addition to unification, are “grown together”
(crup.cjrud).25 While the former are inanimate and exhibit nothing more than an elementary level
22 SVF 2 3 11; Chal. In Tim. 293.

23 D.L. 7.143 Q=SVF2.633); see also SVF 3.4: “for our individual natures are parts of the nature of
the whole universe (pfepri ydp gtarn a t TiP-fetEpca (jruaeig Trig too bXov)”; Epict. Diss. 1.14.6: “But if our
souls are so bound up with god and joined together with him, as being parts and portions of his being (die
a-broD gopia oucroa Kcd dirooTtdap.aia), does not god perceive their every motion as being a motion of
that which is his own and of one body with himself?”; Epict. Diss. 1.17.27; Cic. Tusc. Disp. 1.26.65-27.67;
Sen. Ep. 41.2; 66.12; Mar. Aur. Med. 2.1,4; 527; 12.26. See also Rohde, Psyche, 513, n. 36; J.M. Rist,
Stoic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), 264-270; Colish, Stoic Tradition, vol. 1,
27, n. 45.
24 Sex. Emp. Adv. math. 7.234: “tfxxcri. yap lyuxfp' XkyeaQai SixcSg, tb te cruvfex°v xtiv oXt|v
avyKpunv Kcd koct’ iSiav to fiYElKmirav.”
25SVF 2.366, 1013. In actuality, Stoicism distinguishes between four types of bodies, but the first
two—those that possess “separated” and “contiguous” parts—are not immediately relevant. See Julia
Annas, Hellenistic Philosophy o f Mind (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992), 50; A.A. Long,
“Soul and Body in Stoicism,” in Stoic Studies, ed. idem (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996),
229.
153
of cohesion, the latter are alive because their unity is more diverse and sophisticated. Subsumed
within this typology, the Stoics construct four levels o f existence based on the degree of
pneumatic tension within the body. These levels, in ascending order, are simple “coherence”
“growth” (<tn)ciq), “soul” (vyuxfi), and “rational soul” (Xoyiicn Mru^n)-26 The lowest
level, the stage of hexis, is occupied by objects such as stones and logs, which are inanimate and
motionless. The pneuma at the level o f physis, represented by plants, is more complex due to the
body’s ability to grow and reproduce. At the stage ofpsyche, found in animals, the pneuma is
diversified enough to allow for “impression” or “appearance” (({xxvraoia) and “ impulse” (opp.fi).
Finally, mankind, which manifests the characteristics o f the three previous levels, represents
bodies exhibiting logike psyche, or reason and intelligence.
Although all four groups thus possess pneuma, in only the last two does it exist to a
degree sufficient enough for the Stoics to refer to it as psyche?1 In order to explain how the soul
emerges from these lower levels, Stoicism appeals to biological theory. As Hierocles explains,
after the “seed” (ajr£pp.[a]) enters into the womb, it
draws matter from the pregnant body, and fashions the embryo in accordance
with inescapable patterns, up to the point when it reaches its goal and makes its
product ready to be bom. Yet throughout all this time— I mean the time from
conception to birth— it remains physis, i.e. breath (Jtveupa), having changed
from seed.. .In the early stages, the physis is breath o f a rather dense kind and
considerably distant from psyche', but later, when it is close to birth, it becomes
finer ... So when it passes outside, it is adequate for the environment, with the
result that, having been hardened thereby, it is capable o f changing into soul ...
the physis o f a ripe embryo, once it is bom, does not hesitate to change into soul
on meeting the environment. So whatever issues forth from the womb is at once
an animal.
This passage provides a stark contrast to the Platonic theory o f soul discussed in the last chapter.
Whereas Plato spoke of an immortal, pre-existent soul entering into the body fully mature,
Stoicism argues that psyche does not even exist until the moment o f birth, after the requisite
period of maturation finally allows the progeny to come into contact with the surrounding air. At
26SVF2.368,458, 714, 988, 989, 1013.

27 Annas, Hellenistic Philosophy, 53; Long, “Soul and Body,” 232-234.
28 Hier. 1.5-33; see also SVF 2.806; Tert. De anim. 25.
154
that point the divine heat, which comes in contact with the “cool,” surrounding air, becomes
transformed into soul. Prior to this, the pneuma in the fetus displays a coherence paralleling the
vegetative state; that is, it is only concerned with nutrition and growth. Thus, while soul may
possess something o f divinity, it does not pre-exist. In fact, in a reversal o f Platonic psychology,
Stoicism argues that it comes into existence only after the formation of the body.29 This fact
makes it impossible for orthodox Stoicism to speak o f a complete journey o f the soul similar to
that found in the dialogues. At most, then, the Stoic soul can only participate in the second half
o f the journey, yet even this, as will be discussed below, is not articulated along the lines o f
Platonic thought.
Logic, Ethics, and the Separated Soul
Stoic Physics necessitates that the soul must be corporeal because all real, existing things
are composed of some degree o f matter. The soul must also be corporeal because only tangible
objects can interact with one another, and clearly, according to Stoicism, the soul acts on the
physical body.30 This can be observed through an investigation o f the relationship between
psyche and soma as it relates to the philosophical branches Logic and Ethics.
When the soul comes into existence, the Stoics describe its relationship with the body as
one o f “complete blending” ( K p d c n g 5i’ oXcov).31 They divide the soul itself into eight “parts”
(|ispr|)— the “ruling faculty” (hegemonikori), the five senses, speech, and reproduction—and
maintain that the interrelationship between these parts accounts for its distinction from mere
physis?1 Specifically, in contrast to plants, the psychai o f animals possess both “impression”
29 SVF 2.761, 806. See also Long, “Soul and Body,” 236-237. The priority of soul tobody is
maintained by Plato in the Timaeus (34b-c) and Laws (892a-b, 896b-c).
30 See SVF 1.90, 98, 518; 2.363, 790.
31 SVF 1.145; 2.473. Because the soul exists, the Stoics hold that it must be corporeal (SVF 1.137,
518; 2.790). This forces them to construct the difficult concept of “complete blending.” On this theory,
see Gould, Philosophy o f Chrysippus, 109-112; Long, Hellenistic Philosophy, 159-160; Annas, Hellenistic
Philosophy, 47-50.
32 The division of the soul: SVF 1.143; 2.836, 879. The eight-fold division of the soul wasnot
universally accepted by all Stoics, as Tertullian notes (De anim. 14).
155
(phantasia) and “impulse” (horme).33 By impression the Stoics mean that the animal displays
self-perception, or the ability to differentiate between themselves and other objects, while impulse
denotes the capacity to act upon the impressions received.34 Possessing these characteristics
ensures that each animal will follow a course o f action appropriate to it as established by nature.35
It is at this point, however, that the operations o f human soul diverge from those in other animals,
for what is appropriate for one is inappropriate for the other. For non-rational animals, the soul
apprehends a sense object and automatically acts upon the sensations received. Their actions are
thus placed at the level of innate behavior. The psychai o f human beings, by contrast, act
according to a more complex pattern because the primary characteristic o f their ruling faculty (the
hegemonikori) is rationality. The Stoics thus insist that the difference between non-human and
human souls rests upon reasoned thought.36
The Stoics offer a precise explanation for how the individual attains knowledge that
compliments these theoretical distinctions. According to their school, the hegemonikon receives
sense-impressions by sending pneuma to the sensory organs, where it comes into contact with the
particular outside object. After it mixes with the object, the pneuma then returns to the
hegemonikon, where the image is processed and inspected through the power o f “judgment” or
“assent” (cruYKaTcc0ecn.<;). This process determines the value o f the impression and decides
whether or not the person should, through impulse, act upon it.37 In essence, then, the soul is
responsible for two types of movement corresponding to cognition and bodily action.38
33 Philo Leg. All. 1.30 (=SVF2.844); Hier. 4.22-27.

34 See Annas, Hellenistic Philosophy, 57-61.
35 D.L. 7.85-86 (=5PF3.178): According to Chrysippus, “The first thing appropriate ( o'i k e i o v ) to
every animal... is its own constitution and the consciousness of this .... animals have the additional faculty
of impulse (oppfjq), through the use of which they go in search of what is appropriate ( o i k e u x ) to them.”
See also Hier. 1.34-39, 51-57; 2.1-9; 4.38-53; Sen. Ep. 121.6-15. On the concept of oikeiosis, see Long,
Hellenistic Philosophy, 172-173; Sandbach, Stoics, 31-38.
36 D.L. 7.55-56. As Brad Inwood (Ethics and Human Action in Early Stoicism [Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1985], 42-101) shows, because assent requires lekta, the ability to engage in an internal
discourse through language, it cannot be a feature of the non-human soul.
37 D.L. 7.86 Q=SVF 3.178): “since reason, by way of a more perfect management, has been
bestowed on rational beings, to live correctly in accordance with reason comes to be natural for them. For
reason supervenes as the craftsman of impulse.” See also SVF 2.65, 836, 867, 879, 882; Cic. Acad. 2.21;
Hier. 4.38-53. For a discussion of impression, impulse, and assent, see SVF 1.66; 2.52, 54, 55, 56, 61, 65,
156
As the goal o f the Stoics is to try, so far as possible, to imitate rationality o f the divine
Logos, it is thus essential to train and cultivate the hegemonikon so that it will make correct
judgments, which thereupon translate into appropriate ethical activity.39 As Seneca maintains,
Conduct will not be right unless the will to act is right, for this is the source of
conduct. Nor, again, can the will be right without a right attitude o f mind
(habitus animi rectus), for this is the source o f the will. Furthermore, such an
attitude of mind will not be found even in the best of men unless he has learned
the laws of life as a whole and has worked out a proper judgment about
everything ... Peace of mind is enjoyed only by those who have attained a fixed
and unchanging standard of judgment.40
This state o f tranquilitas described by Seneca corresponds to the Greek dcxapcdjia, a word used
to describe both a freedom from anxiety and, in a stronger sense, a characteristic which makes a
person immune or invulnerable to the vicissitudes o f daily life.41 Yet ataraxia is dependent upon
the rational soul’s ability to extirpate irrational or exuberant impulses, otherwise known as the
passions 42 Thus, in order to achieve dcraxGeux, the individual’s hegemonikon must be developed
to the point that it can make proper judgments about good, bad, and indifferent impressions.43 As
this process involves the movement of the soul’s pneuma j4 4 the Stoics judged the ethical
development or “progress” (TtpoKorrq) o f the individual in terms o f the coherence or tension
found in the soul: just as the good man’s soul must have a healthy degree of pneumatic tension by
virtue of his goodness, so too must the bad man’s psyche display a “sickly tenor” because it
223, 837; 3.169, 171. For scholarly discussion, see Gould, Philosophy o f Chrysippus, 51-66; Annas,
Hellenistic Philosophy, 71-102; Colish, Stoic Tradition, vol. I, 51-52.
38 Cic. De off. 1.132 (=Panaetius ff. 88): “Soul’s movements are of two kinds: one belongs to
thought (cogitationis), the other to impulse (appetitus). The sphere of thought is principally the
investigation of truth, while impulse is the stimulus to action.”
39 According to Plutarch (Virt. mor. 441b-c), it was common for the Stoics to assert that virtue was
“a certain character and power (Si&Geoxv tivcc K c d duvajxiv) of the soul’s hegemonikon, engendered by
reason, or rather, a character which is itself consistent, firm, and unchangeable reason.” See also SVF 3.75:
“virtue ... is a disposition of the hegemonikon."
40 Ep. 95.57 (=SVF3.511); see also Ep. 124.13: “There is no good except where there is a place
for reason ... man and god ... have the same nature ... The good of one of them, god’s of course, is perfect
by nature, the other’s, man’s, by diligence” (cura).
41 Gisela Striker, Essays on Hellenistic Epistemology and Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge
42SVF 3.378, 389.
43 John M. Rist, “The Stoic Concept of Detachment,” in The Stoics, ed. idem (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1978), 259-272. On the affect that vice has on the soul, see Cic. Tusc. Disp. 4.29.34-
35.
44 See n. 37.
157
succumbs to the passions.45 Although the Stoics are well aware that pure happiness is difficult to
attain, they nonetheless describe the sage who accomplishes such a goal as one who has reached
the telos of human existence:46 in complete control of all things, he experiences a “good flow of
life” (ebpota piau) in accordance with the dictates o f Fate 47
By linking the hegemonikon with reason and virtue, the Stoics identify a connection
between psychology, Logic, and Ethics. Yet unlike Plato, who argues that the soul’s embodied
life directly corresponds to the fate o f the psyche after death, the Stoics do not consistently
emphasize this point. It is not difficult to see why this is the case, for according to their
cosmology, only the two archai are ungenerated and immortal. Like all other generated bodies,
the soul is subject to destruction. Thus, while they followed Plato in teaching a separation of
body and soul after death, the Stoics could not permit a true immortality for the psyche!'* Zeno
thought that the soul was only “long-lived pneuma” (7roA.u%poviov 7tve'0(ia), while Cleanthes
apparently taught that all souls survive until the conflagration.49 Moreover, it appears that they
could not permit the disembodied soul to rise past the first sphere (the moon) because, its pneuma
was mixed with air, a heavier substance belonging to the sublunar realm.50 During the middle
45 Gal. Plac. 5.2.3-7; Cic. Tusc. Disp. 3.5.10 (“wisdom is a sound condition of the soul, unwisdom
... a sort of unhealthiness which is unsoundness and also aberration of mind.”); Sen. Ep. 120.5; SVF 3.421,
473. See also Rist, Stoic Philosophy, 86-88; Colish, Stoic Tradition, vol. 1,43.
46 Sen. Ep. 76.9-10 (=5FF3.200a): “if he has perfected reason, he is praiseworthy and has attained
the end of his nature” {finem naturae suae tetigit). See also Ep. 41.8-9.
47 D.L. 7.89 (j=SVF 3.39): “Happiness consists in virtue since virtue is a soul which has been
fashioned to achieve consistency in the whole of life.” See also SVF 1.527; 2.975; 3.16; Cic. Tusc. Disp.
5.14.40-41, 18.81-82. The early Stoic distinction between good and bad made it impossible for both to
exist in the same person: the good person possessed only virtue, and the bad only vice. The Stoics thus
taught that becoming wholly good was a virtual impossibility. Still, early Stoics such as Cleanthes and
Chrysippus recognized a form of prokope in which the bad man was instantaneously converted to goodness
(see Zeller, Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics, 268-277, 293-296; Rist, Stoic Philosophy, 81-96; SVF 1.224;
3.223, 536, 539, 542). By the late Hellenistic period, however, the notion of prokope was less restrictive,
and consequently became an ideal toward which, theoretically, all could strive (see Anna Lydia Motto,
“Seneca on the Perfection of the Soul,” The Classical Journal 51 [1956]: 275-278; Cic. Defin. 3.20-21;
Epic. Diss. 1.18.4; Sen. Ep. 44.2-4).
48 Cicero (Tusc. Disp. 1.32.78-79) notes with frustration that the Stoic psychology accepts the
more difficult teaching (the separation of body and soul) while rejecting the easier one (the soul’s post
mortem survival).
49SVF 1.146; 522; see also Cic. Tusc. Disp. 1.31.77.
50 Sext. Emp. Adv. math. 9.71 (=SKF2.812); Tert. Deanim. 54 (=SVF2.814). This is in contrast
to Plato, whose Phaedo envisions the soul of the philosopher ascending beyond the fixed stars.
158
Stoa, Panaetius seems to have even suggested that the soul perishes along with the body.sl
Similarly, Epictetus shows little concern or interest in the soul’s survival: regarding death, the
former slave states perfunctorily, “Make no tragic parade o f the matter, but speak o f it as it is: ‘It
is now time for the material o f which you are constituted to be restored to those elements from
which it came.’”52 Marcus Aurelius’s meditations on death are more tentative, and despite his
tendency toward Platonic dualism, his thoughts on the future existence o f the soul waver between
instantaneous dispersion and limited survival.53 When the second alternative is in evidence,
however, there is little suggestion that the emperor has in mind a persistence o f individuality.54
This lack of concern for the post-mortem state underscores the practical, this-worldly
emphasis o f Stoicism.55 Because they classified death as morally “indifferent5’ (&5idc<j)opa), the
individual possessing wisdom would refuse to fear it.56 Yet there are some indications that an
individual’s life on earth affected the state o f the soul after death, and moreover, that this
disembodied existence had some sort of personal meaning. For instance, Chrysippus taught that
only the souls o f the wise survive death, although this existence did not extend beyond the
51 Frs. 83-84; see also Cic. Tusc. Disp. 1.32.79. See also Rohde, Psyche, 501-502; Rist, Stoic
Philosophy, 175-176, 184-185; Colish, Stoic Tradition, vol. 1, 30. The evidence surrounding Panaetius’s
student Posidonius is less clear. While one source suggests that he contrasted the immortality of the World
Soul with the mortality of human souls, Cicero refers to his belief that “the air is full of immortal souls”
(De div. 1.64) (=fr. 108). Among scholars, Rist (Stoic Philosophy, 216-217) and Colish (Stoic Tradition,
vol. 1, 30) place greater weight on the first passage, Rohde (Psyche, 502, 518, n. 60) and I.G. Kidd
(Posidonius, vol. 2 [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988], 430-431) are more willing to grant
that fragment from Cicero attests to his belief in a post-mortem existence for the soul. In any event, it is
still impossible for souls to have immortality in the Platonic sense, for they would eventually be destroyed
at the ekpyrosis.
52 Diss. 4.7.15; see also 2.1.17-19; 4.1.103-110.
53 Med. 11.3: “What a soul is that which is ready to be released from the body at any requisite
moment, and be quenched or dissipated or hold together.” See also 2.17; 4.21; 5.33; 7.32; 12.5. For a
discussion of the notion of death in Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, see R.B. Rutherford, The Meditations
o f Marcus Aurelius: A Study (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 225-255.
54 Poortman, “Death and Immortality,” 204-206.
55 Jones A. Akinpelu (“Stoicism and a Future Existence,” The Classical Bulletin 45 [1969]: 68, 76)
notes that neither Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus (=SVF 1.537) nor Stoic discussions of suicide address the future
existence of the soul. See also Franz Cumont, After Life in Roman Paganism (New Haven, CT: Yale
56 D.L. 7.102-103; Sen. Ep. 82.15-16.
159
conflagration.57 Moreover, Eusebius, who apparently has Chrysippus in mind, records that the
Stoics
say that the soul is subject to generation and destruction. When separated from
the body, however, it does not perish at once but survives on its own for certain
times, the soul o f the virtuous up to the dissolution o f everything into fire, that of
fools only for certain definite times. By the survival of the souls they mean that
we ourselves survive (5iap.evop.ev fip.ei<;) as souls separated from bodies and
changed into the lesser substance of the soul, while the souls o f non-rational
animals perish along with their bodies.58
This passage contains two points o f interest. First, it appears that the condition o f the soul in life
dictates its post-mortem fate: the soul o f the sage possesses a stronger tonos than that o f a fool,
and, a fortiori, an irrational animal.59 Second, Eusebius intriguingly identifies this soul, in
Platonic fashion, as the actual person that persists after its separation o f the body. These
examples thus provide some indication that the early Stoa did not regard the condition o f the soul
after death as completely inconsequential. Yet while a limited survival for the psyche is a
characteristic feature of some o f the school’s earliest philosophers, on the whole Stoicism’s
Physics renders it impossible for them to speak o f the journey of the soul in a complete sense.
Determinism and Free Will
The above discussion on Stoic cosmology and psychology has led to two antithetical
positions. On the one hand, cosmic history is characterized by an unending chain o f events, each
of which is predetermined by God at the beginning of the universe’s creation, and when this
universe is destroyed, an identical one will follow containing the exact same series o f events. On
the other hand, the Stoic soul is free to make conscious decisions that either turn into correct or
irrational judgments. As a consequence, insisting on the freedom of the will enables Stoicism to
emphasize that the individual acts as a moral agent and is capable of progressing in both rational
51SVF 2.811; 815.

58 Eus. Praep. Evang. 15.20.6 Q=SVF 2.809).
59 In this regard, it should be recalled that the Stoics showed a great amount of interest in the
apotheosis of the heroes. See D.L. 7.151: “They believe too in heroes, that is, the souls of the righteous
that have survived their bodies” ( K a i fipoxx? x d q tn r o lE X £ i ( i( i f e v a q tcdv arco-uSodcov xj/uxdcq); Cic. De leg.
2.11.27-28. See also Kidd, Posidonius, vol. 2,431.
160
and ethical capacities.60 These two theories are, on the surface at least, clearly incompatible. As
one critic complains, “If all things are set in motion and directed by fate, and the course o f fate
and its coils cannot be turned aside or evaded, then the sins and faults o f men too ought not cause
anger or be attributed to themselves and their inclinations, but to a certain unavoidable impulse
which arises from fate.”61 Yet investigating how Stoicism negotiates between these two poles
will provide a template for understanding how later Jewish and Christian authors attempt to blur
the boundaries between the inexorable will o f God and moral and ethical exhortation.
Considering the difficulties involved in preserving both positions, the Stoics were forced
to go to great lengths to preserve individual freedom within their deterministic scheme of cosmic
history.62 Without retreating from their belief that all events look back to an antecedent cause, the
Stoics also affirm that this cause only forces a particular body to act according to its proper
nature. Thus, inanimate and animate objects respond to causes in their own unique way. In this
sense, “necessity” (dtvdyicri) refers to “the incapacity o f something of such a nature ... to move in
a different way from that in which it does.”63 A stone can therefore do nothing other than fall if it
is dropped from a certain height, and an animal cannot apprehend causes in any other way than
through impression and impulse. Applied to an adult human, this theory would mean that such a
60 Colish, Stoic Tradition, vol. 1, 52: “The aim of the Stoic theory of knowledge is to preserve for
the human logos the freedom, the power, and the responsibility to judge the data it receives and to accept or
reject an idea as good or bad, correct or incorrect, on the basis of reason.” The sources place the full
maturation of the soul’s reasoning power at either seven or fourteen years. See SVF 2.83; D.L. 7.55; Sen.
Ep. 124.9.
61 SVF 2.1000. See also Nemesius (De nat. hom. 35), who, with the notion of the eternal
recurrence in mind argues that if everything must happen in the same way, “then the impulse of the living
being, too, must necessarily and absolutely arise in the same way if the same causes prevail. But if the
impulse follows by necessity, where remains our free will? ... There would only be a free will, if, under the
same circumstances it were in our power sometimes to follow our impulse and sometimes not... That
which happens through us by fate does not happen by us.”
For scholarly opinions on this problem, see Sambursky, Physics, 60-65; A.A. Long, “Freedom
and Determinism in the Stoic Theory of Human Action,” in Problems in Stoicism, ed. idem (London: The
Athlone Press, 1971), 173-199; Margaret E. Reesor, “Necessity and Fate in Stoic Philosophy,” in The
Stoics, ed. John M. Rist (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), 187-202; Charlotte Stough, “Stoic
Determinism and Moral Responsibility,” in The Stoics, ed. John M. Rist (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1978), 203-231; Gould, “Stoic Conception,” 478-494.
63 Alex. Aphrod. Defato 13 (=SVF 2.979).
161
being, whose capacity for assent distinguishes it from other animals, approaches causality by
thought and reason, the gifts natural to it.64
This summary shows that the Stoics only used their causal theory to argue that a body
must act in a way consistent with itself as a particular class.65 What they do not say is that the
actual behavior is determined by this external cause. On the contrary, the whole passage attempts
to show how the Stoics argued that for mankind, these responses are variable because assent is
wholly “within our own power” (k<f)’ r|p.Tv)66 In making this distinction, the above passages
allude to a concept that other texts make explicit, namely, the subdivision o f causality. As Cicero
records,67 Chrysippus distinguished between “perfect or principle causes and auxiliary or
proximate causes” : the former refer to causes within the power o f humans, while the latter are
those that are external to mankind. Thus, to say that Fate controls a chain o f events means
nothing more than it oversees those causes external to human control, the auxiliary; how mankind
reacts to these auxiliary events remains within the sphere o f individual freedom.
For illustration, Chrysippus introduces the metaphor o f the cylinder or spinning top,
neither o f which can move through their own efforts. Yet when they are pushed by an outside
force, they roll and turn according to their own nature. In the same way, then, Chrysippus
concludes that the auxiliary cause is necessary but not sufficient; only the individual’s decision
making process may properly be called the principle cause: “a sense-presentation, when it
impinges will, it is true, impress and as it were seal its appearance on the mind (animo), but the
act o f assent (assensio) will be in our power and ... move by its own force and nature.”68 Thus,
although the cosmos presents the individual with an impression; how this person responds to it is
a matter o f free choice.
64 See SVF 2.1002.

65 This argument is detailed in Cic. De fato 42 (=SVF 2.974). Long, “Freedom and Determinism,”
181: “Human action is controlled from within by assent and impulse, and the fact that man has no choice
but to act by these powers tells us nothing against his freedom to act as a man.”
66 Epic. Diss. 1.1.7-8: “the one thing which the gods have placed in our power is the one of
supreme importance, the correct use of impressions. The other things they have not placed in our power.”
67 Cic. Defato 17.39-19.44 (=5’FF 2.974) See also SVF 2.991.
68 See also SVF2A000.
162
Although not entirely free from criticism,69 this explanation provides a model for
understanding how some Jewish and Christian texts work with the tension between determinism
and personal freedom. To anticipate, they assert that God orchestrates the events o f the world,
and just as the Stoic Logos presents itself as a divine reality that humans can resist but not
overturn,70 so too do these later writers acknowledge that the righteous and wicked are both
subservient to the power o f God. Yet at the same time the Jewish and Christian literature
recognizes that individuals have the freedom to choose or reject his salvific message. For these
authors, the people who opt for the latter path (i.e. those outside the group) are permanently
alienated from God, both in this life and in the afterlife. In contrast, those who are receptive to
his plan (i.e. members of the group) will enjoy, in Stoic terminology, a “good flow o f life” on
earth and eternal salvation after death.
HI. Platonic Trends in Stoicism and the

Journey of the Soul
Although the early Stoicism offers a sharp contrast to Platonic psychology, by the late
Hellenistic period, Stoicism displays a more eclectic attitude. As a result, it becomes common for
some authors to replace their school’s dispassionate attitudes toward the soul’s fate after death
with a more attractive, consoling message stemming ultimately from the dialogues of Plato.71
Seneca, for instance, often dismisses the Stoic teaching o f the thorough blending o f body and soul
for a stark anthropological dualism. The body is “useless and fleeting flesh fitted only for the
69 Stough (“Stoic Determinism,” 218-219) has noted that the comparative imprecision between
the cylinder (which is moved) and the human being (which acts) fails to elucidate the role of the individual
as a moral agent. Furthermore, Gould (“Stoic Conception,” 490-492) argues that fate ultimately determines
human responsibility because the formation of character, which the Stoics emphasize, lies outside the
power of the individual.
70 See the famous analogy of the dog tied to the cart (Hipp. Ref. 1.21) (=SVF 2.975). If the dog’s
movement coincides with the cart’s, then the two move in unison. If the dog resists, it is still pulled by the
cart’s force. On life in accordance with nature, see SVF3.16; D.L. 7.87; Stob. 2.75.11-76.8.
71 While the first steps toward incorporating Platonic ideas into Stoicism appear in the thought of
Posidonius, it is only with later writers, whose works are better preserved, that this trend can be more easily
discerned. For example, Cicero, a younger contemporary of Posidonius, draws on his ideas to construct a
(Platonic) defense of the immortality of the soul in the first book of the Tusculan Disputations (so Rohde,
Psyche, 519, n. 62). For Posidonius’s own teachings, see Rist, Stoic Philosophy, 201-218.
163
reception of food.” '2 Elsewhere, he describes it as “ugly and insignificant,” a “prison,”
“covering,” or “temporary dwelling” that weighs down the soul and prevents it from
contemplating divine things.73 By contrast, the soul is of divine origin and enjoys a special
kinship with god: it is “a great and noble thing; it permits o f no limits except those which can be
shared even by the gods ... [its] homeland is the whole space that encircles the height and breadth
o f the firmament.”74 Not surprisingly, then, Seneca states that the soul is not an equal partner
with the body, but rather rules over it in its quest to attain true virtue.75
Seneca’s attraction to Plato’s anthropology occasionally led him to eschew the traditional
Stoic teachings on the soul’s existence after death. Rather than simply dissipating or existing in a
consciousless fashion until the next conflagration, he can speak o f the soul’s immortality and
describe its eternal bliss after leaving the body: the soul is “eternal” (aetemo), and the day o f
death is the “birthday o f eternity” (aetemi natalis est).76 This theme is developed at length in his
De consolatione ad Marciam, a letter written to assuage the grief felt by the mother at the loss of
her young son. Recalling Plato’s argument in the Laws that the body is only an image of the real
self, the soul,77 Seneca tells Marcia that she has only lost an “imperfect image” {effigies non
simillima) of Metilius, for “he himself is eternal (aetemus) and has reached now a far better state,
stripped of all outward encumbrances and left simply himself’ (24.5). He further explains to the
woman that she has no reason to rush to her son’s tomb, for “what lies there is his basest part and
a part that in life was much trouble— bones and ashes are no more parts o f him then were his
12Ep. 92.10.
73 Ep. 92.10: “to the higher parts [i.e. the rational and spirited soul], which are worshipful and
heavenly, there is fastened a sluggish and flabby animal” {superioribus eius partibus venerandis et
caelestibus animal iners ac marcidum adtexitur); Ep. 65.22: “To despise our bodies is sure freedom.” See
also AdHelv. 11.6-7; De ira. 3.9.4; Ad Marc. 21.1,24.5; Ep. 66.3-4; 88.34; 102.27; 120.14-15.
74Ep. 102.21. In contrast to earlier Stoic theory, this passage describes the soul reaching beyond
the sphere of the moon to the outer reaches of the cosmos.
75Ep. 41.5; 65.22-24; 66.6-9, 12; 92.32-33; 114.23.
76Ep. 57.9; 102.26. This is not the only way in which Seneca addresses the post-mortem fate of
the soul. Like Marcus Aurelius, he often expresses doubt about its destiny, but in many instances he
maintains the traditional Stoic position. Yet elsewhere, he offers different alternatives in the same text {Ad.
Polyb. 5.1, 9.2-3; Ep. 36.9-11; 54.4; 102.2). On these variations, see Anna Lydia Motto, “Seneca on Death
and Immortality,” The Classical Journal 50 (1955): 187-189.
77 959a-b.
164
clothes ... He is complete— leaving nothing o f himself behind” (25.1). Seneca then describes
how the boy’s soul experienced a brief moment o f purification at death before it “soared aloft and
sped away to join the souls o f the blessed.”78 Once there, he confidently proclaims, Metelius met
Rome’s past heroes, including his grandfather Cordus, who initiated him into “nature’s secrets”
(25.2). He closes the letter by imagining that Cordus might tell her daughter at this moment that
he and his grandson rest in an eternal peace, possessing the true wisdom that comes with
recognizing that the events on the earth are only a miniscule part o f the entire plan o f the cosmos
(26.3-6). As proof, Seneca then has Cordus affirm the idea of the conflagration, at which time
everything, including “the saintly souls which have partaken in immortality,” will be destroyed so
that God can recreate the universe once more (26.6-7).
Seneca’s combination of the notion o f personal immortality and the Stoic ekpyrosis
allows him to articulate the journey of the soul in a unique way. The soul clearly participates in
the second half o f the journey, although its eternal rest is restricted to the period before the
destruction of the universe. While this may not be a sharp deviation from traditional Stoic
teaching, both the mention of a purification for the disembodied soul, as well as the identification
o f the soul as the seat o f the individual’s personality, reflect the influence o f Plato. Moreover, his
earlier wish “to have a brief life and, through death, to be restored quickly to the original state”79
suggests that here, at least, Seneca also follows the Platonic notion o f a pre-existence for souls.
Thus, it appears that the integration o f Platonic and Stoic teachings has produced a qualified
model o f the journey of the soul.
While the journey of the soul in the A d Marciam clearly draws upon Platonic
anthropology, its reference to Scipio as one o f the blessed souls suggests that Seneca was also
indebted to Cicero’s Somnium Scipionis.80 Placed at the end of his Republic (6.9.9-26.29), the
Dream o f Scipio describes the visionary journey o f Scipio Africanus the Younger. In this story
Scipio meets the soul of his departed grandfather, the Elder Africanus, who leads him on a
78 25.1: “ad excelsa sublatus interfelices currit animas."

79 22.3: “brevi aetate dejunctos cito in integrum restitui.”
80 Rutherford, Meditations o f Marcus Aurelius, 253.
165
heavenly sojourn in order to impart to him a knowledge o f both the inner workings of the cosmos
and the true nature o f mankind. After a brief passage detailing Scipio’s future accomplishments,
the Elder Africanus calms Scipio’s fears about the post-mortem state: those “who have escaped
from the bondage o f the body as from a prison” experience true life because the soul is composed
o f the same material as the eternal stars.81 Thereafter, he shows Scipio the vastness of the
universe in order to underscore the insignificance o f mankind: just as humans only occupy a
fraction o f the whole, so too do the Romans themselves only live in a fraction o f this inhabitable
area (6.16.16-20.22). Moreover, from the perspective o f the eternal cycle o f human generation,
the desire for fame and glory is meaningless: “of what importance is it to you to be talked o f by
those who are bom after you, when you were never mentioned by those who lived before you?”
(6.21.23). The Elder Africanus therefore exhorts his grandson to reject such transient notoriety
and pursue the “true glory” (verum decus) associated with patriotism, filial piety, and justice. The
souls that exhibit these qualities will make a quicker ascent to the heavenly realm after death so
that “they may enjoy an eternal life o f happiness” in their original home.82
While Seneca’s AdMarciam integrates Platonic psychology and Stoic physics, Cicero’s
Dream o f Scipio follows a more consistent Platonic interpretation o f the journey o f the soul. In
addition to the fact that it consciously looks back to the Myth o f Er, the story is filled with direct
allusions to Plato’s most famous passages on the soul and the architecture o f the cosmos.83 Yet
for all o f its Platonic imagery, the Somnium Scipionis reflects the late Hellenistic period’s interest
in philosophical eclecticism and thus cannot simply be viewed as a slavish reproduction o f Plato’s
discussion o f the soul’s journey.84 At the narrative level, there are a number o f immediate
81 6.14.14-15.16. The composition of the soul is actually described by Paulus, the father of the
Younger Scipio.
82 6.13.13; 16.16; 26.29. As the soul is composed “those eternal fires (sempiternis ignibus) which
you call stars and planets” (6.15.15), Cicero also imagines that it ascends beyond the moon’s orbit.
83 For instance, at 6.24.26-26.28 Cicero translates the Phaedrus proof for the immortality of the
soul (245c-246a). Other imagery includes the soul as incarcerated in the body, the soul as the real self, and
the soul’s relationship to the cosmos. For a complete discussion of the Platonic parallels, see James E.G.
Zetzel, ed., Cicero: De republica (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 223-253.
84 Georg Luck (“Studia Divina in Vita Humana: On Cicero’s ‘Dream of Scipio’ and Its Place in
Graeco-Roman Philosophy,” Harvard Theological Review 49 [1956]: 207-218) details how Cicero draws
on Platonic, Aristotelian, and Stoic concepts.
166
differences: Cicero’s stoiy is a dialogue set in historical time; it uses a dream vision rather than an
ecstatic voyage o f the soul; the soul is corporeal and, in this sense at least, Stoic; and the
description of the cosmic structure is indebted to late Hellenistic scientific advances.85 At a
deeper level, however, the distinctions between the two myths are equally apparent. The most
noticeable change centers on the soul’s journey. For Cicero, good souls are not relegated to
continual reincarnation, as Er imagines, but instead experience only one embodiment, after which
they permanently return to their original home in the stars. Similarly, those souls that become
enamored with bodily passions also experience only one incarnation, although they must submit
to a lengthy process o f purification before they can return to the heavens.86
The definition o f a good soul has also changed from Plato to Cicero. Whereas the former
views the philosophic soul alone as worthy o f the best fate, Cicero criteria is less restrictive: “all
those who have preserved, aided, or enlarged their fatherland have a special place prepared for
them in the heavens ... For nothing o f all that is done on earth is more pleasing to that supreme
god who rules the whole universe than the assemblies and gatherings o f men associated injustice,
which are called states” (6.13.13). Here the statesman replaces the philosopher as the most
virtuous soul. Cicero returns to this theme two more times in the text: at 6.16.16, Africanus
exhorts Scipio to “love justice and duty (iustitiam cole etpietatem), which are indeed strictly due
to parents and kinsmen, but most o f all to the fatherland. Such a life is a road to the skies”; while
at 6.26.29, he closes with the reminder that “the best tasks are those undertaken in defense o f your
native land; a spirit occupied in this will have a swifter flight to this, its proper home and
permanent abode.” These statements show that while glory should not be sought to satisfy one’s
immortal desires, there is nevertheless an honorable type o f glory related to the true virtue of
active participation in the affairs o f the state. That such a life surpasses even that o f the
philosopher is clear from the Republic’s introductory remarks: Cicero confidently proclaims that
85 The soul’s materiality is evidenced by the statement at 16.14.14, where the soul of Paulus
embraces and kisses his son. On the issue of Cicero’s cosmology, see Luck, “Studia Divina,” 208; Burkert,
Lore and Science, 352-353; Zetzel, Cicero, 235-242.
86 The reference to “floods and conflagrations” at 6.21.23 appears to refer only to the destruction
of human populations rather than to the Stoic doctrine of ekpyrosis, as Zetzel (Cicero, 246) notes.
167
“there is really no other occupation in which human virtue approaches more closely the august
function o f the gods than that o f founding new states or preserving those already in existence”
(1 .7 .12).87
By extolling the statesman as the paragon o f virtue, Cicero moves beyond Plato in
emphasizing the value o f practical life and the consequences it has on the post-mortem condition
o f the soul. Although philosophical contemplation is not completely dismissed, as theoria
becomes subordinate to praxis, a uniquely Roman value enters into the discourse o f the journey
o f the soul. Absent from the Myth o f Er, this feature undoubtedly reflects Cicero’s own attitude
toward political life, as he outlines in the introductory pages o f the Republic?* Having lived his
entire life during the civil strife o f the late Republic, Cicero recognized the importance o f re
establishing the mos maiorum if that political order was to have any chance o f survival. He
therefore mounts a defense of Rome’s traditional values— familial piety, justice, and loyalty to
the state—and shows that these virtues will lead to an eternal glory that overshadows any fame
that military victories can offer.89 Although the idea o f a permanent resting place in the heavens
for the soul was not a part o f Er’s vision, it is necessary for Cicero to reject metempsychosis so
that he might provide encouragement to those who sought to preserve the Republic. The Dream
of Scipio is thus a product of the political turmoil o f the first century B.C.E., and its variations on
the journey of the soul provide yet another example o f the concept’s flexibility.
87 See also 1.2.2: “Though it is true that an art, even if you never use it, can still remain in your
possession by the very fact of your knowledge of it, yet the existence of virtue depends entirely upon its
use; and its noblest use is the government of the state, and the realization in fact, not in words (rerum ...
non oratione), of those very things that the philosophers ... are continually dinning in our ears”; 1.2.3: “the
citizen who compels all men, by the authority of magistrates and the penalties imposed by law, to follow
rules of whose validity philosophers find it hard to convince even a few by their admonitions, must be
considered superior even to the teachers who enunciate these principles.” On the relationship between the
statesman in the Somnium Scipionis and the rest of the Republic, see Robert Coleman, “The Dream of
Scipio,” Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society n.s. 10 (1964): 3-4.
88 1.4.7-6.11. Cicero’s own political views become apparent when he chooses to summarize the
institutions of the Roman Republic because they provide the best model of government (1.46.70). The
contrast with the utopian state constructed by Plato could not be more direct.
89 See Richard Harrow Feen, “Nekyia as Apocalypse: A Study of Cicero’s Dream of Scipio,”
Journal o f Religious Studies 9 (1981): 28-34.
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This chapter has focused on Stoicism’s notion of psyche and the implications that their
theory has on the concept o f the soul’s journey. Beginning with a brief survey o f Stoic physics, it
was shown that this philosophical school taught that every existing thing, as a combination of
God and matter, is corporeal and created. Consequently, all bodies are subject to generation and
decay according to the predetermined plan established by the Logos. When applied to
psychology, these tenets ensure that orthodox Stoicism cannot speak of the soul’s journey in a
Platonic sense, for it appears only after the birth o f the individual, after it has progressed from the
lower states o f hexis and physis, and remains subject to the same cosmological laws as all other
creations. While embodied, the psyche is nevertheless responsible for acquiring knowledge and
moving the body. Thus, consistent with the philosophical tradition, Stoicism maintains a
connection between psychology, Logic, and Ethics, with some philosophers even suggesting that
moral progress will benefit the soul (for a limited time at least) after death. Because this notion
o f prokope clashes with their cosmological determinism, however, it was necessary to show how
Stoics were able to preserve both concepts. Their solution, though not irrefutable, is still
important as a heuristic tool for understanding later Jewish and Christian attempts at dealing with
the issue.
It is not until Platonic psychology becomes integrated into the middle and late Stoa that a
more comprehensive discussion o f the soul’s journey appears. Although Seneca remains faithful
to the theory of ekpyrosis, he nevertheless imagines that the soul enjoys a pre-existence in the
heavens, and can speak with assurance about its return there after death. The best example o f the
journey o f the soul, however, occurs in the Somnium Scipionis, a tale that reworks Plato’s Myth
o f Er. Yet even in this text Cicero infuses a spirit of Romanitas into the story by emphasizing the
Stoic virtues of political involvement, piety, and justice, and alters the final destination o f the soul
as a concession to the contemporary political situation in Rome. In general, then, the Stoics offer
an alternative to the Platonic notion o f the nature, origin, and destiny o f the soul. Yet throughout
the Hellenistic period other conceptions o fpsyche are equally if not more prominent, as the next
chapter will show.
C H A PT ER 6
VARIATIONS ON THE SOUL
This study has focused thus far on the development o f psyche and the articulation o f the
journey o f the soul through an analysis of the Greek and Roman intellectual tradition. Yet the
philosophical discussions o f Plato and the Stoics were by no means universally accepted by other
educated thinkers, and in fact there is much evidence to show that these philosophical disputes
had little impact at the level of popular culture. This chapter will therefore attempt to highlight
some o f the diversity o f thought on the concept of the soul in the Hellenistic period. The first two
sections will survey the philosophical objections to the Platonist and Stoic models through an
analysis o f Aristotle and Epicurus. It will be shown that while both thinkers associate psyche
with movement and give it cognitive functions, neither allows for the journey of the soul. The
following two sections will be devoted to an examination of the use of psyche in popular thought.
A survey o f its meaning in literature (poetry, tragedy, and other genres) and funeral inscriptions
will reveal that the traditional, Homeric conception remains a prominent way to understand
psyche: it either refers to “life” in a general sense, or alternatively, the shade that descends to
Hades after death. The final section will evaluate the folktale o f Cupid and Psyche from
Apuleius’s Metamorphoses. Through an analysis o f this story within the context o f Lucius’s
travails, it will be argued that the mystery religions provide yet another model for the soul’s
journey that will help inform the discussion of Paul’s letters and the Gospel o f John.
169
170
I. Aristotle
The earliest evidence for Aristotle’s views on the soul comes from his Eudemus, a
dialogue that shows considerable dependence on Plato’s Phaedo} As his own thought matured,
however, Aristotle repudiated the sharp distinction between body and soul described in the
Phaedo and instead proposed a more empirical theory ofpsyche in his De anima that takes into
consideration the relationship between body and soul. After summarizing the views of his
predecessors in the first book, Aristotle devotes the final two books to his own theory of soul. He
begins by classifying three types o f substances: “matter” (uA.T|), “form” (etSog), and a
combination o f the two (412a5-9). Matter is pure potentiality, and is given shape, i.e. becomes a
thing, through the actualizing power of form. Thus, bodies fall into the third category, the
composite, and the specific type o f body (plant, animal, or human) corresponds to the
individuating power of psyche. At this point Aristotle constructs his first definition of soul as “a
substance in the sense of being the form of a natural body, which potentially has life” (4l2a20-
22). Because the soul shapes prime matter by “actualizing” it, his second definition asserts that
the “soul is ... the first actuality (evteXexeia) o f a natural body potentially possessing life”
(412a28-29).2 As these living bodies have organs, he presents a final definition: the soul is “the
first actuality of a natural body possessed o f organs” (412b5-6).
These definitions are not, of course, mutually exclusive; rather, they highlight the soul’s
ability to organize and form any particular body.3 Aristotle draws on two analogies to elucidate
this relationship. First, in the case of an ax, the material from which it is made is its substratum,
while that which gives the ax its shape is the soul. Or again, if the eye were a living being, its
soul would be its vision (412b 11-19). Thus, just as the first entelechy o f the “soul” of the ax and
eye is to give these bodies the capacity to act (to chop and to see, respectively), so too is the first
1For analyses of the extant fragments, see Werner Jaeger, Aristotle: Fundamentals of the History
o f His Development, 2nd ed., trans. Richard Robinson (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1948), 39-53; W.K.C.
Guthrie, A History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 6 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 67-73.
2 The first actuality is to have a particular capacity, the second actuality refers to the exercise of
this capacity (412a23-24).
3 For other comments on the soul’s relationship to body, see 415b9-29.
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actuality o f the soul o f the living being that which gives it the power to live.4 With this assertion,
Aristotle concludes that the soul cannot be separated from the body, because it can only exist if it
has something upon which to act.5
The soul, then, is that substance which separates the living from the non-living, and its
power is to actualize its material component. Furthermore, to say that a body is alive is to
attribute to it certain capacities, for instance, the power o f intellection, sensation, and movement
(413a22-25). Yet not all living bodies, Aristotle notes, possess all o f these capacities (414a29-
31). Thus, he attributes to the soul three “powers” (5uvd|isi<;): the “nutritive” (0 p e 7 tx iK o v ) ,
“sensitive” ( a i a G r y c iK o v ) , and the “rational” ( v o t i t i k o v ) (415al7-19). Plants exhibit only the
lowest and most basic form ofpsyche, the nutritive faculty, which corresponds to simple growth,
nutrition, and reproduction.6 Animals, in addition to this faculty, possess the sensitive soul,
which oversees appetite, sensation, and movement.7 Finally, the rational faculty, which
corresponds to “thinking and intelligence” ( 8 i o c v o t |t i k 6 v t s kcu. vouq), is reserved for human
beings alone (414M7-20).
Aristotle’s examination o f soul leads to two important conclusions. First, in contrast to
the religious or mystical stream o f thought which identified the psyche with the personality or
essence o f the individual, the De anima argues that the person is a composite o f both body and
soul, and the latter is simply a principle o f the living person. Emphasizing the unity o f the human
being does not mean, however, that Aristotle’s soul is unimportant, but rather that any
investigation of psyche must consider, in addition to its function as an individual’s essence, the
role that the body plays in its activity.8 Thus, by arguing that “the passions (7 td 0 T |) o f the soul are
4 412b27-413a4.
5 413a4-6. See also G.E.R. Lloyd, Aristotle: The Growth and Structure o f His Thought
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968), 184-187; Stephen Everson, “Psychology,” in The
Cambridge Companion to Aristotle, ed. Jonathan Barnes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995),
173-174.
6 413a26-27; 415a23-28.
7 413bl-ll; 414bl-17.
8 For Aristotle’s introductory discussion of the problems that must faced in any discussion of the
soul’s relationship to body, see 403a3-bl6. For the soul as the formal, final, and efficient cause of the
body, see 415b8-29 and Vincenzo, “Plato and Aristotle,” 272. His evaluation of the soul as an aspect of the
living person, as well as the conflicts that this approach leads to in the De anima, is analyzed by S.
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formulae expressed in matter” (ewAoi), Aristotle challenges the Platonic interpretation that such
affections can be explained as purely psychic phenomena.9 Second, because the activities o f the
soul are inextricably bound up with the body, Aristotle argues that “soul cannot exist without the
body.”10 Stated in such an unequivocal fashion, it is impossible for him to grant that the soul
survives the body. Indeed, as death is simply the telos of animate life, Aristotle rejects the
Platonic notion o f a blessed existence for the soul divested from the body and instead speaks of
immortality in Homeric fashion as the result o f reproduction: the nutritive soul’s “functions are
reproduction and the assimilation of food. For this is the most natural o f all functions among
living creatures ... to reproduce one’s kind ... in order that they may have a share in the immortal
and divine ( t o o &el Kai to o 9eioo) in the only way they can.”11
Aristotle’s arguments against immortality leave no doubt that the soul does not
participate in the second part of the journey of the soul. The first half o f the journey is equally
rejected, for Aristotle’s biological interests led him to reject the notion that the soul pre-exists in
the heavenly realm before descending into the body. Instead, he posits that the soul is created
from the mixture of the female and male generative principles: whereas the former contributes the
nutritive soul, the sperm of the latter contains the sensitive and rational soul through its
possession o f pneumatic heat.12 In its earliest state, the human soul resembles that of a plant, and
it is only after it reaches its telos as an animate being that it may be properly said to possess the
two higher parts. Aristotle thus denies both a pre- and post-existence for the soul, yet he does,
however, concede that the nous may be something in mankind that, due to its independence from
the body, does in fact survive death. His view is tentatively proposed at the beginning of the
Mansion, “Soul and Life in the De Anima," in Aristotle on mind and the senses: Proceedings o f the Seventh
Symposium Aristotelicum, eds. G.E.R. Lloyd and G.E.L. Owen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1978), 1-20. See also J.L. Ackerill, “Aristotle’s Definitions ofpsuche," in Articles on Aristotle, vol. 4, eds.
Jonathan Barnes, Malcolm Schofield, and Richard Sorabji (London: Gerald Duckworth and Company,
1979), 65-68.
9 The passions of the soul as logoi enhuloi: 403a25-26; Aristotle’s critique of Plato (and the
Pythagoreans): 407b 12-26.
10414al9-23; see also 413a4-7.
11415a26-bl. See also Guthrie, History o f Greek Philosophy, vol. 6, 284; Poortman, “Death and
Immortality,” 200-201.
12Gen. Anim. 736a24-737b7; 741a8-18.
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second book of the De anima: “in the case o f the mind and the thinking faculty ( t o u von) k c u rrji;
GecoptixtKfji;) nothing is yet clear; it seems to be a distinct kind o f soul, and it alone admits of
being separated, as the immortal from the perishable” ( t o <5ci8iov t o o (jjQaprob).13 This element,
while described as a part o f the soul, nevertheless maintains a separate existence. Unlike the soul
proper, the nous does not need a bodily organ in order for it to function: Aristotle enigmatically
remarks that it “comes from outside” (0upa0ev) and is “separable, impassive, and unmixed.”14
While in the body, its role is engaged solely in thinking, and such an activity, after divested from
the body after death, bears no connection with the individual’s earthly life: “When isolated it is its
true self and nothing more, and this alone is immortal and everlasting ( & 0 & v c c t o v kcc! dciSiov)
(we do not remember because, while mind in this sense cannot be acted upon, mind in the passive
sense is perishable), and without this nothing thinks.”IS
II. Epicurus
While Aristotle’s notion o f soul offers an alternative to Plato and the Stoics, his
admission that the intellect experiences immortality shows that he did not completely repudiate
the religious stream of thought developed by his predecessors.16 Epicurus, on the other hand,
constructs a theory ofpsyche that offers no concessions to popular religion, and was meant, in
fact, to assuage those who feared the moment o f death.17 Drawing on the atomism o f Democritus,
Epicurus rejects the Platonic and Aristotelian idea that the soul is incorporeal, insisting instead
that all existing substances must be bodies.18 The Epicurean soul is thus material,19 composed o f
13413b25-27; see also 413a6-8; Gen. Anim. 736b5-8.

