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The Inversion of Slavery: The Ascetic and the Archistrategos at Chonai

Alan Cadwallader

Flinders University

INTRODUCTION

Colossae, a city in south-west Phrygia, is renowned in antiquity from two famous texts,

the Epistle to the Colossians ascribed to St Paul and the later Story of the Miracle of St

Michael of Chonae. In spite of the injunction against the worship of angels in the former

text (Ep Col 2:18), the latter story is built on a massive devotion to the archangel

Michael. This story is probably in origin a pilgrimage narrative honouring the shrine and

healing centre connected in relatively early Christian times with its patron St Michael. So

powerful was the centre as a magnet of pilgrimage, that its name was changed from

Colossae to Chonae in line with an etymology that reflected the story of archangelic

deliverance.1 The popularity of the site and its patron early drew conciliar and patristic

castigation2 which may have proved decisive were it not for the conjunction of two

crucial, intense debates in the unfolding life of the Byzantine church and society — the

understanding of the function and goal of the ascetic life and the iconoclast crises.

The second main character in the story is Archippos, a long-term keeper of the

shrine of St Michael, who is marked by an extraordinarily faithful devotion to his task

undergirded by a rigorous self-discipline. Glenn Peers has suggested that whatever may

have been the origins of the story of St Michael of Chonae, the attention given to

Archippos actually carries the traces of the iconoclastic accent on virtue, the distance

between angelic and human life and being and the incommensurability of the material

and the immaterial realms. For Peers, the story “related a pattern of worship that

conformed to the ethical models stressed in the Iconoclastic debates” with “elements

1 Xw~nai in Greek means “funnels”; as will be seen this is critical to the story of the archangel’s deliverance of the site from destruction. 2 Canon 35 against the worship of angels of the Council of Laodiceia (c.361, though some date it earlier or later) whilst indefinite in its identification of offenders was early recognised as referring to a Colossian irregularity or at least applied to it. See Theodoret of Cyrrhus (c. 430) Interp. ad Ep Col. (PG 82.613B, 620D-621A) and a scholion on one manuscript naming Colossae in the margin to Canon 35: see W. Lueken, Michael: Eine Darstellung und Vergleichung der jüdischen und der morgenländisch-christlichen Tradition vom Erzengel Michael (Göttingen: 1898), 75.

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[that] provided a discrete iconoclastic context for the Chonae miracle story”3. Oddly, he

suggests that because “images and idolatry do not figure”, “the miracle story could have

posed no threat to the church after 843”4 — this right at the point of the triumph of the

icons. Rather, he argues, Archippos as a mere mortal was a moral model for an audience

on the proper devotion necessary to approach the immaterial realm, including that of

angels, and to position themselves in a boundary-laden hierarchy. Peers goes so far as to

call him an “everyman”.5 The accent throughout his interpretation is that the goal of

Archippos’ unimpeachable way of life was access to the archangel and that this, rather

than the miraculous interventions of the archangel were the point, “the real centre” of the

story.6 This requires a disconcerting marginalisation of the elements of the story that

emphasise the impact of the archistrategos on the natural world as well as on (behalf of)

Archippos. Peers reduces this to the attendant phenomena of an “epiphany”.7 Moreover,

his general interpretation overlooks the historical particularity of Chonai’s significance in

the iconoclast battles, having fallen to religious and secular iconomachians early in the

ninth century.8 Certainly the story of the miracle of St. Michael at Chonai figures

prominently and repeatedly in the aftermath of the iconophile triumph,9 although Peers

construes this as the iconophile reworking of a “non-iconophile” hagiography.10

This essay argues that there is a careful balance engineered between Archippos

and Michael which begins with an emphatic contrast and then, surprisingly and

evocatively, inverts this contrast through a reworking of one of the key descriptors of

Archippos, that of the slave (dou~lov). This is the major emphasis of this essay. However,

I also suggest that far from the story providing evidence of an endorsement of

3 G. Peers, Subtle Bodies: Representing Angels in Byzantium (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 143. 4 Ibid 151. Does he mean before 843? 5 Ibid 147. 6 Peers, “Holy Man, Supplicant, and Donor: On representations of the Miracle of the Archangel Michael at Chonae” Medieval Studies 59 (1997), 176. 7 Ibid 152. 8 Theodore the Studite, Ep.2.63 to Naukratios, his “child” [PG 99.1282] mentions both the bishop and exarch at Chonai as ardent and seductive promoters of the iconoclast position. 9 Note especially the eleventh century iconic illuminations of the story in the Menologion of Basil for September 6th (Vatican Ms gr 1613 fol 17) and in the “Theodore” Psalter for Ps 93 (92):3 (British Library Add 19352 fol 125r; see S. Der Nersessian, L’Illustration des psautiers grecs du moyen âge, II (Paris: Klinksieck, 1970), 46, 89. 10 Peers, “Holy Man”, 176; he explores this line further in chapter 5 of Subtle Bodies.

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iconoclastic concerns over angelolatry and idolatry,11 it delivers a fundamental defence of

the iconophilic position by the combined emphasis on the goal of the material life as the

‘likeness of angels’ and the recognition that the immaterial realm of angels can deliver a

lasting witness upon the material realm, indeed including the materiality of humanity.12

The story of the ascetic and the archistrategos becomes in its material existence (in text,

illumination and icon) and its content a testimony to the salvific revelation of the Triune

God.13

THE FOUNDATION OF THE ASCETIC LIFE The dominant interpretative trope of the abstemious practices of hermits, monks and nuns

in the Byzantine period was that austerity transformed a man (and very occasionally a

woman) into an angel. An intertextual manipulation combined the anticipation of angelic

similitude promised of end-time living (Lk 20:36 and parallels) with verses

recommending (or taken as recommending) abstinence and self-denial (eg Rom 14:17,