14 Gen. Anim. 736b27; De anim. 430al7.
15430a22-23. Here Aristotle confines immortality to the active intellect alone. See John M. Rist,
“Notes on Aristotle’s De Anima 3.5,” Classical Philology 61 (1966): 8-20; Lloyd, Aristotle, 199-201.
16Rohde, Psyche, 496; Lloyd, Aristotle, 201.
17Long, Hellenistic Philosophy, 49-50.
18According to Epicurus, “the totality of things is bodies and void” (c K o g x x T a Kcd k e v o v ) (D.L.
10.39). See also Luc. De re. nat. 1.419-444.
19D.L. 10.67: “it is impossible to conceive anything that is incorporeal as self-existent except
void. And void cannot itself either act or be acted upon, but simply allows body to move through it. Hence
those who call soul incorporeal speak foolishly. For if it were so, it could neither act nor be acted upon.
But as it is, both these properties ... plainly belong to soul.”
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a “collection” (&0poia|ia) o f four different types o f atoms: heat, air, breath, and a nameless
element responsible for transmitting sensory perceptions to the other parts o f the soul.20 As these
atoms join together, the result is a “blend” (Kpdpcx) that is completely unified.21 Yet just as the
Stoics spoke o f a unified soul with different parts, so too do Epicurus and Lucretius differentiate
between the soul’s rational {animus) and irrational {anima) aspects.22 The rational faculty resides
in the chest, from where it rules the rest o f the soul, which is itself diffused throughout the body.
Epicurus rejects the notion o f the pre-existence o f the soul and instead argues that the
psyche comes into existence along with the body.23 In the living being, the soul and body are
closely linked and display an interdependence upon one another. As Lucretius states, “the living
force o f body and mind {animi) have vigor and enjoy life only in close connection together: for
neither can the nature o f the mind show vital motions alone by itself without the body, nor again
deprived o f soul {anima) can the body endure and use senses.”24 The rational soul thus enlivens
the body and acts as the seat of sensation: through its perception the lower faculties stir the body
into movement.25 Yet at the same time, the body is the vessel {vas) that contains and delimits the
soul: without it the soul’s atomic structure would dissipate into the atmosphere.26
Because both components rely on one another in order for a person to remain animate,
the destruction o f either one necessarily leads to the dissolution o f the whole. According to
20 D.L. 10.63; Aet. 4.3.11; Luc. De re. nat. 3221-257,425-430. Diogenes does not include air as
one of the components, although Aetios attributes this element to Epicurus’ soul. Lucretius lists all four
elements, and calls the nameless atoms the “soul of the soul” {anima animae) {De re. nat. 3.275). See J.M.
Rist, Epicurus: An Introduction (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 75-77. On the fourth
element, see Luc. De re. nat. 3.269-275.
21 On the unity of the soul, see Luc. De re. nat. 3.262-281. On Epicurus’s use of krama, see G.B.
Kerferd, “Epicurus’ Doctrine of Soul,” Phronesis 16 (1971): 90.
22 Schol. Ep. Hdt. 66; Luc. De re. nat. 3.94-97, 117-120, 136-146. Technically, Epicurus does not
make this distinction, although Rist {Epicurus, 80) writes that “there is nothing is Epicurus’ account which
does not square with the version of Lucretius.”
23 D.L. 10.64: “&XV Ltepov (=the soul) dcpa cruYy£yevT|(i.fevov airccp (=the body).” See also Luc.
De re. nat. 3.337-338,445-446, 670-678.
24 De re. nat. 3.558-562. See also D.L. 10.66.
25 Luc. De re. nat. 3.231-257; 4.877-896. Long {Hellenistic Philosophy, 52) has compared the
anima with the nervous system, “reporting feelings and sensations to the animus and transmitting
movement to the limbs.”
26 D.L. 10.64: the soul “would not have had sensation, had it not been somehow confined within
the rest of the frame.” See also Luc. De re. nat. 3.440, 554-557, 790-793.
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Epicurus, the body “no longer has sensation when these [soul] atoms have departed ... Moreover,
when the whole frame (dcGpoiapa) is broken up (Xoopevou), the soul is scattered
(Siaairetpsxai) and has no longer the same powers as before, nor the same motions; hence, it
does not possess sentience either.”27 Death therefore brings an end to the atomic formation o f the
soul: while each the various elements survives, their composition or “blend” as soul dissolves and
ceases to exist.28 As such, there can be no way that an individual’s personal identity persists after
death, even if, as Lucretius briefly imagines, the same soul atoms were to unite once again in.
another body.29 In sum, then, by denying both an ante- and post-mortem existence for the psyche,
Epicurean philosophy has no use for the concept o f the journey o f the soul.
m . Traditional Thoughts on the Soul

In addition to the philosophical refutations o f the soul’s immortality by Aristotle and
Epicurus, other evidence from the Classical and Hellenistic period shows that the Platonic
understanding of psyche was not held outside of select intellectual circles. Indeed, Pindar, in
traditional Homeric fashion, repeatedly admonishes his readers not to strive for immortality:30
“Seek not to become Zeus; for mortals a mortal lot is right” (Gvaxoc Gvaxoi.cn jcpertei);31 “Mortal
minds must seek w'hat is fitting at the hands o f the gods, knowing what lies at our feet, and to
what portion we are bom. Strive not, dear soul, for an immortal life, but enjoy to the full the
27 D.L. 10.65; see also Luc. De re. nat. 3.341-343,396-416 (where Lucretius distinguishes
between the loss of anima, which the person may survive, and the destruction of animus, which inevitably
causes death). For commentary on the Epicurean position of the soul after death, see Zeller, Stoics,
Epicureans and Sceptics, 455; Long, Hellenistic Philosophy, 51-52.
28 Kur. dox. 2: “Death is nothing to us: for that which is dissolved (SiaXuOfev) is without sensation;
and that which lacks sensation is nothing to us.”
29 De re. nat. 3.843-861: “Even if time shall gather together our matter and bring it back again as it
is now placed ... yet it would not matter one bit to us that even this has been done, when the recollection of
ourselves has once been broken asunder; and now to us from the we who were before there appertains
nothing.” See also D.L. 10.125: “Death ... is nothing to us, seeing that, when we are, death does not come,
and, when death comes, we are not.”
30 Warnings against hybris were pervasive in fifth-century literature. On this theme see Dodds,
Greeks and the Irrational, 28-63; Guthrie, Greeks and Their Gods, 113-116.
31 Isth. 5.14-16.
176
resources that are within your reach”;32 “If a man cultivates both prosperity and health, being
generous with his possessions and winning praise as well, let him not seek to become god.”33
Moreover, Plato’s own writings testify to the difficulties that the average person must have had
with the psychology of Socrates and Plato: in the early dialogues Socrates resorts to
circumlocution to describe the importance o f soul, while in the Republic Glaucon reacts with
“amazement” (Gccup.dcrag) after hearing his teacher casually assert the doctrine o f the soul’s
immortality.34 Such statements thus suggest that Plato’s elaborations on the soul had by no
means filtered down to the level o f popular thought in the fifth and fourth centuries.35
Instead of denoting the immortal essence o f the individual, it was more common for non-
philosophical writers to retain the conventional Homeric meanings o f psyche as a synecdoche for
the individual or as “life” in general.36 Numerous examples can be found in the literature o f the
Classical period. For instance, in the Agamemnon, Aeschylus has both the chorus and
Clytemnestra refer to Helen as the destroyer of many “lives” (psychai); Sophocles’ Antigone
informs her sister that she (=her psyche) died long before Creon’s men captured her; and the
chorus in Euripides’ Alcestis mourns the loss o f the “life” (psyche) of Admetus’s wife.37 Among
prose writers, Herodotus and Thucydides in the fifth century, and Demosthenes and Isocrates in
the fourth, show no deviation from this traditional usage.38 As in the epics, psyche can also be
employed to depict the shade that descends to the underworld at death. Aeschylus has this in
mind when he introduces the ghost o f Clytemnestra in his Eumenides, and Euripides has Alcestis
32 Pyth. 3.59-62: “pf), <{>iAa yvfca, piov aO&vaxor] cnte-uSs, xav 5’ fepurpaKXov dcvxXei
paxccvdv.”
33 Olymp. 5.23-24: “[if] paxetxTn 0eoq yeviaOai.” See also Pyth. 3.103-104; 8.95-96; 10.27-30.
34 Crit. 47d-48a; Rep. 608d. See also Burnet, “Socratic Doctrine,” 243-345.
36 This does not mean that psyche retained only its Homeric meaning. On the contrary, the
tragedians, like the lyric and elegiac poets discussed at the end of the first chapter, tend to ascribe to psyche
an extended range of meaning within the living person. See Webster, “Some Psychological Terms,” 149-
154; Solmsen, “OPHN, KAPAIA, TYXH,” 265-274.
37 Aesch. Ag. 1457, 1466; Soph. Ant. 559; Eur. Ale. 117. See also Aesch. Eum. 114; Soph. Ant.
322, 708; El. 775, 786; Oed. Col. 499, 998; Eur. Ale. 54; Andr. 611.
38 Herod. 1.112.3; 1.24.2; 2.34; 3.119, 130; 4.190; 5.92; 7.39,209; 8.118; 9.37, 79; Thuc. 1.136.4;
2.40.5; 3.39.8; Dem. Contr. Aristo. 1.25.74; Contr. Tim. 49.2; Contr. Poly. 50.62; Isocr. Nic. 2.59. See also
the short discussion on Herodotus and Thucydides by Claus, Towards the Soul, 90-91.
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offer to sacrifice her own psyche to the “sunless chambers o f Hades” in place o f her husband’s
soul.39 The persistence o f the Homeric notion o f the soul’s ultimate fate is also attested in
funerary inscriptions: the message on one stele simply proclaims “I have gone to the ghastly city
o f Hades”; while another asks, “Hermes, messenger o f Persephone, why do you send him before
us to Hades’ Tartarus, where there is no laughter?”40 Others express, with varying degrees o f
certainty, the hope that the dead will enjoy a future existence among the blessed,41 an idea that
also appears in Demosthenes’ oration to recently-slain warriors: “With excellent reason one might
declare them to be now seated beside the gods below ( toi? k&too Qeoiq), possessing the same
rank as the brave men who have preceded them in the Islands o f the Blessed.”42
In descriptions o f these souls that have descended to Hades, authors commonly refer to
their corporeal nature. Thus Aeschylus has Clytemnestra exclaim “do you see these wounds”
(bpaxe TtXT\ya.q zaaSe) when she appears as a ghost from the underworld.43 Echoing Plato’s
description o f the souls of tyrants before judgment, Lucius explains that these psychai bear the
“marks” (axiyiiaxa) o f the wicked and ignorant deeds committed while embodied.44 The
substantial nature o f the soul also finds expression in the Aeneid, when Aeneas meets Dido in
Hades “with wound still fresh” (recens a volnere). In this scene, however, Virgil notes that “she
kept her looks fixed on the ground” (ilia solo Jbcos oculos ... tenebat), refusing to acknowledge
her former love.45 Elsewhere, the poet’s Stoic influence allows him to exalt some o f the shades as
“the bodies o f high-souled heroes” (corpora vita magnanimum heroum).46 Such examples
provide vivid proof that the bodily conception o f the soul was entrenched in the discourse of
antiquity through the formative years of early Christianity.
39 Aesch. Eum. 94-105; Eur. Ale. 435-475. See also Aesch. Pers. 630; Eur. Ale. 900; Or. 674-676.
40 EG 565.4; 575.1 -2 (cited in Richmond Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs [Urbana,
EL: University of Illinois Press, 1942], 87: see also 56-58).
41 Rohde, Psyche, 541; Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs, 29, 35, 36.
42 Epitaph. 34. See also Hyper. 6.43. The location of the Islands of the Blessed is not always
below the earth, as Cumont (After Life, 80-83, 155) and Lattimore (Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs,
40-42) observe.
43 Eum. 103.
44 The Downward Journey, or the Tyrant 24-26 (cf. Gorg. 524e-525a).
45 Aen. 6.450, 469. See also Aen. 2.272-279.
46Aen. 6.306-307.
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In addition to the epic belief that the psyche descends to Hades after death, a variety of
other opinions on the post-mortem state may be discerned.47 For example, the Presocratic notion
that the psyche, because of its airy or aetherial composition, simply reascends to its proper place
in the heavenly regions after the death o f the body is a recurring theme in literature and
epigraphy 48 This view, which became a central feature o f Stoic eschatology, was sufficiently
known in the late fifth century for Aristophanes to address it playfully in his Peace: after
descending from the aetherial realm, Trygaios provides a first-hand account that men are
transformed into stars after death.49 The idea, which Plato incorporates in his Timaeits, also
surfaces in the work o f the fifth-century comic playwright Epicharmus, who reflecting on the
. composition o f the mortal body, states: “It was combined and separated and went back whence it
came, earth to earth, pneuma above” (y a pev etg yav, m/eupa 5’ dcvco).50 Among the
tragedians, the most frequent exponent o f this concept is Euripides: in his Suppliants, Theseus
says “Let the dead now be buried in the earth, and each element return to the place from where it
came to the body, the pneuma toward the aither, the body into the earth” (itveupa pev trpoq
a ’i0£pa, to adopa 5’ eg ynv).sl Perhaps the best evidence for the widespread currency this belief
held, however, comes from an inscription dedicated to those who fell in battle at Potidaea in 432:
“The aither has received their souls, but their bo[dies the earth].”52
47 The variations have been addressed in Rohde, Psyche, 524-580; Cumont, After Life, passim;
Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs, passim-, J.M.C. Toynbee, Death and Burial in the Roman
World (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1971), 33-42; Jon D. Mikalson, Athenian Popular Religion
(Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1983), 74-82.
48 Rohde, Psyche, 436-437, 541-542; Cumont, After Life, 94-109; Lattimore, Themes in Greek and
Latin Epitaphs, 26-43; Mikalson, Athenian Popular Religion, 77.
49 827-841. See also IG 12,7 123.5-6: “Mother, do not weep for me. What is the use? You ought
rather to reverence me, for I have become an evening star, among the gods” (Lattimore [Themes in Greek
and Latin Epitaphs, 35, n. 113] tentatively dates this to the first century B.C.E.).
50 Tim. 41d~42b; 23B9.
51 531-533. See also Hel. 1014-1016; ft. 971. For the relationship between pneuma and psyche,
see Rohde, Psyche, 461, n. 150.
52IG 1,2 945.6: “a’tOfip pep vpuxag btteSfeâTO, crab[para 5e xGoibv].” See also 11,2 11466: “Here
lies the body of Eurymachus, but the moist air above now holds his soul and his powerful intelligence.”
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Alongside these expressions o f the soul’s astral ascent was the contention that after death
the psyche simply breaks apart in the air and is forever lost. First articulated by the atomists,53
this view became an alternative to the notion that some sort o f sensation or identity is preserved
after death. Although this view does not appear to have been predominant,54 it quickly entered
the popular imagination, as the observations o f Cebes and Simmias show in the Phaedo.5S In late
antiquity, the most vociferous proponents o f this belief were the Epicureans, and their influence
can be clearly detected in funerary inscriptions. Among the many examples include the
assertions that “We are and were nothing. Look, reader, how swiftly we mortals pass from
nothing to nothing”;56 “When life ends, all things perish and turn to nothing”;57 “I was not, I was,
I am not, I do not care”;58 and “We are mortals; we are not immortals.”59
While the funeral inscriptions evince a variety o f other views, two other types deserve
mention, one for its pervasiveness and the other because of its rarity. Epitaphs o f the first variety
contain no opinion about the life hereafter. Rather, they focus on the individual’s
accomplishments in this life, or simply state the person’s name and attach to it the formulaic
message “farewell” (xccipe).60 Funeral orations, while occasionally expressing a general hope
that the dead will reside in happiness, are also noticeably silent on the post-mortem fate o f the
53 According to Democritus, “It is more or less obvious that it [the soul] goes forth from the body,
and upon going forth is separated and scattered” (Siatjjopetxat teat SuxcrceSdvvuTOa) (lam. ap. Stob.
1.384).
54 Toynbee (Death and Burial, 34) argues that the atomist position was “exceptional.”
55 69e-70a: Cebes states that “in regard to the soul men are very prone to disbelief. They fear that
when the soul leaves the body it no longer exists anywhere, and that on the day when man dies it is
destroyed and perishes, and when it leaves the body and departs from it, straightaway it flies away and is no
longer anywhere, scattering like breath or smoke” (jtveunoc f| Kajtv6<;); see also 77b, where Simmias
observes that this position is held by “the majority” (to tcBv ttoXAcov), and 77d-e, where Socrates teases
them for maintaining such childish views.
56 CLE 2.1495: “nil sumus etfuimus. mortales, respice, lector, nihil a nihilo quam cito
recidimus.” See also CIL 6.26003.
57 CLE 1.420: “omnia cum vita pereunt et inaniafiunt.”
58ILS 8162 (Dessau): “nonJui,fui, non sum, non euro." This inscription was so popular that it
was often abbreviated n.ffn.s.n.c. For two other variations, see Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin
Epitaphs, 84.
39 CIL 11.856: “sumus mortales, immortales non sumus."
60 See Rohde, Psyche, 539-540; Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs, 14-17; Mikalson,
Athenian Popular Religion, 74-75; Arthur E. Gordon, Illustrated Introduction to Latin Epigraphy
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 127-128, 131, 146-148.
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psyche?1 From this evidence it is generally assumed that the Platonic notion o f the soul was not
widespread.62 Such arguments find support in the paucity o f inscriptions o f the second variety—
those which treat the theme of the soul’s immortality. While some expressly treat this topic,63
none o f these inscriptions pre-dates the fourth century, and even later examples follow poetic
formulas and thus may not always reflect the precise beliefs of the deceased.64
IV. Cupid and Psyche
I f Classical literature and epigraphy provides some insight into popular views on the soul,
another common model emerges from Apuleius’s inclusion o f the story of Cupid and Psyche in
his Metamorphoses (4.28-6.24) 65 This ancient folktale begins with the introduction o f Psyche, a
young princess whose unsurpassed beauty brought her renown as a second Venus, so much so
that the rites of the heavenly Venus were ignored and her temples left unattended (4.28-29). As
the goddess’ jealousy became inflamed, she summoned her son Cupid and instructed him to make
her fall in love with the lowliest man on earth (4.30-31). At the same time, Psyche’s loneliness
grew, for no man felt worthy of her godlike beauty. Fearing divine wrath, the king travels to the
sanctuary o f Apollo, where he receives word that Psyche must be taken to a mountain-top where
she will be snatched away by a monstrous creature (4.32-35). Instead o f death, however, a gentle
breeze transports Psyche from the mountain to a serene valley, where she takes a bridegroom and
lives as a queen (4.35-5.2). Psyche’s husband, who conceals his identity by visiting only at night,
thereupon warns his new bride not to be deceived by her two sisters, who had begun searching for
61 Topics for discussion in funeral orations include the history of the city and the nobility of the
dead (under which their birth, education, and deeds are discussed). See Thuc. 2.36; PI. Menex. 237a-b;
Dem. Epitaph. 3, 6, 12, 25.
62 Rohde, Psyche, 538-539, 542; Mikalson, Athenian Popular Religion, 79-82.
63 For instance, EG 634: “Parthenia lies here. She is ageless and immortal” (6.yi\pa.ioc, (kOavaxn
xe); CIL 6.4.29609: “I am ash, ash is earth, earth is a goddess, therefore I am not dead” (cinis sum cinis
terra est terra dea est ergo mortua non sum).
64 Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin Epitaphs, 17-18,47-55.
65 For a basic introduction to the structure of the story, its possible antecedents, and its relationship
with other tales from different cultures, see P.G. Walsh, The Roman Novel: The “Satyricon " o f Petronius
and the "Metamorphoses" ofApuleius (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 193-200;
Stanislaw Stabryla, “The Functions of the Tale of Cupid and Psyche in the Structure of the Metamorphoses
of Apuleius,” Eos 61 (1973): 261-264.
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her (5.4-5). Yet he eventually acquiesces to Psyche’s pleas to be reunited with them. After a few
visits, the sisters’ jealousy leads them to conspire against her: they persuade Psyche that her
husband is the monster from the earlier prophecy and convince her to kill it before she herself
perishes (5.16-18).
On their advice, Psyche takes a razor and lantern with her to bed that night. After her
husband falls asleep, she seizes the blade with the intent o f slicing his throat, but stops as the
lamp reveals the face of Cupid (5.21-22). Gazing into his beauty, she pricks herself with one o f
his arrows and falls madly in love with him. Yet in her zeal to embrace him, a drop o f hot oil
bums the god, and he immediately awakens and departs (5.22-24). Realizing that she had been
betrayed by her sisters, Psyche concocts a plan for revenge: she tells each one separately that
Cupid had rejected her and that he now sought her sisters in marriage (5.26). Both then
immediately return to the mountain, yet when they jump off the cliff to be ushered to the palace
by Zephyr, the winds subside and they fall to their deaths (5.27).
Thereafter, when Venus discovers that her son had married the very woman whom she
had ordered destroyed, she initiates a country-wide search to exact vengeance on her nemesis
(5.28-31). But Psyche, who had been looking for Cupid with the hope of reconciliation, becomes
aware of Venus’s plan and realizes that she has no other choice but to accept the goddess’
punishment (6.1-8). After subjecting the princess to an initial period o f torture, Venus devises a
series of four labors, each progressively more difficult (6.10-21). Although they initially appear
impossible, Psyche successfully completes the first three through divine help. For the fourth task,
Venus commands her to descend to the underworld to bring back a portion o f Proserpina’s
beauty. While contemplating suicide in place o f this mission, Psyche again receives supernatural
help and returns to earth with a ja r from the goddess o f death. Yet curiosity overtakes her, and
she opens the ja r before returning to Venus. Instead o f beauty, however, sleep emerges and casts
its spell over the woman. Yet at this moment, Cupid appears to shake Psyche from her slumber,
repackage the gift, and send her to Venus. He then ascends to the heavens, where he implores
Jupiter to restore Psyche as his wife. Despite his misgivings, Jupiter concedes: he confirms the
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marriage and, to supplicate Venus, makes Psyche immortal and thus a legitimate member of the
divine pantheon (6.22-24).
Scholars have often noted that, under its surface narrative, this story conflates two basic
Platonic myths o f the soul: Diotima’s discussion of the union o f Plenty and Poverty in the
Symposium provides a structure for later writers to imagine a relationship between earthly and
heavenly figures, while the tripartite soul of the Phaedrus acts as a model for investigating the
interrelationship between the soul’s higher and lower elements.66 Both components are integral
in analyzing this tale for its use o f the concept of the journey o f the soul. First, it is clear that,
despite her worshippers’ claims to the contrary, Psyche is not divine. Indeed, Venus’ anger stems
from the fact that the appearance o f a “mortal girl” (mortalis puella) could lead others to proclaim
her a simulacrum o f the goddess.67 Thus, since Psyche is the progeny o f human parents, it is clear
that Apuleius is not working with the model o f an immortal, pre-existent soul. The same may
also be said for her two sisters, who represent, in true Platonic fashion, the lower parts o f the soul.
The tensions inherent between the three parts of the soul emerge as the story progresses.
The sisters, whose characteristics attest to their attachment to the material realm, treacherously
conspire to strip Psyche o f her lofty position by crafting a plan that would rob her o f her wealth
and end her divine marriage (5.14, 16). And although Cupid repeatedly cautions Psyche about
her sisters’ wiles, her simple innocence and tenderheartedness causes her to long for her sisters,
and she seeks to win their approval with lavish presents.68 By constructing the characters in this
manner, Apuleius shows how susceptible the rational soul is to demands o f its lower parts. Yet
even without the pressure from her sisters, Psyche is not unshakably focused on her relationship
with her divine consort. Indeed, she is enamored by the riches and luxury o f her palace,
66Symp. 203b-209e; Phaedr. 246a-249e. See the discussion by M.J. Edwards, “The Tale of Cupid
and Psyche,” Zeitschriftfur Papyrologie undEpigraphik 94 (1992): 79-83. For Apuleius’s Platonism,
particularly in Metamorphoses X, see Carl Schlam, “Platonica in the Metamorphoses of Apuleius,”
Transactions o f the American Philological Association 101 (1970): 477-487.
67 Psyche as mortal: 4.29,30; Psyche as a double of Venus: 4.28.
68 Psyche as innocent, simple, and tenderhearted: 5.11, 15, 18, 19; 6.15. Without human
companionship, the palace is nothing more than a “luxurious prison” (5.5). Ken Dowden (“Psyche on the
Rock,” Latomus 41 [1982]: 341-342) has argued that Apuleius depicts Psyche as an inexperienced child.
183
displaying an “eagerness to look at such beautiful things” and gazing with “wonderment
(admirationem) at the enormous quality of wealth” that she controls (5.2). With such inherent
fragility—Apuleius calls Psyche “naturally weak in both body and spirit”69— it is not difficult to
see how she could be swayed by the deception o f her sisters.
When Psyche attempts to kill her husband, she realizes her mistake but her insatiable
curiosity leads her to look too long at Cupid, allowing the oil to bum his shoulder. This act,
which severs her bond with her heavenly counterpart, leads to a despair that is ultimately
exacerbated by the wrath o f Venus. Here Apuleius depicts the soul’s suffering in a world
governed by capricious Fortune (Fortima), but with the extirpation o f the lower elements and the
success o f her labors, he suggests that it is possible for the soul to break free from the vicissitudes
o f the mundane realm. By placing the katabasis and anabasis as the final labor, Apuleius shows
that the soul’s salvation entails nothing less than its own “death” and “rebirth.”70 Yet this is not
achieved solely through its own abilities: indeed, Psyche despairs after receiving each o f the four
labors, and after she returns from the underworld her curiositas causes her to be enveloped in a
“deathlike and truly Stygian sleep” (6.21). On the contrary, each task is completed only with the
aid of other supernatural forces, and it is only after a series o f divinely-directed events— Cupid’s
rescue and petition to Jupiter, and Mercury’s guidance through the heavens—that the soul’s
apotheosis is secured.
The journey o f the soul in the tale of Cupid and Psyche is thus only partial. Although
soul comes into existence with the body, if it rejects the lower world o f materiality and seeks
instead for the more permanent gifts o f its heavenly consort, it experiences a spiritual
regeneration (jtaA.iyyeveata) and becomes immortal. This model, which becomes a prominent
characteristic o f the mystery religions, acts as a key for Apuleius’s message in the
69 5.22: “et corporis et animi alioquin injirma."

70 E.J. Kenny, “Psyche and her Mysterious Husband,” in Antonine Literature, ed. D.A. Russell
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 193.
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Metamorphoses as a whole.71 Although the two are not always identical on specific points, the
basic structural parallels show that Apuleius consciously meant for Cupid and Psyche to be read
in conjunction with Lucius’s own travails. For instance, the excessive curiosity o f both Psyche
and the protagonist acts as the direct cause o f their torment and sufferings.72 The subsequent
period of wandering and persecution by Fortune culminates in a prayer for divine assistance, and
Psyche’s ascent from Hades is matched by Lucius’s own rebirth through his initiation into the
cult o f Isis.73 Finally, just as Psyche requires a psychopompos to lead her to the heavens, where
apotheosis and everlasting life are the rewards for her contrition, so too does Lucius’s
palingenesia require the guidance o f a mystagogue. After his transformation into human form, a
priest explains to Lucius that he is now beyond the reach o f Fate:
You have endured many different toils and been driven by Fortune’s great
tempests and mighty stormwinds; but finally, Lucius, you have reached the
harbor o f Peace and the altar of Mercy ... the blindness o f Fortune, while
torturing you with the worst o f perils, has brought you in its random wickedness
to this holy state o f happiness. Let her begone now! Let her rage in all her fury
and hunt some other object for her cruelty, for hostile chance has no opportunity
against those whose lives the majesty o f our goddess has emancipated into her
own servitude.74
The transcendence o f Fate of which the priest speaks is also confirmed by Isis herself.75
Moreover, she promises Lucius that eternal salvation awaits him after death: “when you have
completed your life’s span and travel down to the dead, there too ... you will find me ... shining
71 Walsh, Roman Novel, 190-193,220-222; Joseph G. DeFilippo, “Curiositas and the Platonism of
Apuleius’ Golden Ass,” American Journal o f Philology 111 (1990): 471-472,489-492; Kenny, “Psyche and
her Mysterious Husband,” 197-198; Edwards, “Tale of Cupid and Psyche,” 78.
72 Psyche’s curiosity: 5.6,23; 6.20; Lucius’s curiosity: 3.19; 9.12, 13; 11.15. The curiosity of both
Psyche and Lucius revolves around a deficient understanding of love: while Psyche marvels at the physical
features of Cupid, Lucius engages in an affair with the servant Photis as a way to access the magical rites of
her master. DeFilippo {“Curiositas,” 479-480) defines one important aspect of curiositas as
“meddlesomeness,” or “too many or inappropriate cares,” and traces it back to its Greek equivalents in
Plato and Plutarch.
73 11.23: Recalling his initiation, Lucius says, “I came to the boundary of death and, having
trodden the threshold of Proserpina, I traveled through all the elements and returned ... I came face to face
with the gods below and the gods above and paid reverence to them from close at hand.” See also 11.21:
“the act of initiation was performed in the manner of voluntary death and salvation.” A comparison
between Psyche’s descent and Lucius’s initiation is offered by Walsh, Roman Novel, 222-223.
74 11.15.
75 11.6: “I—and I alone—can ... prolong your life beyond the limits determined by your fate.”
See also Lucius’s prayer to Isis at 11.25.
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among the shades o f Acheron and holding court in the deep recesses o f the Styx, and while you
dwell in the Elysian Fields I will favor you and you will constantly worship me.”76 Although the
cosmology is Homeric, Apuleius is clearly describing the second half of the journey o f the soul
from its mundane origins to its post-mortem apotheosis. In addition to providing yet another
example o f the soul’s journey, the model found in the Metamorphoses will be important for its
structural affinity with schemes found in the Pauline corpus and the Gospel o f John.
By calling attention to the different approaches to soul in the Classical and Hellenistic
periods, this chapter has shown that the Platonic notion of the immortality remained only one
model among many and moreover, that its impact outside o f its philosophical circle was
negligible. N ot only do rival philosophical schools display a distinct lack o f interest in the
concept o f the journey o f the soul, but the psychology o f Aristotle and the Epicureans is
consciously directed against the idea that some essence within mankind enjoys both an ante- and
post-mortem existence. Aristotle’s interest in the function o f the entire living organism led him to
break with earlier commentators whose psychology did not sufficiently take into account the
intimate relationship between body and soul. By defining the soul as the form o f the body, he
argues that neither can exist in isolation because each needs the other in order for the living being
to function properly. Yet his discussion o f nous, while frustratingly enigmatic, did leave open the
possibility that some part of the individual survives death. With Epicurus, however, even this
limited notion of immortality is rejected. According to his philosophy, the living person is simply
a conglomeration of atoms that combine at conception and disperse after death. It is thus
impossible and foolish to imagine that this corporeal soul may have existed prior to joining the
body, or that it may experience sensation after it departs.
That Epicurus’s philosophy, which meant to free mankind from an irrational fear o f
death, filtered down to the level of popular thought can be seen in funeral inscriptions which
76 11.6. After his entrance into the cult of Isis, Lucius undergoes two more initiations, both of
which revolve around the figure of Osiris.
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adamantly deny the idea o f psychic continuity after death. Yet a more predominant theme on the
tombstones is the Homeric belief that at death the soul descends to the underworld, where it is
described by various poets in traditional Homeric terms. Many also hope for translation to the
Islands of the Blessed, which could be located either below the earth or in the heavens. An astral
ascent for the soul, which stems from Presocratic and Stoic physics, becomes especially popular
by the fifth century, and acts as an alternative to Homer’s eschatology. In contrast to such
common formulations, only a minority, mainly from the late Hellenistic period, evince traces of
Plato’s belief in the immortal soul. While epigraphy thus proves that Plato’s psyche had not
supplanted previous theories, Apuleius’s Metamorphoses provides a popular example of how the
late ancient world could envision a participation in the second half o f the journey o f the soul. The
story of Cupid and Psyche recounts the soul’s capacity to shed its mortality and, after a spiritual
regeneration, attain divinity. Lucius follows this model for salvation throughout the
Metamorphoses, and the final book shows that initiation into the cult o f Isis offers both a
transcendence of Fate in this world and an eternal blessedness after death, concepts which
Christianity will also claim in its articulation of the soul’s journey.
PART in
CHAPTER 1
ZOROASTRIANISM
The goal o f the previous section was to trace the emergence o f the concept of the soul
and present the ways in which its journey was articulated. While this investigation has uncovered
a structural framework that could easily be altered to support a writer’s particular religious or
philosophical outlook, the malleability o f the concept o f the soul’s journey nevertheless does not
account for all o f the nuances that appear in the discourse o f early Christianity. In particular, the
literature o f Greece and Rome lacks the developed eschatological framework that figures
prominently in the religious traditions of Zoroastrianism and Second Temple Judaism.1 It is thus
necessary to introduce a second trajectory that will account for these aspects in the early Christian
texts discussed in Part IV. Beginning with a survey o f Zoroastrian cosmology, this chapter will
show that the fundamental characteristic o f ancient Iranian thought is a sharp cosmic dualism:
good and evil divinities are in a state o f constant strife. Since the conflict that ensues between
these hostile forces leads to the creation o f the universe and humanity, the battlefield moves to the
mundane world. Consequently, individuals are active participants in an eschatological war that
will eventually conclude a final judgment in which righteousness will finally destroy evil and
reconstitute the original, perfect cosmos.
Because the cosmic war plays itself out in the world, human beings are also active
participants. Therefore the second section will address humanity’s role in the world through an
1For Zoroastrianism’s influence on Archaic and Classical Greece, see Part I, chapter 1, section
three.
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188
investigation into Zoroastrian ethics, soteriology, and the concept o f the soul’s journey. It will he
shown that doing good works in this life signifies that the individual is allied with the forces of
good and thus will pass through both the initial judgment after death and the final judgment at the
end o f cosmic history. Thereafter, Ahura Mazda will reinvest the person with his or her purified,
material body in order to enjoy an unending bliss on the recreated earth. When this framework is
imposed upon the history o f the concept o f soul, it becomes apparent that Zoroastrianism works
with the idea of a full journey, although it is the second half that receives the most attention.
With an emphasis on the return of the material body, however, it is clear that the journey does not
follow the Greco-Roman model. This observation will be helpful for tracing Jewish and
Christian eschatology in the following chapters. Finally, section three will conclude with a brief
survey of Zurvanism, a Zoroastrian heresy that develops a cosmology in which the highest God is
beyond being and the created world is governed by inimical forces. These ideas, which filter into
the discourse of Judaism and Christianity in varying degrees, ultimately provide the deep
background for the authors o f the “Two Spirits” treatise from Qumran and the Apocryphon o f
John.
I. Divinities, the World, and Eschatology
Divinities
WTiile consensus has yet to be reached on many questions fundamental to ancient
Zoroastrianism,2 scholars generally accept that Zoroaster and his followers infused ancient pre
2 Debated topics include the degree to which the Avesta preserves ancient Zoroastrian thought; the
dating of Zoroaster; and Zoroastrianism’s basic theological approach (monotheistic or dualistic). Along
with Mary Boyce, Gherardo Gnoli, and others, this chapter will assume that the “Younger Avesta”
preserves the religious tenor of the Achemenid period, and that Zoroaster probably lived sometime in the
early second millennium. On Zoroastrian primary sources, see M. Schwartz, “The Religion of
Achaemenian Iran,” in The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 2, ed. Ilya Gershevitch (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1985), 664-667. On Zoroaster’s dates, see, Mary Boyce, A History o f Zoroastrianism,
vol. 1 (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1975), 3, 190; idem, “Persian Religion in the Achemenid Age,” in The Cambridge
History o f Judaism, vol. 1, eds. W.D. Davies and Louis Finkelstein (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1984), 279-281; Peter Kingsley, “The Greek Origin of the Sixth-Century Dating of Zoroaster,”
Bulletin o f the School o f Oriental and African Studies 53 (1990): 245-265; S.A. Nigosian, The Zoroastrian
Faith: Tradition and Modern Research (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1993), 15-16. On the
question on monotheism or dualism in Zoroastrianism, see Boyd and Crosby, “Is Zoroastrianism Dualistic
189
existing Indo-Iranian beliefs with a new significance rather than creating a religion ex nihilio?
The core of this revaluation centers on Zoroaster’s doctrine of cosmological dualism. Ahura
Mazda (“Wise Lord”), who had previously been one o f three great Indo-Iranian “Lords,” is
elevated by Zoroaster to the highest position in the pantheon. According to the prophet, this god
is uncreated, eternal, and the supreme force of goodness.4 Yet Ahura Mazda does not exist in
isolation: Zoroaster also recognized the activity o f another uncreated, primordial deity, Angra
Mainyu (“Hostile Spirit”), in order to account for the evil in the world. According to the Gathas,
Zoroaster perceived this relationship as one of direct opposition: “Now these two spirits, which
are twins, revealed themselves at first in a vision. Their two ways o f thinking, speaking, and
acting were the better and the bad ... O f the two spirits, the one who follows drug [deceit,
falsehood] chose doing the worst things, the Most Bounteous Spirit [Spenta Mainyu] who is clad
in the hardest stones [i.e. the sky] chose asa [truth, order].”5 Elsewhere, the prophet exclaims,
“Then shall I speak of the two primal spirits of existence, o f whom the Very Holy thus spoke to
the Evil One [Angra Mainyu]: ‘Neither our thoughts nor teachings nor wills, neither our choices
nor words nor acts, not our inner selves nor our souls agree.’”6
or Monotheistic?” 557-588. This chapter will also assume that the dichotomy of monotheism and dualism
does not adequately frame the question of Zoroastrian belief. As Gherardo Gnoli (“Zoroastrianism,” in
Encyclopedia o f Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade [New York: MacMillian Publishing Company, 1989], 131)
recognizes, both ideas can appear simultaneously, because monotheism’s opposite is not dualism but
polytheism.
3 The Indo-Iranians appear to have possessed a well-developed religious and cosmological
tradition before the time of Zoroaster (Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 130-131, 192; Ehsan
Yarshater, “Iranian Common Beliefs and World-View,” in The Cambridge History o f Iran, vol. 3.1, ed.
idem [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983], 343-358). For other observations on the survival of
early thought in Zoroastrianism, see G. Widengren, “Life after Death: Eschatological Ideas in Indian and
Iranian Religion,” Expository Times 16 (1965): 364; Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 3-177, 224-
225; Schwartz, “Religion of Achaemenian Iran,” 679; Gnoli, “Zoroastrianism,” 128-132; Nigosian,
Zoroastrian Faith, 18.
4 Recalling his revelatory experiences, Zoroaster states, “I recognized you as bounteous, Mazda
Ahura, when I saw you as primal at the birth of life” (Y. 43.5); and “I recognized you, Mazda, in (my)
thought as being the beginning and the end” (Y. 31.8) (trans. Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1,
197). For other descriptions of Ahura Mazda, see also Y. 4.7; 29.4; 31.13; Yt. 1.7-8, 12-14.
5 Y. 30.3, 5 (trans. Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 192-193). For other hymns that
equate Ahura Mazda with Spenta Mainyu, see Y. 33.12; 43.2; 44.7; 51.7.
6 Y. 45.2 (trans. Mary Boyce, Textual Sourcesfor the Study o f Zoroastrianism [Totowa, NJ:
Barnes and Noble Books, 1984], 36). This verse is the only one in the Gathas that contains the name
Angra Mainyu. See also Bd. 5.1-3 for the contrast between the two spirits. For a discussion of Zoroastrian
dualism, see Nigosian, Zoroastrian Faith, 88-89.
190
The polar opposition inherent in the relationship between Ahura Mazda and Angra
Mainyu extends throughout the divine realm. In his role as creator, Ahura Mazda emanated six
lower divinities known as Amesa Spentas (“Bounteous Immortals”).7 By describing this creation
as a “mingling” o f divine powers and comparing it with the lighting o f one torch from another,8
later writers seem to have captured Zoroaster’s own understanding o f the intimate relationship
between Ahura Mazda and these deities, for throughout the Gathas the Amesa Spentas appear to
be aspects or powers o f the one high god: Zoroaster asks for Ahura Mazda to reveal himself as
Vohu Manah, praises him as Asa, and states that Khsathra has been in his possession from the
beginning.9 Yet at the same time, when Zoroaster asks for mercy from “Ahura Mazda, Armaiti,
Asa ... Vohu Manah, [and] Khsathra” and appeals to “Ahura Mazda and his Lords,” they appear
to be recognized as independent deities worthy of reverence in their own regard.10 According to
later tradition, Ahura Mazda, through this heptad, hypostasized another group o f lesser divine
beings called yazatas, or those “worthy o f worship.” These innumerable spirits can be related to
either the celestial or terrestrial spheres, and as names such as Atar (“Fire”), Asi (“Piety”), and
Sraosa (“Obedience”) suggest, they possess a close relationship with the created realm.11 Like
their immediate superiors, these spirits seek to further Ahura Mazda’s asa.
The establishment o f justice is checked, however, by the creative activity o f Angra
Mainyu. If Ahura Mazda is responsible for “life,” Angra Mainyu creates its opposite, “not-Iife”
7 Bd 1.35, 53. The six AmeSa Spentas, listed in Y. 47.1, are Vohu Manah (“Good Thought”), A§a
VahiSta (“Best Righteousness”), KhSathra Vairya (“Desirable Dominion”), Spenta Armaiti (“Bounteous
Devotion”), Haurvatat (“Wholeness” or “Health”), and Ameretat (“Immortality” or “Life”). For analysis,
see Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. I, 202-212; Gnoli, “Zoroastrianism,” 133-134; Schwartz,
“Religion of Achaemenian Iran,” 668-670; Maneckji Nusservanji Dhalla, History o f Zoroastrianism
(Bombay: The K.R. Cama Oriental Institute, 1985), 39-67, 162-172.
8 See Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. I, 194-195.
9 Y. 50.6, 8-9, 11; 51.2, 6, 7; see also Y. 43.11, 13, 15; 48.6.
10Y. 33.11; 30.9; 31.4; see also Y. 31.8, where Ahura Mazda is the “father of Vohu Manah” and
“the creator of ASa.” See also 33.8; 34.3; 50.7. Zoroaster also uses both the first person singular and plural
to refer to Ahura Mazda, a point which underscores the intimacy between this deity and the AmeSa Spentas
(see Boyce, Textual Sources, 12).
11 Y.65.12, 14; Yt. 6.1. Like the AmeSa Spentas, the yazatas are described both as abstract
concepts and as independent beings, and they too consist of ancient Indo-Iranian deities (Boyce, History of
Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 225). In a broader sense, yazata can refer collectively to all of the good deities. For
a general introduction, see Dhalla, History o f Zoroastrianism, 173-231; Nigosian, Zoroastrian Faith, 80-82.
191
(i.e. death).12 First, he emanates six archdemons o f wickedness to counter the goodness o f the
Amesa Spentas. The main characteristic o f each archdemon directly opposes that o f a Bounteous
Immortal: for instance, Aka Manah (“Evil Thought”) stands in opposition to the good intentions
of Vohu Manah.13 Like their counterparts on Ahura Mazda’s side, they too are responsible for
emanating innumerable lower divinities, known as daevas}4 Together with the archdemons,
these maleficent spirits act as agents o f Angra Mainyu and attempt to destroy Ahura Mazda’s
good creations by manufacturing discord and increasing the level o f drug in the world.IS
The World
Zoroastrianism thus poses a sharp cosmic dualism, and the arena in which this divine
battle between good and evil takes place is the created world.16 The world itself was created,
Zoroaster taught, by Ahura Mazda’s cognitive abilities together with the help o f his divine
allies.17 In Yasna 44, the prophet credits Ahura Mazda with regulating the heavenly bodies,
establishing the earth and sky in their respective places, and determining the periods o f light and
darkness. Later Zoroastrian texts, drawing upon ancient Iranian cosmology, explain the
formation o f the world as occurring in six (or seven)18 stages: while Ahura Mazda initiates and
directs the cosmogonical process, he also has help from the six Amesa Spentas and accords each
12Y. 30.4.
13 Bd. 1.47-49, 55: “The Evil Spirit shaped his creation from the substance of darkness, that which
was his own self... first he created the essence of the devs” (trans. Boyce, Textual Sources, 47). See also
Nigosian, Zoroastrian Faith, 86-87.
14 Y. 27.1; 57.17; Yt. 9.4; 19.18; Bd. 28.12-46. The Gdthas are inconsistent in their description of
the daevas. On the one hand they imply that Angra Mainyu hypostasized them (they are “of the race of evil
purpose” in Y. 32.3); on the other hand their inclination for evil emerged from an act of free choice (“The
daevas chose not rightly” in Y. 30.6). Although daeva (“Shining One”) was originally used to designate a
divine being, Zoroastrianism regarded them as malicious spirits that should not be venerated. On Iranian
and Zoroastrian demons, see Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 85-108, 251-253; Yarshater,
“Iranian Common Beliefs,” 347-349; “Schwartz, “Religion of Achaemenian Iran,” 678-684; Dhalla,
History o f Zoroastrianism, 90-95, 261-277; Nigosian, Zoroastrian Faith, 87-88.
15Yt. 10.50; 13.57; Vd. 18.54-55; 19.3.
16Gherardo Gnoli, “L’Evolution de Dualisme Iranien et le Probteme Zurvanite,” Revue de
I'Histoire des Religions 201 (1984): 115-138.
17Y. 31.11: “You, O Mazda, created for us in the beginning by your thought (manah) material
objects and consciences” (trans. Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. I, 195).
18 Fire is added as the seventh stage in the BundahiSn, but it does not appear in the most ancient
sources according to Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 141.
192
with guardianship over one aspect o f creation.19 Given a “spiritual” (menog) existence first, each
stage o f creation thereafter becomes perfected by assuming a “material” {geiig) form.20 Thus, in
its primal condition, the cosmos is a perfect combination o f these two distinct essences.21 After
shaping the first three—sky, water, and earth—Ahura Mazda then initiated the creation of the
prototypical plant, animal, and human.22 According to tradition, however, after Angra Mainyu
emerged from a state of temporary disability, he invaded this perfect world, destroying in the
process all three of these living creations.23 Yet as the purpose o f the myth is to explain the
diversity o f life on earth, the death o f these primordial creations initiates the emergence o f all
other living beings.
If the cosmogonic myth provides an explanation for the origin o f living beings, it also
seeks to make sense out of a world that, by all appearances, is tainted with evil. For in addition to
killing the primal beings, Angra Mainyu generally disrupts the relationship between the present
world and Ahura Mazda by infecting the latter’s wholly good creation.24 In the Gathas Zoroaster
constantly refers to the pervasiveness of demonic forces or “false gods,” and recognizes their
ability to influence and harm mankind: by deliberately choosing evil, the daevas actively seek “to
join themselves unto Fury (so) that they might by it deprave the existence o f man.”25 According
19Yt. 19.16-18; see also Bd. la. 1-13; 3.11-19. The description of this cosmogony, which evinces
a three-story framework similar to other cultures of the second and early first millenium, is outlined by
Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. I, 130-146. For a depiction of the ancient Iranian cosmos and a list
of the AmeSa Spentas and their role in creation, see Boyce, Textual Sources, 10-17.
20 In the BundahiSn (1.59), the spiritual creation is compared to motherhood and the material
creation to fatherhood. See also S. Shaked, “The Notions menog and geiig in the Pahlavi Texts and Their
Relation to Eschatology,” Acta Orientalia 33 (1971): 65-66.
21 Although Zoroaster made a distinction between the spiritual and material (Y. 28.2,4; 30.7;
31.11), the latter was not evil but rather a perfection of the former state. This will have important
implications for the journey of the soul, as the next section will address.
22 The plant “grew in the middle of the earth ... without branch or bark or thorn, moist and sweet”;
the animal (the “Uniquely-Created Bull”) “was white and bright like the moon”; and the human (Gayo-
maretan) was “bright as die sun” (Bd. la.l 1-13).
23 Bd. 4.10-28; 6e.l-3; 7.5-6; 14.5-6; 16.4.
24 Because Angra Mainyu and his compatriots cannot create material beings, they can only work
through creatures in a parasitical fashion. See S. Shaked, “Some Notes on Ahreman, the Evil Spirit, and
His Creation,” in Studies in Mysticism and Religion: Presented to Gershom G. Scholem on his Seventieth
Birthday, eds. E.E. Urbach, R.J. Zwi Werblowsky, and Ch. Wirszubski (Jerusalem: At the Magnes Press,
1967), 227-234.
25 Y. 30.6 (trans. Jacques Duchesne-Guillemin, The Hymns ofZarathustra, trans. M. Henning
[London: John Murray Publishers, 1952], 105). See also Y. 29.4; 32.4; 34.5; 44.20; 45.11; 48.1.
193
to the prophet, those influenced by these demons undermine the truth or righteousness {asa) o f
Ahura Mazda; it is against these enemies that Zoroaster continually fought.26
Eschatology
Later meditations on Angra Mainyu’s actions in the world led Zoroastrianism to
distinguish between two distinct periods o f time, boundless and limited.27 Each o f these periods
is further subdivided into two stages. Boundless time, which tradition claims has neither
beginning nor end, occurs both before and after the events o f cosmic history. In the interim,
Ahura Mazda introduces limited or finite time, a period which the god, through his omniscience,
knew was necessary in order to permanently defeat Angra Mainyu.28 According to tradition, he
thus persuaded the evil spirit to set the duration o f finite time at 12,000 years.29 The first half of
this age saw Ahura Mazda produce the spiritual or menog world alone (1-3,000), and thereafter
the material or getig creation (3,000-6,000). The second half o f this initial stage is known as
Bimdahisn (“Creation”). The entrance of Angra Mainyu into this idyllic world constitutes the
second half of limited time. Referred to either as Gumezisn (“Mixture”) or the “Long Dominion,”
this period is marked by the destruction o f the three primal beings as well as the general
contamination or pollution of the Wise Lord’s perfect menog and geiig world.30 Because of his
jealousy, the Evil Spirit first pierced the sky and, after entering the material world, he transformed
its radiant light into darkness. Rushing upon all the creations “like a fly,” Angra Mainyu killed
26 See, for instance, Y. 43.8: ‘“ I am Zarathustra, first, a true enemy to the wicked with all my
might, but a powerful support for the righteous, so that I may attain the future blessings of the absolute
Dominion by praising and singing thee, O Wise One’” (trans. Duchesne-Guillemin, Hymns, 135). See also
31.18; 32.4-5, 11, 16; 48.7; 49; 51.8, 10.
27 On this subject, see Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 229-233; Boyd and Crosby, “Is
Zoroastrianism Dualistic or Monotheistic?” 575-577; Yarshater, “Iranian Common Beliefs,” 353-355;
Gnoli, “Zoroastrianism,” 136-137.
28 Bd. 1.24-25.
29 Bd. 1.26-27, 41-42.
30 Prior to this assault, the cosmos was perfectly static and Ahura Mazda and the AmeSa Spentas
engaged in perpetual “worship” (yasna) (Bd. 3.21-23).
194
the primordial creations and made the water bitter, the earth a house for “noxious creatures,” and
fire impure by mingling into it smoke and darkness.31
Although corruptibility characterizes the present age, Zoroastrianism nevertheless looks
forward to the culmination o f cosmic history with the annihilation o f evil and the restoration of
the perfect spiritual and material condition o f the period o f Creation. This moment, called Fraso-
kereti (“Making Wonderful”), thus initiates the second period of boundless time, Wizccrisn
(“Separation”). This state of purity can only be re-attained, however, after three “saviors”
(saosyants) appear during the final three thousand years o f limited time.32 According to later
tradition, Zoroaster received his revelation from Ahura Mazda in year 9,000, the beginning o f the
final stage o f Mixture. His seed, however, was preserved and guarded in a lake, where, at the
beginning of each of the last three millennia, a virgin would bathe, become impregnated, and give
birth to a savior.33 Each saosyant will thus contribute to the furthering o f righteousness and,
ultimately, Fraso-kereti?4 The first, Ukhsyat-ereta (“He who Makes Righteousness Grow”), will
restore Zoroaster’s message, destroy wicked animals, and briefly return the world to its original
state of purity. After his death corruption regains hold on the world, but the second savior,
Ukhsyat-nemah (“He who Makes Reverence Grow”), will establish perfection for an even longer
period then his brother. After evil once again increases during this millenium, the third savior,
known either as Astvat-ereta (“He who Embodies Righteousness”) or simply Saosyant, will
31 Bd. 4.10-28.
32 The concept of the savior, which exists in a rudimentary form in the Gathas, reaches its most
complex expression in the literature from the Achemenid and Pahlavi periods. Zoroaster appears not to
have thought that the Fraso-kereti would occur in his lifetime, and his use of saosyant, while possibly
referring to himself on a few occasions (Y. 45.11; 48.9; 53.2) tends more generally to denote one or more
future leaders who will work toward the restoration (Y. 46.3; 48.12; see also 30.9; 43.3). On Zoroaster’s
ideas and the development in later texts, particularly YaSt 19.10-11, 88-96; Bd. 30; 32.5-9; Yt. 13.128, 141-
142; Zand i Vahman Yast, and the Jamasp Namag, see Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1,234-235;
277-293; John R. Hinnells, “Zoroastrian Savior Imagery and Its Influence on the New Testament,” Numen
16 (1969): 163-173; Sven S. Hartman, “Datierung der jungavestischen Apokalyptik,” in Apocalypticism in
the Mediterranean World and the Near East: Proceedings o f the International Colloquium on
Apocalypticism, Uppsala, August 12-17, 1979, ed. David Hellholm (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1983), 66-67;
Yarshater, “Iranian Common Beliefs,” 355-357; Gnoli, “Zoroastrianism,” 138-139; Nigosian, Zoroastrian
Faith, 93-94.
33 Bd. 33.37; 35.60; Dk. 7.8. This myth, with its complicated history, is discussed in Boyce,
History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1,281-285.
34 See, for instance, Bd. 33. For analysis, see Boyce, History of Zoroastrianism, vol. 1,287-291.
195
drive the Drug out from the World o f Asa ... he will gaze ... upon the whole
corporeal world, and heedfully will he make the whole corporeal world undying
... Before them [his comrades] will flee Wrath ... Asa will conquer the wicked
Drug ... Aka Manah will also be overcome ... Angra Mainyu doing evil works
will flee, bereft o f power.3S
After reinstituting Zoroaster’s teachings, then, this saosyant will initiate a final cosmic battle
between the forces o f good and evil. When the all o f the good deities defeat their demonic
counterparts, Fraso-kereti and the permanent separation o f good and evil will be realized.
The Zoroastrian construction o f temporal divisions is important for a number o f reasons.
First, the notion o f apocalyptic eschatology, which is already apparent in the Gathas?6 represents
a unique moment in the history of ideas. As Mary Boyce has observed, the belief in an end to
cosmic history “has not been traced anywhere in the world before it was taught by Zoroaster; it
ran counter to the ideas about time to be found in Hellenistic philosophical and semi-
philosophical texts.”37 In contrast to the monistic belief that the world will exist forever,
Zoroaster’s teachings are important for the history o f ideas because they introduce a linear
conception o f history, whose “end” culminates in an unlimited period of paradise. It is this
structure that provides the framework for the apocalyptic current in Second Temple Judaism and
early Christianity.38 Second, Zoroastrian Heilsgeschichte does not lead to a dissolution of the
cosmos. Rather, the end of historical time inaugurates a return to the paradisiacal state of purity
on this earth. Finally, while Zoroastrianism recognizes a distinction between spiritual and
material conditions, this restoration does not exclude the latter. In contrast to the Greco-Roman
tradition, then, materiality does not bear any negative connotations. As the creations of Ahura
Mazda, both menog and getig components are given a place in the reconstituted world of
perfection.39
35 Yt. 19.92-96 (trans. Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 282-283).

36 Zoroaster alludes to this final cosmic battle in Y. 44.15; 48.1.
37 Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 3, 364.
38 The degree to which Zoroastrianism acts as the source for Jewish and Christian writings has
been the source of lively debate, mainly because of the difficulty involved in dating the Persian texts. For a
discussion of scholarly opinions on this issue, see Part I, chapter 1, section three.
39 See Gnoli, “L’Evolution du Dualisme,” 120, 123.
196
n . Ethics, Soteriology, and the Journey of the Soul
Ethics
Zoroastrianism teaches that warring spirits engaged in battle in the world o f creation.
More specifically, this faith holds the human being to be the field in which this struggle ensues:
good and evil spirits fight for the souls o f mankind, and followers o f each path battle one
another.40 It is thus not surprising that Zoroastrian literature devotes much attention to showing
how the individual can escape from the snares o f the wicked and attain salvation.
The most fundamental point in this regard is that Zoroastrianism emphasizes the freedom
to choose either good or evil. Just as Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu had the option to follow
the path o f asa or drug?1 so too does every person. As Zoroaster states, “Now these two spirits,
which are twins, revealed themselves at first in a vision. Their two ways o f thinking, speaking,
and acting were the better and the bad. Between these two (ways) the wise choose rightly, fools
not so.”42 While the presence of the evil spirit in the world makes choosing the correct path
difficult, Zoroastrianism provides mankind with hope by asserting that Ahura Mazda has
endowed them with a special capacity to respond to his beneficence. Indeed, as the fashioner and
overseer o f mankind, the Wise Lord shares with his creation a unique intellectual ability not
found in other creatures.43 Thus, human beings are thought to possess an “innate understanding”
and a “heavenly wisdom” that naturally inclines them toward goodness.44 As Zoroaster himself
proclaims, “Through the mind, O wise One, I have known you as the first and the last.”45
40 Y. 46.7: “Who, O Wise One, shall be sent as a protector to such as I am, if the evil one seeks to
do me harm? Who but your fire and your mind, O Lord, whose acts shall bring Righteousness to
maturity?” (trans. Duchesne-Guillemin, Hymns, 77). See also nn. 25, 26.
41 See Y. 30.5; 32.2; 45.1.
42 Y. 30.3 (trans. Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 192-193). Y. 31-32 also address the
theme of the choice between good and evil.
43 Y. 31.11: by his mind, Ahura Mazda “at the first created for us ... beings and consciences and
wills” (trans. Duchesne-Guillemin, Hymns, 113). See also Y. 46.6; 50.6.
44 Y. 25.6; Yt. 10.107. The intellectual relationship between Ahura Mazda and mankind is
emphasized by Boyd and Crosby, “Is Zoroastrianism Dualistic or Monotheistic?” 579-580. On the
distinction between innate and learned wisdom, see James Darmesteter, The Zend-Avesta, Sacred Books of
the East, vol. 23 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1883), 4, n. 5.
45 Y. 31.8 (trans. Duchesne-Guillemin, Hymns, 111). Zoroaster repeatedly asks for and receives
blessings from Ahura Mazda as Good Mind (Vohu Manah), and envisions the work of future saviors who
197
Zoroastrianism recognizes, of course, that the intellect can be swayed by the daevas and
choose evil over good.46 Yet for the asavan, the one who accepts the message o f Ahura Mazda
and his prophet,47 a distinct ethic arises. The most fundamental aspect in this regard centers on
correct understanding o f the divine realm. In Yasna 12, a hymn that has been called a
“confession o f faith,” the adherent states, “I forswear the company o f the wicked daevas, the not-
good, lawless, evil-working, the most drug-Wks o f beings ... the company o f daevas and the
followers o f daevas ... Truly I foreswear the company o f (all) this as belonging to the drug, as
defiant (of the good).”48 This unequivocal repudiation o f the daevas marks a sharp diversion
from the traditional Indo-Iranian practice, for while the ancient custom had accepted the
propitiation o f these divinities in order to allay their propensity for evil, Zoroaster taught that
these spirits were demonic and that their worship signaled the acceptance and perpetuation o f
falsehood.49 In conjunction with this negative tenet, however, the hymn displays an equally
unambiguous affirmation o f the powers of goodness: “I profess myself a Mazda-worshipper, a
Zoroastrian ... accepting the Ahuric doctrine; one who praises the Amesa Spentas, who worships
the Amesa Spentas.”50 Continuing, the hymn establishes a connection between the Bounteous
Immortals and the votary: just as these divine beings, in choosing goodness, are instrumental in
“bringing about reality,” so too does the Zoroastrian, through his own thoughts, words, and deeds,
follow in their footsteps.51
By concluding with a call for proper conduct, this hymn alludes to the significance of
ritual activity. This aspect o f Zoroastrianism can be traced back to the Gathas, where Zoroaster
repeatedly stresses the importance of speaking and acting correctly: he implores Ahura Mazda to
defend asa through their intimate relationship with divine thought (see Y. 33.8-10; 45.6; 46.7; 48.12; 49.12;
50.6; 51.7).
46 For Zoroaster’s struggles with others and his uncertainty about the final outcome of the battle
between the good and evil, see Y. 31.17; 32.13-14; 46.1-11; 49; 51.12. In contrast to the faithful, the evil
ones share no part in Good Mind (Y. 34.8-9; see also Y. 44.13; 47.5).
47Asavan literally means “one who possesses asa."
48 Y. 12.4 (trans. Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1,253-254).
49 Seen. 15.
50 Y. 12.1 (trans. Boyce, History of Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 253).
51 Y. 12.8: “I pledge myself to the well-thought thought. I pledge myself to the well-spoken word.
I pledge myself to the well-performed act” (trans. Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1,254).
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ensure that his prayers and hymns are well-spoken, and notes that all o f his actions are meant to
emphasize his divine glory.52 More practically, the prophet views such behavior as an effective
agent in the struggle against the demonic forces. Indeed, he maintains that sacrifices {yasna) can
benefit the votary after death, and resolutely asserts the efficacy of appealing to Ahura Mazda: “I
who by my prayer will keep from you, O Wise One, disobedience and Bad Mind, discord from
the family, from the village the evil that is very near, the oppressors from the tribe, and from the
herd’s pasture the worst steward.”53
In addition to recognizing the power contained in individual words and deeds, Yasna 12
also intimates a continuity between the human being, the Amesa Spentas, and their creation. In a
ritual setting, this relationship assumes that sacrifices can benefit the present world and its
inhabitants. Building upon the ancient Iranian practice o f including an element from each of the
seven stages of creation, Zoroastrianism asserts that, along with its material aspect, each o f these
elements also represent a virtue toward which every person should strive to internalize.
Moreover, the faith argues that by approaching this ritual from the position of moral purity, the
individual can further the asa that the Bounteous Immortals had originally established.54 Thus,
the Vendidad, a Younger Avestan text devoted to anti-demonic laws and practices, records a
conversation between Angra Mainyu and Zoroaster in which the latter asserts that the sacrificial
rite will repulse evil; and in an earlier section the same book argues that the asavan possesses
superhuman powers that enable him to purify both earthly and heavenly things.55
52 Y. 34:15: “Make known to me, O wise One, the best words and deeds and, as Good Mind and
Righteousness, the prayer of praise”; Y. 51.21-22: “Holy is the man of Devotion; through thoughts and
words and deed. And through his conscience he increases Righteousness ... I know that my greatest good
is to worship the Wise Lord” (trans. Duchesne-Guillemin, Hymns, 47, 149). See also Y. 34.1-3; 45.8-10;
48.9, 12; 50.6, 9-10.
53 Y. 49.10; Y. 33.4 (trans. Duchesne-Guillemin, Hymns, 51). See also Yt. 19.81.
54 Boyd and Crosby, “Is Zoroastrianism Dualistic or Monotheistic?” 577. For Iranian and
Zoroastrian ritual practices and beliefs, see Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 147-177, 219-222.
55 Vd. 19.9: “The sacred mortar, the sacred cups, the Haoma, the Word taught by Ahura Mazda,
these are my weapons, my best weapons! By this Word I will strike, by this Word I will repel, by this
weapon will the good creatures (strike and repel you), O evil-doer, Angra Mainyu” (trans. James
Darmesteter, The Zend-Avesta, Sacred Books of the East, vol. 4 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1895), 212; Vd.
11.2: through the prayers of the asavan, “purified will be the houses ... the fire ... the water ... the earth ...
the cow ... the plants ... the righteous man ... the righteous woman ... the stars ... the moon ... the sun ...
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Soteriology
A corollary to Zoroastrianism’s efforts to cultivate goodness in the world is its emphasis
on actively seeking to destroy evil and anyone who becomes allied with drug. This teaching
stems from the prophet’s words in the Gathas: “He who by word or thought or hands works evil
to the wicked one, or he who converts his clansman to the good, they please the Lord and fulfill
his will.”56 Behind this thought lies the belief that participation in the destruction o f evil can
expedite Fraso-kereti and the reestablishment o f the original menog and geiig world o f Ahura
Mazda and the Amesa Spentas. It is here, then, that ethics converges with soteriology.
In its developed form,57 the Zoroastrian doctrine o f salvation teaches that on the fourth
day after death, the “soul” (urvan) separates from the body and ascends to the Chinvat Bridge,
one end of which rests at the top of Mt. Hara, the highest and centermost point on the earth.58
Before the bridge the soul meets both its own “image” (daena) and three yazatas, who,
embodying the qualities of prayer and judgment, determine the quality o f its moral worth while in
the world. If the sum of its actions, words, and thoughts prove praiseworthy, the soul’s daena
transforms itself into a beautiful young woman and leads it across the bridge into paradise, where
it travels to the “golden seat of Ahura Mazda.” and exists in the “undecaying world” of the
the Endless Light... all Mazda-created things whose nature is from asd' (trans. Boyce, History of
Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 301).
56 Y. 33.2 (trans. Duchesne-Guillemin, Hymns, 49). See also Y. 43.15; 44.11, 13-14; 47.4; Yt.
24.24-28. From this precept, Zoroastrianism concludes that manifestations of evil should be eliminated.
Therefore, it became laudable to destroy all creatures that are harmful to mankind. Known as khrafstra,
these creatures include the wolf, lion, locust, spider, and snake (see Vd. 14.5-6). On the Indo-Iranian
background to this idea and the Zoroastrian adaptation, see Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 90-
91; 298-300.
57 Although the Gathas do not provide a full discussion of salvation, nothing in it contradicts the
information in later literature, as observed by Widengren, “Life after Death,” 366; Gnoli, “Zoroastrianism,”
137-138. For an introduction to Zoroastrian soteriology, see Dhalla, History o f Zoroastrianism, 102-107;
Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1,235-246; Nigosian, Zoroastrian Faith, 91-92.
58Vd. 19.30; Bd. 12.7-8; Menog fKhrad2A\Q-\ 15. Zoroastrianism teaches that the other end of
the bridge extends to paradise in the heavens, although earlier Iranian belief, which imagined the soul to
descend underground after death, may have thought of the Chinvat Bridge as a passageway over
subterranean waters. See Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 117.
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divine.59 If, on the other hand, its judgment is unfavorable because o f its evil actions, words, and
thoughts, the bridge narrows to the width o f a razor and the daena, now in the form o f an ugly old
women, clutches the soul and descends with it to hell. There the soul exists in darkness and
encounters innumerable torments.60 Zoroastrianism also recognizes a third group o f souls, those
in whom good and evil are equal. These souls are transported to an intermediate place between
heaven and earth where they experience neither joy nor suffering.61
This individual judgment prefigures the Final Judgment that occurs at the end o f the age
o f Mixture. At this time, according to tradition, Ahura Mazda will refashion every soul’s body
and lead it through a judgment o f fire. Alluded to already in the Gathas,62 the Bundahisn
provides a fuller description of this ordeal:
fire and halo [Airyaman] [will] melt the metal ... in the hills and mountains, and
it remains on this earth like a river. Then all men will pass into that melted metal
and will become pure; when one is righteous, then it seems to him just as though
he walks continually in warm milk; but when wicked, then it seems to him ... as
though, in the world [in the flesh],63 he walks continually in melted metal.64
After this judgment, which marks an end for the wicked, the fire descends to hell, where it
permanently annihilates evil. Thereafter, the righteous, consisting o f both body and soul,
experience a blessed immortality as Ahura Mazda transforms the world back to its original menog
and getig form and reestablishes boundless time.65
59 Vd. 19.29-34; Yt. 22.1-18; Arda Viraz Namag7-\2, 14-15; Menog i Khrad2A23-l26. See also
Y. 46.10. Zoroaster describes paradise as the “house” of Ahura Mazda, where the soul will exist in glory,
in union with the AmeSa Spentas (Y. 49.10; 31.20-21). On the ambiguity of the word daena, see Boyce,
History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 237-239.
60 Y. 46.11: the evil ones “shall be tortured by their own soul and their own conscience when they
come to the Bridge of the Separator, for ever to be inmates of the house of Evil” (trans. Duchesne-
Guillemin, Hymns, 79). See also Y. 30.10-11; 31.20; 32.13; 49.11; 51.13; Yt. 22.19-36; Arda Viraz Namag
53-58; Menog CKhrad2.158-178.
61 Arda Viraz Namag 6A.
62 Reference to a final judgment: Y. 31.14; 51.7; ordeal by fire: Y. 30.7; 31.19; 32.7; 51.9. See
also n. 36.
63 See Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 242.
64 Bd. 30.17-20 (trans. E.W. West, Pahlavi Texts, Sacred Books of the East, vol. 5 [Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1880], 125-126).
65 Bd. 30.29-30. Yt. 19.11 describes this moment as the time when the world will “never grow old
and never die, never decaying and never rotting, ever living and ever increasing ... when the dead will rise,
when life and immortality will come, and the world will be restored at his [Ahura Mazda’s] wish.” Yt. 19
is Achemenian, but the problem of dating the doctrine of the resurrected body in Zoroastrian and
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The Journey o f the Soul
Zoroastrian soteriology thus envisions the soul’s participation in the second half of the
journey, although, in contrast to Greco-Roman thought, its post-mortem abode is only temporary.
Because o f the religion’s cosmogony and eschatology, it cannot imagine that the soul, stripped of
its material covering, exists in its most blessed state. On the contrary, when limited time ends and
the perfection o f Ahura Mazda’s original creation is restored, the followers o f asa are reborn
body and soul into a second, immortal existence on earth. By contrast, those souls swayed by
falsehood while embodied are extirpated.
Just as every soul experiences the journey’s second stage, so too, it would appear, do all
exist prior to their incarnation.66 This idea, however, is neither emphasized nor formulated to the
degree found in the Greek philosophical tradition, and only becomes apparent after centuries of
priestly meditations had shaped and merged the popular conceptions o f the fravasi and the
urvan.67 Stemming from the Indo-Iranian period, the fravasi probably originally denoted the
departed spirit of a heroic figure. Unlike the majority o f disembodied souls, ancient tradition
taught that these spirits retained a vital power after death. Because Zoroastrianism eventually
placed the home of these fravasi in the lower atmosphere, it was natural to expect that they
possessed a special ability to observe and influence the created world. Thus, according to Yast
13, Zoroastrianism teaches that during the yearly festival held in their honor, the fravasis descend
determining its relationship with the same idea in Judaism remains problematic. On the one hand, Boyce
(.History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 110-112) thinks that this idea was a part of ancient Iranian thought and
taken over by Zoroaster, and, along with Shaked (“Iranian Influence on Judaism,” 323), maintains that
Persia acts as the source for the Jewish concept (History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 3, 365, n.l 1). On the other
hand, Bremmer (“The Resurrection between Zarathustra and Jonathan Z. Smith,” 96-101) disagrees that
resurrection played a part in the thought of early Zoroastrianism. On this issue, see the scholarly
discussions found in Part I, chapter I, section three. In general, the present study finds the arguments of the
first group persuasive, and assumes that Zoroastrianism’s concept of resurrection informs the Jewish and
Christian belief.
66 Shaked (“The Notions menog and geiig,” 79) observes in the Pahlavi literature a parallel
development between the initial menog state of the created realm and that of the pre-existent soul.
67 The following discussion is indebted to Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 1, 109-129. See
also Dastur Framroze A. Bode, Man, Soul, Immortality in Zoroastrianism (Bombay: K.R. Cama Oriental
Institute, 1960), 35-96.
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to earth to offer aid and protection to the living in exchange for the latter’s worship and sacrificial
offerings.68
The role of the fravasis in Iranian hero cult seems to have been a factor in the
establishment o f their pre-existence. For in their capacity as protectors, the fravasis came to be
regarded as divine spirits under the leadership o f Ahura Mazda. From this point it was not
difficult to surmise that, as beings surviving the death o f the body, they must also experience an
existence before their incarnation. Thus, in Yast 13, Ahura Mazda acknowledges their presence
prior to the formation of the material world, and credits them with helping fashion and regulate
the six stages o f creation.69 Further evidence for the pre-existence of the fravasis derives from
another hymn in which Zoroaster asks Ahura Mazda to recall the message that he had given him
prior to the existence o f the cosmos: what did you declare to me, asks the prophet, “before the sky
... the water ... the earth ... the cattle ... the plants ... the fire ... and before all the incarnate
world?”70
Over time, the notion of a pre-existence for the fravasis became connected with the
concept of the soul. The urvan, which the ancient Iranians regarded as that part o f humanity
which simply descends to the underworld at death, had originally been the focus o f ancestor cult
worship. After a person died, the tirvan became the subject of sacrificial offering— daily for the
first month, then monthly for the first year, and finally, yearly until the thirtieth year after death.
After this time, the soul then becomes included in the sacrifices dedicated to the fravasis o f the
just. In the Bundahisn, this melding o f tradition can be clearly detected. O f the five parts that
join together to form mankind— body, breath, soul, form, and fravahr (=fravasi)— the body,
breath, and form rejoin the earth, wind, and sun, respectively. The soul, however, rejoins the
fravahr, “that which is in the presence o f Ohrmazd the Lord.”71 As the two concepts overlapped,
68 Yt. 13.50-52 records the demands of thefravasis upon the living and the blessings that they
bestow. See also Yt. 13.15, 24, 65.
69 Yt. 13.16: the sun, moon, and stars are set in motion “through their brightness and glory.” For
the role of the fravasis in creation, see Yt. 13.1-12.
70 Y. 19.1-2 (trans. L.H. Mills, The Zend-Avesta, Sacred Books of the East, vol. 31 [Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1887], 260).
71 Bd. 3.11-13.
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it became common to view the fravasi as the pre-existent soul o f the person, which, when it
descended into a body and reascended back into the heavens, was associated with the tirvan. But
Zoroastrianism could also regard the urvan itself as a pre-existent entity. In the Gathas,
Zoroaster refers to Geus Urvan, a divinity that later writers connect with the soul o f the first
animal.72 This primordial soul then becomes the destination for the souls o f all beneficent
animals after their deaths.73 Although an exact parallel does not exist for humans, the myth that
describes the creation o f the first man nevertheless seems to work with the idea o f a pre-existence
for the human soul when it states that humanity arose from Gayo-maretan’s purified seed.74
While the history o f the belief in a pre-existent soul cannot be traced with precision, the
evidence suggests that Zoroastrianism formulated this concept in conjunction with parallel
speculation on the nature o f the fravasi. The believer thus imagines his soul to be on both parts of
a single journey which, after a short period o f battling drug, ends with a return to Ahura Mazda.
As the Denkard states, every person should know how to answer the following questions: “Where
have I come from? For what purpose am I here? Where do I return?” The author then
confidently exclaims, “I, for my part, know that I come from Ohrmazd the Lord, that I am here so
as to make the demons powerless, and that I shall return to Ohrmazd.”75
HI. Zurvanism
While this chapter has thus far offered a reconstruction o f mainstream Zoroastrian
thought, the ideas taught by the Zurvanites provide evidence o f a radical alteration o f the faith
sometime near the end o f the Achemenid period. The point o f departure for this sect was a
reinterpretation of the famous passage from the Gathas in which Zoroaster refers to the two
spirits as “twins.”76 Instead o f reading this verse as an expression o f the co-eternal nature of good
and evil, Zurvanism interpreted this passage literally, arguing that if Ahura Mazda and Angra
72 Y. 29. In later texts (i.e. Yt. 13.86) Geus FravaSi is used in place of Geus Urvan.
73 Bd. 3.14.
74 Bd. 14.5-35.
75 Dk. 6 D9 (trans. Nigosian, Zoroastrian Faith, 69).
76 Y. 30.3.
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Mainyu were indeed twins, then there must be a deity ontologically prior to them. Thus, they
posited that the supreme God, the parent of these two spirits, was Zurvan (“Time”).77 According
to their theology,78 Zurvan, who existed prior to anything else, sacrificed for one thousand years
so that he could beget Ahura Mazda, who would then initiate the creation o f the cosmos. Yet
near the end o f this period, he “ponders” or expresses “doubt” about whether he can accomplish
this task, and at this moment Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu are conceived in his womb.
Realizing what had happened, Zurvan decides to let the first one who approaches him rule the
created world. Perceiving his father’s plan, Ahura Mazda informs his brother, who seizes the
opportunity to rule the cosmos by ripping apart the womb and presenting himself first. Keeping
his word, the primordial God bestows upon the evil spirit power over the world (which is
nevertheless still created by Ahura Mazda). To make up for his mistake, however, Zurvan invests
Ahura Mazda into the priesthood, a “higher” office associated with the governance o f the
heavenly realm, and limits the period o f Angra Mainyu’s rule to nine thousand years, after which
time Ahura Mazda will reign supreme.
This primary Zurvanite myth poses a direct challenge to the foundations of traditional
Zoroastrianism. The most obvious divergence lies in the promotion o f Zurvan from his previous
position as a minor deity to the supreme God from which everything else arises. Other texts
expand upon his attributes: associated with Space and Time, he is ungenerated, infinite, and
eternal; linked to Wisdom and Power, he commissions Ahura Mazda to create everything that
comes into existence, though no created intelligence can grasp his essence.79 In this sense,
Zurvan in his infinite aspect stands beyond being and is incapable o f being perceived.80 With the
ascendancy o f Zurvan comes a devaluation in the status o f Ahura Mazda. No longer the primary,
77 By invoking the god of time, Zurvanism came under the influence of Babylonian astral religion.
See Gnoli, “L’EvoIution du Dualisme,” 132-133.
78 Apart from the late pro-Zurvanite treatise 'Ulema i Islam and fragments from within the Pahlavi
literature, the fullest accounts of Zurvanism stem from fifth- and sixth-century Syriac and Armenian
sources. For the texts, along with summary and analysis, see R.C. Zaehner, Zurvan: A Zoroastrian
Dilemma (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955), 54-79, 419-428.
79 For analysis and texts, see Zaehner, Zurvan, 231-232, 368,382-383, 394-396.
80 Zaehner, Zurvan, 234.
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uncreated god o f Zoroaster, Ahura Mazda becomes relegated to the level o f a generated being
whose wisdom is finite and dependent upon the assistance o f Zurvan.81 Moreover, while the
Gathas had sharply dissociated this beneficent deity from anything connected to evil,
Zurvanism’s insistence on the twinship o f the two spirits brings them together in a more intimate
relationship. Indeed, the Zurvanite myth even has one o f Angra Mainyu’s demons help Ahura
Mazda create light after the latter had failed in the process by himself.82
In addition to introducing an “infinite” God, this sect also spoke o f Zurvan in a finite
aspect. While the former describes the him in an abstract sense, before the creation o f the world,
the latter appellation refers to his role in the world after the establishment o f the 12,000 year
period of limited time. Thus, although the primordial Zurvan shows no concern for the events of
historical time, by establishing the chronological parameters for the battle between good and evil,
as well as ensuring victory for Ahura Mazda, Zurvan of the “Long Dominion” assumes the role of
Fate or Fortune. Viewed as the body o f the cosmos,83 Zurvan comprises the totality o f the world
and issues forth good and evil in three decisive stages: “the whole world proceeds in accordance
with the decree and the (decisive) moment and the fixed decision, which are indeed Zurvan, the
King and Lord of the Long Dominion.”84 The Bundahisn underscores this inexorability with the
admonition that Time is that from which “no mortal man escapes, not though he fly above, not
though he dig a pit below and settle therein, not though he hide beneath a well o f cold waters.”85
The heavenly bodies act as the specific medium through which finite Zurvan or Fate
manifests itself in the world. As one text observes:
All welfare and adversity that come to man and other creatures come through the
Seven and the Twelve. The twelve Signs o f the Zodiac ... are the twelve
81 Boyce, “Persian Religion,” 307; Gnoli, “L’EvoIution du Dualisme,” 130-131. The BundahiSn
(1.34) appears to preserve the Zurvanite position when it states that “Before creation Ohrmazd was not
Lord” (trans. Boyce, Textual Sources, 47). It is only after the introduction of limited time that Ahura
Mazda has an advantage over Angra Mainyu. See Zaehner, Zurvan, 93-96, 105; Boyd and Crosby, “Is
Zoroastrianism Dualistic or Monotheistic?” 578-579.
82 For the text Zaehner, Zurvan, 147,438-439.
83 Zaehner, Zurvan, 111-112.
84 Menok iXrat 27.5 (trans. Zaehner, Zurvan, 399). See also Zaehner, Zurvan, 228-230.
85 Bd. 1.25 (trans. Zaehner, Zurvan, 316). The section numbering for this chapter of the
BundahiSn is Zaehner’s.
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commanders on the side o f Ohrmazd; and the seven planets are to be the seven
commanders on the side o f Ahriman. And the seven planets oppress all creation
and deliver in unto death and all manner o f evil: for the twelve Signs o f the
Zodiac and the seven planets rule the fate o f the world and direct it.86
Zurvan thus dispenses good and evil impartially through the heavenly bodies associated with
Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu. By stating that the planets “oppress all creation,” this passage
also reaffirms the Zurvanite belief that the power o f evil governs the created world. As the
treatise continues, the author asserts that Angra Mainyu created the planets to disrupt Ahura
Mazda’s benevolent activity: “Ahriman gave birth to the seven planets ... to take away the good
things from the creatures of Ohrmazd ... and all the good things that the constellations bestow on
the creatures o f Ohrmazd are taken away by the planets so far as is in their power.”87 While the
world is not in itself evil, it is nevertheless ruled by hostile powers that control the events o f the
mundane realm.88
When applied to mankind, the Zurvanite emphasis on Fate makes freewill, the cardinal
tenet o f the Gathas, an impossibility. Not only does it determine a person’s familial relations and
social and economic status, it also operates at the very core o f human behavior:
When fate helps a slothful, wrong-minded, and evil man, his sloth becomes like
energy, and his wrong-mindedness like wisdom, and his evil like good. And
when fate opposes the wise, decent, and good man, his wisdom is turned to un
wisdom and foolishness, his decency to wrong-mindedness; and his knowledge,
manliness, and decency appear o f no account.”89
In this passage, Fate has the ability to control and transform an individual’s actions and efforts at
will, depriving him of the freedom to exercise one o f the three components o f Zoroastrian
ethics.90 This position, along with the Zurvanite belief that the next world preserves the earthly
hierarchy, and that any attempt to alter the latter is regarded as a grievous offense, makes this sect
86 Menok iXrat 8.12-14 (trans. Zaehner, Zurvan, 369). For finite Zurvan as Fate, and the role of
the firmament, the zodiac, and the planets see Zaehner, Zurvan, 127, 254-264, 338, 341,400.
87 Menok iXrat 12.4-5 (trans. Zaehner, Zurvan, 400).
88 Gnoli (“L’EvoIution de Dualisme,” 135) argues that the belief in the demonic governance of the
earth is “Une idee, qu’il n’y a pas de raison de ne pas considerer comme iranienne.” While Zurvanism still
regards the cosmos as Ahura Mazda’s creation, the 'Ulema i Islam does attribute the creation the “water
and earth and plants and other things” to Angra Mainyu.
89 Menok i Xrat 51.2 (trans. Zaehner, Zurvan, 403-404).
90 See n. 52.
207
place little importance on ethical behavior.91 Despite Angra Mainyu’s authority in this world,
however, good will eventually triumph over evil and everything will merge back into infinite
Zurvan.92 In such a scheme, then, individuals and their actions pale in comparison to this pre
ordained cosmological drama.
This examination o f the major doctrines of Zoroastrianism has intended to introduce a
second trajectory that will account for elements in the Christian journey o f the soul that cannot be
traced to the Greco-Roman tradition. Attention was first given to the Zoroastrian notion of
cosmic dualism, which imagines the existence o f two primal deities, Ahura Mazda and Angra
Mainyu, who represent the ways o f good and evil, respectively. After each of these gods
emanates an army o f spirits, Ahura Mazda fashions the cosmos, where the battle between truth
and falsehood ensues. Although the struggle taints Ahura Mazda’s perfect creation, the cosmos
proves to be a necessary prerequisite for the ultimate victory of “righteousness” (asa) and the
annihilation o f “falsehood” (drug). This system thus introduces for the first time a linear
conception o f time, which envisions a definitive end to history and a restoration of the original
condition o f “spiritual” (menog) and “material” (geiig) purity.
As the divine battle unfolds in the created world, human beings play an integral role
because they possess the freedom to choose either side. Those who profess allegiance to Ahura
Mazda can help further the cause o f asa and diminish the effects o f drug through correct actions,
words, and thoughts. Maintaining a proper ethic is therefore essential because the decision to
follow either good or evil ultimately affects the person’s soul. While the righteous can look
forward to a favorable judgment after death, the soul o f the wicked awaits innumerable torments.
In this system the second half of the journey o f the soul is clearly evident. The first half also may
be detected as the concept of pre-existence emerges from a convergence o f the primitive concepts
91 Zaehner, Zurvan, 258-259.

92 The Denkart states that “The law of Time is (to proceed) from original infinity through
limitation involving action, motion, and passage, and finally to return back to ultimate infinity” (trans.
Zaehner, Zurvan, 390).
208
of the fravasi and urvan. Still, Zoroastrian soteriology prevents the idea o f the soul’s journey
from following the Greco-Roman pattern. Instead o f developing a spiritual-material dichotomy
that views the body as mutable and corrupt, Zoroastrianism’s dualism insists that both
components, as creations of Ahura Mazda, are worthy of salvation. Consequently, after the
savior initiates the end to historical time, Ahura Mazda unites each soul to its earthly body so that
the entire person can submit to a final judgment o f fire. At this stage the wicked are destroyed
along with Angra Mainyu and his creations, while the followers of Ahura Mazda are guaranteed a
blessed existence, both body and soul, on the restored earth.
The heretical sect known as Zurvanism, which emerged in the late Persian period,
presented a radical alternative to this system. Arguing that Zurvan was the parent o f the “twin
spirits,” Zurvanist speculations on “infinite” Time threatened the supremacy o f Ahura Mazda and
brought him into closer contact with evil. Moreover, their doctrine o f “finite” Time or Fate posed
a direct challenge to the fundamental Zoroastrian tenet of free will by claiming that the heavenly
bodies control the actions of mankind and that Zurvan had already determined the outcome of
historical time. Although Zurvanism did not survive, it, along with more mainstream
Zoroastrianism, provides Jewish and Christian thinkers with a fund o f ideas from which to draw,
as the following chapters will show.
C H A PTER 2
JUDAISM
Any evaluation of the concept of the soul in the Jewish tradition is complicated by the
fact that the literature o f the Old Testament spans approximately one thousand years and includes
such diverse genres as history, prophecy, wisdom, poetry, and apocalyptic. Moreover, the socio-
historical developments of the Near East, which saw Israel in continual contact with its
neighboring cultures, ensured that Judaism’s own perspective o f the world and the human
condition would not remain static. Because it is therefore impossible to speak of a single Jewish
conception o f the soul, this chapter will focus on the different ways in which their literature views
the soul and speculates on its journey. Section one will begin with a survey o f the ancient
Israelite conception o f the individual and mankind’s fate after death, both o f which bear close
resemblance to the model found in Homeric Greece: not only does the living person possess a
variety o f psychic agents, but that which descends to the underworld at death, the nepes, is
nothing but a powerless ghost.
The remainder of the chapter will be devoted to uncovering the myriad ideas on the soul
in the intertestamental literature. A review o f apocalyptic literature will reveal diverse and often
ambiguous testimonies on the soul’s origin, nature, and condition after death. The lack o f clarity
is especially pronounced in the “Two Spirits” passage from the Community Rule (1 QS 3:13-
4:26), a treatise that will be given particular attention because o f its Zoroastrian affinities and its
use of a variety of images that will appear in early Christianity. The following two sections will
analyze the Wisdom of Solomon and the Philonic corpus, texts that bear a closer relationship to
the thought world of Greco-Roman philosophy. It will be argued first that, to varying degrees,
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both authors construct views o f the soul’s journey based on Platonic concepts, and second, that
their attempts to negotiate a path between moral exhortation and ontological determinism provide
important data for evaluating how early Christian writers approached this problem.
I. The Individual and Life after Death

in Ancient Israel
The Individual
Just as the Homeric epics display a varied anthropological vocabulary, so too does the
Old Testament draw upon a number o f different terms in its construction o f the individual.1 The
three most important for this study, however, are ruah, nepes, and basar. In its most basic sense,
the Old Testament uses ruah to denote air in motion. On the one hand it can simply refer to the
natural action o f wind in varying degrees. For instance, Adam and Eve experience a gentle
evening breeze in Eden; while the more destructive east wind can cause the crops to wither and
die.2 As a force effecting the world, ruah is often associated with the power o f Yahweh: God
causes the wind to sweep over the primal waters on the first day of creation; he uses the wind to
blow over the earth after the flood; and he initiates the wind to both bring in and sweep away the
locusts from Egypt.3 A second meaning o f ruah is breath. When used in reference to Yahweh, it
expresses his creative spirit: he creates the heavenly host by the ruah o f his mouth; he infuses his
ruah in mankind to create life; and the breath o f God can instill vigor or prophetic power in the
individual.4 When the Old Testament specifically speaks about the ruah o f human beings, then, it
1The bibliography on this topic is immense. Important and accessible studies include Aubrey R.
Johnson, The Vitality o f the Individual in the Thought ofAncient Israel (Cardiff: University of Wales Press,
1964); Walther Eichrodt, Theology o f the Old Testament, vol. 2, trans. J.A. Baker (Philadelphia: The
Westminster Press, 1967), 131-150; Hans Walter Wolff, Anthropology o f the Old Testament, trans.
Margaret Kohl (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1974); Nokter FUglister, “Die Biblische Anthropologie und
die Postmortale Existenz des Individuums,” Kairos 22 (1980): 129-145; Otto Kaiser and Eduard Lohse,
Death and Life, trans. John E. Steely (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1981); Cooper, Body, Soul-, Michael A.
Knibb, “Life and death in the Old Testament,” in The World o f Ancient Israel: Sociological,
Anthropological and Political Perspectives, ed. R.E. Clements (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1989), 395-415; Horst Dietrich Preuss, Old Testament Theology, vol. 2, trans. Leo G. Perdue (Louisville,
KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996), 109-114.
2 Gen 3:8; Ezek 17:10; 19:12 (see also Isa 7:2; Hos 8:7).
3 Gen 1:2; 8:1; Ex 10:13, 19 (see also Ex 14:21; 15:8; Num 11:31).
4 Host: Ps 33:6; life and death of mankind: Gen 6:3, 17; 7:22; Job 27:3; 33:4; 34:14-15; Ps 51:10-
12; 104:29-30; 146:4; power in mankind: Num 24:2; Ex 31:3; 35:31; Judg 3:10; 14:6; 1 Chron 5:26; 2
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denotes that vital life-force that, when joined with flesh, allows life. As Yahweh is the original
source o f the ruah, it is to him that it returns at death: “If he [God] should take back his ruah to
himself, and gather to himself his breath (nesama), all flesh would perish together, and all mortals
return to dust.”5
Closely associated with ruah is nepes, a term which also has a variety o f meanings and
connotations.6 That the original sense o f the word had an affinity with physicality can be seen by
its reference to the throat or neck. The former meaning is seen in the lament that “Sheol has
enlarged its nepes and opened its mouth beyond measure” as well as various references to its
appetite, while the nepes as “neck” is clearly indicated by the fact that iron or rope can surround
it.7 An extension of nepes appears as Old Testament writers use the word to refer to breath: it
both departs and returns during death and near-death scenes, and is used to express the idea of
refreshment (i.e. taking breath).8
Because the nepes displays emotional characteristics such as desire, joy, despair, and
satisfaction,9 it is possible to imagine it as the emotional seat of the living person. In this respect
it may be classified as the soul.10 More common, however, is the movement of nepes from the
breath of life to the abstract idea of life in general.11 This meaning emerges clearly in the famous
passages detailing the concept of lex talionis: “Anyone who kills a nepes shall be put to death.
Chron 21:16; 36:22; Isa 32:15; Ezek 36:27; 39:29; Joel 2:28-29. Ruah is often used together with and as a
synonym for nesama (the “breath of life”) when referring to the life-force within mankind. See Gen 2:7;
7:22; Job 27:3; 33:4; 34:14-15; Ps 18:15; Isa 42:5. For a discussion of this issue, see Johnson, Vitality of
the Individual, 27-29.
5 Job 34:14-15. See also Eccl 12:7, which expresses this sentiment in Greco-Roman fashion: “the
dust returns to the earth as it was, and the ruah returns to God who gave it.” Like the Homeric psyche and
thymos, the ruah can leave when a person is near death, and return when the individual is revivified (Judg
15:19; 1 Sam 30:12; 1 Kings 10:5).
6 For the parallel use of ruah and nepes, see Job 10:12; Jer 2:24.
7 Sheol: Isa 5:14 (see also Hab 2:5); appetite: Deut 12:15, 20; 23:24; Isa 29:8; Ps 107:5, 9; Prov
10:3; 25:25; 28:25; Eccl 6:7; Jer 31:25; Lam 1:11; iron and rope: Ps 105:18; 1 Sam 28:9 (see also Jer 4:10).
8 Death scenes: Gen 35:18; 1 Kings 17:21-22; refreshment: Ex 23:12; 31:17; 2 Sam 16:14. See
also Num 21:4; Jer 2:24; Zech 11:8.
9 In addition to the citations in nn. 7 and 8, see Job 6:11; Ps 30:9; 42:5-6, 11; 71:23; Song 1:7; 3:1-
4.
10 For instance, 1 Sam 1:15; Job 30:16; Ps 42:5.
11 For instance, I Sam 25:29; Ps 16:10; 30:3; Prov 7:23; 8:35; Jer 38:16.
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Anyone who kills an animal shall make restitution for it, nepes for nepes.”12 As life, nepes is also
linked to blood, a fact that makes its ingestion forbidden.13 A related development o f the word is
found in passages which refer to nepes as a synecdoche for the individual person. Accordingly,
“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the nepes that seeks him.”14 Such a reading can
be found elsewhere when nepes takes the place o f a pronoun: Isaac asks his son Jacob to bring
him the game from the hunt so that “my nepes (=1) may bless you”; and Jeremiah relates the
Lord’s judgment with the words, “Faithless Israel has shown its nepes (=itself) less guilty than
false Judah.”15 While there are many other examples of this formulation, the locus classicus
occurs at Gen 2:7, where the injection o f Yahweh’s ruah into the lifeless man o f dust results in
the creation o f a “living being” (nepes hayya).16 But just as the nepes can refer to the living
being, so too, with the modifier “dead” (met), does it represent the corpse.17
While nepes can thus designate the physical manifestation o f the person, the Old
Testament more often uses basar. Translated as “flesh,” basctr refers to the outer component of
the individual’s composition: the flesh thus encompasses the bones, sinews, and breath; while it is
itself surrounded by the skin.18 As “body,” however, basar denotes the totality of the individual’s
physical presence. Thus, Yahweh informs Moses that the holy oil should not be used for the
ordinary anointing of the basar; Elisha orders Naaman to wash himself in the Jordan to restore his
basar; and Job asks if his basar is made o f bronze.19 Although basar occasionally assumes a
negative connotation, especially when in comparison with the power o f Yahweh, on the whole the
Old Testament writers recognize the basar as a divine creation that can even display certain
12Lev 24:17-18 (see also 1 Kings 20:39).

13Gen 9:4; Lev 17:11; Deut 12:23 (see also Ps 72:14; Jer 2:34).
14Lam 3:25.
15Gen 27:25; Jer 3:11. See also Gen 12:13; 46:15, 18, 22; Judg 16:30; 1 Kings 20:32.
16For this phrase in reference to animals, see Gen 1:20; 9:10, 12, 15-16; Lev 11:10,46; Ezek 47:9.
17Num 6:6; 19:13. That this meaning was well known appears certain from the passages which
omit the modifier met and simply speak of the corpse as nepes (Lev 19:28; 22:4; Num 5:2; 9:6, 10).
18Job 2:5; 10:11; Lam 3:4; Ezek 37:5-6. Other examples of basar as flesh include Gen 40:19;
Num 11:4, 13; Lev 26:29; I Sam 2:15; 17:44; Job 41:23; Isa 17:4; 49:26.
19Ex 30:32; 2 Kings 5:10, 14; Job 6:12. The Old Testament also uses the phrase “all flesh” (kol
basar) to mean the whole body of the living being (Lev 4:11; 13:3; Num 8:7). See also Lev 13:18, 24;
16:4; Num 19:7; Ps 38:3; 79:2; 109:24; Prov 4:22.
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psychic functions.20 Finally, because God forms the basar from the earth, when the life-force
departs it simply disintegrates back into the ground. As Yahweh explains in Gen 3:19: “By the
sweat o f your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out o f it you were taken;
you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”21
Life after Death
Thus far the analysis has shown that the ancient Israelites did not work with the concept
o f a pre-existent, immortal soul which descends into a body. It is only when the spirit o f God
permeates the material body that a “living being” (nepes) comes into existence: mankind is only
spirit and dust.22 Moreover, like the literature from Archaic Greece, Old Testament psychology
had no knowledge o f a developed concept o f soul as the seat o f the individual’s consciousness or
personality. Rather, multiple terms could be employed to express the unity o f the living person:
while the individual did not possess the distinct entities body and soul, writers used terms such as
ruah, nepes, and basar to express different aspects o f the whole person.23
If the texts o f the Old Testament do not articulate the first half o f the journey o f the soul,
neither do they speak of a divine (or divinized) soul ascending through the heavenly spheres after
stripping itself o f its body.24 This does not mean, however, that they resigned themselves to
20 Basar as negative: Isa 31:3; Jer 25:31; 45:5; Ezek 21:4; basar as a divine creation: Job 10:8-9;
31:15; Ps 119:73; 138:8; Isa 45:12; basar as capable of psychic emotion: Ps 63:1; 84:2.
21 Mortals are like grass: Job 14:1-2; Ps 90:3-6; 103:15-16; Isa 40:6-7. See also Gen 7:21-22; 2
Sam 14:14; 1 Kings 2:2; Job 34:14-15; Lam 3:4; Zech 14:12.
^ Gen 6:3, 17; Ezek 37:6, 8-10; 14; Zech 12:1.
23 Johnson, Vitality o f the Individual, 87; N.P. Bratsiotis, “basar,” in Theological Dictionary o f the
Old Testament, vol. 2, eds. G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren (Grand Rapids, MI: William B.
Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1975), 326. For an overview of the history of interpretation on this issue,
see Cooper, Body, Soul, and Life Everlasting, 36-57; Knibb, “Life and death,” 402-403.
24 Like Menelaus in the Odyssey, Enoch and Elijah ascend to God without dying (Gen 5:21-24; 2
Kings 2:1-18). For discussions of the afterlife in the Old Testament, see, in addition to those sources cited
in n. 1, S.H. Hooke, “Life After Death: Israel and the After-Life,” Expository Times 76 (1965): 236-239;
Nicholas J. Tromp, Primitive Conceptions o f Death and the Nether World in the Old Testament (Rome:
Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1969); Klaas Spronk, Beatific Afterlife in Ancient Israel and in the Ancient
Near East (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1986); George E. Mendenhall, “From Witchcraft to
Justice: Death and Afterlife in the Old Testament,” in Death and Afterlife: Perspectives on World
Religions, ed. Hiroshi Obayashi (New York: Greenwood Press, 1992), 67-81; Nico van Uchelen, “Death
and After-life in the Hebrew Bible of Ancient Israel,” in Hidden Futures: Death and Immortality in Ancient
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accepting complete annihilation after death.25 On the contrary, like the psychai in Homer that
descend to Hades to become eidola, it appears that the nepes, as the breath-soul, departs to Sheol
where it exists as a shadow or ghost, a weak manifestation o f the living person.26 For instance,
Isaiah prophesizes that the “shades” (rephaim) will ridicule the powerful in the underworld by
exclaiming “you have become as weak as we! You have become like us!”27 Elsewhere silence
and sleep characterize life in the underworld; as the author of Ecclesiastes states, “there is no
work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going.”28
The Old Testament thus accepts a shadowy existence of the person in the underworld.
While this future life in Sheol could occasionally be accepted with the dispassionate resignation
displayed by the author of Ecclesiastes, the majority of texts view it as a lamentable fate. Job
reflects the general Israelite view o f this realm when he petitions for some comfort before he
travels, “never to return, to the land o f gloom and deep darkness, the land o f gloom and chaos,
where light is like darkness.”29 The descent is thus final and inexorable: “As the cloud fades and
Egypt, Anatolia, the Classical, Biblical and Arab-Islamic World, eds. J.M. Bremer, Th.P.J. van den Hout,
and R. Peters (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1994), 77-90.
Paralleling the cosmology of the Homeric world, the ancient Israelites worked with the idea of a
three-story cosmos. See, for instance, Ex 20:4; Deut 5:8; Ps 115:16-17. Useful scholarly literature
includes Eichrodt, Theology, vol. 2, 93-96; Luis I.J. Stadelmann, The Hebrew Conception o f the World: A
Philological and Literary Study (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1970); Louis Jacobs, “Jewish
Cosmology,” in Ancient Cosmologies, eds. Carmen Blacker and Michael Loewe (London: George Allen
and Unwin, Ltd., 1975), 66-86; Douglas A. Knight, “Cosmogony and Order in the Hebrew Tradition,” in
Cosmogony and Ethical Order: New Studies in Comparative Ethics, eds. Robin W. Lovin and Frank E.
Reynolds (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), 133-157; Tikva Frymer-Kensky, “Biblical
Cosmology,” in Backgroundsfor the Bible, eds. Michael Patrick O’Connor and David Noel Freedman
(Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1987), 231-240.
25 On the Israelite cult of the dead, see Joseph Blenkinsopp, “Deuteronomy and the Politics of
Post-Mortem Existence,” Vetus Testamentum 45 (1995): 1-16. See also the prohibitions against
necromancy in Ex 22:18; Lev 20:27; Deut 18:11; Isa 8:19-20; and the “ghost” (elohim) of Samuel in 1 Sam
28:1-19
26 Whether the nepes descends to Sheol is a point of controversy. While Eichrodt (Theology, vol.
2, 214) and Preuss {Old Testament Theology, vol. 2, 110-111) argue that none of the psychological entities
of the living person survive death, Kaiser and Lohse {Death and Life, 40) and Cooper {Body, Soul, 68) have
cited passages such as 1 Kings 17:21-22 and Ps 49:15, along with Semitic parallels, that suggest that the
ancient Israelites could speak of the nepes as that which descends to the underworld.
27 Isa 14:10. Etymological studies have linked rephaim with rph (“to sink or relax”; i.e. “weak”)
and rp ’ (“to heal”). See Johnson, Vitality o f the Individual, 88-89; Tromp, Primitive Conception, 176-180;
Stadelmann, Hebrew Conception, 167, n. 874; Kaiser, Death and Life, 42; Spronk: Beatific Afterlife, 227-
229.
28 Eccl 9:10. Silence: Ps 115:17; sleep: Nah 3:18.
29 Job 10:21-22. Cf. Enkidu’s description of the underworld in the Epic o f Gilgamesh (VII.4.36-
39): “the house wherein the dwellers are bereft of light, where dust is their fare and clay their food ...
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vanishes, so those that go down to Sheol do not come up; they return no more to their houses, nor
do their places know them any more.”30 With this statement Job expresses a fundamental
Israelite belief that death brings with it a permanent separation from the living: in the “land of
forgetfulness,” the ghosts lack any knowledge o f the events above, and their deeds while alive
fade eventually from the memory o f the living.31 Most troubling, however, is the fact that the
dead are separated from their relationship with Yahweh. As the Psalmist poignantly asks God,
“Do you work wonders for the dead? Do the shades rise up to praise you? Is your steadfast love
declared in the grave, or your faithfulness in Abaddon? Are your wonders known in the darkness,
or your saving help in the land of forgetfulness?”32 Just as the shades cannot honor Yahweh,
neither can God protect the dead.
II. Intertestamental Judaism I:

Apocalyptic Literature
A survey of anthropology and eschatology in intertestamental Jewish literature puts the
ancient Israelite beliefs into sharp relief. The apocalyptic texts, although generally uninterested
in detailing a systematic account of the soul and often ambiguous regarding the nature o f the post
mortem state, nevertheless provide valuable insight into late Hellenistic Judaism’s reliance on
Greco-Roman and Zoroastrian ideas.33
Body-soul dualism is either implied or stated explicitly in a number of apocalypses. For
instance, in the Apocalypse o f Ezra, Ezra struggles with the angels for the possession o f his soul,
and is thereafter informed by God about the dualistic composition of the individual: “fear not
death. For that which is from me, that is the soul, departs for heaven. That which is from the
[they] see no light, residing in darkness” (trans. James B. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to
the Old Testament [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1950], 87).
30 Job 7:9-10.
31 Ps 88:12; Job 14:21; 18:17; Eccl 9:5-6. Sheol as the “land of no return”: 2 Sam 12:23; Job 7:9-
10; 10:21-22; 16:22; Prov 2:18-19.
32 Ps 88:10-12 (see also Ps 30:9; 115:17; Isa 38:18).
33 Except for the reference to Dan 12:2-3, the following texts are taken from James H.
Charlesworth, ed., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 2 vols. (New York: Doubleday, 1983, 1985). For
studies on the anthropology of the apocalyptic texts, see Cavallin, Life after Death, 33-101; Gundry Soma,
87-91; Cooper, Body, Soul, 81-103.
216
earth, that is the body, departs for the earth from which it was taken.”34 Another Greco-Roman
notion, that o f the pre- and post-mortem existence o f souls, is found in 2 Baruch: “when Adam
sinned and death was decreed against those who were bom, the multitude o f those who would be
bom was numbered. And for that number a place was prepared where the living ones might live
and where the dead might be preserved.”35 Death, then, marks the separation of the soul from the
body, at which time the former will receive rewards or punishments based on its earthly activities.
As 4 Ezra explains, the just souls return to God, while “those who have shown scorn and have not
kept the way o f the Most High, who have despised his law and hated those who fear God—such
spirits shall not enter into habitations, but shall immediately wander about in torments, always
grieving and sad.”36
Many o f the apocalyptic texts also speak o f an intermediate period for disembodied souls
prior to the final judgement. In 4 Ezra the righteous souls must wait until the harvest (i.e. the
final judgment) for their redemption, while I Enoch teaches that while some souls may escape
punishment in this lifetime, all will be held accountable for their actions on the day o f judgment.37
At the eschaton it is common for apocalyptic authors to envision a resurrection for the righteous,
although the precise form of this renewal is described in manifold ways. The Similitudes o f
Enoch (= / En. 37-71) appears to have in mind the restoration o f the earthly, physical body: “In
those days, Sheol will return all the deposits which she had received and hell will give back all
that which it owes. And he shall choose the righteous and the holy ones from among the (the
risen dead), for the day when they shall be selected and saved has arrived.”38 A similar notion is
found in 2 Baruch, which states that at the final judgment “the earth will surely give back the
dead at that time; it receives them now in order to keep them, not changing anything in their form.
But as it has received them, so it will give them back.”39 This rather literal notion o f resurrection
34 7:3 (see also 6:3-15).