21) to provide both the goal of the ascetic life and the method for its achievement. The

term i0sa/ggelov — what I have called “angelic similitude”14 — was introduced into

dominical precept, but not invented, by the evangelist St. Luke.15 It expresses a “chronic

liminality”16 for those who, in this life, embody by ascetic denial of the body the asomatic

immortality of those who live the life of heaven, namely the angels. More than a

11 Peers, “Holy Man”, 176; similarly, Subtle Bodies, 154. 12 I develop this argument further in my “A stratigraphy of an ancient city through its key story: the archistrategos of Chonai” forthcoming. 13 Dr. Nora Clark of the European University, Cyprus, suggests to me [private communication, 12/1/2008] that (the popular telling of) the story itself probably functioned as a substitute for whitewashed/destroyed icons during the crises. If this is the case, the para-iconic story was not, in part of its life, promoted by ecclesial authority but functioned as a story of resistance. 14 Of the standard lexicons: Liddell-Scott-Jones, Louw-Nida, Bauer-Arndt-Gingrich-Danker all have “like an angel”; but note Lampe “equal to the angels”. 15 Iamblichus apud Stobaeus Ecl I.457.9W (edition: C. Wachsmuth and O. Hense (eds), Ioannis Stobaei Anthologium (Berlin: Weidmann, 1884-1923)), 2 Bar 51:10 (edition S. Dedering (ed.) Apocalypse of Baruch (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1973) Syriac translation from a Greek original); cf Philo Judaeus Sacr Abel 5 (edition: F.H. Colson and G.H. Whittaker (eds) Philo (London: Heinemann, 1929), Vol. 2, 96), 1 QSb 4:25 (edition: E. Lohse (ed.) Die Texte aus Qumran (Kösel: Munchen, 1971), 56). The term gained considerable currency in both Neoplatonic and patristic writings. 16 The phrase is adapted from Victor Turner’s anthropological categories and has been applied to New Testament and early church ascetic practices by Elizabeth Clark, Jerome, Chrysostom and Friends: Essays and Translations (NY: Mellen, 1979), 49-50 and Turid K. Seim, “Children of the Resurrection: Perspectives on Angelic Asceticism in Luke-Acts” in L.E. Vaage and V.L. Wimbush (Eds), Asceticism and the New Testament (NY: Routledge, 1999), 118.

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“foretaste” of the beneficence of resurrection17 or a winning of “access” to another

realm18 or a triumphal escape from the Sisyphean weight of corruption,19 this angelic

similitude enabled a liminal (albeit limited) participation in the wisdom, vision and power

of the immaterial beings of heaven within the material world of earth.20 For some, like the

Stephen of the book of Acts (Acts 6:15), the “face of an angel” might accompany a

martyr’s death; for others, like the Paul of the Acts of Thecla (ATh 3), such a face is a

product and mark of the continent life.

The immediate setting for the evangelist’s application of the term i0sa/ggelov

marginalised marriage and child-bearing from the likeness of angels (Lk 20:27-36). This

usage readily became turned to the full mastery of the body in all its appetites. There

were inevitable nuances and modifications in the pattern of ascetic life in not the least

being the subjection of ascetic practices to the hierarchical control of church and state

(including the efforts to “urbanise” the location of practitioners)21 and the reassertion of

the distance between humanity and angels in the iconoclastic battles, a distance that was

both ontological and temporal. However, from Clement of Alexandria to Sisinnius of

Constantinople the ascetic life was a life equivalent to the angels, a bi/ov i0sa/ggelov; and

whatever were the details of the practices of that ascetic life, such practices were the

“angelic discipline”, the a1skhsiv a0ggelikh/.

One particular story brings a dramatic engagement between the life of an ascetic

and that of an archangel. On one level the distance between the human and the angelic

being is sharply drawn; at another level, on the occasion of a confrontation between the

ascetic and the archistrategos, that distance suddenly collapses. In the process, the

asymmetry and incommensability of the material and the asomatic is dramatically

17 The ironic, evocative but somewhat limited notion is used by Gillian Clark, “Fattening the Soul: Christian asceticism and Porphyry on abstinence” in M.F. Wiles and E.J. Yarnold (Eds), Ascetica, Gnostica, Liturgica, Orientalia (Studia Patristica Vol XXXV) (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), 46. 18 Peers, “Holy Man”, 174; Subtle Bodies, 144-45. 19 G. de Nie, “Images of invisible dynamics: self and non-self in sixth-century saints’ lives” in Wiles and Yarnold, 54-56. 20 Cf E. Castelli “Asceticism — Audience and Resistance” in V.L. Wimbush and R. Valantasis (Eds), Asceticism (NY: OUP, 1995), 182. 21 See P. Magdalino, “The Byzantine Holy Man in the Twelfth Century” in S. Hackel (Ed.), The Byzantine Saint (London: Fellowship of St Alban and St Sergius, 1981), 58-60, M. Dietz, Wandering Monks, Virgins and Pilgrims (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2005), 36-38, E.A. Clark, Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999), 33-38.

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qualified such that one can engage and impact upon the other. That story is The Story of

the Miracle of St Michael of Chonai.