35 23:4 (see also 2 En. 49:2; 3 En. 43:1-3).
36 7:79-80. The full description of the post-mortem condition extends through v. 101.
37 4 Ez. 4:33-42; I En. 22; 100:4-6; 102-104. See also 2 Bar. 30:1-5; 36:11.
38 51:1 (see also 4 Ez. 7:32; Sib. Or. 4:181-182).
39 50:2.
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is then followed, however, by a more nuanced understanding o f the post-mortem body: “those
who planted the root of wisdom in their heart—their splendor will then be glorified by
transformations, and the shape of their face will be changed into the light o f their beauty.”40 The
author of the book of Daniel envisions a similar resurrection o f a luminous body: “Many o f those
who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake ... Those who are wise shall shine like the
brightness o f the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and
ever.”41 In addition to the assumption o f literal and glorious bodies, the final state o f the
righteous may also be depicted, in Greco-Roman fashion, as completely bodiless. For instance,
after Jubilees states that “the Lord will heal his servants, and they will rise up and see great
peace,” the next verse imagines a “resurrection” of the soul: “And their bones will rest in the
earth, and their spirits will increase joy.”42
The Qumran literature, which included some o f the texts mentioned above, is another
source that is typically linked to apocalyptic Judaism. Yet the Essenes rarely sought to link their
eschatological teachings with the soul or the post-mortem fate o f the individual, perhaps because
their “realized” eschatology made the problem of death less pressing.43 Consequently, there are
no unambiguous references to either the soul’s immortality or the resurrection o f the body. Even
so, the scrolls, especially the “Two Spirits” treatise from the Community Rule (IQS 3:13-4:26),
are a valuable source for certain ideas that emerge in the context o f the journey o f the soul in
early Christianity.
In the “Two Spirits” passage, the traditional Old Testament notion o f mankind’s
relationship with God and the cosmos has been altered by the influence o f Zoroastrian ideas.44
40 51:3.
41 12:3. See also I En. 104.2,4: “But now you shall shine like the lights of heaven ... you are
about to be making a great rejoicing like the angels of heaven.”
42 23:30-31. The final judgment is absent from this passage but is alluded to in 5:13-16; 36:10-11.
43 So Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, 165-167.
44 Scholars arguing for Zoroastrian, or more specifically, Zurvanite influence on this passage
include Karl Georg Kuhn, “Die Sektenschrift und die iranische Religion,” Zeitschriftfur Theologie und
Kirche 49 (1952): 296-316; Henri Michaud, “Un mythe zervanite dans un des manuscrits de Qumran,”
Vetus Testamentum 5 (1955): 137-147; Raymond E. Brown, “The Qumran Scrolls and the Johannine
Gospel and Epistles,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 17 (1955): 403-419; David Winston, “The Iranian
Component in the Bible, Apocrypha, and Qumran: A Review of the Evidence,” History o f Religions 5
218
The treatise begins with a statement o f the omniscience and omnipotence of God: “From the God
o f knowledge comes all that is occurring and shall occur ... Nothing can be changed. In his
hands are the judgments o f all things, he being the one who sustains them in all their affairs.”45
The reference to God’s “knowledge” may be an allusion to Ahura Mazda, the “Wise Lord.” But
as the text progresses, it appears that Zurvan provides a closer parallel, for the author states that
this God created two opposing spirits, that o f truth/light and deceit/darkness: “He created the
spirits o f light and darkness, and upon them he founded every work” (3:25). As in the
Zoroastrian period o f “Mixture,” these forces battle are depicted as in perpetual struggle against
one another “according to God’s mysteries” (3:21-23). Yet God’s plan entails an end to cosmic
history that includes the destruction o f evil and the “Separation,” which the author calls “the
making of the new.”46
If the cosmos is characterized by two radically opposed spirits, so too are human beings.
One is either good or evil depending upon the spirit received by God: “He created the human ...
designing for him two spirits in which to walk until the appointed time for his visitation, namely
the spirits of truth ( ’ml) and deceit” ( ’wJ) (3:18-19). Moreover, whether one is classified as
righteous or evil is wholly dependent on God’s preordained plan: “Before they [the Sons of
(1966): 200-210; James H. Charlesworth, “A Critical Comparison of the Dualism in IQS III, 13-IV, 26 and
the ‘Dualism’ Contained in the Fourth Gospel,” New Testament Studies 15 (1969): 389-402; Shaked,
“Qumran and Iran,” 433-446; D. Dimant, “Qumran Sectarian Literature,” in Jewish Writings o f the Second
Temple Period: Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Qumran Sectarian Writings, Philo, Josephus, ed. Michael E.
Stone (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 535, n. 252, 546-547; Boyce, History o f Zoroastrianism, vol. 3,
422-425. Against this view are P. Wemberg-Moller, The Manual o f Discipline: Translated and Annotated
with an Introduction (Leiden: EJ. Brill, 1957), 66; idem, “A Reconsideration of the Two Spirits,” 413-441;
Robert G. Jones, “The Manual of Discipline (IQS), Persian Religion, and the Old Testament,” in The
Teacher's Yoke: Studies in Memory o f Henry Trantham, eds. E. Jerry Vardaman and James Lee Garrett, Jr.
(Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 1964), 94-108. For a valuable summary of scholarship on this
passage, see Arthur Everett Sekki, The Meaning of Ruah at Qumran (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989), 7-69.
Because scholars have noticed a difference between these two parts, at the level of both language
and theology, it is common to view the two as separate units fused together. See Dale C. Allison, Jr, “The
Authorship of 1 QS in, 13-IV, 14,” Revue de Qumran 10 (1980): 258; Armin Lange, “Wisdom and
Predestination in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Dead Sea Discoveries 2 (1995): 346, n. 18; Sekki, Meaning o f
Ruah, 213-217.
45 3:15-17 (trans. James H Charlesworth, “Rule of the Community,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls:
Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations, ed. idem [Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1994],
15). All quotations will come from this translation.
46 3:23; 4:18-19, 25-26.
219
Light] came into being he established all their designs; and when they come into existence in their
fixed times they carry through their task according to his glorious design” (3:15-16). Because
the present world represents the period in which the cosmic forces o f good and evil fight against
one another for the hearts o f mankind, the second half o f the text softens its earlier division of
humanity by conceding that the just must continually combat the evil inclinations within their
own bodies: “In these (two spirits are) the natures o f all the sons o f man, and in their (two)
divisions all their hosts o f their generations have a share; in their ways they walk, and the entire
task o f their work (falls) within their divisions according to a man’s share, much or little, in all
the times o f eternity” (4:15-16). The text thus allows for degrees o f righteousness based on an
ethical code of conduct: while the spirits o f the “Sons o f Truth” exhibit “humility and patience,”
“compassion and constant goodness,” “prudence,” and proper “discernment,” the characteristics
o f the Spirits of Deceit are, among others, “greed and slackness in righteous activity, wickedness
and falsehood,” “filthy ways in unclean worship,” and “blasphemy” (4:3-6, 9-11).
These ethical standards, which allow the community to gauge a person’s spiritual
allegiance, have eschatological consequences. At the end o f historical time God will initiate a
final judgment in which the “truth will appear forever (in) the world ... God will purify by his
truth all the works of man and purge for himself the sons o f man. He will destroy the spirit of
deceit from the veins o f his flesh” (4:19-21). Freed from this burden, the elect will be rewarded
with an everlasting relationship with God. They will first undergo a purification, experiencing
“healing and great peace in a long life, multiplication o f progeny together with all everlasting
blessings, endless joy in everlasting life (hyy nsh), and a crown o f glory together with a
resplendent attire in eternal light” ( 'wr 'wlmym) (4:6-8). Thereafter, the Sons o f Light will be
given special knowledge o f the divine, having “insight into the knowledge o f the Most High and
the wisdom o f the sons o f heaven and the perfect in the Way may receive understanding. For
those God has chosen for an eternal covenant, and all the glory o f Adam shall be theirs without
deceit” (4:22-23). By contrast, the evil will suffer “eternal perdition by the fury of God’s
220
vengeful wrath, everlasting terror and endless shame, together with disgrace o f annihilation in the
fire o f the dark region ... (There will be) no remnant nor rescue for them” (4:12-14).
At the level o f anthropology, there are a few points that appear certain. First, as in other
Essene literature, the author works with a dualistic understanding o f human beings.47 Second,
although the author speaks o f predestination, there is no evidence for the pre-existence o f the
individual’s spiritual essence. On the contrary, human beings in their totality come into existence
through the creative work of God.48 This is enough to rule out a full journey o f the soul in this
text. Ambiguities arise, however, when trying to establish the precise condition o f the elect after
the annihilation o f evil. While arguments have been constructed to support the notion o f the
independent existence of the soul, there are reasons to suspect this view. In addition to its
absence in any other texts from Qumran, the testimony of Josephus, which states that the Essenes
believed the soul originated and returned to the aether after its confinement in the prison-house of
the body, is presented for a Hellenistic audience and thus may not reflect their actual teaching.49
Yet a return o f the physical body is also ruled out, for the righteous are clothed in “eternal light.”
While this confirms participation in the second half o f the journey, the post-mortem condition
thus lies somewhere in between the soul’s independent existence and physical resurrection.30
With their nuanced views on the post-mortem condition, these apocalyptic texts blur the
boundaries between immortality and resurrection and provide a useful bridge leading to the early
Christian debates, particularly those found in Paul’s Corinthian correspondence. The notion o f a
partial journey for the soul, found already in Apuleius, is also operative in both the Pauline corpus
and the Gospel o f John. A variety o f concepts and imagery from the “Two Spirits” passage
47 For instance, 4:2,20-21. See also I QH 8:28-32; 13:13-17,25; 15:10-13, 15-17.

48 See also 1QH 15:13,22.
49 War 2.154-156; Ant. 18.18. See also Hans C. Cavallin, “Leben nach dem Tode im
Spaljudentum und im frtihen Christentum,” Aufstieg undNiedergang der Romischen Welt 2.19.1 (1979):
274.
50 Based on evidence from Hippolytus (Ref. IX.27) and 4Q521, James C. VanderKam (The Dead
Sea Scrolls Today [Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1994], 78-81) thinks it
probable that the Essenes taught the resurrection of the body. Yet if this idea is accepted, it must be
conceded that the body is not the identical physical body as it appears in Zoroastrianism or in orthodox
Christianity. See John J. Collins, Apocalypticism in the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Routledge, 1997),
116-117.
221
likewise resonates in early Christian literature: first, “light” and “darkness” are used as
anthropological categories by the Johannine and Thomas communities; second, the tension
between deterministic rhetoric and the notion o f spiritual fluidity appears in all o f the Christian
material examined in the final part o f this study; and finally, the Zoroastrian idea o f a cosmic
battle between the forces of good and evil places early Christian discussions o f the soul’s journey
into a historical framework.
HI. Intertestamental Judaism II:

the Wisdom of Solomon
Perhaps even more so than the apocalyptic literature, the apocrypha and pseudepigrapha
show an even greater tendency to appropriate the categories o f Greco-Roman anthropology. In
addition to using the popular designations o fpsyche,51 these texts often employ its more
philosophical meaning. A basic anthropological dualism is assumed by Josephus when he has
Eleazer defend suicide by arguing that “it is death which gives liberty to the soul and permits it to
depart to its own pure abode ... so long as it is imprisoned in a mortal body and taunted with all
its miseries, it is, in sober truth, dead, for association with what is mortal ill befits that which is
divine.” Continuing, he consciously alludes to the Phaedo by arguing that “it is not until, freed
from the weight that drags it down to earth and clings about it, [that] the soul is restored to its
proper sphere.”52
The pre- and post-mortem existence of the soul is equally in evidence. The popular
opinion (taken over by philosophy) that the soul will leave the body and ascend to the heavens or
become like the stars is found in both pseudo-Philo and the Life o f Adam and Eve.53 As in the
apocalyptic literature, the post-mortem state could take a variety of forms. In addition to the
disembodied existence assumed in the last references, the author o f 2 Maccabees assumes that the
same earthly body will be returned by God after death: faced with death under the persecutions of
51 Psyche as breath: Jos. War 6.66; Ant. 9.137; life: Ep. Arist. 292; Jdt. 10:15; I Macc 9:2; 2 Macc
14:38; Jos. Ant. 19.150.
52 War 7.344, 346. Cf. Phaed. 81c. For the tripartite soul, see 4 Macc 3:2-3. For body-soul
dualism, see 2 Macc 6:30; 4 Macc 10:4; Hell. Syn. Pray. 3:20-21; 12:37-40.
53 Ps.-Philo 33:5; Vit. Ad. Ev. 32:4.
222
Antiochus IV, one zealous Jew responds by stretching out his hands and stating “I got these from
heaven, and because o f his laws I disdain them, and from him I hope to get them back again.”54
Like 2 Baruch, different eschatological images could also be combined, seemingly without any
difficulties: Pseudo-Phocylides, for example, argues for the resurrection o f the earthly body, the
transformation o f the body into a divine being, the immortality and pre-existence o f the soul, and
the permanent extinction o f the body after death all within the same set of verses.55 Similarly,
Josephus explains that the Pharisees accept both the immortality o f the soul and a future bodily
resurrection.56 Such wide ranging views on the soul provide additional evidence for the diversity
of thought within intertestamental Judaism.57
The Wisdom o f Solomon, a text probably dating to first-century Alexandria,58 further
attests to the propensity of some Jewish circles to incorporate ideas from the intellectual and
cultural world of late antiquity. Indeed, more than any other apocryphal work, Wisdom shows a
high degree of familiarity with Hellenism, both on a linguistic, rhetorical, and conceptual level.59
In particular, the author’s philosophical statements, which often occur within the contexts of
anthropology and soteriology, make Wisdom an important witness to the Hellenistic Jewish
understanding o f the soul’s journey.
Anthropology
The anthropology o f Wisdom has long been a subject o f dispute, largely because the
author finds a variety o f different ways to express his thoughts on the construction of the living
54 7:11.
55 97-115.
56 War 2.163; Ant. 18.14; cf. Acts 23:8.
57 See the conclusions of Cavallin, Life After Death, 199-202. For a survey of the variety of
intertestamental Jewish beliefs on the soul, see Gundry, Soma, 87-109; Cavallin, “Leben nach dem Tode,”
240-345; Collins, Body, Soul, 81-103. For the rabbinic evidence, which does not, on the whole, fully
subscribe to the Greco-Roman position, see Emero Stiegman, “Rabbinic Anthropology,” Aufstieg und
Niedergang der Romischen Welt 2.19.2 (1979): 508-523.
58 Recent studies on this text include James M. Reese, Hellenistic Influence on the Book o f
Wisdom and Its Consequences (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1970); idem, The Book o f Wisdom, Song o f
Songs (Wilmington, DE: Michael Glazier, Inc., 1983); David Winston, The Wisdom o f Solomon: A New
Translation with Introduction and Commentary (New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1979).
59 See Reese, Hellenistic Influence, 1-31.
223
person. Drawing on Old Testament imagery, pseudo-Solomon stresses the mortality o f mankind
in relation to God: “after a little while [the human] goes to the earth from which all mortals are
taken, when the time comes to return the soul (psyche) that was borrowed” (15:8). He thereupon
proceeds to condemn the idol-maker “because he failed to know the one who formed him and
inspired him with an active soul (psyche) and breathed a living spirit (pneuma) into him” (15:11).
With these verses the basic teaching o f the Old Testament emerges: earthly material and divine
spirit combine to form the living individual.60 Moreover, because God creates the human being in
toto, the person can be described as a unity in which both body and soul can act as the locus of
the divine.61 The totality o f the individual is also stated in terms which show a knowledge o f
Aristotelian biology and medical science. Solomon, although he is king, recognizes that he was
bom just like everyone else: “in the womb o f a mother I was molded into flesh, within the period
o f ten months, compacted with blood, from the seed o f a man and the pleasure o f marriage ... no
king has had a different beginning of existence. There is for all one entrance into life, and one
way out.. J*62
While these verses may be interpreted as an inheritance o f Old Testament anthropology
(expressed in the last passage from the perspective o f Hellenistic science), there are reasons to
resist this view. First, because Solomon’s recollection of his birth follows the general pattern o f
the literary genre “On Kingship,” in which the ruler emphasizes his mortality, it need not reflect
the author’s own view o f mankind.63 Second, these verses, along with the statements from
chapter fifteen, are used to underscore the inherent weakness o f humanity vis-a-vis the divine and
60 Gen 2:7; 6:17; 7:15. For a discussion of pneuma in Wis 15:11, see R.J. Taylor, “The
Eschatological Meaning of Life and Death in the Book of Wisdom I-V,” Ephemerides Theologicae
Lovanienses 42 (1966): 99-100. Winston (Wisdom o f Solomon, 286) finds in Wis 15:8 a parallel with Tim.
42e. In the former, however, it is the psyche that returns to its origin, while Plato uses the expression when
describing the formation of the earthly body.
61 1:4: “wisdom will not enter a deceitful soul, or dwell in a body enslaved to sin.” See also 2:23:
“God created us for incorruption (&(j>0apaia), and made us in the image of his own eternity.” There is no
suggestion, as in some late Hellenistic circles, that the body was spiritually bankrupt or evil (see also 1:14;
8:20).
62 7:1-6. For the philosophical and medical background to this passage, see Winston, Wisdom o f
Solomon, 162-164.
63 The influence of this Hellenistic genre is noted by Reese, Hellenistic Influence, 72-80; Winston,
Wisdom o f Solomon, 162-166.
224
therefore do not necessarily reflect a precise anthropological position. Third, late Hellenistic
Jews, especially those from Alexandria, could exegete the Old Testament descriptions o f mankind
as breath and clay as proof of a dualistic anthropology characteristic o f contemporary Greco-
Roman notions.64 That the author o f Wisdom was not unfamiliar with a dualistic understanding
o f mankind can also be seen in a number of different places.65 For instance, the text shows an
awareness o f the well known Greco-Roman belief that at death, the body and spirit {pneuma)
travel to regions from which they originally came: “the body will turn to ashes, and the spirit will
dissolve like empty air” (2:3). Later, pseudo-Solomon, meditating on the frailty o f human
wisdom, observes that “a perishable body weighs down the soul, and this earthly tent burdens the
thoughtful mind.”66 In the final passage detailing an opposition between soul and body, the
author includes the additional thought that the former represents the seat o f the person’s
individuality: recalling his early years, the king remarks that “As a child I was naturally gifted,
and a good soul {psyche) fell to my lot; or rather, being good, I entered an undefiled body.”67
For their Platonic overtones and contradictions to the author’s supposed Jewish
anthropological position, these last two references are two o f the most disputed passages in the
text.68 Yet the scholarly dichotomy o f “Jewish” vs. “Greek” loses much of its force when it is
realized that the author is simply using constructs from the larger Hellenistic world in his own
creative process. Thus, those who object to a Platonic reading o f 9:15 and 8:19-20 in favor o f a
64 Wis 2:23 (“God created us for incorruption, and made us in the image of his own eternity”)
alludes to Gen 1:27 and 2:7, two verses interpreted in a Platonic fashion by Philo, as will be shown in the
next section.
65 Although soma only appears five times in the text, it is contrasted with the individual’s higher
spiritual principle in three of these instances. Soul and body as higher and lower parts of the individual:
2:3; 8:20:9:15. In 1:4, the author constructs a parallelism between body and soul. The author does not
maintain a strict division between psyche and pneuma, as shown in 15:8 and 16; 15:11.
66 9:15: “(jjOapxov yap aco.ua fkxpwEt \yv%i\v, r a t PptOet to yecoSeq aKfjvo<; vow
Ttok'wJjpov'n.Sa.”
67 8:19-20: “raxlq 5e etxjji/n? yuxfk ekaxov dcyaGfiq, pdAAov 5e ayaGoq cbv fjkGov
eit; acopa dtptavxov.”
68 While many scholars would concede that Plato lies in the background in these verses, the
controversy centers on how much weight his influence had on the Jewish author. Winston {Wisdom o f
Solomon, 197-199,206-209) proposes a strong Platonic (and Greco-Roman) reading. For a view that
challenges these conclusions, see Taylor, “Eschatological Meaning,” 86-95; Reese, Hellenistic Influence,
80-87.
225
Jewish interpretation because the verses are not exact copies of Plato’s own words fail to
appreciate the innovative nature o f intertextuality, a technique that seeks not to reproduce an
earlier writer’s identical words but rather to refashion them for a new purpose.69 Thus, while
verbal similarities make it clear that 9:15 is a conscious allusion to Phaedo 81c,70 Wisdom adapts
the Platonic passage to emphasize its own particular theme, namely, that mortals are helpless if
they do not receive the aid and counsel o f Sophia.71 Similarly, 8:19-20 begins with the rather un-
Hellenistic idea that the body characterizes the totality of the person (“a good soul fell to my lot”)
in order to set up the following verse’s conventional philosophical notion that the soul bears the
identity of the person and that it exists prior to its entrance into materiality (“or rather ... /entered
an undefiled body”).72 Even so, the text nowhere uses the words “immortality” (&0avacioc) or
“immortal” (&0avcc'co<;) in reference to the soul, for it is not the author’s purpose to construct a
philosophical defense of the psyche or to detail its superiority to the body. While Wisdom is
therefore not a commentary on the Phaedo, it is a mistake to conclude that the author’s
worldview must derive from Judaism, as though Jewish writers were somehow hermetically
protected from the cultural environment of the Hellenistic period. A more balanced analysis finds
Wisdom’s anthropology in line with the general tenets o f the Greco-Roman world, irrespective of
the author’s own religious affiliation.
69 Two objections to the Platonic background of this verse have been offered by Taylor
(“Eschatological Meaning,” 93-94) and Reese (Hellenistic Influence, 82, 86-87). First, the verse in
Wisdom is used to describe individual helplessness in a search for truth, while Plato employs it to defend a
metaphysical position. Second, in Wisdom, psyche and nous appear in a parallel construction, while in
Plato these terms are separate entities. The first objection, however, does not take into account the
intertextual nature of the author’s writing. The second objection is technically true, but it must be
remembered, as many commentators have observed, that psyche functions like nous in the Phaedo. At the
time of this writing Plato had yet to develop his theory of the tripartition of the soul.
70 See Winston, Wisdom o f Solomon, 207-208.
71 Winston (Wisdom o f Solomon, 30) observes that, rather than appealing to Plato’s defense of the
natural immortality of the soul, Wisdom argues that immortality is the reward for the righteous soul. See
also John P. Weisengoff, “Death and Immortality in the Book of Wisdom,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 3
(1941): 110.
72 See James Drummond, Philo Judaeus; Or the Jewish-Alexandrian Philosophy, vol. 1 (London:
Williams andNorgate, 1888), 199-202; Winston, Wisdom o f Solomon, 25-32. A de-emphasis on the
Platonic background is argued by Taylor, “Eschatological Meaning,” 86-90; and Reese, Hellenistic
Influence, 84-85 (both of whom, however, agree that pc&Xov 5e shifts the force of the passage to 8:20).
226
Freedom and Determinism
The author’s exhortation to pursue Wisdom entails an understanding o f her laws, or in
other words, the inner workings o f the cosmos.73 This knowledge is attained through deliberate
human activity, a point that the first six chapters make explicit.74 Alongside these appeals to
individual action, however, are a number o f passages that suggest that the author is moving in the
direction o f determinism.75 In a number o f instances, the author advances the theory that God
establishes whether a person will choose goodness or evil before birth. The dikaioi are called
God’s “elect” ( e ic X e K x o i) , those to whom alone Wisdom comes.76 Likewise, the asebeis are a
“part” (p.eptg) o f evil stemming from the devil, and their progeny are “accursed” and “witnesses
o f evil” in the sight of God.77 In the last section o f the text, this innate propensity for evil is
explicitly stated with reference to the Canaanites: their “origin was evil and their wickedness
inborn (rtovripdc f| \|/evecn .<; orincov K<xi ein tr u r o g f) K o o c ia aincov)... they were an accursed
race from the beginning” (djcrc’ &pxn?) (12:10-11). Such meditations are not fully developed into
a schema that separates people into fixed classes, but its suggestion that a person’s spiritual
condition depends on their origins with either God or the devil provides a backdrop for its use by
the author o f the Gospel o f John. Here, as in John, however, the rhetoric is used metaphorically,
with the result that individuals have a reciprocal relationship with Sophia: individuals become
knowledgeable because they seek Wisdom, and Wisdom enters into individuals because they are
just.
73 The author borrows Stoic terminology in his description of Wisdom in 7:24: “Wisdom ...
pervades and penetrates all things” and in 8:5: “Wisdom [is] the active cause of all things.” See also 7:17:
God gave Solomon “unerring knowledge of what exists” and the ability “to know the structure of the world
and the activity of the elements.” On the Hellenistic background to this idea, see John J. Collins, “Cosmos
and Salvation: Jewish Wisdom and Apocalyptic in the Hellenistic Age,” History o f Religions 17 (1977):
121-142.
74 6:17: “The beginning of wisdom is the most sincere desire for instruction.” See also the pleas to
follow righteousness in 1:1-2; 6:1-11.
s On the Hellenistic background to this problem, see Winston, Wisdom o f Solomon, 46-58.
76 Elect: 3:9; 4:15; Wisdom comes only to the righteous: 1:4; 6:16; 7:25. See also 3:5, where the
righteous are called worthy of God.
77 1:16; 2:24; 3:12-13; 4:6.
227
Eschatology
In the sixth chapter the sorites neatly encapsulates how the desire for Wisdom ensures
salvation: “The beginning o f wisdom is the most sincere desire for instruction, the concern for
instruction is the love of her, and love o f her is the keeping o f her laws, and giving heed to her
laws is the assurance of incorruptibility (&<()0apcria<;), and incorruptibility brings one near to
God.”78 Moving beyond previous sapiential literature, then, the author understands Sophia’s aid
to extend beyond earthly existence.79 Consequently, those who actively seek after and possess
Wisdom may confidently look forward to an unending relationship with God, for to know
Wisdom’s “power” (Kpaxoq) is “the root o f immortality” (pt£cc dcGocvaaiaq).80
The text’s apocalyptic leanings converge with these meditations on the post-mortem
state. Although the ambiguity inherent in the author’s view o f “life” and “death” obscures any
attempt to reconstruct an exact eschatological timeline,81 it is clear that the “righteous” (SIkccioi.)
undergo a type o f purification while alive before their souls ascend to live in an eternal
communion with God after death.82 By contrast, the souls o f the “godless” (dccepeiq) meet an
opposite fate. Because they despised wisdom while on earth and “disregarded the righteous and
78 6:17-19 (see also 3:4; 6:12-16; 7:7, 8:21). For the Epicurean background behind the word
incorruption (<5c<t>0ccpcia), which also occurs at 2:23; 12:1; 18:4, see Reese, Hellenistic Influence, 64-69.
79 Winston, Wisdom o f Solomon, 63-64; John J. Collins, “The Root of Immortality: Death in the
Context of Jewish Wisdom,” Harvard Theological Review 71 (1978): 189-190. For the place of the
Wisdom of Solomon within Jewish sapiential literature, see M. Gilbert, “Wisdom Literature,” in Jewish
Writings o f the Second Temple Period: Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Qumran Sectarian Writings, Philo,
Josephus, ed. Michael E. Stone (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 301-313.
80 15:3. See also 5:15: “but the righteous (Siicaioi.) live forever (eiq idv a’tcova £d5cn.v), and their
reward is with the Lord”; 1:15; 7:27; 8:13.
81 See Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, 88-89; Cavallin, Life After Death, 127-130.
Nickelsburg observes that the author’s use of realized eschatology means that “life” and “death” can have
both a physical and spiritual meaning. Thus, while alive the righteous are already “immortal” because of
their attachment to Wisdom, and only the fool would equate their physical death as their dispersion into
nothingness (3:1-4). Similarly, the godless recognize their past errors and conclude that they were
spiritually “dead” while they were alive in the body: “as soon as we were bom, [we] ceased to be, and we
had no sign of virtue to show, but were consumed in our wickedness” (5:13; see also 1:16).
2 Earthly purification: 3:5-9; sons of God who dwell among the saints: 5:5 (see also 4:2). There is
no indication that the post-mortem state entails the resurrection of the body. It would be more likely,
especially considering the text’s Alexandrian provenance, that the author’s belief in the non-bodily post
existence was in accord with Hellenistic convention. On this point, see Nickelsburg, Resurrection,
Immortality, 88; Cavallin, “Leben nach dem Tode,” 287; Collins, “Root of Immortality,” 188-189; idem,
Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997), 186.
228
rebelled against the Lord,” they will suffer post-mortem punishment.83 It is not clear whether
each soul is judged individually once (either at death or at the final judgment), or whether they
receive an initial judgment after death and then a second one at the eschaton. In any event, the
author maintains that “they will have no hope and no consolation on the day o f judgment” (3:18).
While the just can look forward to immortality, the hope of wicked, by contrast, “is cheaper than
dirt,” and eternal darkness, and “they will become dishonored corpses and an outrage among the
dead forever.”84 By rejecting Wisdom, then, these souls are eternally separated from a spiritual
communion with God.ss
With its complex anthropology and ambiguous eschatology, the Wisdom o f Solomon
presents difficulties in trying to determine its understanding o f the journey o f the soul. What
appears certain is that the souls of the righteous, because o f their wisdom, participate in the
second half o f the journey that leads to eternal rest with God. The souls o f the wicked, by
contrast, are judged after death and receive a sentence o f eternal punishment. How the author
understood the first half of the journey is less clear. Although the psyche is never called
immortal, it is likely that the author had some conception of a pre-existent soul which was
originally incorruptible and could gain immortality through the pursuit o f Wisdom. Ultimately,
however, because his more immediate concern centers on how sin can affect a person’s post
mortem relationship with God, he does not engage in an extensive discussion o f this
philosophical question.
IV. Intertestamental Judaism HI: Philo
Anthropology
If the author o f the Wisdom o f Solomon evinces an inclination to adopt Hellenistic
anthropological models into his text, Philo appears as an even greater proponent o f this method.
53 3:10-11 (see also 1:8-9).

84 Righteous: 3:4; wicked: 4:18; 15:10; 17:21.
85 Drummond, Philo Judaeus, vol. 1, 213; Weisengoff, “Death and Immortality,” 115. Collins
(Jewish Wisdom, 187), however, has hypothesized that the souls of the wicked are eventually annihilated.
229
Immersed in Greco-Roman philosophy, Philo accepts as axiomatic the division o f mankind into
two principles, body and soul. Commenting on Gen 2:7, the philosopher remarks that “the body
(soma) was made through the Artificer taking clay and molding out o f it a human form, but that
the soul (psyche) was originated from nothing created whatever, but from the Father and Ruler o f
AH ... man is on the borderline between mortal and immortal nature ... mortal in respect of the
body, but in respect o f the mind (dianoia) immortal.”86 With this last statement, however, Philo
seems to distinguish between the soul’s higher and lower faculties, attributing immortality only to
the former.87 This is confirmed in another comment on Gen 2:7, where Philo, after making a
distinction between “mind” (nous) and “body” (soma), calls the former incorruptible, “a fragment
of the divine” (&7t6a7tccCT|j.a Belov) (Somn. 34). Thus, like the Stoics, Philo uses psyche in both a
broad and narrow sense: it can represent the “the whole soul and also ... its dominant part
(hegemonikon), which properly speaking is the soul o f the soul” (vWCn vK'uX'n?)-88 In general
then, whether he divides the soul in a bipartite, tripartite, or Stoic way, it is, properly speaking,
only the highest part o f the soul (the logos, nous, or pneuma) that can be regarded as immortal.89
86 Opif. Mun. 135 (see also Leg. All. 3.161).

87 Cf. Tim. 69b-e.
88 Her. 55. See also Del. 82: “Each one of us ... is two in number, an animal and a man ... to one
[is allotted] the power of vitality (£amicfi), in virtue of which we are alive, to the other the power of
reasoning (A-ayuon), in virtue of which we are reasoning beings.”
89 Bipartite: Leg. All. 1.24; Spec. Leg. 1.333; Fug. 69; tripartite (Platonic): Spec. Leg. 4.92; Her.
225; (Aristotelian): Quaest. Gen. 2.59; Stoic division: Opif. Mun. 117. God creates the highest part of the
soul: Her. 56; Det. 83. While the rational faculty comes from God, the lower soul is created by his angelic
subordinates (Fug. 69-72; Opif. Mun. 74-75; Conf. 179). On this issue, see Birger A. Pearson, Philo and
the Gnostics on Man and Salvation, Center for Hermeneutical Studies in Hellenistic and Modem Culture.
Protocol of the Twenty-Ninth Colloquy, 17 April, 1977 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), 2-
7; David Winston, “Theodicy and the Creation of Man in Philo of Alexandria,” in Hellenica etJudaica:
Hommage a Valentin Nikiprowetzky, eds. A Caquot, M. Hadas-Lebel, and J. Riaud (Paris: Editions Peeters,
1986), 105-111. Philo interprets the two creation episodes in Genesis according to a Platonic model: while
Gen 1:26-27 represents the creation of the ideal man, Gen 2:7 describes the creation of the sense
perceptible man (Opif. Mun. 134-135; Leg. All. 1.31-32; Quaest. Gen. 1.4; 2.56). On Philo’s discussion of
the parts of soul and the creation of man, see Harry Austryn Wolfson, Philo: Foundations o f Religious
Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, vol. 1 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1962),
385-395; James A. Baer, Jr., Philo's Use o f the Categories Male and Female (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1970), 14-
44; John Dillon, The Middle Platonists: 80 B.C. to A.D. 220 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1977),
174-176; Thomas H. Tobin, The Creation o f Man: Philo and the History o f Interpretation (Washington,
D.C.: The Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1983), 31.
230
Because the rational soul comes from God, Philo identifies it as the “invisible”
(dtopaxog), “incorruptible” (&<{>0api:og), and “ immortal” (dtGdvaxoq) essence within mankind.90
After its creation, it is said to inhabit either the aether above the moon or, more commonly, the
air, the lower, sub-lunar atmosphere o f the daimones.91 Philo thus understands the soul to be a
pre-existent entity, but like other contemporary Platonists, he is confronted with trying to make
sense out o f the dialogues’ opposing explanations o f embodiment. Instead o f settling on one
particular interpretation, however, he comments on both the negative and positive portrayals.
Echoing the Phaedo and Phaedrus, Philo describes them as “lovers o f the body” (<|)iXoac6(xaxoi)
who possess “earthward tendencies and material tastes”; this descent is caused by an “ intolerable
satiety” and is characterized by “misery wholesale and all-pervading.”92 Elsewhere however, the
assumption o f an earthly body follows the Timaeus: the soul descends as part of the regular order
o f nature or “by a law of necessity ... in order that it might carefully inspect terrestrial things, that
even these might not be without a share in wisdom to participate in a better life.”93
While Philo does not regard materiality as inherently evil, it is nevertheless common for
him to build upon the negative view of the soul’s descent with the observation that bodily
passions weigh down and prevent the soul from achieving communion with God.94 As a prison or
tomb, the body is “wicked and a plotter against the soul.” Alternatively, as the image o f God, the
soul, is a “corpse-bearer.”95 The ultimate goal for the soul is thus to strip off the material
encumbrance and reascend to its original home. While a glimpse o f this disembodied state might
90 Immut. 46; Somn. 1.136; Cong. 97; Spec. Leg. 1.81.

91 Somn. 1.134-135: “the air is the abode of incorporeal souls” (see also Plant. 14, where the
angels inhabit the aither above the moon; Leg. All. 3.161, where the soul is aetherial; Gig. 6-11; Her. 240).
On Philo’s celestial hierarchy, see David Winston, Logos and Mystical Theology in Philo o f Alexandria
(Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1985), 32-34.
92Somn. 138-139; Her. 240-241 (see also Gig. 12-15).
93 Quaest. Gen. 4.74. The sentence concludes on a negative note: “or in order that it might be akin
to created beings and not continuously and completely happy.” See also Somn. 138; Plant. 14: the soul
descends and ascends “according to certain fixed periods” (Kcrcdc xivaq cbpicriievac; jtepioScrug). For a
summary of all of Philo’s explanations for embodiment, see Winston, Logos and Mystical Theology, 34-35.
94 Leg. All. 3.152; Del. 16; Spec. 4.114; Plant. 25; Her. 295; Gig. 31. See also James Drummond,
Philo Judaeus; Or, the Jewish-Alexandrian Philosophy, vol. 2 (London: Williams and Norgate, 1888), 297-
300.
95 Leg. All. 3.69, 74; body as a prison or tomb: Mig. 9; Somn. 139; Leg. All. 1.108.
231
be experienced proleptically through the progression toward virtue or during moments of mystical
enlightenment, Philo contends that it is only after physical death that a true “rebirth”
(ua>.T.YYeveaia) can occur.96
Ontological “Races,” The Philosophical Life, and Soteriology
Occasionally in Philo’s writings there are passages that appear to employ deterministic
imagery. For instance, Philo speaks o f the “race” (genos) o f Seth and Cain, and, in a commentary
on Gen 6:4, states that there are two kinds of souls that descend into materiality, the philosophical
and those that reject wisdom.97 While these examples may at first glance appear to divide
humanity into fixed ontological classes, it quickly becomes evident that Philo’s taxonomy is
meant only to differentiate people based on their devotion to virtue 98 Thus, in the first case, the
race o f Seth represents those who realize their dependence on God, while the second prefaces an
exhortation to follow the philosophical life.99
Exhortations to lead a virtuous life o f wisdom are particularly important for Philo, for it
appears that only these souls will return to the place o f their origin.100 While those entrenched in
96 Fred W. Burnett, “Philo on Immortality: A Thematic Study of Philo’s Concept of

7raA.iYYeve{Tia 1” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 46 (1984): 453-459. For a discussion of Philo’s mysticism,
see also Harold R. Willoughby, Pagan Regeneration: A Study o f Mystery Initiations in the Graeco-Roman
World (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1929), 225-262; Erwin R. Goodenough, “Philo on
Immortality,” Harvard Theological Review 39 (1946): 85-108. For Philo’s belief in the progression toward
virtue, see Somn. 2.234-236. For Philo’s own views of the mystical experience, see Opif. Mun. 70-71; Leg.
All. 3.42, 100; Post. 27; Quaest. Ex. 2.29, 51; Mig. 34-35; Her. 69-70; Somn. 2.231-234.
97 Post. 40-48, 170-173; Gig. 12-14.
98 According to Michael Allen Williams (The Immovable Race: A Gnostic Designation and the
Theme o f Stability in Late Antiquity [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1985], 178), Philo uses these terms “to encourage
the reader to desire membership into the better ‘family’ or ‘race,’ and yet Philo knows that it would never
happen that everyone would achieve membership in the genos of Seth, since most persons do not ‘have
what it takes’—i.e., the commitment to virtue.” For Philo’s use of Seth, see also A.F.J. Klijn, Seth in
Jewish, Christian and Gnostic Literature (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1977), 25-27.
99 See also Quaest. Ex. 1.23, a passage which parallels the “Two Spirits” treatise by identifying
two “powers” (dynameis) that enter into the soul at birth and vie against one another for the individual’s
allegiance.
100Leg. All. 2.55. Dillon, Middle Platonists, 176-178; Burnett, “Philo on Immortality,” 464: “The
rebirth of the soul which occurs after death seems to be on a continuum with the migration of the soul
towards perfection before death.” Burnet shows that this “progress” (prokope) is a central feature of
Philo’s De Cherubim. See also, D. Zeller (“The Life and Death of the Soul in Philo of Alexandria: The Use
and Origin of a Metaphor,” in Studio Philonica Annual, vol. 7, ed. David T. Runia [Atlanta: Scholars Press,
232
a life o f the passions succumb to “the violent rush o f its [the body’s] raging waters,” philosophers
who have devoted themselves to the things o f the mind “withstand the rapids,” rise to “the
surface, and then soar[ed] back up to the place whence they had set out.” 101 Restricting the
anabasis to the wise also appears in the exegesis o f Gen 15:15 (“y°u shall go to your fathers in
peace, nourished in a good old age”): “Clearly this indicates,” Philo contends,
the incorruptibility o f the soul, which removes its habitation from the mortal
body and returns as if to the mother-city (p.r|xp67toX.i.v), from which it originally
moved its habitation to this place. For when it is said to a dying person, “Thou
shalt go to thy fathers,” what else is this than to represent another life without the
body, which only the souls o f the wise man (y u x n v p.ovr|v xotj crotjxnj) ought to
live.102
He then continues by clarifying that “the fathers” “seems to indicate the incorporeal Logoi103 of
the divine world, whom elsewhere it is accustomed to call ‘angels.’”104
Above this region, hov/ever, Philo reserves a place for a few revered patriarchs and those
displaying prophetic insight.105 For instance, the souls of Isaac and Enoch appear to have traveled
beyond the angelic beings to the realm o f the Ideas.106 In De Gigantibus, this level is the home
for all priests and prophets: they “have entirely transcended the sensible sphere and have migrated
to the intelligible world (voTycov tcoapov) and dwell there enrolled as citizens o f the
Commonwealth of Ideas, which are imperishable and incorporeal” (&4>0apxcov <Kai>
ccccopaxcov).107 The destiny of Moses, however, surpasses even this level, for according to Philo
he resides beside God, beyond “species and genus alike” (Sac. 8). At this level, the “holy soul is
1995], 31-32), who has also shown that for Philo, the lives of Lot, Jacob, and Aaron epitomize a
progression toward virtue.
101 Gig. 12-14. See also Mos. 1.190; Quaest. Gen. 1.16; Leg. All. 3.72.
102 Quaest. Gen. 3.11.
I0;>The Armenian text reads “inhabitants,” while the Greek paraphrase omits it entirely. See
Burnett, “Philo on Immortality,” 460; Philo, Questions and Answers on Genesis, trans. Ralph Marcus, Loeb
Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1953), 196.
104 See also Sac. 5; Quaest. Gen. 1.86 (Elijah). Her. 283 employs Stoic terminology by stating
that the soul leaves the world “to find a father in aither, the purest of the substances.”
105 On this issue, see Wolfson, Philo, 402-404; Winston, Logos and Mysticism, 38.
106 Isaac: Sac. 6-7; Enoch: Quaest. Gen. 1.86. Here the soul’s ascends to the place reserved for the
philosopher in the Phaedo.
107 Gig. 61. See also Post. 43.
233
divinized by ascending not to the air or to the aether or to heaven ... but to (a region) above the
heavens. And beyond the world Qcosmos) there is no place but God” (Quaest. Ex. 2.40).
To the two types o f souls mentioned above Philo introduces a third—the “sons o f earth.”
These souls are distinguished from the others because they have “derailed the mind from the
tracks o f reason and have converted it into the lifeless and inert nature o f the flesh” (Gig. 65).
Just like the author o f the Wisdom o f Solomon, Philo regards these people as already dead while
on earth, and thus, it would appear, they have no hope for immortality. While the physical death
o f worthy men “is the beginning o f another life ... the evil man dies by death even when he
breathes, before he is buried, as though he preserved for himself no spark at all of the true life”
(Quaest. Gen. 1.16). Because they have become immersed in materiality, the post-mortem fate of
these souls lies away from God: “he banishes the unjust and godless souls from himself to the
furthest bounds (Ttoppondxco Sieatteipev), and disperses them to the place o f pleasures and lusts
and injustices” (Cong. 57). By virtue of their distance from the divine, then, the evil soul is a
“deserter” (ain6p.oA.o<;) and “a fugitive (<fruy&<;) without a home, city, or fixed abode” who can
only await “eternal death” (b ddSioc; Gavaxoq).108
Philo presents the most Hellenized view o f the journey o f the soul in Second Temple
Jewish literature. The soul is a pre-existent, immortal essence stamped in the image o f God.
Existing in the upper atmosphere, it descends into the body, during which time it seeks to prepare
itself to reascend to its divine home through the acquisition o f wisdom. The best fate awaits the
philosophic and prophetic souls, whose anodos culminates in an intimate relationship with God.
Whether Philo understood this existence in terms o f individuality or, more abstractly as an
absorption in the divine it perhaps impossible to determine.109 In any case, these souls have only
108 Gig. 67; Post. 39 (see also Post. 73; Cher. 2; Det. 149). Citing Quaest. Gen. 1.51 and Det. 178,
Winston (Logos and Mystical Theology, 39) hypothesizes that the wicked souls are continually
reincarnated. Alternatively, Wolfson (Philo, 410) and Cavallin (Life After Death, 136-137) call attention to
the possibility that Philo thought evil souls would experience complete annihilation. The above
interpretation, however, following the argument of Drummond (Philo Judaeus, vol. 2, 322-323)
understands the phrase “eternal death” to refer to an eternal spiritual condition devoid of the divine. See
also Zeller, “Life and Death of the Soul,” 21-36.
109 So Burnett, “Philo on Immortality,” 459-464 (after analyzing the antithetical positions of
Goodenough and Wolfson).
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one earthly sojourn. The souls o f the wicked are likewise incarnated only once, although in
contrast to the just their post-mortem destiny is characterized by an eternal separation from God.
This chapter has surveyed a wide variety of Jewish perspectives on the nature of the soul
and its existence both prior to and after its earthly embodiment. The first section offered an
analysis of the ancient Israelite position, which, it was argued, closely resembled the views of
Archaic Greece: because the Old Testament does not work with the concept o f “soul” to represent
the identity of the individual, it is anachronistic to speak of its journey into or out o f the body.
The final three sections were devoted to different genres o f intertestamental literature. A survey
o f apocalyptic thought found a wide diversity o f opinions regarding the soul’s origin, nature, and
post-mortem existence. The “Two Spirits” passage from Qumran, which displays an interest in
Zoroastrian ideas, was singled out for review because its contents can inform the examination of
early Christian concepts such as a partial journey of the soul culminating in the assumption o f a
“spiritual body,” ontological categories based on the image of “light” and “dark,” a tension
between determinism and individual freedom, and the notion of a cosmic dualism.
The final two parts surveyed more Hellenistic approaches to the journey of the soul. The
Wisdom of Solomon’s anthropology was found to be indebted to Greco-Roman philosophy,
although the text’s purpose prevents these ideas from being fully elaborated. Thus, while the soul
may be pre-existent and life after death conceived o f as its everlasting existence with God, the
concept of immortality is only addressed in relation to attaining Wisdom. Although the author
argues that the righteous are destined for this fate before birth, it, along with the IQS passage,
nevertheless modifies this position by stating that immortality is achieved through a rigorous
devotion to the tenets o f the community. Finally, the survey of Philo’s notion o f psyche revealed
a view of the journey of the soul that most clearly resembles the formulations found in Greco-
Roman philosophy. The (rational) soul is pre-existent, incorruptible, and immortal, and its post
mortem fate, whether eternally at home with or dissociated from the God, is contingent on the
attainment of virtue and a devotion to the philosophical life while embodied.
PART IV
CHAPTER 1
PAUL
The last two parts of this study have sought to trace the emergence o f the belief in the
immortality of the soul, to examine the idea of a journey for the soul, and to introduce how a
variety of philosophical and religious ideas could influence and alter the articulation o f such a
journey. With this foundation established, it is now possible to assess how these intellectual
currents filtered into the literature o f early Christianity. This part will begin with an analysis of
Paul’s reconstruction of the soul’s journey as it relates to early Christian theological debates. The
first section will begin by showing that while Paul does not use psyche in a technical sense, his
dualistic anthropology provides a model for envisioning humanity’s involvement in the second
half of the journey. The second section will build upon this observation through an analysis of
Phil 2:6-11 within its literary context. It will be argued that while the Christ Hymn places Jesus
on the entire journey, individuals may experience the second half by properly orientating
themselves toward him and the gospel message. The third section will then integrate this
conclusion into the main tenets o f Pauline thought and show that the journey o f the soul can act as
a lens for understanding the controversies he faced. The Corinthians’ pneumatikos-psychikos
terminology will be given particular attention because it provides an early glimpse into how the
devaluation of the psychic could impact theological disputes. The chapter will conclude by
identifying the roots o f the apostle’s conception o f the journey of the soul in the intellectual
currents o f Zoroastrianism, Second Temple Judaism, and Greece.
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236
I. The Soul and Anthropological Dualism
Modem research on Pauline anthropology has been faced with the difficult task of trying
to determine the apostle’s views on mankind from letters which consistently resist such an
interpretation.1 In contrast to a writer like Philo, Paul shows no interest in developing a
systematic or theoretical position on the nature o f the individual. Indeed, the rich and complex
fund o f psychological terms available to Paul at times overlap with one another, while the same
word can often assume new connotations depending on the historical and social setting o f the
epistle.2 Moreover, Paul’s remarks on the composition o f the living person mainly appear within
the larger context of the believer’s position vis-a-vis God.3 Despite these difficulties, however, it
is still possible to assess his use o f psyche and offer some observations on his general view of the
construction o f the human being.4
Psyche
Any investigation o f psyche in the Pauline letters must begin by recognizing the apostle’s
infrequent use o f the term. In comparison to the Septuagint, which uses the word 756 times,
psyche appears only eleven times in Paul’s undisputed letters. This paucity may also be
compared to other terms such as pneuma, soma, and sarx, all o f which Paul employs eight to ten
times as often.5 While some reasons for this situation will be addressed below, at this point it is
only necessary to show that this lack o f data does not preclude an analysis o f the Pauline psyche.
1For a discussion of the history of scholarship on Pauline anthropology, which is essentially

divided among those who find either the Old Testament or the Greco-Roman world to be the primary
influence on the apostle, see Stacey, Pauline View o f Man, 40-55.
2 On this point, see Jewett, Paul’s Anthropological Terms, 9-10.
3 Bultmann, Theology, vol. 1, 191: Pauline theology “does not deal with the world and man as they
are in themselves, but constantly sees the world and man in their relation to God. Every assertion about
God is simultaneously an assertion about man and vice versa. For this reason and in this sense, Paul’s
theology is, at the same time, anthropology.”
4 For discussions of psyche in Paul, see Bultmann, Theology, vol. 1, 203-210; Stacey, Pauline
View o f Man, 121-127; Schmid, “Begriff der Seele,” 134-140; Reicke, “Body and Soul,” 200-212; Jewett,
Paul’s Anthropological Terms, 334-357; Schweitzer, “vjruxfi,” 648-650.
5 Jewett, Paul's Anthropological Terms, 339, n. 4; Stacey, Pauline View o f Man, 181.
237
The most obvious fact that emerges from a survey o f the letters’ use of psyche is their
reliance on the Old Testament and popular Hellenistic way o f speaking about the soul. Indeed,
like the ancient Israelites and Homer, Paul employs psyche in the sense o f “life” or as the vital
Iife-force that is necessary for the animation of the person. For instance, psyche replaces the Old
Testament nepes when Paul cites Gen 2:7: “The first man Adam became a living being” (rj/uxTiv
£d5cav) (1 Cor 15:45). Similarly, he substitutes psyche for nepes when he quotes Elijah’s remark
that the Israelites were intent on destroying him: “Lord, they have killed your prophets, they have
demolished your altars, and I alone am left, and they seek my p sy c h e d In two other instances he
claims that the psyche, as the vitality o f the individual, is something that can be jeopardized and
leads to death if lost: Paul instructs the Philippians to welcome Epaphroditus, “for he nearly died
for the work of Christ, risking his psyche to complete your service to me”; and he closes his letter
to the Romans by noting that Prisca and Aquila “risked their necks for my psyche.”1 Finally, in 1
Cor 14:7, the apostle compares unintelligible prophetic speech with “lifeless (tfai/'uxa)
instruments, such as the flute or harp [that] do not give distinct notes.”
Paul also employs psyche as a synecdoche for the individual person. Twice in Romans
the phrase tzG.g <

x yu x n is used to denote “every living person.”8 Elsewhere psyche appears
where a simple pronoun would be sufficient: Paul informs the Thessalonians that he and his
companions “were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves”
(rag ecattciov xj/uxocq); and he alternatively challenges and reassures the Corinthians with the
words “I call God to witness against my psyche” (xr\v e|j.fiv lyuxfiv) and “I will gladly spend and
be spent for yourpsychaf ’ (xcov vj/'ux.div bpcov).9
The Greco-Roman tendency to make the psyche the emotional or volitional center of the
person also manifests itself in the epistles. In Philippians he exhorts the community to remain
true to his message, “so that I may hear o f you that you stand firm in one spirit, with one mind (ev
6 Rom 11:3 (quoting 1 Kings 19:10).

7Phil 2:30; Rom 16:4.
82:9: “There will be tribulation and distress for every human being who does evil”; 13:1: “Let
every person be subject to the governing authorities.”
9 1 Thess 2:8; 2 Cor 1:23; 12:15.
238
evi Ttvs'uii.axi, p.ta M/'uXli) striving side by side for the faith o f the gospel” (1:27). Here psyche
and pneuma appear synonymous, connoting a conscious, internal stance that Paul expects from
the entire congregation.10 The same idea is repeated three more times in the following chapter.
First, Paul asks the community to make him happy by “being of the same mind (to aired
(Jjpovfjxe), having the same love, being in full accord (cropAj/uxoi) and o f one mind” (ev
(jjpovoureq) (2:2). In this passage the verb “to think” (<j>poveco) replaces pneuma as a correlative
o f psyche, but the import remains centered on an interior disposition located in the soul. The
second instance occurs when the apostle informs the Philippians that he will shortly send Timothy
to them, “so that I may be cheered (ebxjruxdj) by news o f you,” a statement that echoes earlier
Greek beliefs that the psyche was the seat of such feelings.11 In the next verse the final case
appears: speaking of Timothy, Paul continues, “I have no one like him (iao\i/u%ov), who will be
genuinely anxious for your welfare.”12
The results of this survey show that Paul does not develop the technical definition of
psyche as it is found in Greco-Roman philosophical circles. There is no indication that the term
should be understood as a pre-existent essence bearing the imprint o f the individual’s personality,
as Plato had argued, nor does it carry the connotation o f an inherently immortal entity in either a
Platonic or Stoic sense.13 Instead, the apostle understands psyche in its simplest and most ancient
meaning as the psychological entity that enlivens the person, as that which leads to death if lost,
or as a synecdoche for the human being. At this point m ost commentators argue that Paul drew
10 Bultmann, Theology, vol. 1,204-205.

11 2:19. See also 1 Thess 5:14, where Paul asks his community to “encourage the fainthearted
(TOUg oXiYoyux,m>?)”; Eph 6:6; Col 3:23. For other Hellenistic parallels, see Walter Bauer, A Greek-
English Lexicon o f the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 4th ed. (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1952), 330.
12For Greek parallels, see Arndt and Gingrich, Greek-English Lexicon, 382. Citing Acts 2:43-47
and 4:32-37, however, Jewett (Paul's Anthropological Terms, 349-352) has argued that these words are not
meant to describe a unity of spirit among the Philippians or Paul and Timothy. Rather, they signify a social
situation that emphasizes “equality and unity in status and nature.” While Jewett argues against the above
interpretation, it does not appear that the two connotations are mutually exclusive.
13 Schmid, “Begriff der Seele,” 137: for Paul “das menschliche Jtve-upa oder die vuxf), von der er
so selten spricht, nicht der Gott nSherstehende, edlere Teil des Menschen ist.”
239
on the Old Testament nepes for his understanding o f the soul,14 but it should not be forgotten that
this way o f using psyche was also deeply engrained in the consciousness o f the Greco-Roman
world due to the influence of the Homeric epics. Yet it was a commonplace in the Hellenistic
period to make a distinction between body and soul, a dichotomy that is absent in Paul.15
Consequently, before it is possible to evaluate his notion o f the journey o f the soul, it is first
necessary to determine whether any trace o f anthropological dualism can be found in the letters.
Anthropological Dualism
Because most commentators have agreed that Paul works with a low anthropology
stemming from the Old Testament model for mankind, they equally resist the belief that the
apostle viewed mankind as anything other than a unified whole.16 Yet there are numerous
reasons to suspect this view. First, Paul’s distinction between an “inner” and “outer” man has no
antecedents in Old Testament literature and suggests instead that he was comfortable with the
Hellenistic division o f man into physical and spiritual principles.17 In the first occurrence o f this
phrase, Paul combats the so-called “divine-man” missionaries in Corinth who justified their
claims as apostles through prophecy and thaumaturgical acts. By considering themselves
physically superior to Paul by virtue o f these gifts, they had created dissention among the
Corinthians.18 In response, Paul reminds his community that the outward appearance (“earthen
14 Because Paul’s psyche does not conform to a Platonic model, Stacey (Pauline View o f Man,
126) asserts that “The natural conclusion is that Paul’s idea of the soul was Hebraic and not Greek.” This
study has shown, however, that Plato’s understanding of the soul was only one option among many in the
Hellenistic period. Moreover, at the level of popular thought it is virtually absent.
15 Paul’s anthropology in 1 Thess 5:23 will be treated below.
16 See, for instance, the comments by Stacey, Pauline View o f Man, 213-214.
17The exact phrase is not found prior to Paul, although there are similar formulations in Philo and
the Corpus Hermeticum (J. Jeremias, “&v0pawtog,” in Theological Dictionary o f the New Testament, vol. 1,
ed. Geoffrey W. Bromily [Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1964], 365). The
deep background is ultimately Plato’s discussion of the composition of man in Rep. 589a. In this section,
Plato imagines that man is comprised of an outer, physical form inside of which contains the tripartite soul
in the shape of a beast (epithymia), lion ([thymos), and man (logike). While the unjust cultivate the first two
parts of the soul, the just man “affirms that all our actions and words should tend to give the man within us
(o evroq dvGpcojuog) complete domination over the entire man.”
18This background is outlined by Jewett, Paul’s Anthropological Terms, 27-32.
240
vessel”) o f the true Christian is meaningless when compared to the spiritual beauty (“treasure”)
that comes with faith in Jesus:
Though our outer man (o s^co fiptnv dvGpcotroq) is wasting away, our inner man
(o eaco tipdiv) is being renewed every day. For this slight momentary affliction
is preparing us for an eternal weight o f glory beyond all comparison, because we
look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things
that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.19
As the next chapter shows, Paul constructs this argument so that the Corinthians might have an
answer for those “who boast in outward appearance (ev TtpoacbTCCp) and not in the heart” (ev
KOcpSia) (2 Cor 5:12). In the larger context o f this section, then, it is clear that the apostle’s intent
is to distinguish between the physicality of the visible body and its interior essence, which, in this
case, appears to be the heart.20
A second use of the term “inner man” occurs in Rom 7. In this case, however, Paul is not
combating a rival group of charismatics but rather expounding on the limitations o f the law and
its relationship to sin. While the law is in itself good, it is by believing that humankind has the
ability to adhere blamelessly to it that leads to sin. Reflecting on this problem through the use of
imagery reminiscent of the “Two Spirits” treatise from Qumran, Paul describes an internal battle
between good and evil: “I delight in the law of God, in my inmost self ( t o v eaco dcvGpawuov), but
I see in my members (ev xolq p.eA.eatv pou) another law at war with the law o f my mind ( t o o
vooq poo) and making me captive to the law of sin which dwells in my members. Wretched man
that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (7:22-24). In this passage Paul
contrasts the law o f God and the law o f one’s mind with the law of sin and the law o f one’s
members. Although the inner man has as its correlative the members rather than the outer man,
the reference, as in 2 Cor 4:16, clearly designates the physical body.21 Paul’s understanding of
192 Cor 4:16-18.

20 See also Eph 3:16. Schnelle, Human Condition, 107: “With ecrco &vQfxnnoq Paul is designating
the actual T of the person, which is open to the will of God and the working of the Spirit.” Gundry {Soma,
137) arrives at the same conclusion. See also Jewett, Paul's Anthropological Terms, 397.
21 Jewett {Paul's Anthropological Terms, 157-160) argues that in the phrase “body of death,” soma
is used in a place where sarx would normally be expected. This change was made so that soma, as the
category that “bridge[s] the gap between the old and the new man,” could contrast the more negative sarx
in 7:25.
241
the inner man has also changed, from the heart to the mind, although the change in terminology
does not signal a conceptual difference: both terms are meant to denote the psychic core o f the
individual. Despite the alterations, then, it is nevertheless the case that the apostle describes
mankind in a dualistic fashion, with the bodily sphere, because o f its attraction to sin, “capturing”
(aix(J-OcA.coxi^co) the individual’s spiritual essence so that it cannot fulfill the will of God.
In addition to his meditations on the differences between the inner and outer man, a
variety o f other examples show that Paul works with a dualistic anthropology. For instance, in
his condemnation of the sexual immorality of one o f the Corinthians, he maintains that
though I am absent in the body (xcp achp.ocu) I am present in spirit (xcu

7rv£"U(j.cxTL), and as if present, I have already pronounced judgment in the name of
the Lord Jesus on the man who has done such a thing. When you are assembled,
and my spirit (too fepo-u irvE-uiiaxoq) is present, with the power of the Lord
Jesus, you are to deliver this man to Satan for the destruction o f the flesh
(6A.e0pov aapKog), that his spirit (7tveij(ia) may be saved in the day o f the Lord
Jesus.22
This passage contains two statements in support of a dichotomous anthropology. The first two
verses clearly show that Paul assumes that the individual is comprised o f separate ontological
parts: his spirit is with the Corinthians even though his is physically separated from them.23 The
distinction between flesh and spirit in the final verse is less obvious, however, as many
commentators have suggested that both terms refer to the entire person, before and after
salvation.24 Yet Robert Jewett has noted, on the authority o f demonological studies, that the point
o f such a rebuke was meant to punish the actual person. It appears, therefore, that Paul advocates
the physical castigation so that the sinner may be purified.25
If 1 Cor 5:3-5 explicitly argues for a dualistic division o f the person, an autobiographical
passage from 2 Corinthians implicitly makes the same claim. Recalling an ecstatic vision, Paul
22 1 Cor 5:3-5.
23 Bultmann, Theology, vol. I, 208. According to Jewett (Paul’s Anthropological Terms, 189), the
spirit must be understood in this case as specifically human, for Paul argues “my spirit (tou spo-u
rcve-upaToq) is present, with the power (S-uvapi?) of the Lord Jesus.” See also Col 2:5.
24 See Gundry, Soma, 142, n. 2.
25 Jewett, Paul’s Anthropological Terms, 124, n. 3. See also Osei-Bonsu, “Anthropological
Dualism,” 575-577.
242
states, “I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven—
whether in the body (ev acop.axi) or out o f the body (eictog -coo crcbp.a'cog) I do not know, God
knows” (12:2). Whether Paul was actually in or out o f the body during this experience is less
important than the fact that he imagines it to be possible.26 As Bultmann remarks, “he is clearly
reckoning with the possibility that the self can separate from the soma even in this present life,
and this soma can only be the physical body.”27 Still other verses show a conscious development
o f dualistic thinking. Weighing the merits and disadvantages o f marriage in 1 Corinthians, Paul
observes that while the married focus on how to please their partners, those who are single can
concentrate solely on their service to God. Thus, while the married woman concerns herself with
“worldly affairs,” the “unmarried woman or girl is anxious about the affairs of the Lord, how to
be holy in body and in spirit” (tco acopaxi xcci ico JCvs'up.a.Ti) (7:34). From the context of this
chapter, which addresses in part the physical responsibilities o f the married, it is obvious that
soma and pneuma are meant to be understood as two distinct parts within the living person.28
This line of thought continues in 2 Corinthians: in their respective contexts, 2:13 (“my pneuma
could not rest”) suggests an inner distress, while 7:5 (“our flesh had no rest”) implies physical
suffering.29
Paul’s eschatological teachings, which suggest an intermediate state of existence before
the parousia, likewise show a dualistic understanding o f mankind.30 The Thessalonians, who
express concern that recently deceased members of their community might not be saved at
26 Gundry, Soma, 147: “It is not necessary that Paul should assert bodilessness for proof of
anthropological duality in his thinking, but only that he conceive the possibility thereof—and this he does.”
Cooper {Body, Soul, 164) also observes that the words eiccog (v. 2) and x°ptg (v. 3) “denote distancing and
local separation.”
27 Bultmann, Theology, vol. 1,202. See also Osei-Bonsu, “Anthropological Dualism,” 585-586.
28 Gundry, Soma, 140-141. These two parts, of course, comprise the individual as a whole (see 2
Cor 7:1).
29 2:13: “ o v k f e a x r i K a dcveotv xqS jtve-upaxt gov ”; 7:5: “obSegiav kaxgKEV dveatv f) oapE,
f|gc3v.” For this argument, see Gundry, Soma, 144. Schmid (“Begriff der Seele,” 137), however, uses
these passages to defend a holistic anthropology.
30 On the complexities of Pauline eschatology and a review of common interpretations, see
William Baird, “Pauline Eschatology in Hermeneutical Perspective,” New Testament Studies 17 (1971):
314-327. The following analysis is indebted to Gundry, Soma, 147-154; Cooper, Body, Soul, 147-172.
243
Christ’s imminent return, receive the apostle’s earliest teaching on the post-mortem state.
Assuaging their fears, Paul assures them that even they will experience salvation: “through Jesus,
God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep (to-ix; KOip.T|06vra<;) ... we who are alive
... shall not precede those who have fallen asleep.” Accordingly, at the second coming “the dead
in Christ will rise first,” and after them those who are still on earth will follow (1 Thess 4:13-18).
The reference to those who are “asleep” provides important evidence that Paul, like other
intertestamental authors, believed that when the corpse goes into the ground, the spiritual
principle in man survives in a disembodied state until the final judgment, at which time it again
receives a body.31 In 1 Corinthians he appears to allude to the same notion: if Christ has not been
raised, he explains, then “those who have fallen asleep (o'l KOi|xr|0evi:£q) in Christ have
perished.”32 The point of Paul’s argument here, o f course, is that such a conclusion is an
impossibility: the dead continue to exist until the final judgment, when they will assume a
spiritual body (15:44, 51-52).
The same idea appears again in 2 Corinthians. After making the distinction between the
inner and outer man and eternal and transient things at the end of chapter four, Paul, who by this
time has come to recognize that many people, including even himself, may die before the
parousia, further explicates his eschatological beliefs.33 In this passage he accepts the possibility
31 Cooper, Body, Soul, 151-152. I Thess 5:9-10 confirms that “sleep” refers to death: “For God
has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us so that
whether we wake or sleep we might live with him” (evts YpT|Yopo3pEv evce KaOenScopev &pa <xuv amq>
£f|acop.£v).
32 15:18.
33 5:1-10. Paul’s own brush with death is described in 1:8-9. The interpretation of the pericope
has generated much controversy. This study’s argument, which has the benefit of maintaining a
consistency with Paul’s earlier eschatological statements, is indebted to the analysis of Andrew T. Lincoln,
Paradise Now and Not Yet: Studies in the role o f the heavenly dimension in Paul’s thought with special
reference to his eschatology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 59-71; W.L. Craig, “Paul’s
Dilemma in 2 Corinthians 5:1-10: A ‘Catch-22?’” New Testament Studies 34 (1988): 145-147. Other
views, however, deny the interim disembodied state, disagree over whether “death” refers to that of the
individual or at the general parousia, and suggest that the heavenly body is put over the earthly frame. See,
for instance, C.F.D. Moule, “St. Paul and Dualism: The Pauline Conception of Resurrection,” New
Testament Studies 13 (1966): 118-123; Victor Paul Furnish, II Corinthians: Translated with Introduction,
Notes, and Commentary (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1984), 263-278, 291-305;
Rudolf Bultmann, The Second Letter to the Corinthians, trans. Roy A. Harrisville (Minneapolis: Fortress
Press, 1985), 129-144.
244
that the body or “earthly tent” (rj erciyeioq t|jicov o’t K ta too oncrivooi;) can be “destroyed”
(KCCxaXoBfi) before the return o f Jesus (5:1). Although his preference is not to die prior to this
event, so that he may instantaneously exchange the body of corruption for one o f incomiption, he
admits that those who die too soon will experience the condition of being “naked” (yuixvoq) or
“unclothed” (hicS'bonat) (5:2-4). With this argument Paul seeks to show that his opponents’
position of a permanent bodiless post-mortem state is misguided: while there may indeed be an
interim period o f disembodied existence, this is not the end to be eagerly anticipated. Rather, it is
only a prelude to the assumption of the “heavenly dwelling” ( t o o u c riT fip to v tip.cov t o eH,
obpavo-u) received at the eschaton. As the argument continues, Paul again employs and
reappropriates his enemies’ terminology: although he agrees that residing “at home in the body”
(soma) is equivalent to being “away from the Lord” (and vice versa), Paul asserts his belief that
living with Christ derives from faith, and moreover, that every person will have to account for the
deeds done in the body at the final judgment.34
The preceding survey has shown that Paul could imagine part o f the individual to exist in
a non-bodily state after death. The specific faculty o f the individual that survives is, however, not
immediately clear. In his effort to discredit any attempts to find a Platonic notion of soul in Paul,
W. David Stacey emphasizes that in passages where Greek anthropology may lie in the
background, the apostle never uses psyche as that which enjoys a post-mortem existence.35 Yet
there are a number o f reasons to question this narrow view. First, it is difficult to imagine that all
of the contours and nuances of Paul’s understanding o f psyche can be gleaned from eleven
examples. After all, the last chapter noted that Josephus, whose corpus is considerably larger,
uses psyche in both its technical and popular sense. The absence of a word or its technical
definition, then, does necessarily mean that Paul was unaware of the pervasive belief that the soul
34 5:6-10. Jewett, Paul's Anthropological Terms, 274-277. Although Paul uses the terminology of
his opposition, it must also be admitted that Phil 1:21-24 contains the same imagery in a non-polemical
setting, contrasting “life in the flesh” (ev aapici) with “life in Christ” (crtv Xptcrccp).
35 Stacey (Pauline View o f Man, 125-126) thinks that if Paul were indebted to the Greco-Roman
notion of psyche he should have used its technical meaning in 2 Cor 5:1-5; Phil 1:21-23; 3:8-10.
245
separates from the body at death.36 In fact, in a rather Platonic fashion Paul distinguishes
between the body and that which survives death, even suggesting that the latter element is the
bearer of personal identity: “whether we wake or sleep we might live with him”; and “while we
are (or ovzeq) still in this tent.”37 As Gundry has noted, while Paul’s use o fpsyche may be unlike
Plato’s in key areas, the apostle’s anthropological dualism shows that, on a conceptual level, they
are not so far apart as previous exegetes have suggested.38
Second, it is likely that Paul deliberately avoided using psyche to refer to that which
survives death for specific theological reasons. For instance, Jewett has argued persuasively that
Paul’s opponents dictate the terminology he uses in his correspondence. For instance, in his
closing benediction to the Thessalonians Paul prays that God may sanctify them “wholly”
(bA.oreA.fi<;), which he takes to mean in “spirit and soul and body” ( t o Tuvsupa x a t f| M /o x i) koc I
to crcSpa) (1 Thess 5:23). In this instance, Paul does not advocate a trichotomous anthropology
but rather seeks to combat his libertine opponent’s belief that the pneuma alone survives death
and thus stands in opposition to the corruptible psyche and soma?9 Considering the anthropology
o f the community, then, Paul must have realized that an argument for the post-mortem existence
of the soul in 1 Thess 4:13-18 would have hardly been persuasive. As the same trichotomy
appears in Corinth, Paul would have similar reasons for choosing not to argue that those who
sleep before the eschaton are psychai or that the psyche survives death until it is reclothed in a
heavenly body.40 Furthermore, in 2 Cor 5:1-4, he may have purposefully chosen the term
“naked” because it was employed by his opponents to describe the post-mortem condition. The
36 In a different context, the same methodological point is made by Robert Renehan (“Meaning of
ZQMA,” 269-282; “Review of David B. Claus, Toward the Soul: An Inquiry into the Meaning o f y/vxq
before Plato,” Classical Philology 79 [1984], 330-332).
37 1 Thess 5:10: “eixe YpryyopcopEv eute KaGeuScopev d cp a ctw ocurcp ^fiCTCQpev”; 2 Cor5:4.
38 Gundry, Soma, 154. See also Cooper, Body, Soul, 171.
39 Jewett, Paul's Anthropological Terms, 177-182, 347. See also Schnelle, Human Condition,
104.
40 I Cor 15:18,20, 51; 2 Cor 5:1-4. See also Jewett (Paul’s Anthropological Terms, 274-275),
who hypothesizes that Paul resorts to periphrasis to describe the body in the 2 Cor 5 passage because he
thought either that the community had not understood his previous teaching or had interpreted it in a
dangerous way. It may also be possible that he refrains from using psyche because he felt it would be
fruitless to use a term with such negative connotations.
246
Gospel o f Philip from Nag Hammadi may even preserve a form o f the argument that Paul
confronts: “Some are afraid lest they rise naked (eYKaJOL^HY). Because o f this they wish to rise
in the flesh (Tca.p£), and [they] do not know that it is those who wear the [flesh] who are naked.
[It is] those who [...] to unclothe themselves who are not naked” (56.27-32).
Finally, it should be noted that the Greek tradition had always had a variety o f terms to
describe the inner essence o f mankind,41 and that the tendency to use them in overlapping ways
became especially pronounced in the Hellenistic period. Philo, who uses pneuma, psyche, nous,
and logos with virtual equivalence, is perhaps the best example, but Paul also shows little concern
for maintaining a rigorous delineation o f anthropological terms. Soma and sarx are often
interchangeable, as are pneuma and psyche42 It may be, then, that the absence o f psyche to
describe the continued existence of the individual after death, combined with the frequent
meditations on the individual’s pneuma as the eschatological gift from Christ, says less about
Pauline anthropology and more about his theological position. Specifically, it may be that Paul
deliberately refused to introduce and elaborate upon the concept o f the immortal psyche because
what he was more concerned about was mankind’s relationship with the divine spirit. Although
the degree to which his communities would have appreciated or been familiar with the concept o f
the soul’s immortality remains an open question, it is nevertheless not difficult to imagine how
such a doctrine could jeopardize the soteriological importance o f Christ’s death and resurrection.
Instead of an inherent immortality, or one already fully received while in the body, Paul
repeatedly emphasizes that salvation is contingent upon the individual’s acceptance of the salvific
significance o f the cross.43
41 As Part II of this study has noted, Pindar and Empedocles already used different terminology in
their discussion of the soul.
42 Soma and sarx: 2 Cor 4:10-11; Gal 6:17; Rom 8:9-10; pneuma and psyche: Phil 1:27; 2:1. On
the whole, however, the boundaries between spirit and soul appear more clearly defined than those between
body and flesh.
43 This point will be addressed further below.
247
II. The Journey of the Soul:

Philippians 2:6-11
The previous section began by showing that Paul’s use o f psyche bears a closer
resemblance to the meanings found in the Old Testament and popular Hellenism than to the
technical definitions found in the Greco-Roman philosophical schools. While this conclusion
rules out a participation in the first half o f the journey o f the soul, the apostle’s development o f a
dualistic anthropology leaves open the possibility that the Christian may still partake in the
second part. However, because an analysis of this question is closely affiliated with his
understanding o f Jesus’ own history, it is first necessary to examine how Paul envisions Christ’s
relationship with the journey o f the soul.
The Text
The Christ Hymn in Philippians, one of the most discussed passages in the New
Testament, provides important evidence for Paul’s understanding o f the life o f Jesus vis-a-vis the
journey of the soul.44 Placed in the middle of a parenetic section, the rhythmic nature o f the
verses become apparent. “Christ Jesus,”
44 Virtually every point of analysis on this pericope remains disputed, as discussed in the review of
Peter T. O’Brien, The Epistle to the Philippians: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Grand Rapids, MI:
William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1991), 186-271. This study will consider the hymn to be pre-
Pauline, thus making it important to determine how it functions within the larger context of the letter.
Included among the influential and recent studies are R.P. Martin, Carmen Christi: Philippians ii. 5-11 in
Recent Interpretation and in the Setting of Early Christian Worship (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1967); Charles H. Talbert, “The Problem of Pre-Existence in Philippians 2.6-1 I f Journal o f Biblical
Literature 86 (1967): 141-153; Ernst Khsemann, “A Critical Analysis of Philippians 2:5-11,” Journalfor
Theology and the Church 5 (1968): 45-88; J.A. Sanders, “Dissenting Deities and Philippians 2.1-11,”
Journal o f Biblical Literature 88 (1969): 279-290; C.F.D. Moule, “Further Reflexions on Philippians 2:5-
11,” in Apostolic History and the Gospel: Biblical and Historical Essays presented to F.F. Bruce on his
60th Birthday, eds. W. Ward Gasque and Ralph P. Martin (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing
Company, 1970), 264-276; Moma D. Hooker, “Philippians 2:6-11,” in Jesus und Paulus: Festschriftfur
Werner Georg Kummel sum 70. Geburtstag, eds. E. Earl Ellis and Eric GrdBer (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck
and Ruprecht, 1975), 151-164; Jerome Murphy-O’Conner, “Christological Anthropology in Phil., II, 6-11,”
Revue Biblique 83 (1976): 25-50; George Howard, “Phil 2:6-11 and the Human Christ,” Catholic Biblical
Quarterly 40 (1978): 368-387; L.W. Hurtado, “Jesus as Lordly Example in Philippians 2:5-11,” in From
Jesus to Paul: Studies in Honour o f Francis Wright Beare, eds. Peter Richardson and John C. Hurd
(Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1984), 113-126; William S. Kurz, “Kenotic Imitation
of Paul and of Christ in Philippians 2 and 3,” in Discipleship in the New Testament, ed. Fernando F.
Segovia (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985), 103-126; Teresia Yai-Chow Wong, “The Problem of Pre-
Existence in Philippians 2,6-11,” Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses 62 (1986): 267-282; L.D. Hurst,
“Re-Enter the Pre-Existent Christ in Philippians 2.5-11?” New Testament Studies 32 (1986): 449-457; C.A.
248
6who, though he was in the form of God (ev H-op<j)fi 0eoo),

did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped (oi>x dtpraxYHOv
fiYfiaaxo),
7but emptied himself (eccurov ekevcoctev),
taking the form o f a servant (popijjfiv 5otA.ou),
being bom in the likeness o f man (fev bp.oiG6p.a-a &v0pco7tcov).
And being found in human form
8he humbled himself (kxaneivcaaev ecarcov)
and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.45
9Therefore God has highly exalted (•urcspinycoCTEv) him
and bestowed on him the name which is above every name,
I0that at the name o f Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and
under the earth,
"and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the
Father.
With respect to its relevance for the journey o f the soul, this pericope offers a relatively
clear picture. The first verse makes clear that Jesus originally existed in the “form” o f God and
enjoyed a status equal to him. It is thus proper to describe this period as that o f Jesus’ pre
existence.46 Jesus did not think, however, that this condition of equality with God was something
to be seized (or taken advantage of, &p7tayp.oq).47 Consequently, v. 7 details Jesus’ incarnation:
he discarded or emptied himself o f his status as a divine, pre-existent soul and descended to earth,
assuming the form o f a servant to God.48 The descent from the heavenly heights is further
explicated in v. 8: humbling himself, he practiced an obedience that led to death. With his death,
Wanamaker, “Philippians 2.6-11: Son of God or Adamic Christology?” New Testament Studies 33 (1987):
179-193; Wayne A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Paul’s Letter to the Philippians,” in The Future o f
Early Christianity: Essays in Honor o f Helmut Koester, ed. Birger A. Pearson (Minneapolis: Fortress Press,
1991), 329-336.
45 This final phrase is generally regarded as a Pauline gloss.
46 Attempts have been made to deny pre-existence by comparing popijrri to the creation of Adam as
an e ik c o v of God or by citing parallels with the anthropology of the Wisdom of Solomon (see, for instance,
Talbert, “Problem of Pre-Existence,” 141-153; Murphy-O’Conner, “Christological Anthropology,” 37-42;
Howard, “Phil 2:6-11,” 368-387). Such arguments have received little support, however, as noted by
Wanamaker, “Philippians 2.6-11,” 179-193; O’Brien, Epistle to the Philippians, 263-268. For a distinction
between morphe and eikon, see David Steenburg, “The Case Against the Synonymity of Morpheand
Eikon,” Journalfor the Study o f the New Testament 34 (1988): 77-86. See also Wong (“Problem of Pre-
Existence,” 268-281), who notes, as many others have, that arguing for an earthly Jesus in v. 6a makes v.
6b difficult to understand, and it disrupts the coherence of the rest of the hymn.
47 See Roy W. Hoover, “The Harpagmos Enigma: A Philological Solution,” Harvard Theological
Review 64 (1971): 85-119.
48 Although the hymn does not explicitly say that Jesus’ service was to God, a persuasive case for
this reading has been made by Hurtado, “Jesus as Lordly Example,” 122-123. Moreover, Hurtado shows
that becoming a servant has positive connotations throughout much of the Corpus Paulinum.
249
Jesus’ downward movement reaches its nadir. Thereupon, the final three verses depict the soul’s
reascent to its former position: because o f his humiliation,49 God exalts or raises up Jesus to a
rank o f superiority over the entirety o f the cosmos and every person is called upon to confess his
celestial power.50
Phil 2:6-11 in Context
By including the Christ Hymn in his letter to the Philippians, Paul clearly envisages Jesus
as a participant in the entire journey o f the soul. Standing alone, however, the hymn says nothing
about what impact, if any, Jesus’ experience has on the believing Christian’s own journey. Yet
an examination o f the poem in its context reveals that Paul, on both an ethical and soterio logical
level, did make a connection between the story of Jesus and those who follow the gospel.sl
49 On the force of 8io teed, see Martin, Carmen Christi, 231, Kurz, “Kenotic Imitation,” 112.
50 For comments on the pattern of the soul’s journey, see Sanders, “Dissenting Deities,” 282-283;
Wong, “Problem of Pre-Existence,” 280-281. On bitepuvjr6co as a synonym for dvapaivco, see Segal,
“Heavenly Ascent,” 1373.
51 As Martin (Carmen Christi, 63-95) and Sanders (“Dissenting Deities,” 279-282) have shown,
twentieth-century interpretations of the Christ Hymn have generally fallen into two major camps.
According to the view of the first group, the hymn is meant to provide an ethical example for the
Philippians, whose community was beset by factionalism. The reason Paul included the poem in his letter
was thus to give the Philippians a model for practical imitation. Objecting to this reading, KSsemann
(“Critical Analysis,” 74) proposed that the verses were not intended as a call for an imitatio Christi, but
rather were meant to emphasize Jesus’ soteriological actions within the framework of the Anthropos myth:
in his words, Jesus is depicted as an Urbild (archetype) rather than as a Vorbild (model). For KSsemann,
the hymn “focuses primarily on what Christ did, not on what he was” (“Critical Analysis,” 65). It is
therefore meant to show how those who are “in Christ” are a part of the new age initiated by Jesus’
exaltation.
One of the reasons for this polarization lies in the underlying question of the hymn’s provenance:
while the first group has sought to locate the hymn within a Jewish milieu, their opponents have looked to
the Hellenistic world for interpretive parallels. Yet as Martin (Carmen Christi, 83-84) and Sanders
(“Dissenting Deities,” 281-282) had already recognized, the lines between Jewish and Greek worlds cannot
be so neatly drawn. Such research has led to a re-examination of the hymn and its relationship to the letter
as a whole. Recent attempts to view Philippians as a parenetic text conforming to the Hellenistic
“friendship letter” have made it possible to see that the ethical and soteriological categories are not
mutually exclusive but rather are subsumed under the epistle’s hortatory purpose. On this point, see L.
Michael White, “Morality Between Two Worlds: A Paradigm of Friendship in Philippians,” in Greeks,
Romans, and Christians: Essays in Honor o f Abraham J. Malherbe, eds. David L. Balch, Everett Ferguson,
and Wayne A. Meeks (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990), 209-210. See also Stanley K. Stowers, “Friends
and Enemies in the Politics of Heaven: Reading Theology in Philippians,” in Pauline Theology, vol. 1, ed.
Jouette M. Bassler (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991), 119, n. 46: “I consider the debate about whether the
‘hymn’ is moral or soteriological to be misguided.” For background on the Hellenistic genre of friendship
letters, see Stanley K. Stowers, Letter-Writing in Greco-Roman Antiquity (Philadelphia: The Westminster
Press, 1986), 27-40, 91-96.
250
That the Christ Hymn functions as an ethical model can be seen in its lack of interest in
developing the theme of pre-existence. Instead o f focusing on the relationship between Jesus and
God, the author uses v. 6 to heighten the effect o f Christ’s descent and sacrifice on earth.52 As
Michael White has observed, Christ’s willingness to subject himself to degradation exemplifies
friendship in its purest state53 Moreover, because Paul seeks to inculcate this model to the
Philippians throughout the epistle,54 it should not be surprising that there are a number o f verbal
and conceptual parallels between the hymn and the letter as a whole.55 Just as Christ, who did not
regard his status as equal to God a position to exploit (obx 6cp7tay|j.6v qyriaaxo), “humbled
him self’ (exarreivcoaev eauxov) by taking on human form, and “became obedient unto death”
(yev6[j.evoq bttfiKooq (xeypi Bavdcxou), so too should the Philippians act. Accordingly, Paul
frames the hymn with the admonitions “Do nothing from selfishness or conceit, but in humility
(TOOTEivofJjpauvri) count (fiYO'up.evoi) others better than yourselves”; and “as you have always
obeyed (brcriKOUCTaxe), so now ... work out your own salvation in trembling and fear.”56 An
example o f the type of obedience Paul has in mind manifests itself through his fellow evangelist
Epaphroditus: Paul promises to send him to Philippi and asks the community to “receive him in
the Lord with all joy ... for he nearly died for the work o f Christ (Side xo spyov Xpiaxou (J.e%pi
Gavdxou), risking his life to complete your service to me.”57
Paul develops these exhortations concretely by elaborating on his own personal
experiences in Philippians 3 and 4. Recalling how he had once enjoyed a rank o f distinction that,
52 Wong, “Problem of Pre-Existence,” 281; Hurtado, “Jesus as Lordly Example,” 121.

53 White, “Morality Between Two Worlds,” 212-213: “The model of selflessness, the willingness
to give up one’s own status and share another’s troubles, is the ultimate sign of true friendship .... Christ’s
‘emptying’ and ‘humbling’ himself to take the ‘form of a slave’ is being portrayed, at least in part, as an all
surpassing act of selfless love.”
54 2:5: “Touxo (Jjpoveixe e v bp.iv o Kcd ev Xpicrxcp ’ lT |c ro u .” This difficult verse may be read as
a call to use the following hymn as an ethical example: “Have this mind as you have (it) with Christ Jesus.”
55 Philippians is likely a composite of three letters, although the thematic relationship between the
parts makes it possible to analyze the letter as a whole. On the integrity of Philippians and its value as a
literary unit, see Pheme Perkins, “Philippians: Theology for the Heavenly Politeuma,” in Pauline Theology,
vol. 1, ed. Jouette M. Bassler (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991), 89-90; 92; Kurz, “Kenotic Imitation,”
103-106; O’Brien, Epistle to the Philippians, 10-18.
56 2:3, 12.
57 2:29-30. See also Meeks, “Man from Heaven in Paul’s Letter,” 335.
251
on a human level, paralleled Jesus’ position in his pre-existent state, he writes that he was
“circumcised on the eighth day, o f the people o f Israel, o f the tribe o f Benjamin, a Hebrew bom
o f Hebrews; as to the law a Pharisee, as to zeal a persecutor o f the church, as to righteousness
under the law blameless” (3:5-6). Yet he too rejected the advantages that came from such a noble
pedigree and instead debased himself for the gospel: “But whatever gain I had, I counted
(flYT|p.ca) as a loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed I count (f|Yo{j|i.oa) everything as a loss because
o f the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of
all things, and count (r|Yo-i3p.oa) them as refuse, in order that I may gain Christ” (3:7-8). Near the
close of the letter, he again echoes the hymn’s emphasis on Jesus’ humility in 2:8. After
informing the Philippians that he appreciates the concern they have shown him, he remarks “I
have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased (TcmeivouaGoa),
and I know how to abound” (4:12).
From this evidence it is clear that Paul has intended to depict himself as an imitator o f
Christ.58 At the same time, he acts as a guide to the Philippians, encouraging them to follow his
own example. While he recognizes that he has not yet become perfect, he nevertheless exclaims,
“Brethren, join in imitating me ((Tup.p.ip.ri'cai |i.ou), and mark those who have so lived as you
have as an example ( tutcov) in us”; and “What you have learned and received and heard and seen
in me, do .”59 To complement these calls for imitation Paul develops the theme o f his friendship
with the Philippians: he is thankful for their “partnership” (xoivcovia) and holds them in his
“heart” (KapS'ia) for their work in the gospel; he “yearns for” ( etutcoQgo) them with the affection
of Christ; and expresses confidence that their prayers will help him during his imprisonment.60
At the same time, he acts as a spiritual guide for the community, for although his desire is to be
with Christ, “to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account” (1:23-24). He thus
resolves himself to continuing his relationship with the Philippians to ensure their “progress and
58 So Kurz, “Kenotic Imitation,” passim. Other commentators have objected to this view, as
Martin (Carmen Christi, 72) has noted.
593:17; 4:9.
60 1:5, 7, 19 (see also 4:1, 15).
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joy in the faith” (JtpoKOTrrjv k c A yct-pav T r j g Triaxecoq).61 Just as he strives to become perfect, so
too should they: “whatever is true ... honorable . . . j u s t ... pure ... lovely ... gracious, if there is
any excellence, if there is anything worthy o f praise, think about (A.oyi£eCT0e) these things .”62
While Paul may have used the Christ Hymn to portray Jesus as the epitome o f the true
friend, he did not envision that this friendship was one o f equality .63 Indeed, the hymn declares
that Jesus’ exaltation resulted in a superiority over the entire universe and everything therein: “at
the name Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth” (’eTtoupav'tcov
Kat eiayeicov Koa tcaxcxxGovicov),64 The call to mimesis is therefore balanced with a recognition
of Christ’s cosmic power: the apostle thus exhorts the Philippians “to exhibit a manner o f life”
(rtoA.vrs'uco) worthy o f the gospel until Jesus returns from the “heavenly commonwealth” (to
TcoA.lxe-up.oc ev abpocvdiq) at the parousia?5 Echoing once again the theme o f the hymn, Paul
declares that at that time they will mirror Jesus’ movement from humiliation to exaltation: “the
Lord Jesus C hrist... will change (p.exacxrip.axtaei) our lowly (xaTteivcoaecoq) body to be like
(<Tup.p.op(f)ov) his glorious body, by the power which enables him even to subject all things to
himself’ (3:20-21).
This last passage emphasizes Jesus’ universal omnipotence, existing above both the
present mundane world as well as the daimonic realm in the heavens.66 For Paul, this exaltation
signals the end o f the old aeon and the beginning of the new, and thus he thinks that the
community o f believers may proleptically experience the joy that will come to final fruition at the
eschaton. Paradoxically, then, Paul clearly understands the heavenly commonwealth to be both a
61 1:25. See also 1 Cor 4:15-16: “For though you have countless guides (7tai 5aYcoyou<;) in Christ,
you do not have many fathers (raxxepoc^). I became your father through Christ Jesus in the gospel. I urge
you, then, be imitators of me” (pip-ryicd poo yivsaOe).
624:8 (see also 1:9-10; 3:12-16). For analysis, see Kurz, “Kenotic Imitation,” 109; Stowers,
“Friends and Enemies,” 108-109.
63 While ancient authors mainly speak of friendship as a bond between equals, people of different
rank (i.e. patron/client) could be said to engage in friendship. See White, “Morality Between Two
Worlds,” 211; Stowers, “Friends and Enemies,” 107-108.
642:10. See also Hooker, “Philippians 2:6-11,” 155.
65 1:27; 3:20.
66The hymn employs the model of the three-story cosmos that extends back to the Homeric
period. For a discussion of the political implications of these verses, see Perkins, “Philippians,” 89-104.
For scholarship on Jesus’ exaltation over the whole world, see Martin, Carmen Christi, 257-265.
253
future expectation and a present reality. This tension may be discerned in his opening exhortation
to the Philippians: although God will bring his salvific work to completion with the return of
Christ, he has already begun to work in the community, which partakes in grace with the apostle
(1:6-7). Similarly, after encouraging the Philippians to work out their salvation, he assures them
that “God is at work in you” (2:12-13). This eschatological blurring can even be found within the
same verse: on the one hand, Paul admits that he has not become perfect, while on the other his
declaration that he “was grasped” (KaxeAfi|J.<j)9r|v) by Christ suggests that a past event has led
him to live his present existence under the power o f Christ.67 Thus, just as he and the Philippians
await the second coming for their own exaltation, so too does the commonwealth in heaven exist
as a palpable reality for the community in the present.68
In order to participate in this heavenly community while in this world, Paul emphasizes
the necessity of faith in Christ’s story. The salvific power o f Jesus’ death and exaltation, first
hinted at in Paul’s interpolation in the Christ Hymn,69 appears again when the apostle claims that
he has renounced earthly glory
in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of
my own, based on law, but that which is through faith in Christ (8i& tdazscoq
Xpicttou), the righteousness o f God that depends on faith (7tiaxei); that I may
know (yvcuvat) him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his
sufferings (7ta0T|p.dxcov), becoming like him (<xu|i.p.op<j>t£6|j.Evo<;) in his death,
that if possible I may attain the resurrection o f the dead .70
673:12: “Ob/ ... xexeAs'icoiiai.” See also 1:20: “with full courage now as always (raxvroxe mi.
vbv) Christ will be honored in my body.” While Christ is in Paul, the apostle’s use of athletic imagery
shows that he is still striving for perfection: “forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies
ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (3:13-14). Such
imagery was also used earlier in the letter, when Paul describes his work with the verb “to run” (zpe%a>)
(2:16), and when he asks the Philippians to be of one mind, “striving side by side (cruvaGAounxEg) for the
faith of the gospel... you should not only believe in him [Christ] but also suffer for his sake, engaged in
the same conflict (dtycovcc) which you saw and now hear to be mine” (1:27,29-30).
68 While Jesus “was” (bit&pxcov) once with God in a pre-existent state according to the Christ
Hymn (2:6), so now, after his exaltation, “is” (braxpxet) the heavenly politeuma a present reality in which
believers may participate (3:20). See Lincoln, Paradise Now and Not Yet, 101-103, 193; O’Brien, Epistle
to the Philippians, 461; Gorden D. Fee, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (Grand Rapids, MI: William B.
Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1995), 378-379.
69 See n. 45.
703:8-11.
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Paul’s specific demand for faith in the cross means suffering like Jesus,71 though it is this
orientation that ultimately culminates in resurrection. More practically, he observes that
adherence to this core belief leads to the practice o f a particular lifestyle distinct from those who
lack this orientation.72 Thus, in contrast to “those living” (xoxx; obxco Tzepmaiovmaq) according
to the example of Paul, the opposition “live as enemies o f the cross of Christ” (Tzepmaxovaw ...
xouq exQpobq xou axaupou too Xpiaxou) (3:18). Through Paul’s careful connection of
“knowledge” (yvcScnq) with the Christ event, it may be assumed that his opponents used the term
in a way unrelated to Jesus’ death and resurrection. Moreover, considering Paul’s assertion that
they act “with minds set on earthly things” (01 xoc eTuiyeiot (fipovouvxeq),73 it is likely that these
opponents taught just the opposite.74 In other words, claiming to have their minds on “heavenly
things,” these opponents would probably have thought that they were already immortal and that
the heavenly kingdom was fulfilled in the present. In response, however, Paul challenges this
realized eschatology by insisting that complete redemption will only occur after Jesus’ return
(3:20-21).
m . The Journey of the Soul and Pauline Theology
Christ, Imitatio, and Kerygma
The previous sections have yielded several conclusions about the journey of the soul that
may be integrated into the general tenets o f Pauline theology. The most obvious point is that the
Christ Hymn unambiguously places Jesus on the entire journey of the soul. This idea also
appears in Rom 1:3-4, where Paul refers to the gospel “concerning his (God’s) son (rcspt too
moD), who was descended from the seed (xou ysvop.evo'D ek CTTcsppaxo^) o f David according to
the flesh and designated Son of God ... by his resurrection from the dead.” In this passage Paul
71 Paul also uses rcdaxcoto describe the travails which his community will experience (1:29).
72Paul’s expectations include living in unity (1:27); displaying love for one another (1:9; 2:1-2);
considering the interests of others (2:4; 4:10, 14-15); and showing no confidence in the flesh (3:3).
733:19.
74Helmut Koester, “The Purpose of the Polemic of a Pauline Fragment (Philippians III),” New
Testament Studies 8 (1961-1962): 329; Lincoln, Paradise Now and Not Yet, 96.
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has in mind the complete journey, from pre-existence to exaltation .75 In other places the apostle
seems to imply and build upon various parts o f the schema .76 For instance, his interpretation o f
the Christ Hymn as a salvific event for mankind is elsewhere elaborated: God sent his own Son
into the world for the salvation o f mankind, and because o f Jesus’ love for humanity, he
submitted himself to death so that, through his resurrection, he assures their salvation .77
The natural consequence o f this Christology is that human souls, while not inherently
immortal, can only hope to partake in the latter half o f the journey. In Philippians, accessing this
second stage is dependent in part upon imitating Christ’s earthly humiliation and obedience. In
other epistles the theme o f imitatio is also prevalent. For instance, in 1 Thess 1:6, Paul, writing
on behalf o f his associates, notes with joy that the Thessalonians “became imitators o f us and the
Lord” (p.ip.ri'cai tipcnv eyevfjSTiTe Koci xov icupio-u), while the sacrifices of Jesus are meant to
bolster the Roman community:
We who are strong ought to bear the failings o f the weak, and not to please
ourselves; let each o f us please his neighbor for his good, to edify him. For
Christ did not please himself; but, as it is written, “The reproaches o f those who
reproached you fell on me.” For whatever was written in the former days was
written for our instruction (SiSaoKaXiav), that by steadfastness (imo|j.ovfj<;) and
by the encouragement o f the scriptures we might have hope. May the God o f
steadfastness and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony (to ab ro
<j)povelv) with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus ... Welcome one another,
therefore, as Christ welcomed you .78
The factionalism in 1 Corinthians forces Paul again to stress unity: imploring the community to
put an end to their divisiveness, he exhorts them to “Be imitators of me, as I am o f Christ.”79
75 On the pre-existence in this passage, see Joseph A. Fitzmyer, Romans: A New Translation with
Introduction and Commentary (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 233-234.
76Charles H. Talbert, “The Myth of a Descending-Ascending Redeemer in Mediterranean
Antiquity,” New Testament Studies 22 (1976): 435: “In the seven indisputably genuine Pauline letters one
finds implicit a pattern of pre-existence—descent (redemptive activity)—ascent (redemptive activity)—
parousia.”
77 1 Thess 1:9-10; 4:13-18; 5:9-10; 1 Cor 15:3-4; Gal 2:20; 3:13; 4:4; Rom 8:3, 32. See also
Richard B. Hays, “Crucified With Christ: A Synthesis of the Theology of 1 and 2 Thessalonians, Philemon,
Philippians, and Galatians,” in Pauline Theology, vol. I, ed. Jouette M. Bassler (Minneapolis: Fortress
Press, 1991), 232-233.
78 Rom 15:1-5, 7.
79 11:1: “(iip.'nTcd poi) y i v e o O E Ka0coq k&ygo Xpiaxoo”; see also 1 Cor 4:15-16. For Paul’s call
to unity within the “body of Christ,” see 1 Cor 12:4-31.
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Similarly in Galatians, the apostle makes a plea for imitation as he expounds on the virtues
inherent in walking with the Spirit.80
Because Jesus’ salvific role in history separates him from humanity, however, Paul often
replaces the notion o f imitatio with a call to faith in the gospel. Faith in Christ thus proves to be
sine qua non for salvation, as Paul succinctly states Rom 10:9: “if you confess with your lips that
Jesus is Lord and believe (jnCT'te'Oarig) in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will
be saved” (aco0f]<Tri).81 As in Phil 3:9-11, faith in the kerygma means that the individual will
become an active participant in Christ’s death and resurrection. Similarly, Paul explains in
Galatians that the law, humanity’s former “instructor” (itaiSaycoYo*;), has been rendered
superfluous through Christ’s sacrifice: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who
live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life that I now live in the flesh I live by faith (niaxsL) in
the Son o f God, who loved me and gave himself for me ... if justification were through the law,
then Christ died to no purpose .”82 Faith in Jesus, which allows “access” (Ttpoaaycoyfi) to the
grace and spirit o f God ,83 is most tangibly evident at baptism. From Romans it is evident that
Paul understands this ritual as a symbolic participation in Christ’s own death and resurrection:
“We were buried ... with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by
the glory o f the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with
him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his” (6:4-5).
Through baptism the initiate thus enters into the story of Christ: “in Christ Jesus you are all sons
of God, through faith. For as many o f you as were baptized into Christ (e’t? Xptaxov) have put
on (eve5iJcraCT0s) Christ” (Gal 3:26-27).
804:12: “Brethren, I beseech you, become as I am (rtvsaOe cbq eyco), for I also have become as
you are.” For Paul’s distinction between living according to the flesh and Spirit, see 5:16-25.
81 See also Rom 1:16-17: the gospel “is the power of God for salvation (ctcottip'uxv) to every one
who has faith (maxe-uovxi) ... in it the righteousness of God is revealed through faith for faith” (ek
maxeco^ eiq Tdaxiv).
82 Gal 2:20-21 (see also Gal 3:10-14; 4:4-5; Rom 3:23-26; 5:10-11).
83 Rom 5:1-5.
257
Pneumatics, Psychics, and Eschatology
With the descent of the Spirit at baptism, Paul understands the initiate to have received
eternal life, free from the dominion o f sin and death.84 At this point the individual, like Christ
after his exaltation, is no longer under the dominion o f the daimonic powers that rule the world.85
In this sense it is possible for Paul to claim that the new aeon exists as a present reality, and even
to intimate that those who choose Christ are members o f the elect, predetermined by God.86
Because the apostle is often faced with opponents who emphasize their spiritual perfection,
however, he is forced to balance this rhetoric with the assertion that the final salvation is
contingent on faith in the cross and will not occur until the parousia .87
This problem, which is especially acute in 1 Corinthians, opens up some important issues
that impact how, at this early stage in Christian history, the concept of the soul and its fate after
death was detailed. In this text, the Corinthians claim the status of spiritual elites, having
received pneumatic gifts that confer upon them a “power” (Swap-iq), “wisdom” (ao<|>ia), and
“knowledge” ( y v c o o k ; ) . 88 As such, they can claim that they have become immortal in the present,
an assertion that Paul mocks: “Already you have all you want! Already you have become rich!
Quite apart from us you have become kings!” (epacnAe'uacae) (4:8). Indeed, it does appear that
not everyone had attained this privileged status, for the Corinthians use the word psychikos as a
derogatory term to refer to those who were not o f their spiritual caliber.89 In their terminology,
then, the pneumatic is superior to the psychic.90
84Gal 3:28; Rom 6:22-23.