THE STORY OF ST MICHAEL OF CHONAI The narrative of the life-changing healing(s) and awesome protection of the archangel

Michael and the committed custodianship by Archippos of the dedicated shrine at the

holy spring at Chonai is extant for us in three published Greek versions and at least one

ancient translation.22 The story received different titles in various Byzantine manuscripts

of the Synaxaria and Menologia.23 The manuscripts themselves attest a considerable

flexibility and inventiveness in the transmission especially of the earliest version of the

story. Even the festal dates for commemorating the main players in the story vary.24 The

story has gained several panegyric recountings,25 an epigrammatic summary from the

creative genius of Manuel Philes (1280-1330),26 probably a specific kontakion no longer

extant27 and has attracted a wide geographical and artistic array in iconographic

representation.28 It is clear that the story not only evoked widespread appeal, matching the

22 F. Nau, “Le Miracle de Saint Michel a Colosses” Patrologia Orientalis 4 (1908), 545. 23 See F. Halkin, Bibliotheca hagiographica graeca (Brussels: Societé des Bollandistes, 1957), Vol 2, 118-121, A. Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der griechischen Kirche (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1937-), 3 vols, passim. 24 The usual date is September 6th but the story was sometimes set down for reading on November 8th, another feast day for the archangel Michael. See, as but one example, G. Dennis, “Auxentios: Typikon of Michael VIII Palaiologos for the Monastery of the Archangel Michael on Mount Auxentios near Chalcedon” in J. Thomas and A.C. Hero (Eds), Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 2000), 1229-1230 (§14). The western church has occasionally recalled the story on its feast of St. Michael and All Angels (September 29th) or noted it as a festal story of the Greek Church. See C. Stengel, S. Michaelis Archangeli principatus, apparitions, templa cultus & miracula, ex sacris litteris, SS. PP. & histories ecclesiasticis eruta (Augsburg: 1649), 209-223. 25 Pantaleon (PG 98. 1264A), Nicetas the Paphlagonian (Cod. Paris. Gr. 1180) described by Ehrhard and Halkin as much mutilated (Ehrhard, 2.239-40, Halkin, 119). There is also a work accredited to John of Damascus but of considerably later date and judged by Nau as of no value (545 n2). 26 E. Miller (Ed.), Manuelis Philae carmina ex codicibus Escurialensis, Florentinis, Parisinis et Vaticanis 2 Vols (Paris: Imperial Printers, 1855-1857), Vol 2, 236. 27 “Sing the hymn … for the strange wonder at Chonai”: Dennis, “Auxentios” §14 (BMFD 1229). The archangel Michael, unlike Gabriel, gains no mention in any of the authentic or attributed kontakia of Romanos Melodos, save for two lines in the canticle for Peter’s denial: see P. Maas and C.A. Trypanis (Eds), Sancti Romani Melodi Cantica 2 vols (Oxford / Berlin: Clarendon Press / Walter de Gruyter, 1963, 1970), vol 1, 136 (§11). 28 See P. Muratov, L’Ancienne epinture russe trans. A. Caffi, (Rome / Prague: Rome printed, 1925), 55, fig. 15, G. Millet and D.T. Rice, Byzantine Painting of Trebizond (London: Allen and Unwin, 1936), 132, pl. 52, Der Nersessian, L’Illustration, 46, fig. 203 (Brit Lib. Add. 19.352, fol 125r), M. Tatic-Djuric, Image of the Angels trans. G.H. Genzel and H. Rosenwald, (Vaduz: Catholic Art Book Guild, 1964), 57, G. Babic, Les Chappelles annexes des églises byzantines (Paris: Klincksieck, 1969), 101, fig. 65 (Ms Vat. gr 1156,

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attraction of the pilgrimage site at Chonai, even into Seljuk times.29 But the story also

received multiple permutations wrought by different purposes and accents (or was

considered of such influence that it demanded such improvisations).

For my purposes, I want to concentrate on the oldest extant version of the story,

with occasional comparative recourse to its literary reshaping by Archbishop Sisinnius of

Constantinople (late10th century)30 and its linguistic refinement and intertextual

embellishment by the retired logothete, Simeon Metaphrastes (d. c. 1000 CE).31 The

earliest textualised story is related in vernacular language and appears to be geared for

popular consumption (probably as a pilgrimage narrative). The complete extant work is

dated probably to the eighth or ninth century, though some push it back to the sixth.32

Neither its popular form nor its date should be taken as an indication of a lack of

complexity. It has not only been considered to rework disparate sources33 but to have

gone through a number of revisions, even recensions, indicative of different determining

fol 266r), K. Weitzmann, Studies in Classical and Byzantine Manuscript Illumination ed. H.J.L. Kessler, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1971), 166-167, M. Chatzidakis, “Iconen aus Griechenland” in K. Weitzmann et al, Die Ikonen: Sinai, Griechenland und Jugoslawien (Herrsching-Ammersee: Pawlak, 1977), 78, 226 pl. 106, G. Galavaris, The Icon in the Life of the Church: Doctrine, Liturgy, Devotion (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981), 17, pl. XXIc, N. Thierry, Haut moyen-age en Cappadoce. Les églises de la région de Cavusin (Paris: P. Guethner, 1983), 155-56, pl. 71, A. Bryer and D. Winfield, The Byzantine Monuments and Topography of Pontos 2 vols (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, 1985), 236, E. Kitzinger and R. Jenkins, “A Cross of Patriarch Michael Cerularios with an Art-Historical Comment” DOP 21 (1987), 238-39, 241, 247-48 and fig. 8, S. Gabelié, “The Iconography of the Miracle at Chonae: An Unusual Example from Cyprus” Zograf 20 (1989), 95-103, Peers, “Holy Man”, 173-182. 29 Michael Choniates Encom. Nic. 1.56.12-18 (edition: S.P. Lampros, Mixah\l 0Akomina/tou tou~ Xwnia/tou ta\ swzo/mena (Groningen: Bouma, 2 Vols, 1968 [1879]), §95 (page 56)). Note also the significance attached to the site by Constantine Porphyrogenitus who interrupts his listing of the cities of the Thrakesion theme to note the celebrated (diabo/htov) sanctuary of the archangel St Michael (De Them. 3.36, (edition: A. Pertusi, Costantino Porfirogenito De Thematibus (Vatican: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1952), 68). See my “The Reverend Dr. John Luke and the Churches of Chonai” GRBS 48 (2008), 319-22. 30 The Greek version of the story by Sisinnius is only available in published form in J. Stiltingo, C. Suyskeno, J. Periero, J. Cleo (Eds), Acta Sanctorum: September (Paris/Rome: Victor Palmé, 1869 [1762]), Volume 8, 41C-47C (afterwards Sisinnius with chapter number, then AS with page number in parenthesis). John Stiltingo provided an introduction, notes and Latin translation. 31 Herbert Hunger sees the blending of classical and scriptural allusions as a key mark of Byzantine high literature: “On the Imitation (ΜΙΜΗΣΙΣ) of Antiquity in Byzantine literature” DOP 23 (1969-70), 15-38. 32 J.P. Rohland, Der Erzengel Michael: Arzt und Feldherr (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1977), 95, 117. 33 B. Bouvier and F. Amsler, “Le Miracle de l’Archenge Michel à Chonai: Introduction, Traduction, et Notes”, in D.H. Warren, A.G. Brock and D.W. Pao (Eds), Early Christian Voices: in texts, traditions and symbols: Essays in Honor of François Bovon (Boston / Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers, 2003), 396-97.

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struggles in the history of the church.34 The most critical edition is that of the Bollandist,

Max Bonnet who provided a Latin translation.35 It has recently been translated into

French by Bertrand Bouvier and Frédéric Amsler36 and into English by myself and the

Greek Reading Group of Flinders University’s School of Theology.37

Whilst the dramatic rescue of the sacred shrine by the archistrategos Michael

dominates the iconographic readings of the story, the narrative begins with the briefest

mention of Michael’s provision of a healing spring in apostolic times.38 The archangelic

beneficence announced by the apostles John and Philip follows a successful purging of

the city of Hierapolis and the plain to the west, from Greek idolatrous devotion to

Artemis (and perhaps the more enigmatic Echidna).39 The spring’s healing reputation

34 W.M. Ramsay, The Church in the Roman Empire: before A.D. 170 (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1893), 468, The Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2 Vols, 1895, 1897), 215, Peers, Subtle Bodies, 158. 35 M. Bonnet, Narratio de Miraculo a Michaele Archangelo Chonis Patrato (Paris: Librairie Hachette, 1890; hereafter Narratio with a chapter number and Bonnet’s page number in parenthesis for the vernacular version, Metaphrastes with a chapter number and Bonnet’s page number in parenthesis for the revised story by Simeon Metaphrastes). This edition provided a more extensive introduction and analysis than the identical text published the previous year in AB. 8 (1889) 287-307; the Latin translation (of the vernacular and the version of Simeon Metaphrastes) was added on pages 317 to 328. Nau made a number of adjustments to the critical text of the Greek in his publication of the ancient Latin translation (546). 36 Bouvier and Amsler, 401-407. 37 The copyright translation, formatted into the received chapter divisions with additional breakdown into smaller sections or verses (rather than the line numbers of Bonnet’s edition) was released on a CD Rom as part of information for conference delegates: Colossae in time and space: linking with an ancient city Adelaide: September 2007. Select passages from the Greek versions have been translated by Glenn Peers though some caution should be exercised (Subtle Bodies). 38 The naming of Chairetopa as the site of the spring has been taken as an indication of a distinct literary source that extolled the healing properties of a spring in the Lycian city of Keretapa to the southeast (Peers, Subtle Bodies, 161) and as evidence of the confused topography of the extant Michael story (Ramsay, Church, 470-72; cf Ramsay, “Antiquities of Southern Phrygia and the Border Lands (1)” AJA 3 (1887), 360-61). Neither of these analyses is conclusive when it is recalled, firstly, that the three re-tellings consistently use the amorphous word to/pov for the site, not po/liv as for Hierapolis and Laodiceia (Narratio 2 (Bonnet 2), Metaphrastes 3 (Bonnet 22), Sisinnius 5 (AS 43A)); secondly, the naming of the place is a loose etymological toponym (“place of delight / greeting”, cf Peers, Subtle Bodies, 161). Otto Meinardus considers this a direct reminder of the archangelic greeting, perhaps relying on the variant reading xai/re to/pe in Codex A, though the connection with the archangel (as against the apostles John and Philip, is, at best, latent in the story: "St Michael's Miracle of Khonae and its Geographical Setting" Ekklesia kai Theologia 1 (1980), 462. The greeting in this form (with to/pov) was one of the sermonic flourishes used of the Virgin Mary by Theodore the Studite (PG 96.689C) but this extends the metaphorical application overmuch. The derived form Keretapa is a well-known throughout Turkey for many locations. One Synaxarion explicitly calls the place part of the city of Colossae, though this is likely a smoothing reading (see AS 8.48 note d). 39 The blurring of Echidna and Artemis is known elsewhere in Asia Minor so that a separate, serpentine deity is not necessarily clearly intended by the text: see Yulia Ustinova, “Snake-limbed and Tendril-limbed goddesses in the art and mythology of the Mediterranean and Black Sea” in D. Braund (Ed.), Scythians and

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draws the antagonism of the city of Laodikeia against the small site of the spring.40 This

appears to be a narrative legacy of the battles between urban and rural on the one hand41

and the continued competition for religious authority exercised by cities in Roman and

Byzantine worlds.42 The explicit naming of Chonai (as also Colossae, modern-day Honaz

in south-west Turkey) is formally withheld in the popular story though it is made fairly

obvious in the repetition of the “funnel/ing” in chapter 12 and is never described as a

city.43

The site’s fame as a healing spring is demonstrated in an episode telling of a

distraught father of a dumb girl obeying an apparition of the archangel to depart from

Laodikeia to the sacred place where he makes supplication to the Triune God and the

archistrategos, Michael. His thankfulness for the miraculous cure is expressed in the

benefaction of a protective building for the spring.44 The shrine shelter45 and the holy site