85Gal 4:3-5; Rom 8:35-39.
86New aeon: 2 Cor 6:2: “now is the day of salvation”; determinism: Rom 8:28-29: everything will
work for good according to God’s purpose, “For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be
conformed to the image of his Son ... and those he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he
also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified”; Rom 9:6-29.
87The deterministic stance in Rom 8-9 is qualified in Rom 11:21-26, in which Paul argues that
salvation is contingent on a proper orientation to God. For the tension between the “already” and “not yet”
in Paul’s eschatology, see, for instance Phil 3:20-21; Rom 8:23-24, and Lincoln, Paradise Now and Not
Yet, passim.
88 See, for instance, 1:19-20; 2:6; 4:18-20; 8:1.
892:14. Other dichotomies include “strong” vs. “weak”; “fools” vs. the “wise”; “perfect” vs.
“children”; “spirit” vs. “flesh”; and “heavenly” vs. “earthly.” See 1:27; 2:6; 3:1; 4:10; 15:46-47.
90 Birger Albert Pearson, The Pneumatikos-Psychikos Terminology in 1 Corinthians. A Study in
the Theology o f the Corinthian Opponents o f Paul and Its Relation to Gnosticism (Missoula, MT: Society
258
In the context of the Greco-Roman notion o f psyche, this conclusion has significant
implications, for as Part II has shown, the soul was the entity through which the individual
attained knowledge and initiated the body into motion. The argument o f Paul’s opponents, that
“soulish” things are useless because they have been supplanted by a superior faculty, thus
overturns the basis of centuries of philosophical speculation on the psyche. It is o f course true
that the term psyche does not appear in this letter, either in the philosophical or traditional sense
of the word, but the implications o f this argument for anthropology could not have been
misunderstood. If the Corinthian’s contention is carried through to its logical extreme, then it
appears to conclude that the soul is not the primary psychological entity within the individual, but
has been supplanted by a higher, spiritual faculty. Consequently, as the functions and
responsibilities usually attributed to the soul are called into question, so too are “acceptable”
modes o f behavior. In other words, if a group degrades the soul’s role in the body and transfers it
to another, superior entity, they can then claim to transcend or supersede the normal ways in
which knowledge and ethical action are judged .91 O f course the paucity of evidence from the
Corinthians themselves prohibits absolute certainty on this issue, but it is precisely the sort o f
problem that the early church fathers confront in their debates with Gnosticism, as the final
chapter in this study will show.
In particular, the patristic authors’ fears o f a devalued soul center on libertinism, the
problems inherent in asserting a special access to knowledge, and the resurrection. Interestingly,
the same issues emerge in 1 Corinthians. One o f the Corinthian slogans— “all things are lawful
for me”—attests to a lack o f concern for upholding an ethical code, a fact that appears confirmed
through Paul’s castigation o f their sexual immorality.92 To the Corinthians’ claim to possess a
heightened power of discernment, one which elevates them above everyone else as well as the
of Biblical Literature, 1973), 10-26; Richard A. Horsley, “Pneumatikos vs. Psychikos: Distinctions of
Spiritual Status Among the Corinthians,” Harvard Theological Review 69 (1976): 280.
91 See also Anthony C. Thiselton, “Realized Eschatology at Corinth,” New Testament Studies 24
(1978): 519.
92 Slogan: 6:12; 10:23; sexual immorality: 5:1-2, 9-11; 6:9; 7:1.
259
gospel of Christ.93 Elaborating upon this notion, they conclude that since they have perfect
wisdom, they are already immortal (4:8). Moreover, because the body is o f no value ,94 death
entails, in typical Greco-Roman fashion, the ascent o f the spiritual element (in this case the
pneuma) into the heavenly realm. To counter these arguments, the apostle insists that human
knowledge is nothing compared with the wisdom o f God, and that a final perfection will not be
realized until Christ’s return .95
In addressing the problem o f realized eschatology, a position that has a close
correspondence with his own, Paul emphasizes that salvation is continually occurring. Using
passive participles that bear a progressive/repeated aspect, he argues: “For the word o f the cross is
folly to those who are perishing (<5cjioAAup.evoi<;), but to us who are being saved (ccpôpsvoiq) it
is the power of God .”96 Likewise, the apostle maintains that what can be known in the present
age is imperfect in comparison with the knowledge that will be gained at the eschaton: “now we
see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully .”97
Finally, he asserts that adherence to the gospel will be the arbiter for salvation: “I would remind
you ... of the gospel that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received ... through which also
you are being saved (81’ ou Kod acoêcGe), if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to
you .”98
Against the third problem, that o f the resurrection o f the dead, Paul seems to think that in
denying this the Corinthians rejected any sort of post-mortem survival. It is more likely the case,
however, that the apostle misunderstands their position and that the Corinthians simply cannot
accept the notion o f a bodily resurrection, but do accept a survival o f the spirit after death .99 In
932:15: “Those who are spiritual discern (dvaKpivei) all things, and they themselves are subject to
no one else’s scrutiny” (dvaKpivexai).
94See 6:13. For scholarly elaboration see A.J.M. Wedderbum, “The Problem of the Denial of the
Resurrection in 1 Corinthians XV,” Novum Testamentum 23 (1981): 238-239.
95 1:20, 27; 2:1, 13-15; 3:18-19; 15:22-28, 51-57.
96The same construction appears in 2 Cor 2:15.
97 13:12: “dpxi ytvcocncco ek p£pouq, -cote 8e ETayvc6CTop.ai.”
98 15:2. See also 2 Cor 1:22; 5:5, where God’s conferral of the spirit is only a “deposit” or
“guarantee” (dcppapcov), the first installment of the gifts that will be received in full at the eschaton.
99Beginning with Bultmann, many scholars have proposed this view. The Corinthians’ belief in a
post-mortem survival appears secure from Paul’s remark regarding baptism for the dead (15:29). For
260
any case, the apostle begins by declaring the reality o f the resurrection based on Christ’s own
experience,100 embedding within this explanation that after death the spiritual principle o f the
person will exist with Christ.101 Thereafter he explicates his teaching on the nature o f the
resurrection body (15:35-57). In this section Paul ridicules the belief that the eschaton will lead
to the restoration o f the person’s physical body, preferring instead to construct an argument for
the assumption o f a spiritual body. Here, then, Paul envisions a participation in the second half of
the journey culminating not in the permanent separation of the body and soul, but rather a
“reclothing” of the spirit in a transfigured frame.
IV. Inheritance and Creativity in Paul’s Journey of the Soul

With a basic outline o f Paul’s understanding o f the journey o f the soul in place, it is now
possible to identify the intellectual traditions the apostle found useful and to assess his own place
within the history o f speculation on the soul. On a general level, the eschatology of
Zoroastrianism, mediated through intertestamental Judaism, becomes part o f Paul’s worldview.
This world is characterized by a struggle between good and evil, which the Christ event has tilted
in favor o f the former. If the new age has encroached upon the old, the victory has yet to be
completely sealed. In a passage that corresponds neatly to the Zoroastrian concepts of “Mixture”
and “Separation,” the apostle exclaims: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning in
analysis see Jewett, Paul’s Anthropological Terms, 265; Pearson, Pneumatikos-Psychikos Terminology, 15-
16; Ronald J. Sider, “St. Paul’s Understanding of the Nature and Significance of the Resurrection in I
Corinthians XV 1-19,” Novum Testamentum 19 (1977): 131; Wedderbum, “Problem of the Denial of the
Resurrection,” 229-241; T. Francis Glasson, “2 Corinthians V.l-10 versus Platonism,” Scottish Journal of
Theology 43 (1990): 153. For the Hellenistic background to Paul’s reference to baptism for the dead, see
Richard E. DeMaris, “Corinthian Religion and Baptism for the Dead (1 Corinthians 15:29): Insights from
Archaeology and Anthropology,” Journal o f Biblical Literature 114 (1995): 661-682. Justin Martyr’s
admonition to Trypho also shows that the denial of resurrection should not be equated with the denial of
post-mortem survival: “if you have fallen in with some who are called Christians, b u t... who say there is
no resurrection of the dead (vsKpcov dvdtcnxxCTtv), and that their souls (xccq yuxaq ocirccov), when they die,
are taken (dvaXap.pdvea0ai) to heaven; do not imagine that they are Christians” {Dial. Try. 80.4).
Alternatively, however, Lincoln (Paradise Now and Not Yet, 33-38) believes these verses suggest that
Paul’s opponents had claimed angelic status and did not anticipate death because they had already
experienced the resurrection.
100 15:12-34, esp. v. 13.
101 See n. 32.
261
labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits o f the
Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption o f our bodies” (Rom 8:22-23).
With respect to individual eschatology, Paul assumes that humanity does not possess an
immortal element and thus may only participate in the second half o f the soul’s journey. When
considering the models available to him from the Greco-Roman world, it is apparent that one
stream o f thought that enters into his discourse stems from the literature o f Second Temple
Judaism. In some of the apocalyptic literature, for instance, there is no indication that the soul is
immortal or pre-exists, yet through faith in God the individual can participate in the second part
o f the journey. Moreover, these texts provide contextualization for Paul’s nuanced understanding
of the resurrected state.
Yet it should also be recognized that the Greco-Roman tradition was not averse to
viewing the post-mortem state as corporeal, at least in some sense. In fact, for all o f their
emphasis on disembodied existence after death, the Greeks still describe the soul’s afterlife in
somatic terms: the shadows of the Homeric world look and act like living beings and Plato’s
incorporeal souls suffer post-mortem punishments. The Presocratics and Stoics make further
steps in this direction with their insistence on the corporeality of the psyche. Thus, though his
defense of a future soma pneumatikon met with resistance among his Hellenistic counterparts,102
it is important to recognize that Paul rejects a crassly physical resurrection103 and does not
attempt, as later Christians would, a complete revaluation of the Greco-Roman belief in future
existence.
Finally, the Metamorphoses of Apuleius shows that the Hellenistic world could work
with the idea o f a partial journey for the soul. In addition to this structural similarity, Apuleius’s
discussion o f the cult of Isis offers some points o f contact with Paul’s notion o f salvation.104 For
102See the mixed Athenian reaction to Paul’s belief in the raising of the dead in Acts 17:32.
103 1 Cor 15:50 (“flesh and blood cannot enter the kingdom of God”) would be in full accordance
with Hellenistic sensibilities.
104This does not mean, of course, that a line of direct dependence can be drawn from the mystery
religions to Paul, but only suggests that the apostle’s message of salvation bears the closest correspondence
to this sort of religious milieu. For the view of early Christianity as a mystery religion, see Gregory J.
Riley, One Jesus, Many Christs: How Jesus Inspired Not One True Christianity, But Many (San Francisco:
262
instance, Apuleius depicts Isis as the supreme deity o f the cosmos, with divinities of the sky,
earth, and underworld all viewed as aspects o f her power (11.1-2, 5). In addition, before Lucius
becomes initiated into the cult, he submits to a ritual washing for purification, and thereafter
learns from Isis herself that obedience to her cult will allow him to transcend fate (11.6). The
differences between the two should not be overlooked, however. Although Isis offers Lucius a
blessed existence after death, it is one that will be spent in constant devotion to the goddess
(11.6). In this cult, then, there is no direct parallel for Paul’s notion o f existing “in” or “with”
Christ, either in this world or the next. Similarly, because o f the soteriological dimension of Isis,
there is no suggestion in the Metamorphoses that she can act as a model for imitation. She is not
humanity’s “friend” but rather its savior.105 Moreover, Lucius entrance into the cult o f Isis is
followed by two further initiations, neither of which have a correspondence in Pauline thought.
Thus, while the imagery o f the mystery religions can provide a framework for Pauline
soteriology, it cannot offer exact parallels in every instance.
In attempting to uncover Paul’s understanding o f the journey o f the soul, this chapter
began with a survey o f his use o f psyche. It was shown that this word, which bears none of the
connotations found in Greco-Roman philosophical literature, functions exclusively at the level of
popular thought. This result was tempered, however, by the suggestion that Paul may have had
theological reasons for not developing the technical meaning for psyche, and furthermore, that his
anthropological dualism suggests that he still envisioned the individual taking part in the second
half o f the soul’s journey. This hypothesis was confirmed through an analysis of the function of
the Christ Hymn in Philippians. In this letter, Paul constructs Jesus, who himself is on the full
journey, as both an ethical model and a soteriological figure who offers salvation to the individual
willing to participate in his story. Faith in the Christ event thus becomes a decisive point for
Harper San Francisco, 1997), 147-150. On the state of scholarship on this issue, see Devon H. Wiens,
“Mystery Concepts in Primitive Christianity and in its Environment,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der
Romischen Welt 2.23.2 (1980): 1248-1284.
105For the magisterial description of the appearance of Isis, which Apuleius calls “marvelous”
(mirandus), see Meta. 11.3-4.
263
those hoping for a final resting place with Christ. It was then argued that this understanding o f
the soul’s journey can be integrated into Paul’s other letters, and moreover, that the devaluation
o f the psyche by his Corinthian opponents provides early testimony into how different views o f
psyche could shape and affect theological disputes. Finally, it was shown that Zoroastrian,
Jewish, and Greco-Roman ideas all filter into the Pauline corpus. While Zoroastrianism
contributes an eschatological framework, the latter two provide antecedents for the apostle’s
understanding o f a partial journey for the soul as well as the notion of a type of corporeal
existence after death. Although Paul’s teaching on the post-mortem state was not revolutionary
for his time, it was, if anything, ambiguous. As Christianity grew, however, other communities,
such as those analyzed in the next chapter, sought more definitive answers.
C H A PT ER 2
THE GOSPEL OF THOMAS AND THE GOSPEL OF JOHN
The previous chapter argued that the journey of the soul can act as a model for
interpreting Paul’s theology and putting in relief the debates in which he was engaged. The same
claim will be made in this chapter’s analysis o f the gospels of the Thomas and Johannine
communities, for as recent scholarship has shown, comparing these texts is especially useful
because they both draw upon the same fund o f ideas and images, although their exegesis is often
noticeably different.1 Moreover, the two groups were in direct conflict with one another over the
issue of the post-mortem state.2 This chapter will attempt to build upon these recent studies by
using the journey o f the soul as a template for assessing the disputes between the two groups. By
outlining the view of the soul in both gospels and determining how they work with pre-existence
and dualism, the first section will argue that the Gospel o f Thomas conforms in large part to
Greco-Roman categories, while John shows little concern for developing a philosophical
anthropology. The second part will show, however, that for both groups Jesus is on the entire
journey of the soul. Yet because each gospel finds different aspects o f his journey significant,
they ultimately have very different approaches regarding their own place on the journey. The
third section will analyze the theologies of the gospels in order to highlight these variations.
Specifically, it will be shown that while the Thomas community’s understanding o f soul and its
functions puts them on the full journey, Johannine Christianity, paralleling Pauline thought, can
only imagine a participation in the latter half. The final section will offer an analysis o f the
1On the similarities and differences between the two texts, see Koester, “Gnostic Sayings and
Controversy Traditions,” 97-110; idem, “The Story of the Johannine Tradition,” Sewanee Theological
Review 26 (1992): 17-32.
' So Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 69-126.
264
265
debate over corporeality and the post-mortem state, the most contentious issues between these
communities.
I. The Soul, Dualism, and Pre-Existence

The Gospel o f Thomas
Psyche appears in only four logia in the Gos. Thom., yet even with such a small sample it
is clear that the community regarded it as the inner essence of the person, in opposition to the
fleshly material that encased it. In saying 87, for instance, the soma and soul are placed in sharp
opposition: “Wretched is the body ( ttcom 2l) that is dependent upon a body, and wretched is the
soul (T'fryXH) that is dependent on these two.” Alternatively, sarx can provide the contrast for
the soul: “Woe to the flesh ( T c a . p s ) that depends on the soul (T'j'YXH); woe to the soul that
depends on the flesh” (112). In these instances the debt to the Greco-Roman philosophical
tradition, particularly Platonism, becomes evident: not only are the inner and outer components of
man are completely unrelated, but the latter hinders the proper activity o f the former. The value
of the soul becomes clear in logion 25 with Jesus’ command to “Love your brother like your soul
(NTeioJ'YXH), guard him like the pupil o f your eye.” Finally, just as the psyche had become for
the Greeks the locus for individual consciousness, so too for the Gos. Thom., as evidenced by
Jesus’ lament that his soul “became afflicted” or “ached” ('{• T K .a .c ) for humanity after seeing
them without a desire for enlightenment (28.3). Here the soul’s role in processing sense
impressions and acquiring knowledge is evident.
The anthropological dualism found in the first two sayings may be further detected when
the semantic base is broadened to include related terminology.3 In logion 29, pneuma replaces
psyche as the person’s spiritual principle, and concludes with Jesus making a commonplace
distinction between it and the physical: “I am amazed at how this great wealth [the spirit] has
made its home in this poverty [the body]” (29.3).4 A similar distinction between materiality and
3The penchant among late Hellenistic writers to substitute psychological terminology in a casual
fashion is thus also apparent in the Gospel o f Thomas.
4 This logion also uses sarx and soma interchangeably (29.1-2).
266
the spirit is found in Jesus’ assertion that circumcision “in spirit” feFT TTNi.) is more beneficial
than the fleshly kind (53). The author also refers to the “storehouse” or “treasure” (e ^ o ) in a
person’s “heart” feHT) as the inner person, for it is from this part that good or evil behavior
manifests itself.5 “Lighf ’ (oyoeiN) is yet another term that denotes the individual’s psychic
core: “Jesus said, ‘The images (^ hccun) are manifest to man, but the light in them (eTN^HTOY)
remains concealed in the image o f the light o f the father’”; and “There is light within a person of
light (NNoypMOYoeiN) and it shines on the whole world. If it does not shine, it is dark .”6
For the Gos. Thom., this light pre-existed before it entered into the material body. Thus
Jesus states “Blessed is he who came into being before he came into being”; and explains that
people “came into the world empty, and they also seek to depart from the world empty.”7 Souls
thus originated in the kingdom and should focus on preparing to return there. Accordingly, Jesus
exclaims, “Blessed are the solitary and elect, for you will find the kingdom. For you are from it,
and to it you will return.”8 Because their origins are in heaven, Thomas Christians are literally
not o f this world .9 Therefore, the gospel repeatedly devalues the mundane realm as ephemeral
and transitory and views it as something to be escaped: “Whoever has come to understand the
world ( tticocmoc ) has found (only) a corpse ( tttcjum^.), and whoever has found a corpse is
superior to the world .”10 Similarly, logion 27.1 states “If you do not fast from the world
(eTTK O C M O c), you will not find the kingdom .”11 Some o f the more metaphorical sayings build
upon this idea by warning the initiate to be wary o f the demonic powers of the cosmos. If not
careful, the “robbers” (i.e. archons) or the “lion” (i.e. Yaldabaoth) can enter into a person’s
“house” (i.e. body) and take his or her “possessions” (i.e. soul).12 Along with its anthropological
545; see also 76.

6 83.1; 24.3.
7 19.1; 28.3.
*49; see also 18.1-2; 50.
9 The devaluation of the sublunar sphere vis-a-vis Jesus’ revelation may be one way to interpret
logion 17.
1056; see also 80.
1127.1; see also 42; 110.
127; 11; 21; 35; 60; 103. For this interpretation, see Bertil Gartner, The Theology o f the Gospel
According to Thomas, trans. Eric J. Sharpe (New York: Harper and Brothers Publishers, 1961), 160-184;
Howard M. Jackson, The Lion Becomes Man: The Gnostic Leontomorphic Creator and the Platonic
267
dualism, then, the Gos. Thom, also envisions a cosmic division between heavenly and earthly
spheres.13
The Gospel o f John
While the anthropology in the Gospel o f Thomas is in line with the Greco-Roman
philosophical tradition, the Gospel o f John shows little concern with developing a systematic
portrayal o f humanity.14 Indeed, psyche appears only ten times, and in each instance it is used
exclusively in a non-technical sense. Its most common meaning is “life,” which the author uses
in formulaic passages which speak o f laying down one’s life for another.15 Psyche as “life” is
used one other time, when Jesus explains that “He who loves his psyche loses it, and he who hates
his life (mqv xj/uxfiv ain o o ) in this world will keep it for eternal life” (12:25). Alternatively,
psyche is equivalent to the living person when the disciples ask Jesus, “How long will you keep
us in suspense?” (£cog itoxe Tqv \jn>X'nv f|(J.o3v a’tpstq) (10:24). Finally, in 12:27 the evangelist
echoes verses from the Psalter when he has Jesus say, “My psyche is troubled.” In all o f these
cases, there is no suggestion that the author is concerned with developing the notions of pre
existence, immortality, or an explicit anthropological dualism: human beings in this text do not
inherently possess the “light.”16
Although the gospel is unconcerned with forwarding a detailed depiction o f mankind in
the way that this study has so often found,17the evangelist does employ anthropological
Tradition (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1985); Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 150-153. The previous
chapters have shown that Jewish and Christian texts (i.e. Wis 9:15; 2 Cor 5:1-4) can use “tent” as a
metaphor for the body.
13 For the Gospel o f Thomas’s pessimistic attitude toward the mundane realm, see Philip Sellew,
“Death, The Body, and the World in the Gospel of Thomas,” Studia Patristica 31 (1997): 530-534. The
text does not think that the world is inherently evil, however, and may even view it positively, as in logion
113.4: “the kingdom of the father is spread out upon the earth (nxa.^), and men do not see it.”
14Josef Blank, “Der Mensch vor der Radikalen Alternative: Versuch zum Grundansatz der
‘johanneischen Anthropologie,’” Kairos 22 (1980): 150.
15 10:11, 15; 17: (xi9rip.t mriv yuxfiv); see also 13:37,38; 15:13.
16 1:9: Jesus is “the true light that enlightens (<t>om£ei.) every man.” The disciples are also told to
“believe in the light, that you may become (yevriaOe) sons of light” (12:36). See also Schnelle, Human
Condition, 114.
17Charlesworth (“Critical Comparison,” 408) concludes that there is no indication of physical
dualism, although it may be necessary to slightly amend this statement when the semantic field is
268
terminology metaphorically as a way to classify the individual’s relationship to God. For
example, Jesus asserts that “it is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is o f no avail”; and “That
which is bom o f the flesh is flesh, and that which is bom o f the Spirit is spirit.18 To be “o f the
flesh” is thus to display an unenlightened view o f Jesus and his mission, while to be “o f the
spirit” is proof o f a proper Christological orientation. Likewise, those who understand Jesus are
also said to be “o f God,” while the unenlightened are “from the devil.”19 In turn, the evangelist
can describe this spiritual condition in cosmological terms. Thus, to be “of the spirit” is equal to
being “from the light,” “not of this world,” “from above,” and “from heaven.” In contrast, a
“fleshly” mindset is synonymous with being “in darkness,” “o f this world,” “from below,” and
“from the earth .”20 In this text, then, anthropological elaborations occur through both
Christological and cosmological formulations.21
II. Jesus and the Journey of the Soul
The Jesus o f the Gos. Thom, is unlike the canonical Jesus in a number of different ways.
Perhaps the most noticeable difference lies in the titles, or lack thereof, that the author uses to
describe him. Instead o f familiar designations such as Lord, Messiah, and Son o f God, the Gos.
Thom, shows no interest in detailing a systematic Christology. In fact, Jesus often rebukes his
questioners or shifts the discussion away from himself when inquires are made about his nature.22
In general, then, the gospel shuns the canonical epithets and prefers to refer to Jesus simply as
broadened. Thus, when Jesus “bowed his head and gave up his spirit” (rcapfeScoicev t o icve-upa) on the
cross (19:30), the pneuma is the inner essence of the individual; while the use of soma to refer to the corpse
of Jesus shows that the author was able to distinguish between the physical manifestation of the body and
the totality of the living person (19:31, 38, 40; but cf. 19:42). See also Cooper, Body, Soul, 125-126.
186:63; 3:6.
19 1:13; 8:44,47.
20 1:5; 3:3, 31; 8:23; 11:9-10; 12:36.
21 Leander E. Keck, “Derivation as Destiny: ‘Of-ness’ in Johannine Christology, Anthropology,
and Soteriology,” in Exploring the Gospel o f John: In Honor ofD. Moody Smith, eds. R. Alan Culpepper
and C. Clifton Black (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996), 274-288. See also John
Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 206-208.
22For instance, 43; 52; 91. See also Stevan Davies, “The Christology and Protology of the Gospel
of Thomas,” Journal o f Biblical Literature 111 (1992): 674.
269
“master” or “teacher” (C A £ ), the “son” (rrq p H p e ), the “living one” (T O N £ ), or the “son o f the
living one” (rrq p H p e MTTeTON^ ) . 23 As these designations suggest, the relationship between
Jesus and the Father is intimate: the latter accords Jesus with his status, and either one can act as
the object o f the disciples’ inquiries.24 Although such tendencies suggest that the Gos. Thom, is
not concerned with portraying Jesus as the “Christ,” logion 77 does provide one instance in which
he is depicted, in Stoic fashion, as the divine force which pervades and rules over the cosmos:
“Jesus said, ‘It is I who am the light ( r r o y o e i N ) which is over all things (eT(>i;xcjDOY THpoY)-
It is I who am the all (TTTHpq). From me did the all come forth, and unto me did the all extend.
Split a piece of wood, and I am there. Lift up a stone, and you will find me there.’”
Instead o f having divine status conferred upon him during his lifetime, as the synoptics
suggest,25 the gospel depicts Jesus as a pre-existent soul from the light o f the heavenly realm.
When Salome asks Jesus to identify himself, he replies that he has come from the unity of the
divine realm, “I am he who exists from the undivided” (eBOA. Zm n e T q jH c p ).26 His pre
existence is also implied in saying 28.1: “I took my place in the midst o f the world, and I
appeared to them in flesh” (cAps). Here Jesus assumes the character o f a divine being
descending to the mundane realm from above ,27 although the latter half o f this sentence proves
that the Gos. Thom, views Jesus’ earthly existence as that of a real person rather than a divine
23 “Master” or “teacher”: 13.4; “son”: 44.2; the “living one”: prologue; 52.2; 59; 111.2; the “son of
the living one”: 37.3. Logion 86 uses the phrase “son of man” (nqpHpe ... MTTpcDMe) to refer to Jesus,
although this appellation appears as a circumlocution for the living person according to Stephen J.
Patterson, The Gospel o f Thomas and Jesus (Sonoma, CA: Polebridge Press, 1993), 133, n. 58. “Sons of
man” is also used to refer to the disciples (28.3; 106.1). Whether the “living one” refers to the earthly or
post-mortem Jesus is a matter of dispute. While Marvin Meyer (“The Beginning of the Gospel of
Thomas,” Semeia 52 [1990]: 164) writes, “It seems highly unlikely that the phrase means to refer to
anything like the resurrected Christ,” Gartner (Theology, 98-101) prefers the latter position based upon
other Gnostic literature.
2461.3: “I was granted from the things of my Father” (TTieicuT). For the possessive, see also
64.12; 99.2-3. In 27.2 and 37.1, the Father and Jesus are used interchangeably as that which humans desire
to “see” (nay ).
25The adoptionist Christology of Luke-Acts is examined by George W. MacRae, “‘Whom Heaven
Must Receive Until the Time’: Reflections on the Christology of Acts,” in Studies in the New Testament
and Gnosticism, eds. Daniel J. Harrington and Stanley B. Marrow (Wilmington, DE: Michael Glazier, Inc,
1987), 47-64.
26 61.3. See also Gartner, Theology, 135.
27Jesus as personified Wisdom is developed by Stevan L. Davies, The Gospel o f Thomas and
Christian Wisdom (New York: The Seabury Press, 1983), 81-99.
270
apparition. A number of other sayings shed additional light on Jesus as a non-docetic figure:
logia 79, 99 and 101 all allude to his human parents, while Jesus refers to himself as the “son of
man” (=human being) in logia 86.28 Yet if Jesus is fully human while in this world, the gospel is
equally aware that he (=his soul) will eventually return to his heavenly home: the disciples
inquire who should assume leadership when he departs, while Jesus himself twice reminds his
listeners that he will not always be with them .29 Yet this departure is not viewed within the
context of a death on the cross: the allusions in Paul’s letters to Christians who showed no interest
in the crucifixion can thus be found more concretely within the Thomas community.
The Gospel o f John
Just as Jesus is on the full journey o f the soul according to the Gos. Thom., so too is the
Johannine Jesus. The prologue provides a brief summary o f his pre-existence and descent, the
first two stages o f the journey: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and
the Word was God ... The true light that enlightens every man was coming into the world ... And
the Word became flesh (<rdp4) and dwelt among us” (1:1,9, 14). Within the body of the gospel,
the evangelist returns to the theme o f pre-existence on a number of occasions: in a discussion
between Jesus and the Jews; during Jesus’ prayer to the Father; and, like the Gospel o f Thomas,
by equating Jesus with the “light” (<jx6q).30 As the light and the “bread o f life” who comes from
God, the author also repeatedly emphasizes that Jesus has originally descended from heaven .31
Moreover, just like the Jesus of the Gos. Thom., it is because of this lineage that the Johannine
28 For a discussion of Jesus’ humanity in the Gospel o f Thomas, see Riley, Resurrection
Reconsidered, 128-129. See also n. 23.
29 12.1; 38; 104. See also 65.6-7, which alludes to the death of Jesus.
30 8:58: “before Abraham was, I am”; 17:5: “glorify me in your own presence with the glory which
I had with you before the world was made”; Jesus as light: 8:12; 9:5; 12:35-36,46. On Jesus’ pre
existence, see Rudolf Buitmann, The Gospel o f John: A Commentary, trans. G.R. Beasley-Murray
(Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1971), 327-328, 495-497; Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel
According to John I-XII (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1966), 63-65. Brown also
attributes the concept of pre-existence to 1:30-31, a polemic against the followers of John the Baptist.
31 For instance, 3:2, 19; 6:33,41-42; 50-51, 58; 8:42. The Gospel of John uses the words
Karapaivco, £p%op.at, and e^kpxpiiai to describe descent. For a complete list of citations, see Godfrey C.
Nicholson, Death as Departure: The Johannine Descent-Ascent Schema (Chico, CA: Scholars Press,
1983), 52.
271
Jesus enjoys an intimate relationship with the Father.32 Taken together, these declarations of
Jesus’ divine origins and earthly incarnation cohere with the rich variety o f Christological titles
used in the gospel. The progression toward a high Christology is already evident in the first
chapter, which begins with the use o f the epithets Lamb of God, Messiah, and Son o f God and
culminates with Jesus’ own affirmation that he is the Son of Man (1:51).33
While all o f the Christological appellations elevate the status o f Jesus, the author uses the
title “Son o f Man” to identify him as a unique figure in the history o f the world: it is only the Son
o f Man who descends from and ascends into heaven, has authority given to him directly by God,
and can bestow eternal life on those who believe in him .34 Thus, although his humanness is
occasionally broached, the gospel repeatedly portrays Jesus as a divine man, a “god striding over
the earth,” rather than as a human being .35 The Son of Man sayings also connect the descent and
earthly activity o f Jesus with his return to his heavenly home with the Father. After his disciples
become troubled with Jesus’ proclamation of himself as the bread o f life, he reproves them by
asking, “Do you take offense at this? Then what if you were to see the Son o f Man ascending
(AvaPatvoma) to where he was before?”36 Similarly, when Jesus speaks o f being “lifted up”
(•mj/oco) or “glorified” (So^d^co), the evangelist means to describe his future ascent after death.37
In these passages, crucifixion is alluded to but does not figure prominently.38 In fact, like Gos.
32For instance, 10:30: “I and the Father are one” (see also 14:9-11, 13, 20; 17:21).
33 Meeks, “Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” 51; Ashton, Understanding, 238-377.
343:13-14; 5:27; 6:27, 53, 62; 8:28; 12:23, 34; 13:31.
35This description of Jesus is from KSsemann (cited in Ashton, Understanding, 66). The divine
nature of Jesus comes across most forcefully in the Semeia source. As Koester (“Story,” 25) observes,
“there is no reflection about the appearance of the divine revealer in the person of a real human being.”
The reference to Jesus’ sarx in the prologue has long been recognized as a corrective against docetic
interpretations of Jesus within the Johannine community, as noted by Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 97.
See also 2:4, which Buitmann (Gospel o f John, 116-117) understands as the author’s way of distancing
Jesus from his human parents and emphasizing his role as a divine man. Statements by Jesus’ opponents
regarding his human parents serve a similar function (6:41-42; 7:41-42; 8:57-58; 9:29). In the Gos. Thom.,
Jesus also dismisses his human parents, but these sayings are not meant to elevate his ontological status vis-
a-vis the rest of humanity. Rather, they seek to show that he (as well as others) is of divine origin.
36 In addition to dvapaivco, the two most common words used for ascent include Epxopca, and
bitdyai. For a complete list of citations, see Nicholson, Death as Departure, 58.
37Lifted up: 3:14; 8:28; 12:32-34; glorified: 7:39; 12:16,23; 13:31-32. See also Nicholson, Death
as Departure, 149-151.
38Nicholson (Death as Departure, 75-144) has shown that references to being lifted up must be
placed within the model of the descent and ascent of Jesus. Thus, bvyoco denotes the exaltation of Jesus, of
272
Thom. 38, the author appears to draw on a source that simply states that Jesus will return to the
place from which he originated: “I came (e^fjA-Gov) from the Father and have come (eX.T|lD0a)
into the world; again, I am leaving the world and going to (itope-6op.ai ttpoq) the Father.”39 To
the extent that Jesus originates from the heavenly realm, descends to earth, and then departs back
to his original home, the Gospel o f John makes use o f the concept o f the journey o f the soul found
in the Greco-Roman philosophical tradition and the Gospel o f Thomas*0
m . Jesus’ Message and the

Theologies of the Gospels
Jesus as Revealer: “Know Yourself’
The above examination has found that the portrayals o f Jesus in both gospels intersect
with one another by viewing Jesus as the “ light” who is on the complete journey of the soul. Yet
noticeably distinct is the way in which each gospel develops the character o f Jesus and
understands his significance in the world. The above discussion o f logion 28 has shown that the
Gos. Thom, views Jesus as a pre-existent divine being who descends into the material world to
reveal the truth about the world and mankind’s place with it. For the Gos. Thom., then, it is
precisely Jesus’ words, not his death on the cross, that offer salvation: “Whoever finds the
interpretation (eeepMHNeia.) of these sayings will not experience death” (1). Similarly Jesus
explains in logion 19 that “If you become my disciples and listen to my words (a.Na.qp2LXe),
these stones will minister to you. For there are five trees in Paradise which remain undisturbed
summer and winter and whose leaves do not fall. Whoever becomes acquainted with them will
not experience death.” The proper “interpretation” implies that the sayings may have more than
simply a surface meaning, a hypothesis that is confirmed in the first words o f the prologue:
which the crucifixion is only one part. See also Rudolf Bultmann, Theology o f the New Testament, vol. 2,
trans. Kendrick Grobel (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1955), 62; idem, Gospel o f John, 152, n. 4.
39 16:28; see also 8:21-22: “I am going away (eyd) iwcdcyco), and you will seek me and die in your
sin; where I am going you cannot come.” This has been identified as a traditional saying by Koester,
“Gnostic Sayings and Controversy Traditions,” 103.
40 Koester, “Story,” 23.
273
“These are the secret sayings (Ficyxxe eeH T ) which the living Jesus spoke and which Didymus
Judas Thomas wrote down.” Later in the collection, Jesus reaffirms the esoteric nature o f his
teachings: “I shall give you what no eye has seen and what no ear has heard and what no hand has
touched and what has never occurred to the human mind” (<f)HT ppcuMe).41
If the soul is responsible for acquiring knowledge, the wisdom it seeks to attain is the
realization o f its own immortality. Indeed, the core message that Jesus brings with him can be
summed up by the phrase “know yourself.” Popularized in Classical Greece,42 this command in
the Gos. Thom, refers to the recognition that the soul is divine, that it originated in the heavens,
and that it seeks to return to its celestial home.43 When individuals realize their participation in
the complete journey of the soul, knowledge o f the entire world pales in comparison to this self-
knowledge: “One who knows the all (u e T C O O Y N MTTTHpq), but is lacking in oneself ( e q p -
6 pcjD2 oysL^q), is utterly lacking” (67). Similarly, after referring to the end of the cosmos and
asserting that “the one who lives from the living one will not see death,” logion 111 concludes
with the query: “Does not Jesus say, ‘Whoever finds himself ( t r e T ^ e e p o q ) is superior to the
world?’” Finally, in logion 3 Jesus explains, “When you come to know yourselves
(e T e T N c y ^ N C o y o jN t h y t n ) , then you will become known, and you will realize that it is you
who are sons of the living father. But if you will not know yourselves, you dwell in poverty and
it is you who are that poverty” (3.4-5).
Guidance and “Care for the Soul”
According to the Gos. Thom., Jesus’ words are essential for salvation, and his message
centers on spurring people to recognize their own divinity, that the origin and destiny o f their
souls lie in the heavenly realm of the “living one.” This goal is achieved through the realization
that Jesus, himself an immortal soul, is not essentially different from the rest o f humanity.
41 17. See also 62: “It is to those [who are worthy of my] mysteries that I tell my mysteries.”
42 Heraclitus had anticipated this conception with the assertion: “I searched myself’ (22B101).
43 GSrtner, Theology, 215. See also Clem. Alex. Exc. Theod. 78.2: liberation comes from “the
knowledge (YvcScng) of who we were, and what we have become, where we were or where we were placed,
whither we hasten, from what we are redeemed, what birth is and what rebirth.”
274
Concrete expression o f this idea appears in two related sayings, 13 and 108. In the first, after
Jesus asks his disciples to describe what he is like, Thomas is singled out for correctly
understanding his true identity. Jesus thereupon informs the apostle, whose name means
“twin ,”44 that they have become equals: “I am no longer your teacher [or master, t t c 2lJ>].
Because you have drunk (a.K.ca>), you have become intoxicated from the bubbling spring which I
have measured out” (13.4). Through his spiritual guidance, Jesus leads people to the realization
that their souls are identical with his: “Jesus said, ‘He who will drink from my mouth will become
like me (qtta.qj<X)ne NTaê). I myself shall become he (a.NOtc j>cjd '{’N ^qptune eN Toq n e ),
and the things that are hidden will be revealed to him’” (108). Just as Jesus is the “son o f man,”
so too are the enlightened: “When you make the two one, you will become sons o f man” (106.1).
The equivalence between Jesus and the believer, here described as an escape from duality to
unity, is the recognition that the soul is linked to a heavenly counterpart. Thus, those who “make
the two one” are those who have seen their “twin”: “when you see your images that came into
being before you and that neither die nor become visible, how much will you bear.”45
Following the Socratic exhortation to “care for the soul,” a number o f parables in the
Gos. Thom, speak of valuing one prize possession over the multitude o f other objects that present
themselves. Thus, the fisherman chooses to keep one large fish and discard a net fuller o f smaller
ones, the merchant sells all of his merchandise to buy a pearl, and the shepherd searches for one
stray sheep at the expense of the rest o f his flock .46 The point of these parables, that the soul is
the only possession with true value, finds its correlative in logion 109: “The kingdom is like a
man who had a [hidden] treasure in his field without knowing it. And [after] he died, he left it to
44GSrtner, Theology, 97; Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 110.

4522.4; 84.2. The last phrase in 84 seems to be equivalent to “what a shock this will be.” For an
analysis of the mystical background to this saying, see April D. De Conick, Seek to See Him: Ascent and
Vision Mysticism in the Gospel o f Thomas (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1996), 148-172. See also 11.4; “on the day
when you were one you became two. But when you become two, what will you do?” This passage would
make more sense if the final “two” is regarded as a scribal error and replaced with “one.” Conversely,
logion 61.5 states “if he is divided, he will be filled with darkness.” In the Gos. Thom., references to the
“single one” or being “alone” are alternate ways of describing the individual who has attained
enlightenment. See A.F.J. Klijn, “The ‘Single One’ in the Gospel of Thomas,” Journal of Biblical
Literature 81 (1962): 271-278.
468; 76; 107.
275
his [son]. The son [did] not know (about the treasure). He inherited the field and sold [it]. And
the one who bought it went plowing and [found] the treasure. He began to lend money at interest
to whomever he wished.” In this parable, both the father and son lack the “knowledge” ( c o o y n )
of the “treasure” ( e ^ o ) that exists within their “field” (ecuape), or in other words, the divine
soul they possess within their bodies. The buyer, on the other hand, the one who went to the
trouble of plowing the field (=searching himself), discovers the treasure. Continuing with this
metaphorical interpretation, the final sentence suggests that the buyer subsequently increased his
own spiritual wealth. As saying 41 asserts: “Whoever has something in his hand will receive
more, and whomever has nothing will be deprived o f even the little he has.”47
In these parables, Jesus maintains that the path to self-knowledge is not painless, but
rather that it demands a considerable amount o f sacrifice and effort. For the Gos. Thom., “toil”
(£ice) is the key word for this process. Just link the shepherd who labored to find his one sheep,
Jesus asserts, “Blessed is the man who has suffered (Frrx2Z,c e ) and found life” (58).
Conversely, like the father and the son o f saying 109, a woman who carried a broken jar lost all
of its contents before she arrived home because she lacked attention and a certain “commitment”:
“She did not know it ( N e c c o o y N 2ln r r e ) . She had not understood how to toil” (N e
M T T eceiM e e ^ i c e ).48 Logion 2 aptly summarizes the steps leading to self-understanding: “Let
him who seeks continue seeking until he finds. When he finds, he will become troubled. When
he becomes troubled, he will be astonished, and he will rule over the all” (TTTHpq).49 As the last
words of this saying explain, when this process is successfully accomplished, the individual
becomes superior to the cosmos just as Jesus is.50 Like the “wise” (ppMNj>HT) fisherman in
47Richard Valantasis (The Gospel o f Thomas [New York: Routledge, 1997], 189-190) follows a
similar line of thought. For a more literal reading of these parables, see Patterson, Gospel o f Thomas, 143-
146.
4897.3. The last sentence is an alternative translation by Marvin W. Meyer, “The Gospel of
Thomas: Text and Translation,” in Q-Thomas Reader, eds. John S. Kloppenborg, Marvin W. Meyer,
Stephen J. Patterson, and Michael J. Steinhauser (Sonoma, CA: Polebridge Press, 1990), 155.
49 Bruce Lincoln (“Thomas-Gospel and Thomas-Community: A New Approach to a Familiar
Text,” Novum Testamentum 19 [1977]: 65-76) has hypothesized that saying 2 represents distinct stages of
membership within the Thomas community. Seeking and finding are also discussed in logia 92 and 94.
50See logion 77.
276
logion 8, the person who has fully internalized the teachings o f Jesus into his or her soul will then
have the ability to make correct choices “without difficulty” ( x c u p i c ^ i c e ) . 51 In other words, a
proper ethic logically emerges from a cultivated soul.
Decision-Making and Eschatology
In conjunction with his role as heavenly revealer, it has also been noted that Jesus bears
an affinity to the Stoic Logos: according to logion 77, he rules over “all things” and is “the all.”
Moreover, like the Logos, Jesus makes himself available for all to comprehend: “Whoever finds
(n e T X ^ e ) the interpretation of these sayings shall not experience death” (1). Although his
message may be mysterious, Jesus clearly calls for his adherents to spread it: “Preach from your
housetops that which you will hear in your ear. For no one lights a lamp and puts it under a
bushel, nor does he put it in a hidden place, but rather he sets it on a lampstand so that everyone
who enters and leaves will see its light.”52 In the Gos. Thom., then, Jesus provides an invitation
for all people to understand his message o f salvation, because everyone has the potential for
recognizing his or her own divinity. This appears to be the main point behind the parable of the
master whose invited dinner guests all refuse to come to his party. In response, the master opens
up the guestlist, ordering his servant to “Go outside to the streets and bring back those whom you
happen to meet, so that they may dine” (64.11). Elsewhere, Jesus makes the same point more
explicitly: “That which you have will save you if you bring it forth from yourselves. That which
you do not have within you [will] kill you (q[N a.]M O Y T thng) if you do not have it within you”
(70). Similarly, “Whoever has ears, let him hear. There is light within a man o f light, and he
lights up the whole world. If he does not shine, he is darkness.”53 For those who decide to join
the group the Thomas community can thereupon use the rhetoric o f election: they have been
“chosen” ( c c u t t t ) by the Father (51.2).
51 The wise fisherman is compared to “the human being,” or one who already has attained a high
level of spiritual knowledge. See Valantasis, Gospel o f Thomas, 66.
233 (see also 73).
5324.2-3. See also 3.5: “if you will not know yourselves, you dwell in poverty and it is you who
are poverty.”
277
From the first saying in the gospel it appears that the capacity to cultivate the light within
confers the believer with an immortal status. This “realized” eschatology, which this study has
already found in intertestamental Jewish literature and in the Pauline churches, is clearly
articulated in the Gospel o f Thomas. For those who choose to listen to Jesus’ message,
immortality, or the recouping of the soul’s primal unity, can be a present reality. To emphasize
this point, the text uses the disciples as foils for this position. In a number o f instances, Jesus
corrects their misguided spatial and temporal assumptions about the kingdom. It is not in the sky
or in the sea, according to Jesus, but rather “ it is inside o f you, and outside o f you” (3.3).
Similarly, when the disciples ask when the “rest” (not resurrection) for the dead will come, Jesus
responds, “What you look forward to has already come, but you do not recognize ( t c t n c o o y n )
it.” (51). The same point is made at the end of the gospel: the kingdom “will not come by waiting
for it. It will not be a matter of saying ‘Here it is’ or ‘There it is.’ Rather the kingdom o f the
father is spread out upon the earth, and men do not see it” (113.2-4). Because the divine soul
comprises the essence of the person, Jesus can proclaim that “the living will not die” ( N e T O N £
ceNAMOY 2lN) and “the one who lives from the living one will not see death.”54
If followers of Thomas Christianity experience the kingdom in the present through the
recognition of their soul’s immortality, they also know that after physical death their souls will
ascend directly to the Father.55 To ensure a safe journey, Gos. Thom. 50 provides its readers with
“passwords” to render the celestial archons powerless:
If they say to you, “Where did you come from?”, say to them, “We came from
the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord and
established [itself] and became manifest through their image.” If they say to you,
“Is it you?”, say, “We are its children, and we are the chosen of the living father.”
54 11.2 ; 111 .2 .
55Understanding logion 50 as a post-mortem ascent is strengthened if it should be attached to
saying 49, in which the origins and destiny of the solitary one is in the kingdom. Even so, De Conick (Seek
to See Him, 43-63) has argued that because an explicit death context is not in evidence, this saying is better
understood as a description of a mystical heavenly ascent. Saying 37, traditionally understood in a
baptismal setting, may also describe the post-mortem ascent of the soul, if the reconstruction of Gregory J.
Riley (“A Note on the Text of Gospel o f Thomas 37,” Harvard Theological Review 88 [1995]: 179-181) is
accepted.
278
If they ask you, “What is the sign o f your father in you?”, say to them, “It is
movement and rest.”
This saying brings the Greco-Roman tradition back into view. Perhaps its most noticeable
correlation is with the Orphic gold leaves: both groups, claiming that the “secret” or “mysterious”
doctrine o f the soul’s divinity was the key to immortality, offered a formulaic set o f responses for
the psyche as it ascended past hostile celestial powers on its journey back to its original home.
By emphasizing that this doctrine is based on knowledge o f the self, the Gos. Thom, also comes
under the influence of Platonic teachings. Finally, by suggesting that the soul is characterized by
movement and rest, the logion draws on a long history of philosophical speculation. The motive
quality o f the soul, an idea that can be found as early as the Presocratics, was characteristic o f
every major philosophical school in the Hellenistic period.56 Plato developed this idea
systematically, picturing the soul’s self-movement as perfectly circular so that its movement was
in fact not linear but, in a sense, at “rest.”57 To say that the divine substance is at “rest” also
echoes Aristotle’s Unmoved Mover, an idea whose nascent formulation can be traced back as far
as Xenophanes.58 In sum, it would appear that all o f this intellectual work helps determine the
background and influences behind the soul’s nature and ascent in Gos. Thom. 50.59
Thomas Christians experience salvation proleptically and after earthly life because they
have discovered the divine, immortal nature o f their souls. Moreover, at the end o f cosmic
history, they will be immune to destruction: “The heavens and the earth will be rolled up
(N 2 l6 cjda.) in your presence, and whoever is living from the living one will not see death .”60 By
contrast, those who fail to attain gnosis are subject to death, both in this life and at the eschaton.
According to the text, a spiritual death presently characterizes those who are not willing or able to
56 See Part II.

57 Plato describes the World Soul as “herself revolving within herself’ (aircf) ev a tn r r }
a-tpe<{>op.£vTi) {Tim. 36e). See also the discussion of the different forms of movement and the type assigned
to the soul in Laws 893b-896e.
5821B25: “Always he remains in the same place, moving not at all; nor is it fitting for him to go to
different places at different times, but without toil he shakes all things by the thought of his mind.”
Through its state of motionlessness, then, the “Mind” directs the movement of the cosmos.
59 De Conick {Seek to See Him, 93-95) emphasizes the background of the Unmoved Mover
through an analysis of the Corpus Hermeticum.
60 111. 1-2; see also 11. 1-2.
279
comprehend Jesus’ message: they are “poverty,” “darkness,” “drunk” and “blind,” or
“carcasses.”61 This present ignorance, not surprisingly, has future eschatological consequences,
as Jesus explains in logion 57: “on the day of the harvest the weeds will be plainly visible, and
they will be pulled up and burned” (57.4). Elsewhere, when Jesus claims that the “dead are not
alive” when meditating on the future end of the cosmos, the connection between a present and
future “death” for the unenlightened becomes certain (11.1-2). Like the Wisdom o f Solomon and
Philo, the Gos. Thom, uses realized eschatology both positively to stress the immortality o f the
initiated and negatively to argue that outsiders have died a spiritual death that will carry over to
the post-mortem state: “A grapevine has been planted outside the father, but being unsound, it
will be pulled up by its roots and destroyed” (ceN A .TTopK .c’ Z 2- T e c N O Y N e n c t ^ k o ) (40).
The Gospel o f John
Jesus as Revealer: “Believe in Me”
Just as the Gos. Thom, pictures Jesus as a revealer descending from the heavens, so too
does the Fourth Gospel. Following in the tradition o f Jewish Wisdom literature, the evangelist
begins by appropriating a hymn detailing the pre-existence o f the Logos with God and his descent
into the world.62 In this prologue, revelatory activity is emphasized: as an eternal being who
originally existed with God, the Logos is depicted as the “light” through whom the cosmos was
made and as the divine being who came into the world to dwell among mankind. Moreover, with
the use of the term “Logos” the author consciously draws on the Greco-Roman idea o f a
mediating figure who communicates with both God and humanity .63 The prologue thus provides
a clue that the words o f Jesus in the remainder of the gospel should be taken seriously. As in the
Gos. Thom., these words are the key for salvation according to John: “The words (x& pfifiata)
which I have spoken to you are spirit and life”; “If you continue in my word (tco Xoycp 'em eprn),
613.5; 24.3; 28.2-4; 60.6; 61.5.

Sophia and the Johannine Jesus (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
62 1:1-18. See also Martin Scott,
Press, 1992), 241: “the Fourth Gospel’s Christology is nothing short of a Sophia Christology.”
63 Warren Carter, “The Prologue and John’s Gospel: Function, Symbol and the Definitive Word,”
Journalfor the Study o f the New Testament 39 (1990): 38-39.
280
you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free”; “if any
one keeps my word (to v epov A.oyov), he will never see death.”64
If both gospels assert the salvific nature of Jesus’ words, it is in the content of this
message that the two part ways. In place of the call to “know yourself’ in the Gos. Tkom., the
Johannine Jesus demands that people “believe” (7naxe'uco) in him.65 Instead o f providing the
content of a secret revelation, however, the author has Jesus proclaim a simple message: he has
come from and will return to his Father, who sent him into the world to accomplish his works:66
“This indeed is the will o f my Father, that all that see the Son and believe (laaxebcov) in him may
have eternal life.”67 For the evangelist, the words o f Jesus do not bring saving gnosis; he is not
interested in having his community “seek” and “find” an immortal “light” within themselves, but
rather wants to emphasize that one can only hope for salvation by believing in Jesus.68 In a
passage that directly engages Thomas Christianity,69 the evangelist has Judas ask Jesus why the
disciples rather than the world are the objects of his revelation. In response, Jesus explains that
“Those who love the me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to
them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and
the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me” (14:23-24). In this
passage it is the figure o f Jesus who acts as the divine emissary and through whom salvation is
experienced.
64 6:63; 8:31-32, 51 (see also 6:68; 15:3).

65 This marks a distinct theological shift, as Riley (Resurrection Reconsidered, 120) has observed.
In the Gospel o f Thomas, jncrce-ueu/ appears only (logion 91), when the disciples express a desire to
believe in Jesus. In response, Jesus chastises them because they “have not come to know the one
(MTTeTNcoY<*)Nq) who is in your presence, and you do not know (t st n c o o y n xn ) how to examine the
moment.”
66 For instance: 4:34; 5:17,20, 36; 6:38; 8:28; 9:3-4; 10:25, 38; 14:11. See also Bultmann,
Theology, vol. 2, 40-41, 60-62. Bultmann argues that “it turns out in the end that Jesus as the Revealer of
God reveals nothing but that he is the Revealer” (66).
67 6:40 (see also 5:24).
68 12:36: “While you have the light, believe (jucxetexE) in the light, so that you may become sons
of light” (see also 11:9-10). On seeking and finding Jesus, see 1:38,41,43,45.
69 So April D. De Conick, ‘“ Blessed Are Those Who Have Not Seen’ (Jn 20:29): Johannine
Dramatization of an Early Christian Discourse,” in The Nag Hammadi Library After Fifty Years:
Proceedings o f the 1995 Society ofBiblical Literature Commemoration, eds. John D. Turner and Anne
McGuire (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1997): 387-390.
281
When the gospel does use the verb “to know” (yiyvcooKco), the point is to realize that it is
only through a knowledge of Jesus that salvation is possible. Interestingly, in the farewell
discourse this again occurs in the context o f a polemic against the Gospel o f Thomas. After
exhorting his disciples to “Believe in God, believe also in me,” Jesus announces his imminent
departure to his disciples and assures them that he will return to escort them to his “Father’s
house”: “I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be
also. And you know the way (o5ov) to the place where I am going” (14:4). The author then calls
on Thomas as the representative of an “ignorant” type o f Christianity: “Thomas said to him,
‘Lord, we do not know (obic oiSapev) where you are going. How can we know the way?”’70 In
response, Jesus pronounces the position o f the Johannine church: “I am the way, and the truth,
and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know ( eyvcdkocte) me, you
will know (yvdxjeaSs) the Father also.”71 In this revealing passage, the foundational theological
tenet o f Thomas Christianity is undermined: John asserts that the followers of Thomas do not
know Jesus or the proper way to approach God, and their belief in their participation in journey of
the soul is called into question.72 Elsewhere, the gospel has Peter proclaim the basic Johannine
position when Jesus asks his disciples whether they want to abandon him. In response, Peter
confesses the “correct” knowledge of Jesus’ identity: “ Lord, to whom can we go? You have the
words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know (jreTna-rs'UKap.ev Kcd eyvojKapev)
that you are the Holy One of God.”73
Dependence and “Love One Another”
With respect to a spiritual union with Jesus, the evangelist draws on a few logia that have
close resemblances in the Gospel o f Thomas. For instance, just as the Nag Hammadi text has
70 For o5oq as a technical term for ascent, see De Conick, ‘“Blessed Are Those Who Have Not
Seen,”’ 384-387.
71 14:5-7. See also 8:19; 17:3: “this is eternal life, that they may know (ytvcocncooatv) you, the
only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.”
72 Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 121-123.
73 6:68-69. See also 14:17, where Jesus, speaking about the Paraclete, tells the disciples, “you
know ( y iv c 6 c tk £ ' ce ) him.”
282
Jesus claim to be the “bubbling spring” through which his disciples may participate in his
identity, so too in the Gospel o f John is Jesus the “living water” (ftScop £<5v) whose
superabundance will flow in his followers and lead them to eternal life.74 Similarly, because
Jesus claims to be the “true vine” who abides in his disciples and they in him, he informs them in
the “farewell discourse” that they are no longer his servants but rather they are now friends
(<|>lA.oi), “because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.”75
Even with these parallels, the overall impression constructed by the evangelist is that
Jesus is essentially unlike the rest o f humanity. N ot only are human beings not on the full
journey o f the soul,76 but they cannot even participate in the second half without confessing his
power as divine revealer.77 The ego eimi sayings are especially useful in asserting that the
soteriological path runs through Jesus alone: “I am the bread o f life. Whoever comes to me will
never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty”; and “I am the light o f the
world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light o f life.”78 Thus,
as the “the savior of the world,”79 Jesus’ role is soteriological, and it is initiated through his death
and resurrection:80“I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats o f this
bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life o f the world is my flesh”; “I am
74 4:10-14; 7:37-38 (cf. Gos. Thom. 13; 108).

75 15:1,4, 15 (cf. Gos. Thom. 13; 40).
76 3:13: “No one has ascended (ccvapspTiKev) into heaven except the one who descended
(KOCTapdq) from Heaven, the Son of Man.” Many have found in this passage a polemic against visionary
ascents of Jewish mystics (see De Conick, ‘“ Blessed Are Those Who Have Not Seen,’” 381-383). Against
this view, Bultmann (Gospel o f John, 150) has argued that the gospel is not concerned with the challenge of
mystics, because, unlike them, Jesus did not first ascend and then descend. Rather, the verse argues that
that the only one who can ascend is the one who originally descended. This is alone reserved for Jesus,
who, after his exaltation, promises that “whoever believes in him” will receive “eternal life” (3:14).
Nicholson (Death as Departure, 91-103), while accepting the mystical thesis, nevertheless recognizes that
John means to argue that the proper pattern is descent-ascent, not vice-versa.
77 In one instance Jesus even tells his disciples that they cannot follow him to the Father, although
he quickly adds the qualifier that while they cannot follow him now, they will be able to do so later (13:33,
36). Koester (“Story,” 30) finds 13:33 to be “an outright rejection of the gnostic claim that seeking Jesus
will lead to the recognition of one’s own divine self and enable the disciple to follow Jesus into the
heavenly home.”
78 6:35; 8:12.
794:42.
80 On the inclusion of Jesus’ passion within the framework of his revelatory words, see Helmut
Koester, “One Jesus and Four Primitive Gospels,” in Trajectories through Early Christianity, eds. James
M. Robinson and Helmut Koester (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1971), 189, n. 104.
283
the gate; whoever enters by me will be saved”; and “I am the resurrection and the life. Those
who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me
will never die.”81 These formulations are deliberately meant to combat theologies o f salvation
such as those found in the Gos. Thom, by arguing that “The presence o f the light in Jesus is ... not
a prototype that can be repeated in the being o f the disciples so that they can become persons of
light in the same way as he is. They remain dependent upon the presence of light in the earthly
Jesus o f Nazarath.”82
This theological focus renders irrelevant the Gospel o f Thomas’s call to “care for the
soul.” In its place, however, Jesus has surprisingly little to say about how his followers are to act.
The footwashing episode, which Jesus offers as an “example” (imoSstYlJ-Cx) for his disciples,
together with his assertion that the Paraclete “will guide” (oSriyficei) them after he returns to the
Father, stand out in a gospel that creates characters who are, on the whole, inimitable.83 Yet the
gospel reflects a community under pressure from both within and without,84 and as a result, the
author’s most pressing point is to persuade his reader “to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the
Son o f God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” (20:31). In this
contentious atmosphere the most important ethical stance is community solidarity: the author
therefore has Jesus call his followers to “love one another,” for “by this everyone will know that
you are my disciples.”85
81 6:51; 10:9; 11:25 (see also 4:26; 6:48; 10:11; 15:1,5).