Greeks: Cultural Interactions in Scythia, Athens and the Early Roman Empire (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 2005), 78-79. 40 Laodikeia is consistently collated with idolatry and opposition to the spring in the story (Narratio 3 (Bonnet 3), 7 (Bonnet 11)). Hierapolis, by contrast, is cleansed of its idolatry and is the place of origin for Archippos and his Christian parents (Narratio 1 (Bonnet 1-2), 4 (Bonnet 5)). 41 See R. Browning, “The ‘Low Level’ Saint’s Life in the Early Byzantine World” in Hackel, 117-127. 42 There seems little doubt to me that the failure to recognise any Christian authority in Laodiceia in the story (the two mentions of the city are both connected with Greek/pagan/idolatrous/demonic behaviour) is indicative of a long-standing antipathy, which shows out also in canon 35 of the Council of Laodiceia (c.361) — see above. 43 It is retained in the other two versions: Sisinnius 17 (AS 47A), Metaphrastes 8 (Bonnet 27), and dominates the titles given to the story. One manuscript of the story of the miracle St. Michael of Chonai gives it the title “The Miracle by the Archangel Michael that happened in Chonai in Colossae of Phrygia”: see AB 21 (1902), 396, §3. There is much to commend the notion that Colossae was not depopulated by a move to Chonai, as is commonly held, but merely renamed as an assertion of its growing religious and political importance. This was raised in the eighteenth century by John Stiltingo (AS 8.xv, 39) and has been revived by Glenn Peers (Subtle Bodies, 163). Such a view does not deny a shift of a civic centre but it does deny that Colossae became a rump of its pre-Laodikeian glory. It should be noted that Clive Foss has become increasingly convinced of the central importance of Colossae/Chonai to the Byzantine theme of Thrakesion: see my “John Luke”, 319-338. 44 Glenn Peers sees the religious battle for the site continuing in the aftermath of the miracle as indicated by the Laodikeian’s acclamation (Narratio 3 (Bonnet 4)) that “The God of the Christians, your power is truly great, Michael archistrategos.” (Subtle Bodies, 146). Bouvier and Amsler (402) agree with Peers in tying “truly” (“en vérité”) to Michael’s power but they have departed from Bonnet’s critical text and, following Nau’s Greek and Latin text (550), added “viens à mon aide” (for boh/qei moi / adiuva me — a clear repetition of the call for God’s help two lines previously). However, Peers’ rendering assumes that the verbless construction of Bonnet’s text (o( qeo\v tw~n Xristianw~n a0lhqw~v mega/lh sou h( du/namiv Mixah\l a0rxistra/thge) is a single clause. This may require o( qeo/v to be taken as a vocative in apposition to Mixah\l a0rxistra/thge — clearly unacceptable — or as an abbreviation of “Here/this is the God of the Christians”. However once a copula is added here, even by extension, it becomes more likely that we have two balancing clauses: “God is of the Christians …”. The position of the adverb is as likely to end the first clause as begin the second (just as occurs in chapters 4, ou3twv (Bonnet 6), 5, a0pau/stwv (Bonnet 9), and 9, ou#twv (Bonnet 13)). Moreover, Peers asserts that the acclamation comes from the father before the

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pre-exist the arrival of a (precocious?)46 ten year old Archippos — perhaps a latent

recognition of the pre-christian origins of the healing spring.47 Archippos gives a

lifetime’s devotion.

The immense popularity of the healing sanctuary rouses a series of diabolical

actions against the site and its keeper, Archippos, culminating in the imminent threat of a

flooding deluge engineered by pagan opponents. Archippos throws himself to the ground

between the shrine and the watery onslaught and Michael, having defeated previous

attempts to pollute the waters of the sanctuary, effortlessly deals with this final invidious

danger. He funnels the voluminous flood into an underground chasm, petrifying the

protagonists (literally) and restoring the spring as a safe haven for healing. The

immaterial being thus not only impacts upon the material world but commits himself and

the beneficence that he can dispense under God’s salvific will to a particular site, a clear

narrative demonstration of one of the clinching arguments of the iconophiles, namely that

angels are circumscribed by space and hence can be iconographically represented.48

THE FOCUS ON TWO CONTRASTING FIGURES

The Ascetic While the plot of the popular narrative operates through a succession of episodes that

build to a climactic denouement, the portrayal of the characters passes quickly to

Archippos and Michael, though the latter is held back from more than a transitory

appearance until a dramatic appearance at the end. A lengthy description is given to

healing of the child whereas, in fact, the text has the cry coming from the daughter as testimony to the success of the healing. 45 Various terms for the site and its building are used. 46 “Precocious” is Peers’ term (Subtle Bodies, 147). In the light of the dedication of children to both non-christian and christian religious centres, this description is not assured. The text makes it plain that Archippos’ parents are christian. 47 Ramsay, Church, 479-80, Meinardus, 466, A.L. Williams, “The Cult of the Angels at Colossae” JTS 10 (1909), 437, G.F. Hill, "Apollo and St Michael: Some Analogies" JHS 36 (1916), 156, E. Lucius, Die Anfänge des Heiligenkults in der christlichen Kirche (Tübingen: JCB Mohr, 1904), 267-68; see generally, S. Vryonis, The Decline of Medieval Hellenism in Asia Minor and the Process of Islamization from the Eleventh through the Fifteenth Century (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971), 37. This does not require the story simply to be a christianisation of the fabula recounted by Herodotus (Hist 7.30) about the disappearing of the river (Nau, 543-44). Rather there may be a recognition that the spring was sacred from the foundation of the earth. There appears some (contradictory?) acknowledgement of this in chapter 6 of the story: “from the beginning of time, it [the River Chruses] had meandered near the altar of God.” 48 See further below.

10

Archippos’ pattern of life and his endurance; he delivers a prayerful dialogue that display

his embrace of the austere poverty of personal denial. It is accented as a life-long practice

from the time of his childhood indenture into service.49 The contrast between the two

figures becomes immediately apparent the moment the archangel erupts onto the scene of

imminent destruction.

Archippos’ diet, clothing, sleeping quarters and ablutions contrast markedly with

the comparatively lavish provision outlined in various monastic foundation documents.50

The description, even if typically informed,51 constantly alludes to a rural setting: the only

food being wild plants, which, though boiled, were denied even the most basic salt

garnishing.52 The clothing is restricted to a sack (sa/kkov), the traditional symbol of the

ascetic. Two of them suffice for his entire life, the first constantly covering his flesh until

it was completely worn out, then to be replaced by the second.53 Considerable attention is

given in the text to the efforts to protect himself against any soiling of his askesis during

the night watches.54 He doesn’t just sleep on the hard ground but on sherds with a pillow

of thorns. Even the goat’s hide covering he throws on the bedding of sharp rocks is only

used to thwart any suggestion of hubristic display should any enter his quarters. This of

course raises the question of accommodation, which is not directly detailed in the story. It

is unclear whether Archippos lives in the shrine itself or a shanty nearby. One of the

taunts hurled at him by enemies labelling him a kasouda/riov,55 probably a belittling

term from Latin, indicating one who lives in a hut.56 His ablutions are simply dependent

on the spring that he guards. In a deliberate evocation of baptism, once a week he

49 Narratio 4 (Bonnet 5-6). 50 See, for example, the foundation document for Auxentios, the monastery of the Archangel Michael near Chalcedon: Dennis “Auxentios” §§7, 10, 11 (BMFD 1224-25, 1227-28). Note also BMFD “Appendix B: The Regulation of Diet” (1696-1716) (by J. Thomas?). 51 As suggested by Bonnet, xxi-xxii. 52 The austerity is accented by Metaphrastes 5 (Bonnet 24). 53 Peers is misleading, claiming he wore two sacks (Subtle Bodies, 148). 54 Bouvier and Amsler’s note to their translation of tou ~a0llotri/ou as de l’Étranger giving the meaning as the Devil (402) may over-focus the meaning. It is likely more general in its compass, implying any alien thing capable of bringing down the practice of self-discipline at night, even if the ultimate source of such disruption be the devil. 55 Narratio 5 (Bonnet 9). 56 So Lampe sv. Compare Bonnet’s note (page 9 n1). The issue is whether it indicates literally Archippos’ dwelling or is a slur on the shrine itself.

11

sprinkled himself three times with the small amount (a third of a measure) of water.57 The

rejuvenation (a0na/yuciv) that this brings to the body sustains the disciplines and ties

Archippos directly to the spring and to the beneficence of the one who gave it.

Even though it is clear that the site attracts huge numbers of people, presumably

necessitating some form of urban-level infrastructure,58 the indications of austerity are

interwoven with a rural connection. Archippos’ own lengthy prayer extolling the ascetic

life, contains along with manifold scriptural allusions, images from the countryside: a

mustard seed, grass. The temptations he lists: gluttony, profligacy and the like are all a

characteristic of urban, indeed elite life. The hardships of country living are set against

the indulgences that mark urban life. As Theresa Urbainczyk notes “The real task is to

participate in society and still behave virtuously.”59 Ascetic virtue therefore is expressed

and facilitated by a rustic commitment.

Significantly in this case, it is neither as priest or monk nor even as wandering

holy man or hermit that Archippos practices his asceticism. There are no extraordinary

powers save perhaps a wisdom of insight into the intrigues of enemies and a

prayerfulness that was engaged by an archangel. He is simply custodian of the spring and

its shrine. In this sense he resists the usual categories and fame of ascetics. The word

prosmona/riov (custodian) recurs through the story as the description of Archippos’

office.60 It is an uncommon hybrid word61 and hence ditched from the more refined

versions of Sisinnius and Metaphrastes,62 even though it is a variant term to the more

familiar paramona/riov in one manuscript of a Chalcedonian canon.63 Both terms draw

57 Again Peers translation is misleading, claiming three measures of water were used “one day out of three” (Subtle Bodies, 147-48). The importance of the first day of the week (resurrection day) is indicated by the earlier story of the Laodikeian convert who received his instructive vision from Michael. 58 Clive Foss reflects on just this issue of accommodation but notes that the texts yield little: “Pilgrimage in Medieval Asia Minor” DOP 56 (2002), 148. 59 “Cloth and Sackcloth in Theodoret’s Religious History”, in Wiles and Yarnold, 168. 60 The word occurs a number of times in Narratio 4, 9, 11 (Bonnet 5, 13, 14); it also is used in some of the superscripts to the story. 61 It occurs also in the Miracle of Artemios 15, Miracle of George 4: see C. Mango “Germia: A Postscript” JÖB 41 (1991), 298-99. 62 Metaphrastes once uses newko/rov of Archippos’ office (Metaphrastes 5 (Bonnet 23)). 63 Canon 2, for paramona/riov (Bonnet xxii). The issue is whether the terms are virtual synonyms or whether, whilst semantically related, there is a distinction of status, esteem or official recognition attached to them. It is clear from both text and inscription that paramona/riov is far more common. The question awaits further exploration.

12

on a long history stretching back into the Hellenistic period that was concerned about the

protection of sanctuaries. When a holy house was established in the Greco-Roman world,

specific regulations and foundational accounts were invariably connected with it64 — this

practice fed into ecclesial and monastic establishments. One key aspect of sanctuary

operations was the care of the sanctuary, and those officials charged with its care were

required to exercise such purity and devotion as befitted its religious sanctity. What

marks out Archippos as the exemplary custodian is the level of purity that he brings to the

task, a personification of the purity of the water source that he guards. Of particular

significance for the pursuit of this “angelic askesis” is the continued benefaction of the

archangel Michael. Although the reading is disputed, I would argue that the text ties

Archippos’ ability to sustain his disciplinary rigours to the mediation (presbei/a) of the

archistrategos Michael.65 As Michael supplies the pure and purifying spring, so he

sustains Archippos’ purity.