82 Koester, “Story,” 31.
8-> 13:15; 16:13. On this issue, see Wayne A. Meeks, “The Ethics of the Fourth Evangelist,” in
Exploring the Gospel o f John: In Honor o f D. Moody Smith, eds. R. Alan Culpepper and C. Clifton Black
(Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996), 318-319.
84 John’s negative attitude toward the world can be found throughout the text (i.e. 1:10; 3:3; 7:7;
8:23; 15:18-19). Verses reflecting their hostile relationship with Judaism include 1:11; 8:44,47; 9:22;
12:42-43; 16:33. For internal struggles, see 1:14; 1 Jn 2:4, 9, 18; 4:2-3. See also Meeks, “Man from
Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” 69-72.
85 13:34-35; 15:12. See also Meeks, “Ethics,” 323.
284
Decision-Making and Eschatology
Like many other texts examined in this study, the Gospel of John contains material that
holds determinism and the freedom o f choice in tension. On the one hand, a predetermined
scheme to cosmic history may be inferred from statements such as “No one can come to me
unless drawn by the Father who sent me,”86 as well as the anthropological divisions between
“above” and “below,” “light” and “darkness,” and “o f God” or “from the devil.”87 On the other
hand, the invitation that Jesus offers appears to exclude no one: “Everyone (icoccg) who has heard
and learned from the Father comes to me”; “My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me; if any
man’s will (xu; GeA.-p) is to do his will, he shall know whether the teaching is from God”; and “I
have come as the light into the world, that everyone (noiq) who believes in me may not remain in
darkness.”88
Having surveyed works such as the Community Rule and the Wisdom of Solomon, an
explanation for such apparently contradictory evidence is readily at hand. It is not that the
evangelist conceives his community to be pre-ordained by God to adhere to the message of
Jesus.89 Even the Community Rule softens its deterministic stance by acknowledging the struggle
o f the two warring spirits within each person. Rather, it is more likely that the author used such
deterministic language rhetorically in order to justify and solidify the choices made by the
members of his group.90 Verses 12-13 in the prologue provide an example o f how this process
86 6:44 (see also 6:37, 39, 65; 10:29; 17:2, 6, 9, 12, 24).
87 See nn. 19, 20.
88 6:45; 7:16-17; 12:46 (see also 5:24; 6:35, 51; 8:12, 51; 10:9; 12:32; 14:23).
89 This position has recently been proposed by Jeffrey A. Trumbower, Bornfrom Above: The
Anthropology o f the Gospel o f John (TQbingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1992). Trumbower distinguishes between an
“election-determinism,” which he finds in Qumran and Paul, with a “fixed-origins” determinism in the
Gospel of John. According to Trumbower, “when the principle gospel author is trying to understand and
explain the phenomena of belief and unbelief, he does so in terms of what shall be called ‘fixed origins of
human beings’: ‘origins,’ because so much of the gospel’s language has to do with human origins from
above or from God or from Jesus’ sheep; ‘fixed,’ because when the author uses such language, he is
referring to categories which were already fixed before the coming of Jesus, and which cannot change” (4).
He thus views the gospel as “proto-gnostic,” on the way to salvation by “nature” found in the Gospel o f
Truth.
90 Trumbower’s position, baldly stated, is not supported by any other modem scholar (as he
willingly acknowledges), and his view of salvation by “nature,” which will be challenged in the next
chapter, has found many critics among Gnostic scholars (i.e. Elaine H. Pagels, “Conflicting Versions of
Valentinian Eschatology: Irenaeus’ Treatise vs. the Excerpts from Theodotus,” Harvard Theological
285
works. After v. 12, which states that “to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave
the power to become children o f God,” the author appends a defense o f the decisions made by the
Johannine community: “who were bom, not o f blood or o f the will of the flesh or o f the will o f
man, but of God.”91 For the evangelist to claim that he and his brethren are from God while his
opponents are from the devil does not seem to be essentially new, but only advances the opinions
developed at Qumran and, in a more rudimentary fashion, in the Wisdom o f Solomon.
Decision-making is thus as important for the Johannine writer as it is for the Gospel o f
Thomas. This can be seen particularly clearly from the prologue’s identification o f Jesus as the
Logos. Just as the Gospel o f Thomas's Jesus descends as an invitation for his readers to attain
salvation, so too does the entrance o f John’s Jesus onto the world stage serve to provide humanity
with the option to choose or reject him. For the fourth evangelist, Jesus’ descent marks a moment
of “judgment” (K p 'tcn q ) in which the present fate o f mankind is sealed: “he who hears my word
and believes him who sent me has eternal life (e%ei £cofiv aicoviov); he does not come into
judgment (K plcrtv) but has passed from life to death” (5:24). If the believer is rewarded with
eternal life in this world, so too do those who reject Jesus face a present judgment: “Those who
believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already (fj5r|
K E K p u to a ) ... And this is the judgment ( K p ic n g ), that the light has come into the world, and
people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil” (3:18-19).
Review 61 [1974]: 35-53; Winrich Alfried L8hr, “Gnostic Determinism Reconsidered,” Vigiliae
Christianae 46 [1992]: 381-390). Trumbower’s thesis is hurt by passages such as 5:34 and 13:2, and it is
important to note that only Jesus, not his disciples or any humans designated to be “of God,” are said to
have descended from heaven. Yet as his argument progresses, he refines his thesis in a way that the present
study accepts: “Like almost all his contemporaries in Hellenistic Judaism and early Christianity, our author
manifests a combination of the call to decision and deterministic explanations of the division between
insiders and outsiders. My thesis is that when those deterministic explanations arise, the dominant
language is that of fixed origins” {Bornfrom Above, 107).
The position taken in the present study adheres to the majority opinion as delineated by scholars
such as Bultmann, Theology, vol. 2,21-26; Charlesworth, “Critical Comparison,” 407-409; Meeks, “Man
from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” 66-68; Schnelle, Human Condition, 125-130; Keck, “Derivation
as Destiny,” 274-288.
91 1:12-13. Trumbower {Bornfrom Above, 69) has argued this as well.
286
Like the Gos. Thom., the Johannine community sees no contradiction in envisioning a
present life or death with a future judgment.92 Accordingly, Jesus remarks that “this is the will o f
him who sent me, that I should lose nothing o f all that he has given me, but raise it up
(dvctaxfiaco crino) on the last day ... every one who see the Son and believes in him should have
eternal life (^cof]v atcoviov); and I will raise him up (dvocarfiCTCo abxov) on the last day.”93 In
contrast to this blissful state, the evil appear to be completely annihilated, as the parable of the
vine suggests: “Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such
branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned” (15:6). The evangelist can even combine
the notions o f a present and future eschatology in the same or consecutive verses: “whoever
disobeys the Son will not see life (obic o y e x at £cof]v), but the wrath o f God rests (pevet) upon
him”; and “those who believe in me, even though they die (dwio0dcvr]), will live (£naexai), and
everyone who lives and believes (£dov K a i maxeucov) in me will never die” (<Jc7Co0&vri).94
When commenting on the future condition o f life after death, none o f these passages say
anything that unambiguously points toward a somatic existence. Indeed, the survey of
intertestamental Jewish literature has shown that the idea o f resurrection could apply equally to
the soul or body. Here, then, all that can be said is that the gospel can envision its community as
participants on the second half of the soul’s journey. Yet in another redactional passage the
evangelist further explicates the post-mortem state in terms that move toward the notion o f some
type of bodily resurrection: “the hour is coming when all who are in the tombs (pvspetoiq) will
hear his voice and come forth, those that have done good, to the resurrection o f life (dvaaxacnv
Ccofjq), and those who have done evil, to the resurrection o f judgment.”95 Even so, however, the
ambiguities surrounding the notion of “bodily” survival in the Hellenistic period ensured that this
editorial work would not, by itself, conclusively delineate the boundaries between the
communities o f John and Thomas over the nature o f life after death.
92 Schnelle, Human Condition, 133.

93 6:39-40 (see also 6:44). Eternal life is also mentioned at 3:15-16, 36.
94 3:36; 11:25-26.
95 5:28-29 (see also 12:48).
287
Inheritances in the Journey o f the Soul
The above discussion plainly shows a difference between the two communities’
understanding o f the journey of the soul. For the Gos. Thom., the Platonic influence is obvious
throughout, although Plato’s emphasis on metempsychosis suggests that a closer parallel can be
found in Cicero’s Somnium Scipionis. In this text, as in the Gos. Thom., there is only one journey
for all souls, and the best psychai recognize the value o f gnosis over worldly glory. Yet the
gospel’s eschatology prevents an identical articulation between the two. On the one hand, the
Thomas community envisions an end to cosmic history and a judgment that leads to the
destruction of wicked souls. On the other, Cicero shows no inclination to develop the idea o f the
ekpyrosis, let alone a permanent end to historical time, and in his model less enlightened souls
receive purification after death before they are eventually reintegrated back to their original
home.
For Johannine Christianity, who knows nothing o f the psyche's immortality, the journey
o f the soul is only partial. As in Paul, salvation is contingent upon believing in the salvific
purpose o f Jesus’ incarnation. The last chapter has identified such a perspective in
intertestamental Judaism and the mystery religions, but the community of John also modifies this
scheme to conform to their belief in a bodily post-mortem condition. Unlike Paul’s soma
pneumatikon, however, the passion narrative in Gospel of John argues that the righteous will
receive their physical bodies at the eschaton. In sum, both the Gos. Thom, and the Gospel o f John
provide another indication of how the concept o f the soul’s journey could be molded to fit a
particular author’s religious and philosophical inclinations.
IV. Body vs. Soul:

Communities in Conflict
The preceding analysis of the gospels attributed to Thomas and John has identified
numerous points of contact and diversion. While the parallels lead to the conclusion that both
288
communities accessed a common fund o f material, their different exegetical tendencies show that
the two groups were moving in different theological directions. The fact that the communities are
occasionally in direct contention with one another serves to reinforce this argument, a point that
will become even more apparent in the following analysis o f passages relating to corporeality and
the post-mortem state.
As the Johannine community grew and developed over time, internal dissention emerged
over the earthly nature of Jesus. On the one hand, one o f the gospel’s sources (the miracle
collection), which portrayed him as a divine man, “god striding over the earth,” led some to
envision Jesus’ human existence in docetic terms. On the other hand, the community also had the
passion narrative, which, together with the expansion o f the dialogue collection and later
redaction activity, checked the image of the docetic Jesus in favor o f a human portrait. The
Johannine letters provide some insight into this factionalism,96 and show that the latter group
became representative of the community. According to 1 Jn 4:2-3, “every spirit that confesses
that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh (sv a ap x i) is from God, and every spirit that does not
confess Jesus is not from God.” Similarly, 2 Jn 7 warns that “Many deceivers have gone out into
the world, those who do not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh (ev aap id ); any such
person is the deceiver and the antichrist.”
The introduction to 1 John reiterates what becomes the “orthodox” Johannine position on
the nature of Jesus:
That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen
with our eyes, which we have looked upon and touched with our hands (od
Xeipe? tip-cov e\|/r|7.d<trr|cjav), concerning the word of life— the life was made
manifest, and we saw it and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life which
was with the Father and made manifest to us.97
Embedded in these verses is a traditional saying that is widely attested in early Christian
literature. In 1 Cor 2:9, for instance, Paul speaks o f “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the
human heart conceived,” while the version in 1 Clem. 34.8 states “for it [the scripture] says that
96 For instance, 1 Jn 2:18-19.

97 1: 1- 2 .
289
no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mortal heart has dreamed o f the things God has in store for
those who wait patiently for him.” O f all the other instances o f this saying,98 however, the only
one that includes a reference to “hands” and “touching” is Gos. Thom. 17: “Jesus said, CI shall
give you what no eye has seen and what no ear has heard and what no hand has touched (rre T e
Mire 612c 6 M<5 cDMq) and what has never occurred to the human mind.”
At first sight the relationship between the sayings in 1 John and the Gos. Thom, may
appear somewhat obscure. After all, the Thomas community’s Jesus also appears in the flesh,
and thus it would appear that, on this issue at least, the two communities would have little to
debate. Yet closer inspection shows that the way the saying is adapted in both texts reflects a
direct conflict between the two communities. At a linguistic level, the verb “to touch” is a hapax
legomenon in the Gos. Thom., and the Greek equivalent in 1 John is found only four times in the
entire New Testament.99 The two sayings also reflect the basic theological positions of each
group. In 1 John, the emphasis is on confessing the pre-existent Christ who descended into the
flesh.100 This event has salvific implications, for according to the author, “God gave us eternal
life, and this life is his Son. He who has the Son has life.”101 Faith in the incarnation thus secures
eternal life for the Johannine community. By contrast, it has been shown that in the Gos. Thom.,
salvation occurs, not through Jesus as the Christ, but rather through his message that every soul is
divine and identical to his. Thus, in this gospel, the saying has been altered by the community to
reflect their own distinctive theology: Jesus promises to impart his otherworldly teaching to those
who are willing to receive it.102 The gospel therefore makes explicit that it is not the physical
98 Other instances include 2 Clem. 11.7; Acts Pet. 39; Acts Thom. 36; Clem. Alex. Exc. Theod.
10.5; Dial. Sav. 140.2-4; Hipp. Ref. 5.24.1.
99 Onuki, “Traditionsgeschichte,” 409.
100The confession occurs at the level of the eschatological community according to Rudolf
Bultmann, The Johannine Epistles, trans. R. Philip O’Hara with Lane C. McGaughy and Robert W. Funk
(Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1973), 9-10.
101 5:11-12. See also 5:4, where the writer states that “our faith” (h Tticrxiq f|p.c5v) allows them to
overcome the world.
102Onuki, “Traditionsgeschichte,” 409,414.
290
appearance of Jesus that is important, but that it is his revelation, “what no hand has touched,”
that leads to immortality.103
The debate over docetism in the Johannine community not only affects the way in which
they understand Jesus’ earthly condition, but it also impacts their view of his post-mortem
existence. This becomes evident in the gospel writer’s use o f the story regarding the destruction
o f the temple (2:13-22). According to John, Jesus’ cleansing of the temple leads to the following
exchange: “The Jews then said to him, ‘What sign can you show us for doing this?’ Jesus
answered them, ‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.’ The Jews then said,
‘This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three
days?’ But he was speaking of the temple o f his body” (2:19-21). A number o f important points
arise from his dialogue.104 First, while the synoptic parallels show that the original context for the
boast to destroy and raise up the temple was political and apocalyptic, the Gospel o f John
eliminates its subversive meaning by reinterpreting the saying to refer to the resurrected state: it is
no longer the reconstruction of the actual temple which Jesus has in mind, but rather the “temple”
of his body. Here, then, the evangelist constructs a riddle in order to highlight the knowledge of
the “insiders” (i.e. his community) and ignorance of the “outsiders” (i.e. the Jews).I0S Second, in
contrast to the canonical versions, John is not uncomfortable with placing the saying in Jesus’
mouth, a signal that its surface meaning as an incendiary challenge could be replaced by a new,
“deeper” interpretation. Third, out of all the riddles in John, this is the only one that contains a
103 In Acts Thom. 36, Thomas after reviving a young man, tells him that the things he has seen are
only a fragment of God’s revelations: the apostle speaks not of the mundane realm, but “about the world
above, about God and angels ... about clothing that endures and does not grow old, about things ‘which eye
has not seen nor ear heard’” etc. Although Ismo Dunderberg (“John and Thomas in Conflict?” in The Nag
Hammadi Library After Fifty Years: Proceedings o f the 1995 Society ofBiblical Literature
Commemoration, eds. John D. Turner and Anne McGuire [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1997], 367) notes that the
verb “to give” (•{*) does not primarily mean “revelation” or “teaching,” he hypothesizes (correctly, in my
view) that logia 88 and 52 show the difference between the old, prophetic revelations of Judaism and the
new, superior message of Jesus in Thomas. See also Valantasis, Gospel o f Thomas, 130, 168-169.
104 The following argument is indebted to the analysis of Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 133-
153.
105This device is also employed when Jesus exploits the double meaning of dvcoOev (3:3,31) as
well as when the Samaritan woman takes his reference to the “living water” literally instead of as a
metaphor for revelation (4:7-15).
291
“key”: the evangelist explicitly states that the “temple” is actually the body.106 Finally, the
pericope closes with the author recalling that “After he was raised from the dead, the disciples
remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had
spoken” (2:22).
The final two points are particularly important for the contention that the debate over the
nature of life after death occurred at the level o f the community. By providing a key for
interpreting Jesus’ words and noting that the disciples did not understand the full import o f Jesus’
words until after his death, the evangelist provides some insight into the community’s work of
interpreting their experience of Jesus. By meditating on the scriptures and integrating them with
the life of Jesus, they constructed a community theology.107 In the case o f this particular saying,
the community’s deliberations culminated in the insistence that Jesus would be raised in bodily
form.
The Thomas community is involved in the same sort o f exegetical activity, and its
interpretation of this saying shows that it is in a debate with John over the post-mortem state.
According to Gos. Thom. 71: “Jesus said, ‘I shall [destroy this] house, and no one will be able to
build it Like John’s version, this logion is attributed directly to Jesus, a signal that this
author has also moved away from the surface meaning of the saying. Additionally, the
replacement of “temple” with “house” ( h b i ), a word synonymous with “body,”108 points to the
deliberate alteration o f the saying from a political to an anthropological context. In direct contrast
to the Johannine community, however, the Gos. Thom, unequivocally states that the body will not
be reconstituted at all.109 By rejecting the notion of a physical reconstitution after death, the
Thomas community enters into the late first- and second-century debate over the nature of the
106 Ashton, Understanding, 415.

107 See, for instance, the evangelist’s comment on the significance of Jesus’ entrance into
Jerusalem: “His disciples did not understand these things at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they
remembered that these things had been written of him and had been done to him” (12:16).
108 See n. 12.
109 The lacuna at the end of logion 71 does not contain enough space for the words “three days.”
The editio princeps hypothesized that the word “again” concluded the saying. See Riley, Resurrection
Reconsidered, 148, nn. 47, 48.
292
post-mortem state and consciously revalues the “orthodox” Johannine position. Or more
accurately, Thomas Christianity applies Greco-Roman philosophical principles to their own
anthropology and eschatology: at death the body disintegrates into its primary elements while the
soul escapes through the planetary spheres on its return to its heavenly home. The emergence of
the doctrine o f the physical resurrection, as found in John, is thus a response to and rejection of
the scientific tenets o f the Hellenistic world.
The Johannine community’s debate with Thomas Christians over the post-mortem state
also occurs in the passion narrative in the Doubting Thomas pericope (20:24-29). Prior to this
passage, the apostle Thomas appears in the Fourth Gospel three times, and in each instance the
author’s negative portrayal is meant to polemicize against the type of Christianity espoused in the
Gospel o f Thomas. In the first two instances, mentioned above, the Fourth Gospel attacks the
community’s “wrong” understanding o f Jesus and the path to salvation.110 The third appearance,
however, occurs within the story o f Lazarus and provides a more direct commentary on the
Gospel o f Thomas’s misguided notion of the post-mortem condition. In this episode, Jesus
informs his disciples about the death of Mary’s brother and announces that he is going to raise
him (11:11-15). Immediately thereafter, “Thomas, called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples,
‘Let us also go, that we may die with him’” (11:16). In this exchange the ignorance of Thomas
becomes apparent, for instead of recognizing that Jesus intends to raise Lazarus, the apostle
thinks that they are also going to meet their deaths. Thomas therefore becomes the foil through
whom the Johannine community articulates its eschatology, for the pericope argues that it is only
through Jesus that eternal life may be experienced, and moreover, that this life after death will be
bodily.111
The evangelist forwards the same argument in the Doubting Thomas pericope, a story
unique to John.112 This episode begins by noting the absence o f Thomas during the
110 14:5-7, 22-24.

111 Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 118-119.
112 Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels: Their Development and History (Philadelphia: Trinity
Press International, 1990), 255; Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 85-87, 91-92, 104.
293
commissioning o f the disciples by the resurrected Jesus (20:24). When they relate to Thomas the
appearance o f Jesus, he reacts with disbelief: “the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the
Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark o f the nails in his hands, and put my hand in
his side, I will not believe’” (20:25). Eight days later however, Jesus again appears to the entire
group, and commands Thomas to “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand
and put it in my side. Do not be faithless, but believing” (|xfj yivou dcma-TOg & X\a KUJxoq)
(20:27). After complying, Thomas affirms the reality o f Jesus with the exclamation “My Lord
and my God!” and Jesus concludes, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are
those who have not seen yet believe” (20:28-29).
With the inclusion of this story, the Gospel o f John once again uses the apostle to support
its own type o f Christianity while simultaneously undermining the theological precepts
propounded by the followers o f Thomas. By noting that the apostle was absent from the earlier
commissioning scene in which Jesus imparted the Spirit to the other ten, the evangelist begins by
marginalizing the foundations of Thomas Christianity. Thereafter, the incredulity expressed by
Thomas after hearing o f Jesus’ appearance clearly shows that John wants to emphasize his
physical nature, for the ancient world would not have viewed the post-mortem appearance of a
soul as extraordinary or uncommon.113 That Thomas refuses to “believe” in Jesus’ shows the
inadequacy o f his faith, and it is not until the physical demonstration that he moves from the
realm o f the “faithless” to the “believing.” Because the theology of John values this tenet as the
basic and proper stance of humanity vis-a-vis Jesus, ascribing pistis to Thomas brings his brand of
Christianity under the sphere o f the Johannine community.114 Finally, in contrast to the theme of
twinship in Gos. Thom. 13 and 108, the confession that Thomas makes after confronting the
resurrected Jesus leads him to ascribe to him the high Christological titles “Lord” and “God.”
113 Riley, Resurrection Reconsidered, 115. It is tempting to suppose that the author of 1 Jn 1:1 had
in mind this pericope or Jesus’ command to Mary at 20:17. While this idea cannot be ruled out, a verbal
correspondence is missing, as Onuki (“Traditionsgeschichte,” 412) observes.
114The evangelist uses John the Baptist similarly (1:6-9, 15,26-37; 3:25-30). For the theme of
seeing and believing in John, see 9:35-38; 10:45; 20:8.
294
Although Thomas becomes a witness to Johannine Christianity, the Gospel of John’s
attempt to describe the risen Jesus in physical terms contains some noticeable ambiguities that
would continue to cause problems in subsequent debates on the nature o f the post-mortem state.
The reader versed in the cultural discourse o f the Greco-Roman world may have even noticed
some difficulties in the story prior to this pericope. Not unlike Crito’s excessive concern for
Socrates’ corpse, the overwhelming amount o f spices brought by the secret disciple Nicodemus
for Jesus’ burial shows a misguided zealousness for the earthly body.115 The same myopia affects
Mary, who thinks that the corpse of Jesus is the actual person: “They have taken away my Lord
(to v Kuptov p.ou), and I do not know where they have laid him” (orircov).116 The return of Jesus
to the Father, a theme so often expressed in the gospel, is even lost on Peter and the beloved
disciple: after arriving at the grave, the evangelist remarks that “they did not understand that he
must rise from the dead.”117
If readers might recall a typical misunderstanding o f the value o f the body in these
passages, they might similarly be unimpressed with the evangelist’s attempt at proclaiming that
Jesus rose from the dead with the same body he had during his incarnation. The major difficulty
with John’s portrayal stems from the manifold depictions of the disembodied soul in the Greco-
Roman world. As Part II has shown, the insubstantial shades of Homer and the tragedians as well
as the incorporeal souls of Plato all bore physical characteristics. By following the Presocratics in
insisting that souls were actually bodies, the Presocratics and Stoics escape this paradox but
succeed only in clouding the issue even further. Thus, when Scipio recalls how the soul o f his
dead father “embraced and kissed me,” the inclusion o f a demonstration o f Jesus’ physicality in
the Fourth Gospel is not so far removed from Greco-Roman sensibilities nor entirely without
115Crito: Phaed. 115c-e (see also 117c-e); Nicodemus: 19:39-40. See also Dennis D. Sylva,
“Nicodemus and His Spices (John 19:39),” New Testament Studies 34 (1988): 148-151.
116 20:13. See also 20:15: “if you have carried him (ainov) away, tell me where you have laid him
(airrov), and I will take him (ainov) away.”
11720:9. In 6:69; 17:8, 25, the disciples reveal that they know Jesus’ origins, but they are never
said to understand whither he will return. A Hellenistic reader might find a parallel in Plato’s observance
that while Socrates’ interlocutors were willing to accept the pre-existence of souls, they had trouble
accepting its existence after death {Phaed. 77a-b).
295
precedent.118 John’s depiction o f the risen Jesus thus hardly settles the matter o f the nature o f life
after death, even though these verses become a proof-text for later supporters o f a fleshly
I !Q
resurrection.
By comparing the gospels attributed to Thomas and John, this chapter has identified two
communities that shared common traditions but whose differing versions o f the journey o f the
soul led to distinctly different theological perspectives. The first section, which offered a
comparison of each gospel’s anthropology, argued that the Gos. Thom, bears a close affinity with
Greco-Roman dualism. The soul in this text is pre-existent, descends into the world, where it is
set in opposition to the body, and anticipates its escape from materiality so that it can return to its
heavenly home. The Gospel o f John, on the other hand, shows little inclination to construct a
systematic anthropology because it is more interested in developing the theme o f the incarnation
of Jesus and mankind’s response to it. While the Fourth Gospel shows some knowledge of
anthropological dualism, psyche is never used in its philosophical sense. Instead, the evangelist
exploits Christo logical and cosmological formulations to classify humanity as either from God or
from above, on the one hand, or from the devil or from below on the other. The second section
then examined how each gospel constructed Jesus. It was shown that while both are on the full
journey of the soul, the Christo logical epithets found in the Gospel o f John are almost entirely
absent in the Gos. Thom., a fact which is important for distinguishing how each community
viewed their own participation in the journey.
The third section underscores this point through a comparison o f the theologies of each
text. It was shown that in the Gos. Thom., Jesus’ role is to awaken humanity to the fact that their
souls are divine and that they are on the full journey o f the soul. His descent enables people to
respond to his salvific message, and through his guidance they can come to “know themselves.”
If his call is correctly understood, individuals may proleptically experience the kingdom before
118 Cic. De Rep. 6.14.14: “///e autem me complexus atque osculans.”

119For instance, Iren. Adv. haer. V.7; Jer. Ep. 108.24.
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their souls ascend back to the Father. In the Gospel o f John, Jesus also descends with salvific
words, but his message is “believe in me.” Instead o f encouraging mankind to care for their
divine souls, the Johannine Jesus exhorts his readers to “love one another” and remain steadfast in
the faith in him, because it is only through the recognition o f Jesus as the savior of the world that
eternal life becomes a reality, both in this world and after death. For John, then, individuals who
make this correct decision do not participate in the full journey o f the soul, but rather, in a way
similar to Paul, have access to the second half alone. The direct opposition between the
communities o f Thomas and John, briefly intimated in this analysis, are further examined in the
concluding section. Here it was shown that the Johannine community’s decision to emphasize a
physical resurrection brought them into direct conflict with the Gospel o f Thomas’s belief in the
full journey o f the soul. Even so, the variations on the soul’s post-mortem condition in the larger
Greco-Roman world ensured that its polemic would not effectively end the Christian dispute over
the nature of life after death.
CHAPTER 3
THE APOCRYPHON OF JOHN
The last chapters have argued that the concept o f the soul and its journey can be used as a
template for identifying some basic theological controversies in formative Christianity. This
argument restricted itself, however, to material from the latter half o f the first century, a period
which had yet to display a strong interest in Greco-Roman philosophy. Yet from the second
century, when Christianity begins to show an affinity for using philosophy, meditations on the
importance of the soul increase in intellectual sophistication. Through an analysis o f the
Apocryphon o f John, perhaps the most important Gnostic tractate in antiquity,1 this chapter will
seek to provide some insight into the issues that shaped the debate over the soul in post-apostolic
Christianity. Rather than directly targeting a specific writer or community, though, it will be
argued that the Apocryphon o f John, both in its original and Christianized form, polemicizes more
generally against certain teachings from the Hellenistic philosophical schools and, by extension,
patristic Christianity.2
1The text is found in three codices in the Nag Hammadi Library (II,/; III,/; IV,/), the Codex
Papyrus Berolinensis 8502,2. Irenaeus (Adv. haer. 1.29) also appears to be working with a version of the
Ap. John. See Michael Waldstein and Frederick Wisse, eds., The Apocryphon o f John: Synopsis o f Nag
Hammadi Codices II, I; III,I; andIV, 1 with BG 8502,2 (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1995), 1-8; Michael Allen
Williams, Rethinking "Gnosticism An Argumentfor Dismantling a Dubious Category (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1996), 8. This chapter will use the tractate from Codex II, unless otherwise
noted.
2An anti-Stoic tendency in the Apocryphon o f John has been uncovered by Onuki, Gnosis und
Stoa. Although he notes that this polemic already existed before the text’s Christianization, he concludes
that this critique was consistent with many of the philosophical ideas adopted by the Great Church (Gnosis
und Stoa, 161-165). This chapter will build upon his argument by identifying in the patristic sources the
kinds of teachings that the Ap. John challenges. Although the term “patristic” will be used to refer to the
church writers of the second and third centuries, it is not meant to suggest that in this period there was such
a thing as a unified Christian theology.
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298
Following the text’s program o f salvation history, this chapter will begin first by showing
how the author undermines the inherent goodness o f the cosmos by demonizing the planetary
spheres and by creating a fissure between the divine and material realms. The second section will
argue that the tractate’s tripartite anthropology similarly degrades the importance o f the soul in
favor o f a spark of pleromatic “light,” a higher quality existing potentially in all human beings.
The third section will then assess the implications that this devalued soul has in the realm of
Logic and Ethics, problems which Paul had already encountered in a nascent form in his
conversations with the Corinthians. It will be argued here, however, that while patristic
Christianity objects to both the logical and ethical implications o f an incapacitated psyche, the
fears regarding aberrant behavior are unjustified. The final section will address the tractate’s
notion o f the journey of the soul, its Platonic influence, and its deviations from the eschatology o f
the church fathers.
I. Cosmology
The Pleroma
In its latest form, the Apocryphon o f John purports to be a revelation dialogue between
the risen Christ and his disciple John in which the latter receives instruction regarding the secrets
o f the universe and the destiny o f mankind.3 Beginning with a discussion of the supercelestial
realm, the savior informs John that the highest God, who is invisible, unnameable, and ineffable,
emanated from his thought the divine being Pronoia (“First Thought” or “Providence”).
Thereafter, the text recounts the intricate unfolding o f the pleromatic aeons as lesser aeons such
as Pronoia and Autogenes (=Christ) act to bring the divine world to completion. At the outer
reaches o f the Pleroma exist the four luminaries, the dwelling places for the heavenly prototypes
3 1.1-2.26. On the structure and Christianization of the Apocryphon o f John, see Birger A.
Pearson, “The Problem o f‘Jewish Gnostic’ Literature,” in Nag Hammadi, Gnosticism, and Early
Christianity, eds. Charles W. Hedrick and Robert Hodgson, Jr. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers,
1986), 19-21.
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of mankind (Adam, Seth, the posterity of Seth [i.e. Sethian Gnostics], and the repentant souls), as
well as Sophia, the final aeonic emanation (2.26-9.24).
The first part o f the Ap. John relates how the Pleroma was completed through the orderly
process o f asking for God’s consent and then joining with a consort. This harmony is ruptured,
however, through the ignorance of Sophia, who decides to emanate a being by herself and
without the necessary authorization. As a result o f this carelessness, this aeon bears none o f the
perfect characteristics o f the others. On the contrary, Yaltabaoth, who is described later as
“ignorant darkness” ( o y t c x t c e N x rc o o y N e ) ,4 is imperfect and misshapen and assumes the
form of a lion-faced serpent (9.25-10.11). After witnessing the result o f her recklessness, Sophia
quickly hides her son in a luminous cloud and casts him out from the Pleroma (the “place,”
tottoc) to prevent the other divine emanations from becoming aware o f her deformed creation
(10.11-19). Thereafter she repents for her misdeed and through the power of the invisible Spirit
is taken, not to her original home, but to the ninth sphere of the heavens, just below the Pleroma
(13.32-14.13).
The Created Realm
Sophia was able to create by herself because she possessed a fragment of the “power”
(^.YN2lMIIC) that originated with the highest God. Before she could expel Yaltabaoth from the
Pleroma, however, he managed to steal away from her a portion o f this power.5 Even though he
was ignorant of the divine realm above him, he nevertheless was able, through this power, to
create the cosmos based on this heavenly pattern (12.33-13.5). Yet Yaltabaoth, who is repeatedly
chastised for his jealousy,6 does not impart this pleromatic power to his subsequent creations.
Rather, after uniting with his “arrogance” ( a r r o N O ia .) , he uses his own “luminous spark”
(o y q p ^ 2 nkcjd ^ t N o y o e iN ) to “create” (T 3 lMIO) his own aeons, which are called “authorities”
4 11 . 10 .
5 The verb aci (“take”) is used to describe the theft of this light (10.20; 13.22,26).
6 11.19-22; 13.8-13. Like other Gnostic tractates (i.e. Hyp. Arch.; Orig. World', and the Gos.
Egy.), the author is reinterpreting Yahweh’s pronouncements in the Old Testament (Ex 20:5; Isa 45:5;
46:9).
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(esoYCia.) or “archons” (xpxcDN).7 Working with the principle that “like produces like,” the
text accordingly describes Yaltabaoth’s cadre o f aeons in negative terms as theriomorphic and
“dim” or “weak” ( q jO N e ).8 Among those divinities created by Yaltabaoth are the seven archons,
each o f whom occupy one sphere in the cosmic hierarchy.9 The following celestial scheme
unfolds, in ascending order:
Divinity Sphere
Athoth Moon
Eloaiou Mercury
Astaphaios Venus
Yao Sun
Sabaoth Mars
Adonin Jupiter
Sabbede Saturn
Yaltabaoth Fixed Stars
These archons then set out to construct humanity, and, through a series o f events that
consciously reinterpret and revalue Gen 1-6, endeavor to control and subjugate mankind under
their power. Two o f these attempts, the creation o f the “counterfeit spirit” ( ttn x . ecjqpH C ) and
“Fate” (îMxpMeNH), have an explicit cosmological function.10 Lower than the planetary
archons, these forces are given direct authority to control the mundane realm by “polluting souls”
and introducing myriad evils into the lives o f humanity.11 The malevolence o f this daimonic
sphere can be clearly detected in the author’s assertion that the counterfeit spirit helped the
planetary powers ensure that people died without knowing “the God o f truth,” while Fate’s role is
7 I0.23-11.10. Codex II uses “light” ( o y o e i N ) for both the creative fire of Yaltabaoth and for the
superior power of the Pleroma (10.25; 11.9; 12.7-8). Codex III (18.12-16) and BG (42.13-18), however,
distinguish between Yaltabaoth’s “fire” (K pcuM , k c o ^ t ) and the “pure light” (T T O Y oeiN N j y x n c p iN e c ,
t t o y o 'i 'n n t b b o ) or “power” (-a.yN.XM ic, <5o m ) of the Mother.
8 11.12-15. For the theriomorphic descriptions of the archons, see 11.26-35.
9 12.13-26. Onuki (Gnosis und Stoa, 75-80) has argued that Yaltabaoth should be located in the
eighth rather than ninth sphere, as Soren Giversen (Apocryphon Johannis: The Coptic Text o f the
Apocryphon Johannis in the Nag Hammadi Codex II with Translation, Introduction and Commentary
[Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1963], 236-237) had thought. For analysis of these powers and their
relationship to late antique cosmology, see A.J. Welbum, “The Identity of the Archons in the ‘Apocryphon
Johannis,”’ Vigiiiae Christianae 32 (1978): 241-254.
10The counterfeit spirit is introduced at 21.9, but its creation is not described until 29.23-25. The
creation of Fate occurs at 28.11-15.
11 For instance, 28.21-26; 29.25.
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to prevent humans from perceiving the Pleroma: “the whole creation was made blind, in order
that they may not know God, who is above them all.”12
Cosmological Polemic in the Apocryphon o f John
The first indication that the Ap. John is written in a polemical fashion can be found in its
description o f the highest divinity, God (the Monad). Consistent with its apophatic theology, the
text states that God “is not corporeal [nor is he incorporeal] ( o y c c u M3lTIK.o c 2lN [rreoyTe
o y ^ tccdma . a.n U S ] ) ... [There is no] way to say, ‘What is his quantity?’ or ‘What [is his
quality?], for no one can [know him]” (3.23-25). With this assertion, the author shows his
familiarity with and rejection o f the debates among Hellenistic schools over the nature o f God.
The background for this debate, which can be traced back to Plato’s Sophist,13 centers on the
nature of being: while the Platonic school assigned real being (and the capacity to affect
materiality) to incorporeal essences, the materialists taught that only bodily substances could act
or be acted upon. As a result, Platonism imagined God as incorporeal, while the materialists
insisted that God was in fact a body. This latter position, later subscribed to by Stoicism, made
this school vulnerable to criticisms from later Platonic and Peripatetic authors who thought that
their arguments would logically have to ascribe mutability to God.14
As Christianity began to incorporate philosophy into their theology, authors can be found
on either side o f this debate. On the one hand Tertullian, the staunchest defender o f Stoic
materialism among the patristic writers, conforms perfectly with the Stoic assertion that only
bodies can initiate action when he argues that God must be a corporeal substance because Jesus
came forth as a real person: “How could he who is empty have made things which are solid, and
he who is void have made things which are full, and he who is incorporeal have made things
1230.3-4; 28.27-29. Fate controls “everything” in Codex II (28.32), while “everyone” is subjected
to its power in Codex III (37.11-12) and BG (72.9-10).
13245e-249d.
14Ale. Did. 165.34-166.14; Plut. De stoic, rep. 1051d-l052e. For other citations, see Onuki,
Gnosis und Stoa, 156-157.
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which have body? ... nothing can be made by that which is a void and empty thing.”15 On the
other hand, the more common argument, developed, for instance, by Origen, is that God is an
incorporeal spirit: “And among all intellectual, that is, incorporeal things, what is their so
universally surpassing, so unspeakably and immeasurably excelling, as God, whose nature ... the
human mind ... cannot gaze at or behold?”16 In contrast to both of these positions, the Ap. John
asserts that God is beyond all being in a way that points toward Plotinian excurses o f the
transcendent One.17
The polemical intent behind the Ap. John’s understanding o f God leads to a critique of
Stoicism’s decision to equate the active arche, the highest principle of the universe, with fire.18
The school’s position, as outlined in Part II o f this study, was that the “creative fire” (irup
t e x v ik o v ) originated in the highest sphere and as it descends it mixes with the other elements to
create the heavenly bodies and the material world.19 Because this active substance permeates all
created bodies in the form of “seminal reasons” (spermatikoi logoi), the Stoics imagine the
cosmos in pantheistic terms: everything possesses at least some degree o f divinity. As Aetius
records, “The Stoics made God out to be intelligent, a creative fire which methodically proceeds
toward the creation o f the world, and encompasses all the seminal reasons according to which
everything comes about according to Fate.”20 Thus, Stoic cosmology secures the essential
goodness, order, and rationality o f the universe.21
15Adv. Prax. 7. This argument allows TertuIIian to preserve the goodness of creation as a whole,
against Gnostic attempts to denigrate the material world. See Marcia L. Colish, The Stoic Traditionfrom
Antiquity to the Middle Ages, vol. 2 (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1985), 22.
16De. princ. 1.1.5. This statement is preceded by a defense against those Christians who defend
the material nature of God (1.1.1-4).
17 For instance, Enn. V.1.10: “There exists a Principle which transcends Being; this is the One.”
See also Onuki, Gnosis und Stoa, 157.
18This point is indebted to Onuki, Gnosis und Stoa, 67-74.
19 Eus. Praep. evang. ffl.9.9 (=SVF 2.1032): the Stoics say that “the hegemonikon of the world is a
fiery and warm substance, that God is a body and the Demiurge himself is nothing other than the power of
fire” (xfj? xou rcvpoq Suvdpecoq). See also D.L. 7.138-139 (=SVF2.634); Cic. De nat. deo. 2.11.29-30;
2.15.41; 222.51 (=SVF 1.171); Stob. Eel. 1.25.5 (=SVF 1.120).
20 Aet. 1.7.33 (r=SVF2.1027).
21 On the Stoic cosmological position, see Hans Jonas, The Gnostic Religion: The Message of the
Alien God and the Beginnings o f Christianity, 2nd ed. (Boston: Beacon Press, 1963), 241-247.
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Patristic authors found such speculation useful for their positive assessments o f the nature
o f the cosmos. Origen, for instance, speaks approvingly o f biblical sayings that equate God with
fire, and argues that the fixed stars are animate and rational beings comprised o f aether, a purified
form of fire.22 He also recognizes, in accordance with Hellenistic science, that visible and coarser
bodies are formed when this refined substance interacts with the lower elements air, water, and
earth.23 As a result, he thinks that the heavenly bodies are of a purer composition than the bodies
of the mundane world and as such reflect the goodness o f God to a greater degree.24 By
appealing to these Stoic ideas, Origen finds support for the biblical notion that the entire cosmos
is created by God and thus wholly good.25 Without divinizing the world as the Stoics had done,25
patristic Christianity nevertheless adopts their concept o f Pronoia, arguing that the orderliness of
the cosmos is proof of God’s providential rule. Minucius Felix thus cites a common refrain when
he argues that “the whole world was perfected by the divine reason ... For what can possibly be
so manifest, so confessed, and so evident, when you lift your eyes up to heaven, and look into the
things which are below and around, than that there is some deity of most excellent intelligence,
by whom all nature is inspired, is moved, is nourished, is governed?”27
Yet it is precisely this type o f Stoic-influenced argumentation that the Ap. John opposes.
The first indication of an anti-Stoic polemic can be found in the fact that during the creation o f his
aeons, Yaltabaoth imparts fire but refuses to bestow upon them any of the pleromatic light he
22 God as fire: Deprinc. II.8.2; heavenly bodies as aether: Deprinc. 1.7.3,5; De orat. 7; Cont. Cels.
V.l 1; Comm. John 1.25.173.
23 De princ. II. 1.4; IV.4.6. For Origen’s understanding of the heavenly bodies, see the discussion
by Alan Scott, Origen and the Life o f the Stars: A History o f an Idea (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 116-
118.
24 As the heavenly bodies exist at a higher level, Origen assumes that they have retained their
original fire or rationality to a greater degree than human souls (De princ. 1.4.1; 5.1-3; 7-8). See also Scott,
Origen and the Life o f the Stars, 130.
25 De princ. 1.3.3; II.9.6. See also J. Rebecca Lyman, Christology and Cosmology: Models o f
Divine Activity in Origen, Eusebius, and Athanasius (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 50-58. Lyman notes
that while Origen “accepted the Platonic hierarchy of intelligible and sensible worlds, he reduced the
tension between them by his emphasis on the relationship between different manners of being linked by
God’s pervading will and power” (56).
25 For instance, Clem. Alex. Strom. V. 14.89: the Stoics “say that God pervades all being; while we
call him solely Maker, and Maker by the Word.”.
21 Oct. 17. See also I Clem. 20; Iren. Adv. haer. II.9.1 (cf. 3.25.1); Orig. De princ. IV. 1.7.
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took from his mother (11.7-9). With this assertion the author revalues the positive connotations
that Stoicism and some early Christians ascribed to fire. Not only is it supplanted by the “power
of the light5’ ( t 6 ^ m M T T o y o e iN ), an acosmic principle o f the true God, as the highest expression
o f divinity but, to further degrade its status, it becomes the primary characteristic o f the wicked
cosmic forces and the element through which the universe is created.28 For this author, then,
proofs of the divinity o f the world that appeal to the orderly activity o f the heavenly bodies are
summarily rejected. Instead o f a manifestation o f God’s benevolence, the planets represent
hostile and oppressive forces of evil.29
That a fissure exists between the Pleroma and the created realm is clear from the fact that
Providence is not a unified concept in the Ap. John. While Stoics equated Pronoia with fire, God,
and Fate,30 and Christians appealed to the providential nature o f God, the Ap. John divides
Providence into “higher” and “lower” types. The former is clearly found in the figure o f Pronoia,
the acosmic “First Thought” of God who works on behalf o f humanity throughout the story. Yet
the author also recognizes that a Providence exists directly under the rule o f Yaltabaoth, while at
the same time stating that the archontic powers create Fate, who directly affects the lives of
mankind. Yet this archon is not the providential force of Stoicism that benevolently directs and
permeates the material world. On the contrary, because it possesses none o f the pleromatic light
it is an enemy o f humanity, bringing forth “every sin and injustice and blasphemy and the chain
of forgetfulness and ignorance.”31 Yet for the Ap. John the true essence o f mankind is superior to
28 Onuki, Gnosis und Stoa, 73. Contrasting the names of the highest principle provides further
evidence of an anti-Stoic polemic. While Stoicism viewed the hegemonikon as the embodiment of
rationality and reason, the hegemonikon in the Apocryphon o f John is named Yaltabaoth (“child of chaos”),
Saklas (“fool”), and Samael (“the blind god”) (11.16-18). For these etymologies, see Pearson, Philo and
the Gnostics, 10, nn. 55-57.
29 This development was a fundamental characteristic of Zurvanism. See Part III, chapter 1,
section three.
30 See n. 20 and Cic. De div. 1.55.125-126 (=SVF2.913, 921, 945).
31 28.22-24. For a discussion of Providence in the Ap. John in relation to its Hellenistic context,
see Michael A. Williams, “Higher Providence, Lower Providences and Fate in Gnosticism and Middle
Platonism,” in Neoplatonism and Gnosticism, eds. Richard T. Wallis and Jay Bregman (Albany, NY: State
University of New York Press, 1992), 483-495. See also Onuki (Gnosis und Stoa, 108-140), who shows
that the role of Pronoia increases in Codex II, a fact which corresponds with that author’s consistent anti-
Stoic outlook.
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Heimarmene. Consequently, the enlightened individual does not submit to Fate, as the Stoics
would argue, but rather transcends it. Even so, the material world is a dangerous place, which the
savior, in his revelation to John, equates with the underworld: “guard yourself against the angels
o f poverty and the demons of chaos and all those who ensnare you, and beware o f the deep sleep
and the enclosure o f the inside o f Hades.”32
II. Anthropology
The Double Creation
After Yaltabaoth creates his archontic powers and proclaims his superiority, he hears a
voice from the Pleroma that attests to the existence o f higher divinities and perceives the image of
Pronoia reflected in the waters below (14.13-26). Seeing this illuminated form, Yaltabaoth
gathers together his authorities and commissions them to create mankind. The first step in this
process is the creation o f the “psychic” man, which occurs in two stages. The initial stage begins
with the creation of the souls by the seven planetary archons: “And they created through their
respective powers in correspondence with the characteristics which were given. And each
authority supplied a characteristic by means o f the form o f the image which he had seen in its
psychic form” (15.5-9). The author notes the specific contribution o f each o f the aeons: in
ascending order, “bone-soul,” “sinew-soul,” “flesh-soul,” “marrow-soul,” “blood-soul,” “skin-
soul,” and “hair-soul” (15.13-23). This creation then continues with the second stage, the
formation o f the rest of the anatomy (i.e. the head, legs, and the internal organs) by the lesser
authorities.33
32 31.17-22. For this idea the Ap. John builds upon the philosophical meditation that stretches
back to Empedocles but is most clearly formulated in the Phaedo. In this text, it will be recalled, Plato
develops a metaphysical division between the intelligible and perceptible realms and suggests that humans
live in the “hollows” of the earth. The “true” surface of the earth is actually the supralunar realm where
souls will ascend after death. The Ap. John does not consistently maintain such a harsh view of the
material world, however. In fact, the created realm is patterned on the indestructible aeons of the Pleroma
(12.25-13.5), and may be viewed positively as the place where enlightenment occurs, as argued by Alastair
H.B. Logan, Gnostic Truth and Christian Heresy: A Study in the History o f Gnosticism (Peabody, MA:
Hendrickson Publishers, 1996), 264-265.
33 This section (15.29-19.10) only occurs in Codex II. At the end of this section, the text
mistakenly states that this demiurgical activity results in the completion of the psychic and material body.
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After the construction o f the psychic Adam, Yaltabaoth and the authorities discover that
“their product was completely inactive and motionless (N^proN ns.tk .im) for a long time”
(19.13-14). At the same time, Sophia, intent upon rectifying her mistake, asks Pronoia to help her
in recovering her lost power. Swayed by her petition, he sends a group o f aeonic emissaries to
Yaltabaoth who advise him to blow into Adam’s face his spirit, the pleromatic power he took
from Sophia. Because o f his ignorance he agrees to their suggestion, with the result that mankind
becomes animate: “The body moved and gained strength, and it was luminous” (19.32-33). As
soon as the archons witness this event, however, they realize that Adam had now become
intellectually superior to them34 and consequently they conspire to cast him into the mundane
world (19.34-20.9). They thus initiate a second creation by encasing the psychic man within a
material body composed from the four elements. Corresponding to ignorance and desire, this
body becomes the way for the planetary powers to keep humanity under subjugation (20.33-21.9).
According to the Ap. John, then, the human being is comprised o f a fragment of the divine spirit,
the soul, and the fleshly body. While the latter two are depicted negatively, the spirit’s
imprisonment in materiality is not completely hopeless, for the author notes that in response to
the actions o f the malevolent aeons, Pronoia bestows upon Adam an intellectual capacity for
salvation called Epinoia or “Life” which enables him to respond to the message o f salvation
(20.9-24).
Anthropological Polemic in the Apocryphon o f John
The religio-philosophical traditions in the creation story are not difficult to detect. On the
one hand, the text may be read from the perspective o f Hellenistic-Jewish exegesis on the creation
accounts in Gen 1-2. In this regard, the Ap. John description of a double creation stands within
the Alexandrian tradition found most clearly in Philo’s De opificio mundi.35 On the other hand,
Yet it is not until later in the story, when Yaltabaoth seeks to punish Adam, that the material body is
formed.
34 The author states that “his intelligence was greater ( i C T X J c p o n<5i T e q M r f f p M N ^ H T ) than (that
of) those who had made him” (20.3-4). See also 20 JO-31.
35 See Pearson, Philo and the Gnostics, 1-17.
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the author is also aware o f and elaborates upon Plato’s description o f the construction o f mankind
in the Timaeus. Particularly noteworthy in this regard is the use o f younger gods to initiate the
creation o f the soul as well as the fact that the constitutive parts o f the soul in the Ap. John (bone,
sinew, flesh, marrow, blood, skin, and hair) correspond directly to Plato’s list o f the elements
used in forming the material body.36 This evidence naturally suggests that the author o f the Ap.
John is critically interacting with both the Genesis accounts and Plato. Yet the text’s use o f the
common analogy between macrocosm (the planets) and microcosm (mankind) suggests that its
anthropological critique should be directed against the opposition targeted in the cosmological
section. It is thus likely that an anti-Stoic polemic lies at the base o f the Ap. John's treatment of
the soul and the construction o f mankind.37
A brief rehearsal of Stoic psychology will help support this hypothesis. First, just as the
planets participate in the divine ruling principle located above them in the eighth sphere, so too
do the seven lower faculties o f the soul (reproduction, speech, and the five senses) share in the
fiery nature o f eighth and highest part o f the psyche, the hegemonikon: Aetius records that from
the hegemonikon the lower seven parts “grow out and stretch out (eKTts^'UKOxa Kod
eKTei.v6p.Eva) into the body like the tentacles o f an octopus.”38 In the later Hellenistic period,
when Middle Stoic philosophy begins to embrace Platonism, the philosopher Posidonius
interprets the younger gods o f the Timaeus with the planets. This identification allows him to
develop the idea that the soul, which he thought originated in the sphere o f the sun, receives its
psychic characteristics (i.e. sense perception) from the planetary spheres that it passes through on
the path to the sublunar world.39
36 Tim. 73b-76e. See also R. van den Broek, “The Creation of Adam’s Psychic Body in the
Apocryphon of John,” in Studies in Gnosticism and Hellenistic Religions Presented to Gilles Quispel on
the Occasion o f his 65,h Birthday, eds. R. van den Broek and M.J. Vermaseren (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981),
38-57.
37 The anti-Stoic component to the Ap. John’s psychology is discussed by Onuki, Gnosis und Stoa,
81-91.
38 Aet. 4.21.1-4 (see also Aet. 4.4.4; SVF 1.143; 2.826, 879). See also Gould, Philosophy o f
Chrysippus, 130.
39 Sext. Emp. Adv. math. 9.71-74.
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By teaching the pre-existence o f the soul, however, Posidonius moves away from the
orthodox Stoic psychology. It will be recalled that according to the earliest members o f this
school, the creation o f the soul corresponds to their physical principle that bodies are
differentiated by the degree of “tension” (tonos) found within their pneuma. They thus identify
three main types o f bodies: those that exhibit a simple coherence (hexis), those that have the
capacity for growth and nutrition (physis), and those that possess the ability to experience and
judge sense impressions and impulses (psyche).40 O f these kinds, the latter two are marked by
movement, but the psyche is distinguished from physis by its purposeful, rational qualities. Thus,
Cicero distinguishes between the movement o f impulse and thought, while Stobaeus records the
Stoic’s definition o f “rational impulse” as a “movement o f thought toward something in the
sphere o f action.”41 In other words, the psyche is able to initiate self-motion through its power to
analyze sense impressions by means of reason, a unique characteristic which distinguishes it from
lesser living beings. Yet the Stoics also recognized that the pneumatic tension that enables the
soul to operate at this sophisticated level is not distributed equally throughout the entire living
person. On the contrary, some parts o f the body, such as bones and sinews, retain only the lowest
levels of tonos and thus exist in the state of hexis, while others, such as nails and hair, cohere at
the level of physis42
Like Stoicism, the Ap. John envisions an eight-fold division o f the psyche that is created
by the planetary aeons. Yet in two areas it sharply diverges from this school’s assessment o f the
value o f the soul. First, as with its cosmological critique, the Gnostic tractate reinterprets the
significance of fire. Although the soul acquires this element through the planets, it is no longer
the supreme principle o f divinity that permeates the world. On the contrary, as fire, the attribute
that the satanic Yaltabaoth shares with his creations, it is itself subordinate to the transcendent
power o f light that comes from the Monad.43 Second, in contrast to the Stoic belief that the
40 SVF2.368,458, 714,988, 989, 1013.