Accordingly, the attraction to the sacred site of multitudes of Christians and

Greeks follows immediately after the detailing and summary reiteration of Archippos’

efforts to master the “angelic askesis”.66 So also, the plans and attacks of enemies on the

spring are wedded with attacks on Archippos, and are described using the language of

pollution and defilement.67 Significantly also, Archippos’ description of his own body as

a quagmire (bo/rborov) is the same word used by the enemies for the sacred spring.68

The intended irony (the word occurs only twice) is that the mire of Archippos’ body is

the place of performance of deeds of piety and righteousness just as is the spring. The

“holy stench” is part of the salvific journey into life.69 His own perseverance in the face

of beatings, wrenchings of his hair and beard therefore not only bear testimony to the

level of his ascetic achievement but also to the enduring presence of the spring itself, a

prolepsis of the climax of the story. Archippos and the waters are one and will be one as 64 See E. Lupu, Greek Sacred Law: A Collection of New Documents (Leiden / Boston: Brill, 2005), 33-40. 65 Narratio 4 (Bonnet 6). Bonnet brackets the pertinent phrase dia\ presbeiw~n tou ~a0rxistrath/gou Mixah/l and Bouvier and Amsler omit it. However, as Bonnet rightly notes, the mediation of the archistrategos Michael is a continued emphasis throughout the text. Its omission here is the more readily explained by the scent of heterodoxy and this is an argument for its inclusion. 66 Narratio 4-5 (Bonnet 5-9). 67 Narratio 9 (Bonnet 13). 68 Narratio 4, 7 (Bonnet 7, 12). 69 On the “holy stench” of ascetics, see S.A. Harvey, “On Holy Stench: When the Odor of Sanctity Sickens” in Wiles and Yarnold, 90-102.

13

beneficiaries of the protection of the archistrategos Michael. The opposition to sacred

spring and holy ascetic is therefore an opposition to the archangel. The loathing of angels

is explicitly named in a vice list as a characteristic of the Devil, along with, inter alia, the

despising of beauty.70 The attacks on spring and ascetic are the narrative demonstration of

these vices.

The Archistrategos The presence of the archangel that drives the narrative and characterisations of the story

is quite shadowy for ten of the twelve chapters. Michael merely receives apostolic

witness for the provision of a sacred healing spring that becomes foundational for the

whole story. His first formal appearance has all the imprecision of a night mirage, w(v e0n

o(ra/mati th~v nukto/v (note w(v, “as if”).71 The first two attempts to destroy the spring do

not attract any explicit mention of the archistrategos. The first attack draws a fiery flame

leaping forth from the sacred waters to humiliate the heathen opponents.72 Nevertheless,

the expression flo/ga puro/v carries immense significance for ecclesial reflection on

angels and their metamorphic capabilities, being drawn from Psalm 103(104):4 with the

added weight of its citation in Hebrews 1:7.73 Not only was the expression critical as an

indication of the presence of angels.74 Its deployment here shows that the control of fire

as a weapon of destruction, as in the Apocalypse,75 lies powerfully within the control of

these beings, regardless of their incorporeality. Both associations — presence and wrath

— were testimony to and dependent upon a yet higher divine authority, as in Exodus 3:2

and 2 Thessalonians 1:7-8. Fire will become more explicitly indicative of the

archistrategos later in the story when, in a direct allusion to the exodus wanderings, 70 Narratio 7 (Bonnet 11). This is almost certainly, along with other elements in the list as well, an indication of the iconomachians. Of some interest for the influence of neo-platonism on the defence of icons is the affirmation that one of the marks of angels is their beauty: Iamblichus De myst. 2.3.73 (edition: E.C. Clarke, J. Dillon, J.P. Herschbell (eds) Iamblichus: On the Mysteries (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2003), 88). 71 Narratio 3 (Bonnet 4). Some manuscripts remove the w(v and the imprecision that it implies. 72 Narratio 5 (Bonnet 9). 73 The phrase remains unidentified in the vernacular story. Metaphrastes weakens the allusion to Psalm 103 (Metaphrastes 6 (Bonnet 25); Sisinnius retains it (Sisinnius 11 (AS 45A)). 74 See, for example, Anastasius of Sinai Paterika 1 (edition: F. Nau, "Le texte grec des récits du moine Anastase sur les saints pères du Sinaï" OC 2 (1902), 60). I am grateful to Professor Dan Caner for referring me to this text. 75 This element is particularly associated with Michael in kontakion 18.11 of Romanos Melodos (edition: P. Maas and C.A. Trypanis (eds), Sancti Romani Melodi Cantica Vol 1: Cantica Genuina (Oxford / Berlin: Clarendon Press / Walter de Gruyter, 1963), 136).

14

Michael appears as a pillar of fire massively joining heaven and earth.76 Of particular

distinction here is that the flame blazes out from the waters of the sacred fount that is the

object of attack, combining two material witnesses to the presence of the asomatic one.

Whatever Michael’s position as commander of the angels may be in the heavenly realm,

he is also commander of the waters and of the fire connected with them.77

The second attack — an attempt to divert the common waters of the river Chruses

to commingle with the pure spring78 — was met with an unprecedented division of the

river in two to flow around the sacred place. Although no scriptural allusion is given79 the

implication is that adjustments to the primeval order of the material world are completely

within the power of angels, that such adjustments remain as a permanent testimony to the

connection of the angel with that place and, as Theodore the Studite argued, that such

interconnection between the immaterial and the material justifies the argument that

angels can be circumscribed in the form of icons.80

Michael’s presbei/a — his intercessions, mediation, beneficence — infuses

everything from the provision of the spring, to the strengthener of ascetic practice, to an

almost co-equal place with God as the focus of prayers for healing and recipient of praise.