41 Cic. De off. 1.132; Stob. 2.87.4-6.
42 D.L. 7.139; Phil. Leg. All. 2.22 (=SVF2.458).
43 Onuki, Gnosis und Stoa, 94.
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psyche is responsible for the movements o f the body, in the psychic body o f Adam the soul is
inert and lifeless, and it is not until Yaltabaoth blows the spirit of Sophia into his face that Adam
becomes animated: as the author states, at that moment “the body moved and gained strength
(a.qiciM 2lY<z>xcj6iT6oM), and it was luminous” (19.32-33). Thus, for the Ap. John, the soul
does not have the appropriate pneumatic tension to be classified, in Stoic terms, as psyche.
Rather, as the statement on bodily tonos above shows, it operates at the two lowest levels, physis
and hexis. An extension of the previous archontic list extended to the realm o f psychology leads
to the following divisions:44
Sphere Power Soul Stoic Tonos

Moon Goodness bone-soul hexis
Mercury Providence sinew-soul hexis
Venus Divinity flesh-soul
Sun Lordship marrow-soul
Mars Kingdom blood-soul
Jupiter Envy skin-soul
Saturn Wisdom hair-soul physis
Fixed Stars Protarchon hegemonikon
By revaluing the prominence given to fire in Stoic psychology, the Ap. John seeks to
devalue the soul as an expression o f divinity and as the locus of self-movement and perception.
To be sure, there is not a Stoic parallel for each part of the soul, yet based upon the evidence o f
the authorities’ fiery nature and the immobility of the psychic Adam, it is clear that the aeons’
creation lacks any o f the traits normally ascribed to psyche: in fact, because it is an extension of
the planets, its substantial essence is likewise ignorant darkness.45 Furthermore, despite the
possibility that at least one element of the soul could be equated with physis, it may be the case
that the text’s emphasis on the lifelessness o f the psychic man is meant to show that it is nothing
more than a hexis composition. Indeed, while the Hypostasis o f the Archons?6 another Sethian
text, parallels the Ap. John's account in describing Adam as immobile, Irenaeus provides
44 Onuki, Gnosis und Stoa, 89-90.

45 The darkness of the planets is implied in Yaltabaoth’s statement to his aeons prior to the
creation of soul: “Come, let us create man according to the image of God and according to our likeness,
that his image may become a light for us” (15.2-4).
46 88.3-9.
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evidence that Satuminus and the Ophites described psychic man as a being who “wriggled [on the
ground] like a worm” until it received a share o f the divine light.47 In this case, then, the motive
capacity o f the primal man would correspond more closely to the Stoic category o f physis than
the version in the Ap. John.
The Ap. John takes yet another opportunity to attack a fundamental doctrine held by the
Stoics with its description o f the psychic Adam’s assumption o f the material body. It will be
recalled that, according to the Stoa, materiality was intrinsically and completely united with the
divine principle, so much so that they taught the active and passive archai could be separated
only in theory 48 Consequently, matter was not perceived in a negative fashion, but rather as a
positive expression of divinity. By contrast, in the Ap. John matter, as a tool o f the demonic
powers, is devoid of the light o f God. Thus, although the human body is made o f “spirit” (TTNi),
in addition to earth, water, and fire, the author makes sure to state that it is not the pleromatic
spirit but rather the kind “that originates in matter, (T£YA-H), which is the ignorance o f darkness”
( t m n t 2lT c o o y n MTTKAice) (21.6-8). The tractate’s negative evaluation o f matter is reaffirmed
when it is learned that the offspring o f the illicit union between Yaltabaoth and Eve, Cain and
Abel, become the archontic powers that are in charge o f the four elements and rule over the body,
which the text calls a “tomb” (cTTHA.a.lON).49
While the anthropology o f the Ap. John maintains a consistent polemic against Stoicism,
it should be emphasized that in some instances the critique is broad enough to include other
philosophical schools or religious traditions. For example, Part II has shown that ascribing the
quality o f self-motion to the soul had been a part o f Greek philosophy centuries before the advent
of Stoicism, while the idea that the soul acquires its attributes during its heavenly descent
develops in later Platonic circles and becomes a central feature o f late Hellenistic astrological
thinking as well.50 In addition, the text’s secondary Christianization makes it unnecessary to
47 Iren. Adv. haer. 1.24.1; 30.6. The quotation, which comes from the former reference, is made in
reference to Satuminus. Tertullian (De anim. 23.1) also refers to Satuminus’s version of the myth.
48 Alex. Aphrod. De mix. 225.1-2 (=SKF2.310).
49 24.21-24. 32-34. See also the analysis by Onuki, Gnosis und Stoa, 92-98.
50 See Scott, Origen and the Life o f the Stars, 76-103.
311
imagine that the author is arguing against other Christians at every point. Thus, it need not he
supposed that anti-Stoicism is prevalent to the same degree throughout the tractate, nor that every
Stoic polemic is also an attack against Christianity, as if patristic writers simply took over this
school’s philosophical tenets uncritically.51
Yet as with the cosmological critique discussed above, there are some cases where the
challenges to Stoicism’s anthropology in the Apocryphon o f John may apply equally to patristic
authors. The fiery or aetherial nature of the soul is axiomatic for Origen, who argues that all
rational souls (noes), including the planets, are originally composed o f a fiery substance. Yet
because o f sin, some o f these rational beings fall away from the divine fire, which results in a
process o f “cooling.” The more sinful of these beings descend through the planetary spheres into
the mundane realm, where their cooled natures become transformed into psyche.52 Despite this
loss o f ontological status, however, the soul retains some o f its original heat in its higher faculty,
which he calls the hegemonikon, nous, or mens 52 It is this capacity for reason, moreover, that
separates humanity from other living beings. For this assertion Origen appeals to the Stoic
distinction between hexis, physis, and psyche: logs and stones display hexis, plants and animals
physis, and human beings, because o f their reasoning abilities, possess psyche 5A
As in Stoicism, the criterion for these distinctions centers on the concept of movement.
As Origen states:
51 Colish (Stoic Tradition, vol. 2, 9-29) shows, for example, that Tertullian’s writings reflect a
complex combination of pro- and anti-Stoic tendencies as well as the propensity to transform Stoicism for
his own purposes.
52 De princ. II.8.3. For this theory Origen draws on the common practice of identifying the
etymology ofpsyche with psychos (“coolness”). According to Jerome, Origen taught that “All rational
creatures who are incorporeal and invisible, if they become negligent, gradually sink to a lower level and
take themselves bodies suitable to the regions into which they descend ... first ethereal bodies, and then
aerial. And when they reach the neighborhood of the earth they are enclosed in grosser bodies, and last of
all are tied to human flesh” {De princ. 1.4.1). See also Contr. Cels. IV.40, which links this theory to the
myth of the fall of souls in Plato’s Phaedrus.
53 From biblical tradition Origen identifies the lower faculties of the soul with blood, but he
recognizes that the rational faculty must be of a purer substance in order to survive death. If some of the
heat remains in the human soul, the soul of Jesus retained its fire completely {De princ. II.6.6). On
Origen’s psychology, see Henri Crouzel, Origen, trans. A.S. Worrall (San Francisco: Harper and Row,
1989), 87-92, 209-218; Scott, Origen and the Life of the Stars, 127-128.
54 De princ. III. 1.2-3 {=SVF 2.988). The same typology is outlined by Clem. Alex. Strom.
11.20.111; VI.8, 16.
312
O f moving things, some have the cause of movement in themselves, while others
are moved only from outside. The latter comprise things which are transportable,
like logs and stones and every material thing which is sustained by tenor (eêcoq)
alone ... Animals and plants have the cause o f movement in (ev) themselves, and
so, quite simply, does everything sustained by nature or soul (({ruaecoq f) Mruxn?)
... Some things o f this kind, they say, are moved out o f (e^) themselves, and
others by (&<t>’) themselves: the former comprise soulless (&\jruxoc) things, the
latter ones which are ensouled (apAyoxa). Ensouled things are moved by
themselves when an impression occurs within them which calls forth an impulse
... A rational animal, however, in addition to its impressionistic nature, has
reason (Xoyov) which passes judgment on impressions, rejecting some o f these
and accepting others, in order that the animal may be guided accordingly.55
In this passage, Origen builds upon his earlier definition o f psyche as “an existence which is
rationally capable of feeling and movement.”56 Among his predecessors, Clement of Alexandria
accepts as axiomatic the theory that the “nature o f the soul [is] to move o f itself,” while Tertullian
plainly states that “The soul we hold to be perennially active because o f its continual movement
which is a sign both of its divinity and immortality.”57
Just as the patristic authors appealed to the fiery and motive qualities o f the soul as
support for its divine nature, so too could they invoke the Stoic concept o f seminal reasons. For
Justin Martyr, Christ disseminates the seeds of wisdom in humanity, work which can be seen
even among those philosophers and poets who perceived a portion o f the truth prior to his
• • 58
incarnation. According to Tertullian, the spermatkoi logoi are informed into the psyche at its
creation and develop as its intellective capabilities.59 Clement o f Alexandria’s statement that “the
image of the Word is the true man, that is, the mind (vouq) in man”60 alludes to the Stoic concept,
while in Origen it receives a more extensive explanation:
even if the mind through carelessness should fall away from the pure and perfect
reception of God into itself, it nevertheless always possesses within some seeds
55 De princ. III. 1.2-3 (see also De oral. 6.1; Cont. Cels. VI.48; Clem. Alex. Strom. 11.20.110-111).
56 De princ. II.8.2. See also De princ. II.8.5: “the soul... is the source of all movement and
directs every operation of the body.”
57 Clem. Alex. Strom. VI.12; Tert. De anim. 43.5; 45.1. The movement of the soul and its effect
on the body is also described in Iren. Adv. haer. 11.33.4.
58 1 Apol. 44; 46; 2 Apol. 8; 10; 13. For a review of scholarly discussion on this point, see St.
Justin Martyr: The First and Second Apologies, trans. Leslie William Barnard (New York: Paulist Press,
1997), 14-16, 196, n. 71.
59De anim. 20.1-2 (see also Apol. 21). See also Colish, Stoic Tradition, vol. 2, 20.
60 Prot. 10.98.4.
313
(semina) as it were o f restoration and recall to a better state, which become

operative whenever the inner man, who is also termed the rational man
(,rationabilis), is recalled into the image and likeness o f God who created him.61
Although Origen comes close to equating the nous with the divine in this passage, on the whole
patristic Christianity rejects the Stoic formulation that these logoi exist in mankind as actual
fragments of God.62 Even so, they nevertheless find the concept useful in underscoring the higher
capacities of the soul in its relationship with the divine. Such formulations, however, are clearly
at odds with the soul in the Ap. John, which, as shown above, asserts that it is not a function or
capacity of soul to possess any rational functions. Rather, because it is made by the wicked
archons, it is under their sphere o f influence and ultimately subordinate to the acosmic light
derived from the transcendent Monad.
Along with preserving the soul’s value, the early fathers sought to defend the body
against those who viewed it negatively. They thus affirm that the body, like the material world in
general, is a creation of God and a necessary component for individual existence. As Irenaeus
argues, “the soul and the spirit are certainly a peart o f the man, but certainly not the man; for the
perfect man consists in the commingling and the union o f the soul receiving the spirit o f the
Father, and the admixture of that fleshly nature which was molded after the image of God.”63
Even among the more philosophically inspired Alexandrians, the body is never viewed as evil per
se. Clement makes this point succinctly: ‘Those, then, who run down created existence and vilify
the body are wrong; not considering that the frame o f man was formed erect for the
contemplation of heaven, and that the organization of the senses tends to knowledge ... neither is
the soul good by nature, nor, on the other hand, the body bad by nature.”64 Less positive is
Origen, who thinks that human embodiment is the result o f an alienation from God and hinders
61 De princ. IV.4.9 (see also Cont. Cels. VTI.30). Origen’s use of this Stoic concept is discussed in
Crouzel, Origen, 91.
62 For instance, Clem. Alex. Strom. V.13. For Origen’s position, see Lyman, Christology and
Cosmology, 59-60.
Adv. haer. V.6.1: “Anima autemet Spiritus pars hominis esse possunt, homo autem nequaquam:
perfectus autem homo commixtio et adunitio est anintae assumentis Spiritum Patris et admixtae ei carni
quae est plasmata secundum imaginem Dei." See also Just. Mart. De res. 7; Tert. De res. earn. 5-10. In
his defense of the flesh, Tertullian exclaims, “God forbid ... that he [God] should abandon to everlasting
destruction the labor of his own hands, the care of his own thoughts, the receptacle of his own spirit” (9).
64Strom. IV.26. See also Strom. VI. 12: “the body bears the stamp of the righteous soul.”
314
the soul from fully participating in the divine.65 Yet he nevertheless rejects the notion o f the body
as intrinsically evil, preferring instead to view it as the means through which the rational soul can
return back to God. As Crouzel observes, “It is because they (rational beings) have been
implicated in the primitive fall in a less grave way than the demons and because there is for them
some hope o f a cure that they have been put into this perceptible and terrestrial world as a place
o f correction.”66 Through appeals to the goodness o f all o f God’s creative acts, the patristic
writers challenge texts such as the Ap. John, which pessimistically refers to the material body
created by the archons as the “tomb” and the “fetter o f forgetfulness.”67
m . The Devalued Psyche: Logical and Ethical Implications
Patristic Observations
From the previous sections it is obvious that the level o f argumentation within
Christianity had advanced significantly by the middle o f the second century. The main reason for
this stems from the growing tendency among patristic writers to employ Hellenistic philosophical
ideas for the purposes of explaining and justifying Christianity to the Greco-Roman world. As a
result, philosophical concepts become integrated into the debates over the soul in more explicit
and comprehensive ways than was found in either the Pauline corpus or the Thomas and
Johannine literature. Specifically, the church fathers, in consonance with Hellenistic philosophy,
discern that the sort o f soul as described in the Ap. John leads to problems for both Logic and
Ethics.
65 De princ. H.3.2-3; III.6.1.

66 Crouzel, Origen, 214. See also Lyman, Christology and Cosmology, 60-63.
67 21.9-12. The allusion to Plato’s allegory of the cave has been noted by Bentley Layton, The
Gnostic Scriptures (New York: Doubleday, 1987), 45, n. 21b. While the Ap. John negatively evaluates
materiality in itself, the psychic Adam’s creation in the “image of God” suggests that, in this text at least,
the author did not wholly condemn bodily existence. On the ambivalence of the body in Gnosticism, see
Michael A. Williams, “Divine Image—Prison of the Flesh: Perceptions of the Body in Ancient
Gnosticism,” in Fragmentsfor a History o f the Human Body, Part 1, eds. Michel Feher with Ramona
Naddaff and Nadia Tazi (New York: Zone, 1989), 129-147; Karen L. King, “The Body and Society in
Philo and the Apocryphon o f John," in The School o f Moses: Studies in Philo and Hellenistic Religion in
Memory o f Horst R. Moehring, ed. John P. Kenney (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), 83-88.
315
Part II o f this study has shown that it was a commonplace among Hellenistic philosophers
to regard the psyche as the entity through which knowledge is attained. For all except Aristotle,
whose nous is separate from the psyche, the mind is a faculty, part, or capacity o f the soul which
receives and processes sense impressions. In his De cmima, Tertullian follows convention by
defining mind (which he later identifies with the hegemonikon) as “that faculty which is inherent
and implanted in the soul and ... by which the soul acts and gains knowledge.”68 (12.1). If the
two were not unified, the soul would be unable to participate in feeling or knowing, rendering it
“completely useless” (12.5). Since this is an impossibility, Tertullian insists that the two are
indissolubly linked, and moreover, that the soul is superior.69 It is necessary for him to establish
this point because he is aware that some heretics who separate the two and, after dividing the
world into intelligible and sensory realms, restrict the soul’s activity to the mundane world while
reserving for the mind alone the ability to know the divine.70
The implication of this theory, as Tertullian derisively notes, is that the earthly sphere is
permanently cut off from God: “they divide sensation from intelligence, separating it from its
spiritual source, and, again, they separate sense knowledge from the animal source, since that
cannot in any way perceive what is spiritual. The objects perceived by the intellect are invisible,
while the others are visible, mean, and temporal.”71 Such a theory challenges patristic
Christianity on two counts. First, it robs the created world o f its divine origins by arguing that the
only true reality, which in no way associates with the world, is supercelestial. Second, it insists
that the psyche plays no role in accessing true knowledge; the only way to perceive this higher
reality is through a separate, acosmic essence deriving from this intelligible region. In response,
68 12.1: “quid intellegimus quam suggestum animae ingenitum et insitum e t ... quo agit, quo
sapitT
69 13.1-3. His argument for the soul’s superiority rests on the fact that “soul” and “man” are
synonymous.
70 18. The metaphysical distinction between the “true” world of the divine and the earthly
“image” derives from Plato.
71 18.5: “Itaque et sensum dividunt et intellectualibus quidem a spiritali suo semine, sensualibus
vero ab animali, quia spiritalia nullo modo capiat; et illius quidem esse invisibilia, huius vero visibilia et
humilia et temporalia" See also 43.7: “We believe that nature is a rational work of God.”
316
Tertullian maintains that “the soul perceives corporeal things with the help o f the body and
spiritual things by means of the mind.”72
If the devalued soul presents an epistemological problem for the early church, it also
threatens its stance on ethics, for in consonance with Hellenistic theory, the soul plays a central
role in effecting bodily movement. As Tertullian notes in his De anima, “The soul moves the
body and the effect o f its influence appears externally (Anima autem movet corpus, et conatus
eins extrinsecus foris parent). For it is the soul which moves the feet in walking, the hands in
touching, the eyes in seeing, and the tongue in speaking” (6.3). Later, he asserts that “in actions
which need the assistance o f the body, it is the soul which first conceives, plans, orders, and
carries out the acts in question ... it never happens that an act is performed without previous
consciousness” (conscientia) (58.7). Because o f this responsibility, Tertullian recognizes that the
soul’s composition and origins must be addressed. From his discussion o f the mind-soul
problem, Tertullian concludes that souls are by nature simple and equal; that is, its higher
intellective faculty is not a separate substance but an aspect of the psyche. In addition, because it
comes into existence from the breath o f God, the psyche is also a created entity. As such, it is a
free agent capable o f change, becoming more or less spiritual depending on the choices made
while in the body (21.7).
It is important for Tertullian to establish the simple and created nature o f the psyche
because of certain heretical (in this case Valentinian) beliefs that ascribe different levels of
perfection to the soul based upon nature.73 Alternatively, TertuIIian’s critique could be applied to
the “Sethians,” who, according to the church fathers, claimed to be saved by nature based upon
the possession of an inherent pleromatic “seed.”74 In essence, then, what these theologians
72 18.6: “quaeperinde per corpus corporalia sentiat, quemadmodum per animum incorporalia
intellegat.” See also Clem. Alex. Strom. IV.26.
73 See also Iren. Adv. haer. IV.37. Origen thinks that insisting on an unbegotton soul would mean
that “God implanted not so much the principle of existence as the quality and rank of their life” (De princ.
1.3.3). Responding to Marcion, Valentinus, and Basilides, who cite the diversity of souls as proof that their
specific natures are apportioned by God, Origen argues that this diversity can be explained by the different
degrees of sin among rational souls prior to their embodiment (De princ. H.9.5-6; see also III. 1.8; 4.5).
74 See, for instance, Iren. Adv. haer. 1.7; Epiph. Pan. 39.
317
objected to was the belief that the bodily activities initiated by the psyche were o f no importance,
either because certain souls were already spiritually perfect (Valentinianism) or because a higher
substance subsumed the movements traditionally ascribed to the psyche (Sethianism): as Irenaeus
states, the Gnostic believes that “they shall be entirely and undoubtedly saved, not by means of
conduct, but because they are spiritual by nature.”75 In other words, since their origins ultimately
lie above the God o f the created realm, the rules o f this world are irrelevant. Whether this is an
accurate assumption o f the Gnostic position appears unlikely,76 but it enables the Great Church to
assail them for degrading the ethical precepts o f God. For Irenaeus, as well as many others, “The
superior person is to be proved by his deeds.”77
The Apocryphon o f John
In the Ap. John Adam is described as a trichotomous construction o f a heavenly spirit, a
soul, and a material body. In addition, when he is cast into materiality Pronoia gives him
Epinoia, a special intellectual capacity through which to attain the knowledge o f his heavenly
origins. It is this faculty, which originates in the Pleroma and is separate from the devalued soul,
that thus is responsible for enabling Adam to realize he possesses part o f the light o f the Monad.
It therefore cannot be by means of the “senses” (rTkiceH C ic), “perception” (Ta.Na.AHM'f'ic), or
the “imagination” (t<{)2l N T t h a t enlightenment occurs, for according to the author, these are
all explicitly under the demonic sphere of the archons.78 The body itself, as the locus o f “sexual
desire” (erneyMia.), is similarly denigrated in favor o f a strict asceticism.79 Consequently, for
the Ap. John true gnosis only occurs with the reception o f Pronoia’s message o f one’s divine
75 Iren. Adv. haer. 1.6.2 (see also 1.6.4; Clem. Alex. Strom. V.l).
76 See Luise SchottrofF, “Animae naturaliter salvandae: Zum Problem der himmlischen Herkunft
des Gnostikers,” in Christentum und Gnosis, ed. Walther Eltester (Berlin: Verlag Alfred Tdpelmann, 1969),
65-97; Williams, Rethinking "Gnosticism,” 189-212.
77Adv. haer. II.30.2 (see also Clem. Alex. Strom. IV.26). For Irenaeus’s criticisms of the Gnostic
idea of salvation by nature, see Adv. haer. IV.37.
78 17.32-35. See also Onuki, Gnosis undStoa, 9-10,48-49, 53-54.
79 21.8; 22.13-15; 24.26-29; 25.23-26.3. The negative perception of the body must be balanced,
however, by the fact that humans are created in the image of God (15.2-4; 24.35-25.2). See n. 67.
318
origins.80 Accepting this message (from the “Spirit o f life”) ensures a return to the Pleroma and
renders death powerless.81 In light of these assertions, the epistemological problem discussed by
Tertullian—that the heretics reject the legitimacy o f the sensory world as a means to spiritual
fulfillment—would thus appear to have some justification: the Gnostic author suggests that it is
not through the soul that the divine can be perceived but only through the higher intellective
faculty which becomes aware that the body contains a spark of light that will ascend beyond the
cosmos.
The fears o f the patristic writers that Gnostic anthropology translates into the belief that a
select group are saved by nature and beyond the boundaries o f human ethics is, however,
nowhere in evidence in the Ap. John. To be sure, there are passages that suggest the Sethians are
a separate group o f people because o f their spiritual perfection. For instance, the author uses
biological imagery to describe his community as o f the heavenly “seed” (necnepM A ) o f Seth
and members o f the elite “immovable race” ( T r e N e A . Na.TK.iM) who have special access to the
savior’s gnosis.*2 Moreover, \hzAp. John teaches that those who recognize their divine nature
are superior to the bonds of Fate, which, as noted above, is only a creation of the ignorant
archons.
Yet there are numerous reasons to reject the idea that in this text the Sethians are
predetermined to be saved or that they show no regard to ethical behavior. First, the author
emphasizes that the pleromatic light breathed into Adam by Yaltabaoth is in every person by
virtue of the fact that all humans are erect, active beings: “The power (tjlYNAMIC) will descend
on every man, for without it no one can stand” (26.12-14). Second, like the “Two Spirits” treatise
from Qumran, the Ap. John introduces two spiritual forces that compete for the hearts o f
80 2.16-25; 31.10-16. On the triple descent of Pronoia, see John D. Turner, “The Gnostic
Threefold Path to Enlightenment: The Ascent of Mind and the Descent of Wisdom,” Novum Testamentum
22 (1980): 325-332.
81 The Spirit of life: 25.23-25; powerlessness of death: 31.24-25.
82 The “seed” of Seth: 9.14-16; 20.19-24; immoveable (or perfect) race: 2.16-25; 25.23; 28.2-5;
29.10; 31.28-31. Onuki (Gnosis undStoa, 154-155, 160) has hypothesized that restricting the
supramundane divine seed (sperma) to a distinct group could be a critique of the Stoic’s immanent
spermatikoi logoi.
319
mankind: to check the activity of the “Spirit o f life” (n e fT N X mttcdn ^ ) , which descends from the
Pleroma to offer saving gnosis, the archons create their own demonic force, the “counterfeit
spirit” (rreT T N a. 6 T o p b b i2 l£ I T ), in order to lead people into deception.83 Third, the savior
informs John that the individual must assent to the Spirit o f life before salvation is possible:
“Those on whom the Spirit of life will descend and (with whom) he will be with the power, they
will be saved and become perfect” ( c e N .x o Y J C x e i xyoo F ic e q p c u n e F r r e ^ e i o c ) (25.23-25).
The text then goes on to describe the ideal gnostic as one who has reached the state o f apatheia.M
Conversely, those who choose the counterfeit spirit and are drawn into evil works after having
known the Spirit o f the Pleroma are eternally punished (27.21-30).
These points show that the accusations o f Gnostic determinism and libertinism made by
the church fathers are, for the Ap. John at least, not relevant. Instead, the tractate should be
placed alongside many o f the other intertestamental and early Christian literature surveyed in
previous chapters that combine both deterministic language with ethical exhortation. Like these
texts, apparent discrepancies do not present a problem if it is recognized that the former becomes
operative after the individual has become a member of the group, an “insider.” In other words,
salvation is contingent upon a conscious orientation toward the divine, after which time the
rhetoric of “election” can be employed. Thus, individuals demonstrate their genealogical heritage
as “seeds of Seth” by choosing to adhere to the theological perspective o f the community, and in
so doing, they simultaneously reveal their status as elect.8S As another Sethian tractate concludes,
“by his acts and by his acquaintance each person will make his nature known.”86
83 21.9; 29.23-25. Although the counterfeit spirit already exists in the first passage, it is not until
the second that his creation is described. This inconsistency can be explained as the result of combining
two different sources according to Logan, Gnostic Truth, 271.
84 25.26-26.7. On this point, see Williams, Immovable Race, 127-129; King, “Body and Society,”
88-89. This point will be addressed further in the next section.
85 In the Ap. John, the reference to “sealing” suggests that, like many other groups, this initiation
involved the ritual of baptism. See 31.22-25.
86 Orig. World 127.16-17.
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IV. The Journey of the “Soul”

As has been seen from the above analysis, the plot o f the Ap. John centers on the theft of
God’s light by Yaltabaoth, its insertion into humanity, and the subsequent attempts by the
Pleroma to retrieve and bring it back to its original home.87 The text’s basic soteriological
position is thus that, by understanding the revelatory work o f Pronoia, humanity will come to
recognize their own origins and their destiny after their earthly sojourn. In other words, they will
achieve gnosis. This message is articulated with common Gnostic terminology in the closing
hymn o f the text. In this section, Pronoia details her three descents, the last o f which occurs as
the incarnate savior:
“I entered into the midst of their prison which is the prison o f the body
(neqjT eK O <M>TTCCDMa.). And I said, “He who hears, let him get up from the
deep sleep ... I am the Providence o f the pure light; I am the thinking of the
virginal Spirit, who raises you up to the honored place. Arise and remember that
it is you who hearkened, and follow your root, which is I, the merciful One.”88
This message, which was found to be the central teaching o f Thomas Christianity, likewise places
no importance on the death and resurrection o f Jesus: it is the salvific words that are essential, not
the kerygma o f the cross.
The Ap. John's Heilsgeschichte thus assumes that human beings, as possessors o f God’s
power, are on a complete journey. Because o f the devalued status o f the soul, however, it seems
unlikely that it is this entity which does the journeying; instead one might expect the author to
speak o f the journey o f the pleromatic power. Yet the text does not offer consistency on this
point, for already when the creation o f the Pleroma is detailed, it is noted that “the souls
(NM 'j'YXH) o f th e s a in ts ” in h a b it th e third lu m in a ry , w h ile t h o s e w h o d o n o t im m e d ia te r e p e n t are
placed in the fourth (9.14-23). Then, after detailing the inadequacy o f the soul during the creation
of Adam, the text reverts once more to using psyche in its discussion of the various post-mortem
87 The Pleroma’s efforts, which are described in the triple descent of Pronoia (30.11-22),
correspond to Sophia’s plan to transfer the light from Yaltabaoth to Adam, the insertion of Epinoia in
Adam, and the savior’s descent. Yaltabaoth’s countermoves include blocking Adam from the tree of the
knowledge of good and evil, the attempt to steal the light from Adam, and the creation of the counterfeit
spirit (22.3-8; 22.18-36; 29.23-25).
88 31.3-16.
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destinies (25.16-27.31). This may be a consequence o f the tractate’s complicated redactional
history, but could also be another manifestation o f the fluidity o f psychological terminology in
late antiquity.89 Despite this inconsistency, though, it should be clear that the text intends to
describe the descent and return o f the Pleroma’s divine substance.
Within this framework it is John’s query regarding the possibility that all souls will return
to the Pleroma that serves as the point o f departure for the Ap. John to discuss the different fates
o f souls. According to the savior, the best souls are those upon whom the Spirit o f life descends
and joins with the inherent power o f God:
they will be saved and become perfect and be worthy o f the greatness. And they
will be purified in that place from all wickedness and the involvements in evil
(TTTO N Hpia.) since, then, they have no other care than the incorruption alone, to
which they direct their attention from here on, without anger ( o p r H ) or envy or
jealousy (<J>eoN O C ) or desire ( e r n e y M i a . ) and greed o f anything. They are not
affected by anything except the state o f being in the flesh ( N T c a .p 2 ) alone, which
they bear ( e T o y t f j o p e i ) while looking expectantly for the time when they will
be met by the receivers (of the body). Such then are worthy o f the imperishable,
eternal life and the calling. For they endure ( e y p ^ y r i O M e i N e ) everything and
bear everything, that they may finish what is good ( M f r a j 'a .e o N ) and inherit
eternal life (NoycJUN^ cya. e N e ^ ) . 90
While the earlier sections in this chapter have made much o f the Ap. John’s anti-Stoic polemic, in
this section the highest degree of perfection is found in the soul that displays apatheia, the
condition of the Stoic sage.91 This soul is able to differentiate between those things “in his
power” and those that are adiaphora, and has extirpated the passions in order to live a virtuous
life directed by reason. The reference to bearing life in the body until the soul may separate and
enjoy an unfettered immortality also echoes Socrates’ defense of the philosophic life that
89 On this problem, see Giversen, Apocryphon Johannis, 266-268; Logan, Gnostic Truth, 259-261.
Giversen (Apocryphon Johannis, 266) accounts for the change by suggesting that 25.16-27.31 is
catechetical. Thus, the emphasis has shifted from the origins of humanity to the salvation of living beings.
Additionally, Giversen (Apocryphon Johannis, 267) and Logan (Gnostic Truth, 289, n. 59) have suggested
that the savior’s equation of “soul” with “power” is evidence that psyche in the eschatological section has
been given a new meaning. The problem with this, as Giversen rightly notes, is that an eternal punishment
awaits some souls, an idea that cannot be harmonized with the text’s assertion that all of the power will
eventually return to the Pleroma to heal its deficiency.
90 25.25-26.7.
91 The change in perspective regarding Stoicism is a compelling reason to view this section as an
originally independent unit. For other reasons, see Logan, Gnostic Truth, 259.
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“practices death” so that the soul may enjoy the “true” life after leaving the body.92 Although no
connection is made with their exact place in the Pleroma, these souls, as the “seed o f Seth,”
presumably ascend to the third luminary (9.14-17).
While the Ap. John equates the highest souls with those who exhibit a sage-like wisdom,
it concedes, like many other texts, that the majority o f people simply could not hope to attain this
level of perfection. Consequently, the author recognizes a second class o f souls, those upon
whom the Spirit descends despite their inability to practice apatheia. According to the savior,
those souls in which the Spirit of life successfully overpowers the activity o f the counterfeit spirit
“will in any case be saved and they will change (for the better) ... (and be) taken up to the rest
(eT 2LNiTT2k.ycic) of the aeons” (26.11-32). Once again, the precise home for these souls is
unstated but perhaps should correspond once again to the third luminary.
On the other hand, a third category of souls succumbs to the counterfeit spirit, which
“burdens ( q p a .q B 2 .p e i) the soul and draws it to the works o f evil (TTTO N Hpia.), and he casts it
down into forgetfulness” ( e y B o p e ) (27.2-4). When it leaves the body it is given to the archons,
who “bind it with chains and cast it into the prison ( a .r r e q p T e K .o ) and consort with it until it
awakens from forgetfulness and acquires knowledge ( m ttc o o y n ). And if thus it becomes perfect
(e c q p a j^ x c D K .), it is saved” (27.4-11). The reference to the chains and prison strongly implies
that the wicked soul experiences reincarnation,93 and that this is the intention of the author seems
clear from John’s next question: “how can the soul become smaller and return into the nature of
its mother or into man?” (27.12-14). This inquiry elicits a positive response from the savior, who
further explains that these souls are “made to follow another (soul), in whom the Spirit o f life
dwells, it is saved through him. It is not cast again into another flesh.”94 The destination of these
92Phaed. 64a; 80e-81a.

93 For parallels see 30.19; 31.3-4, 10. That the Ap. John teaches reincarnation is argued by
Williams, Rethinking "Gnosticism, " 197; Logan, Gnostic Truth, 264-265. Against this interpretation is
Giversen, Apocryphon Johannis, 266-267.
94 27.18-21. Giversen (Apocryphon Johannis, 266-261) emphasizes the last sentence to support
his belief that the soul does not experience reincarnation. Yet as Logan (Gnostic Truth, 288, n. 54) notes,
the affirmative response by the savior (“Truly, you are blessed, for you have understood!”) suggests that
the disciple is correct, in contrast to Jesus’ rebuke of Nicodemus in Jn 3:4-10.
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souls is also left ambiguous, but they should perhaps ascend to the fourth luminary, the place for
psychai that do not immediately repent (9.18-23).
Finally, John inquires about a fourth group ofpsychai, those “who did know
(eNTA^cooyN) but turned away.” These apostates, in whom the counterfeit spirit becomes
predominant, are, according to the savior, taken to “that place where the angels o f poverty go ...
the place where there is no repentance ( m g t a n o ia.) . And they will be kept for the day on which
those who have blasphemed the spirit will be tortured. And they will be punished with eternal
punishment” (o y K O A .2 k .c ic wcyA. c n c ^ ) (27.24-31). With this assertion the Ap. John appears to
look forward to a final day of judgment, even though it appears that the souls o f the first or
second class are exempt from further judgment after their ascent. By including this class of souls
the text once more confirms that salvation is not guaranteed simply by virtue o f the fact that each
person possesses a fragment o f the pleromatic light, nor is it ensured even after receiving the
Spirit of life.95
O f all the Christian eschatological ideas examined in the previous chapters, the account in
the Ap. John is the most detailed and systematic. Instead o f simply dividing humanity into two
classes and positing a single journey for each, the Ap. John’s eschatological picture bears some o f
the complexities that Plato had introduced in his Phaedo.96 In this dialogue, it will be recalled,
Plato attempts to find a way to integrate the concept of transmigration with the more basic notion
of a single judgment for all souls. In his hierarchy, the philosophical soul reaches the highest
destination, beyond the celestial realm in proximity to the Forms. Below this level another group
of worthy souls exists on the “true” surface o f the earth, that is, in the heavens with the gods. For
Plato these two groups are clearly in the minority; most souls fall into one o f two other
classifications. On the one hand, there are those that descend to the underworld where they are
purified and eventually sent back into other bodies. The lowest group, on the other hand, are sent
95 Receiving the Spirit of life is likely a reference to the rite of baptism alluded to in 31.22-25. See
Logan, Gnostic Truth, 265-266.
96 108e-l 15b.
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to Tartarus and divided into the curable and the incurable, the latter o f which have no hope o f
escape.
Although the Ap. John does not show an exact correspondence with the Phaedo, its
eschatology may be placed within the current of late Hellenistic elaborations of Platonic ideas.97
Like the divisions in the Phaedo, the Ap. John distinguishes between four types o f souls, with the
highest two groups ascending directly to the heavens (or beyond), the middle experiencing
reincarnation, and the lowest condemned to eternal punishment. Moreover, the text’s discussion
of the middle group brings Plato into view on two other counts. First, in choosing the verb
Papeoo (“burden,” “weigh down”) to describe the power o f the counterfeit spirit over the soul, the
author may have in mind Plato’s use of Papuvco (“weigh down,” “burden”) in the well-known
passage from the Phaedo that details the soul’s inability to ascend to the heavens because o f its
affinity for the corporeal.98 Second, the mention o f a perfected soul who acts as a pedagogue for
the unenlightened is another instance of the use o f the concept o f a spiritual guide that can be
traced back to Plato’s Republic at least.99 The idea o f spiritual guidance has been seen in the
earlier chapters as well, although in the Ap. John it is not Jesus but a spiritually superior human
being who acts as the guide, and the responsibility o f this elect individual is to help the
unenlightened off the “wheel of rebirth” to perfection.
The formal structure o f the Ap. John’s eschatology converges with patristic teachings on
some basic points. The immediate ascent for the higher souls corresponds to the Great Church’s
teaching on martyrdom, and the punishment o f the wicked before a final day of judgment also
finds expression in the early fathers.100 Yet important differences remain. First, by allowing for
the possibility that multiple existences may be necessary in order to achieve salvation, the Ap.
John makes a concession to the realities o f community life, where displays o f spiritual perfection
97 For other versions of a post-mortem hierarchy of souls, see Orig. World 124.34-125.11; Soph.
Jes. Chr. 117.8-15.
98 81c. Bccp-uvco is also used in Wis 9:15, as noted in Part III, chapter 2, section three.
99 618c-e. In this dialogue, of course, no souls escape reincarnation.
100 Martyrs: Iren. Adv. haer. IV.33.9; Tert. De anim. 55-58; eternal punishment: Just. Mart. 1 Apol.
8; 28; 2 Apol. 7-9.
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must have been the exception rather than the rule. On the whole, however, patristic Christianity
viewed this theory with skepticism.101 For Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, the idea o f transmigration
falters because souls cannot remember the good and evil deeds committed in their previous
lives.102 Tertullian expands on this argument, devoting no less than twelve chapters o f his De
anima to various logical, scientific, and theological objections to reincarnation.103
Second, in contrast to patristic theologians, the Ap. John does not connect individual
salvation with Christ’s death and resurrection, nor does it suggest that his parousia will initiate
the eschaton. By contrast, for the church fathers the central tenet o f Christianity is that Christ
died to redeem mankind from their sins and that his return will signal the new age in its
fullness.104 Furthermore, these writers insist that the eschaton would involve the return o f the
individual’s earthly bodies, basing their arguments on the unity of mankind (both body and soul)
as well as the fleshly nature of the resurrected Christ.105 In the second century, when different
Christian groups engaged in heated debates over the nature o f the resurrected state, such a
position was, from a Greco-Roman perspective, novel, ridiculous, and disgusting.106 Without
directly engaging patristic Christianity on this issue, though, the Ap. John simply follows
accepted custom: the body, as a material composition, disintegrates at death, while the soul
(=spirit), as a divine fragment, ascends to God.107
101 Origen represents an exception to the patristic position (Deprinc. 1.8.4). Even Tertullian, who
ultimately rejects metempsychosis, nonetheless finds the doctrine comparable to the Christian notion of
fleshly resurrection (De res. earn. 1).
102Just. Mart. Dial. Try. 4; Iren. Adv. haer. 11.34.
10j 24-35. Included among his reasons are the fact that that an immortal, uncreated soul (as Plato
would have it) could never forget and then remember because it is unaffected by time; the contradiction in
Plato that the body can help the soul remember on the one hand while causing it to forget as well; the fact
that while transmigration necessitates a static population, it is in fact the case that the earth has become so
burdened by overpopulation that it “scarcely can provide for our needs” (30.4); and, borrowing an
argument from Aristotle’s De anima, the impossibility that human souls could be rebom into lower animal
forms.
104Christ’s death: Ign. Trail. 9; Just. Mart. I Apol. 42; 55; Dial. Try. 116; Iren. Adv. haer. QI.18;
Tert. De earn, christ. 14; parousia-. Just. Mart. Dial. Try. 80.1; Iren. Adv. haer. V.30.4; 33.3; 35. See also
A.J. Visser, “A Bird’s-Eye View of Ancient Christian Eschatology,” Numen 14 (1967): 4-22.
103Just. Mart. De res. 9; Iren. Adv. haer. V.6; 7.1; 3 1; Tert. De res. cam. 14-15; 44; 53.
106 See, for instance, Contr. Cels. V.14.
107Tertullian challenges the Greco-Roman notion of the body by arguing that it is more than
simply earth when fashioned by God (De res. earn. 7). The soul was not immortal by nature, but only
through the will of God (Just. Mart. Dial. Try. 6; Iren. Adv. haer. 11.34; V.6). See also n. 62.
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Finally, it should be remembered that in theAp. John, the end occurs when all o f the
particles of light have returned to the Pleroma, which lies above the heavenly firmament. This is
a direct challenge to patristic Christianity’s belief that the highest God is identical to the creator
o f the cosmos. While some church fathers found the Stoic conflagration helpful for describing
the apokatastasis,108 the Ap. John asserts that the end will occur when Sophia, residing in the
ninth sphere, has guided all of the divine power back to the Pleroma and its deficiency has been
healed: as the celestial Adam exclaims to the Monad after his creation: “it is because o f you that
the All has come into being, and it is to you that the All will return.”109 In this model, then, not
only does the creator God o f the patristic authors not orchestrate the salvific events o f cosmic
history, but lacking this pleromatic light, he is completely barred from participation in the fullness
as well.110 Moreover, from the perspective o f the future of humanity, the Ap. Jo h n ’s acosmic
eschaton undercuts those whose eschatological vision includes the establishment o f a new heaven
and earth.111
In many respects, the material discussed in this chapter signals a new period in the history
o f early Christianity. The analysis o f the Apocryphon o f John and patristic sources has shown
that the incorporation of Greco-Roman philosophy into Christian discourse enabled writers to
discuss the concept of the soul with increased sophistication and, as a result, engage in sharper
polemic. To illuminate this point, the chapter began by examining the Ap. Jo h n ’s cosmology and
anthropology, which was found to be critical of Hellenistic philosophy in general and Stoicism in
particular: not only does the tractate devalue the created world, but it also polemicizes against the
notion of the soul as the source o f all mental and bodily actions. While some o f this may have
been written at a pre-Christian stage, in the longer recensions the text could nevertheless serve as
a critique of the philosophical tenets adopted by the church fathers.
' 108Just. Mart. 1 Apol. 20.

1099.7-8 (see also 14.9-13; 25.9-16).
110For a patristic view of this position, see Iren. Adv. haer. 11.30.
111 Iren. Adv. haer. V.34-36.
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The third section identified the patristic writers’ logical and ethical objections to
Gnosticism’s devalued soul and tested these against the evidence from the Ap. John. It was found
that the church fathers may have had grounds for challenging the tractate’s approach to Logic, for
in theAp. John the acquisition o f knowledge derives from an innate, supercelestial capacity to
respond to the Pleroma’s saving gnosis. This intellectual gift does not, however, lead the Ap.
John to construct a deterministic plan o f salvation or advocate a libertinist view o f Ethics. On the
contrary, it was argued that the rhetoric o f “election” follows only after an individual has
positively responded to the Pleroma’s message o f salvation, and moreover, that the Stoic notion
o f apatheia was regarded as the highest virtue for the individual classified as the “seed o f Seth.”
Finally, the last section analyzed the Ap. John’s articulation o f the journey o f the “soul.” It was
argued that, despite the loose terminology, the text’s understanding o f the journey has numerous
affinities with the model in Plato’s Phaedo, and that, while not entirely at odds with patristic
eschatology, nevertheless distinguishes itself by its approval of transmigration, its lack o f concern
for viewing Christ’s death, resurrection, or parousia as salvific, and its assertion that the eschaton
corresponds to the reintegration o f the light into the Pleroma, an idea which devalues the role o f
the creator God in initiating or directing a soteriological plan.
CONCLUSIONS
In recent times the concept o f the soul has suffered at the hands o f scientific research.
Yet for much o f the history of Western Civilization, its existence was unquestioned and its
significance difficult to overstate. This study has sought to uncover some o f the reasons for this
interest by tracing the development o f the soul from its earliest appearance in Homer to the early
Christian centuries and by offering some insights into why the ancient world found psyche so
meaningful.
The examination of the Greco-Roman material has revealed that in the Archaic world the
soul was originally a psychic agent o f minor importance for the living person. To be sure, it was
the breath or life-force without which the human being could not live, but it only received
Homer’s attention in death scenes and descriptions o f the shades in Hades. Such depictions were
significant, however, to the extent that they provided later writers, who had already begun to
consolidate the other psychic agents into the soul, with a way to articulate the functioning of
psyche within the living person. Another step in this direction came from the field of science, for
the Ionian Presocratics postulated that psyche, as the primary substance of both the cosmos and
mankind, was characterized by perception and movement. Simultaneously, the more religiously
oriented Presocratics had asserted that the psyche was not simply that force which keeps the
individual alive, but rather that it was in fact the “true” person. Plato, who inherits all of these
traditions, systematically formulated a theory of soul that accounted for the activities of the
Homeric shades, the characteristic o f self-movement from Ionia, and the anthropological dualism
from Orphism and Pythagoreanism that equated the psyche with the individual’s essence. All of
these factors help contribute to his construction of the journey o f the soul, a parabolic sojourn
beginning and ending in the heavens.
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329
The remaining chapters in Part II introduced other views o f soul, both philosophical and
popular. Early Stoicism provided an alternative to the Platonist theory o f the soul on many
counts: following the Ionians, they argued that the psyche is corporeal, does not pre-exist, and
survives the body for only a limited time. Yet the soul is still at the center of human activity for
the Stoics, and it is because they affirm the freedom o f the individual along with a rigid
cosmological determinism, they devote a significant amount of time to showing how these
doctrines are not contradictory. Although their resolution o f the tension between these two ideas
remains problematic, it is argued that the way they approach the problem provides a model for
understanding the issue in later Jewish and Christian texts. With an increased attention to Ethics
in the later Stoicism, it was shown that the Platonic notion o f the journey of the soul became an
appealing philosophical meditation for writers such as Seneca and Cicero, although they modified
the concept to fit their own particular needs.
The final chapter surveyed Aristotle’s and Epicurus’s philosophical alternatives to the
Platonic theory of the soul. This survey, along with the subsequent review of popular uses of
psyche in the tragedies, funeral orations, and inscriptions, was meant to show that despite its
familiarity for modem scholars, Plato’s soul did not dominate Greek thought in the later
Hellenistic period. This survey shows that the idea o f the journey o f the soul had not filtered
down to the majority of the population by the time of Christ. A model o f the journey that would
prove influential among some early Christians (i.e. Paul, Gospel of John), however, can be
detected in Apuleius’s Metamorphoses. The soul is not pre-existent in this text, but the tale of
Cupid and Psyche as well as Lucius’s initiation into the cult o f Isis show that participation in the
second half o f the journey is possible through a devotion to the divine.
Part HI turned to the influence o f Iranian thought for the concept of the soul’s journey. It
was argued that the importance of Zoroastrianism lies in its contribution of eschatology, which
provided a historical framework for later Jewish and Christian meditations on the soul’s journey.
The second chapter surveyed the use o f soul in the Jewish tradition, first through an examination
o f the Old Testament and thereafter by focusing on the intertestamental period (apocalypticism,
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the Wisdom o f Solomon, and Philo). It was discovered that while the earliest evidence parallels
the Homeric thought world, various levels o f Hellenistic influences can be found in the later
material. The journey o f the soul is once again articulated according to the author’s specific
interests, and further reflections on the post-mortem condition are in evidence. These statements
on life after death are filled with ambiguities, however, so that in many cases it is not clear
whether the writer envisions a fleshly, bodily, or spiritual afterlife. These problems continue into
early Christianity, providing further proof o f the complexities surrounding the soul and body in
the intertestamental period.
Part IV addressed the early Christian writings of Paul, the gospels attributed to the
apostles Thomas and John, and the Apocryphon o f John from Nag Hammadi, all o f which, to
varying degrees, inherit the intellectual advances from the previous chapters. These chapters
focus on the varied understandings o f the soul and its journey, arguing that psyche can help
explicate different theological perspectives as well as acting as a lens through which to evaluate
the controversies that emerge from the texts. For Paul and the Gospel o f John, a partial journey
o f the soul is accorded to humans who have faith in the salviflc achievements o f Christ. The
Gospel o f Thomas and the Apocryphon o f John, on the other hand, assert that mankind can
participate in the full journey through the self-knowledge that one’s inner essence is divine.
While the controversies over psyche in the first two chapters are to a large extent devoid of
philosophical argumentation, the examination o f the soul in the Apocryphon o f John shows that
by the middle o f the second century, the debate could be based on Hellenistic philosophy. It is
thus possible to see how different psychologies produced divergent conclusions in the realms of
Logic and Ethics.
As this study concludes at a period when the philosophical debate over the soul was just
beginning among Christian theologians, other texts from the later second century and beyond may
provide additional evidence for polemical debates on the soul based on Hellenistic psychology,
especially since the full journey o f the soul was eventually rejected by mainstream Christianity.
Such controversies, however, belong to a later age filled with spirited defenses o f “orthodoxy”
331
and equally vociferous accusations o f “heresy.” Yet in many ways the period under review in
this study provides the intellectual foundations for these later polemics by identifying a time that
had already begun to debate the theological merits and consequences behind the notion that the
way of ascent is the way o f descent.
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INFORMATION TO USERS

The quality o f this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the

Oversize materials (e.g., maps, drawings, charts) are reproduced by

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A Dissertation submitted to the Faculty o f the Claremont Graduate University in

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UMI Microform 9932581

This microform edition is protected against unauthorized

Karery Jo TorjeseA, Member

Dennis R. MacDonald, Member

The Journey o f the Soul: Its Expressions in Early Christianity

Claremont Graduate University: 1999

historical and linear framework.

concept of the immortal soul.

*{'2ih nbcdk. e ^ p a -i n e 't'jMH Nei e n e c H T

science if it is regarded from a “nonreductive physicalist” perspective. In other words, they

remains entrenched in the discourse o f contemporary scholarship.

I. The Soul in the Ancient World

composition o f the soul.

have an atomic structure.11

soteriological assertion that “the way o f ascent is the way o f descent.”21

II. The Present Study: An Overview

the journey o f the soul within a historical and linear framework.

little difficulty to suit any author’s specific religio-philosophical interests.

centuries surrounding the birth of Christianity.

conclusively settle the debate.

Pleroma) all find opposition in the writings o f the fathers.

formulate the Christian concept of the immortal soul.

m . Translations and Abbreviations

Fragmenta (=SVF), 4 vols. (Leipzig: B.G. Teubner), 1903-1924.

translation by Edwin A Quain from the Fathers of the Church series.

A HISTORY OF SCHOLARSHIP ON THE SOUL

Writing a Forschimgsbericht on the journey o f the soul presents a variety of challenges,

areas where his analysis has been challenged.

His methodology may be summed up as follows: if it is possible to detect certain “isolated

original significance was either no longer understood or important.5

Hades as lifeless and helpless shadows.14

flourished separately as a product of funerary ceremonies spurred by familial obligation. Rohde

in future life o f the soul.” 16

coherent anthropological system:

17 Rohde, Psyche, 253.

submission to the divine compassion.”32

27 Rohde, Psyche, 411-438.

II. The Soul Since Rohde

extent it should not be read uncritically.

Homeric Anthropology and a Primitive Cult o f Souls

development o f Greco-Roman anthropological concepts.42 The breath-soul, so often equated with

as the seat o f life, it is held to be honored and holy.46

richness o f Homeric psychological vocabulary by appealing to the research o f other primitive

denote a unitary soul.58

55 Bremmer, Early Greek Concept, 9.

and expanded rather than overturned his research.

Evidence for a Primitive Cult o f Souls

has been subject to re-examination.

community, for instance, young children, adolescents, and slaves.72

mortals” to whom cult ritual was given.77

have held together rather well.81

Dionysus, Iatromcmteis, and Orphism

80 Dietrich, Death, Fate and the Gods, 240-241.

phenomena.86 In particular, he criticizes Rohde’s evaluation o f women and their role in

(prior to its colonization) as well as in Greece.89

Greece as examples of magical power. The teaching o f metempsychosis was especially

shamanistic teaching o f reincarnation as a source o f power and privilege became revalued to