The intimation in these chapters of the thwarting of these two attacks breaks out into

unadorned brilliance in the second last chapter. Michael thunders, he asserts his authority

over an impenetrable rock, he radiates brightness, he possesses a booming voice, he

inspires fear and trepidation, he joins heaven and earth in a pillar of fire, he has right and

left yet seemingly without hands, he possesses the power to petrify yet fractures that

which has lain unchanged from the origin of creation, he shakes the whole land. This is

no mean figure and draws heavily on both biblical and pagan precedent.81 Archippos is

76 Narratio 11 (Bonnet 16). 77 A long-held tradition: Enoch 67:12-13. The combination figures prominently in one of Theodore the Studite’s sermons: Orat. VI (in sanctos angelos) 3 (PG 99.733B-C). 78 The sacred waters of sanctuaries were frequently of such importance that they drew tight regulations for maintenance of their purity and heavy fines for a breach. See Lupu, 29. 79 Metaphrastes (6), however, provides a “Davidic” allusion to the confounding of the wicked in their intrigues (Ps 26:12 LXX). 80 Theodore Studios Antirrh. III. 47 (PG 99.411B). 81 Ramsay suggested the Phrygian god Mên Karou (for which a sanctuary is known to have been nearby outside Hierapolis) as an analogue (Church ), 463-79. The constant repetitions of “come down” in association with thunder and flashing brilliance bear all the hall-marks of Zeus Brontes and Zeus Katabaites, a lure that Ramsay also found attractive. Ernst Lucius suggested Poseidon (268). Hill, far too impressionistically, drew parallels with Apollo (134-162).

15

understandably terrified at the sight and sound of this asomatic being. The contrast and

qualitative distance between the poor ascetic and the powerful angel could not be greater.

But right at this point an astonishing inversion occurs.

THE UNION OF THE TWO FIGURES AND THE RATIONALE

The preparation for the inversion A number of epithets are bestowed on Archippos in the story: the blessed one, the holy

one, righteous soul, hut-dweller, the custodian.82 These all have particular significance for

the various parts of the story in which they are introduced. However, one epithet for

Archippos dominates: that of the slave of God (dou~lov tou~ Qeou~). The phrase occurs

thirteen times, almost twice the number of any other, but is restricted to the voice of the

narrator. Strikingly, Sisinnius avoids the term altogether as does the early Latin version

(which insists on famulus and even vir to render the Greek); Metaphrastes restricts its use

until the climax of the story.

The term itself might be thought to have a strong biblical precedent, being the

apostle Paul’s favoured self-designation. There may be some profit in recognising that

Paul’s self-designation does not necessarily represent some “self-lowering” on his part

but establishes the authority and status of his position as representative of Christ.83 One

might also comb the use of the expression dou~lov through the history of the church and

try to link Archippus with the application of the term to bishops, priests and deacons,

though they are, significantly, completely absent from the story.84 Less likely would be a

parallel with emperors!85 Even the votive inscriptions and graffiti crafted by Christian

petitioners at holy sites or cemeteries do not satisfy.86 Such simplistic lexical parallelism

82 Blessed one (maka/riov ) seven times; holy one (o#siov) five times; righteous soul (dikai/a yuxh/) once (but cf 4); hut-dweller (kasouda/riov) once; custodian (prosmona/riov) four times plus the superscript. 83 See D. Martin, Slavery as Salvation: The Metaphor of Slavery in Pauline Christianity (New Haven / London: Yale University Press, 1990), 117-118. 84 There is a further aspect of the story to be explored, namely the loss of faith in ecclesial authorities. Given the collapse of Chonai to the iconoclasts at the beginning of the ninth century (in both ecclesiastical and political leadership), the stability of authority was not to be found in these officials but the healing spring itself and its attendant cult. 85 See Lampe sv. 86 See, as examples among many, TAM 2.1169, MAMA 1.260, RECAM 2.495, SEG 26.1463.

16

fails to attend to the inner context of the whole story87 — the attendance upon the sacred

sanctuary of the healing spring of Michael the archistrategos. This contextual

understanding is reinforced lexically in the text with the almost hendiadistic conjunction

of “slave of God” with “custodian”. Twice the narrator pulls the terms together and a

third time a narrative introduction to a piece of dialogue is followed by an address from

the speaker using the related term.88 Clearly, in this story the prosmona/riov, the

custodian, is understood to be a dou~lov tou~ Qeou~, a “slave of God”.

Here the battle between the God of the Christians and the gods of the enemies of

the spring, its healing powers and its custodian may provide a clue. The story clearly sets

the rationale for the nefarious action of the enemies (whether Greeks or pagans) as the

loss of influence by their gods.89 Whether or not the story reflects a background of a

religious struggle for control of the site is mute. However that religious background does

provide the very terminology that is conferred upon Archippos by the narrator: “slave of

the gods”.

Temple and sanctuary slaves fulfilled significant operations for the maintenance,

promotion and administration of religious duties at such an institution. These slaves were

not merely indentured workers in the civic sense. They were often people who dedicated

themselves or their children to the religious institution as a means of significant,

localised, influential contribution. Their status was considerably higher than ordinary

civic slaves. In fact, they were often made free with limited citizenship even as they

remained tied to the sanctuary. Whilst not the controlling authority for a temple,

sanctuary or shrine (such being assigned to priests), these “junior cult personnel”, as

Marijana Rici calls them,90 fulfilled critical functions for the administration of the

sacrifices and the worship of the god. They were required to meet the requirements of

purity that the god required — abstinence from sexual relations, regular fastings, prayers

87 The larger rhetorical context is hinted at here but demands its own detailed analysis. See, generally, Browning, passim. 88 Narratio 9, 11 (bis) (Bonnet 13, 14-15). 89 Narratio 5, 7 (Bonnet 8, 11). 90 “Society and Economy of Rural Sanctuaries in Roman Lydia and Phrygia” EA 35 (2003), 87.

17

and so on — just the sort of practices that in Christian circles are described as the ascetic

life.91

One confession inscription from Lydia, dated to the early third century CE, was

erected by an aptly named Theodoros and mentions the strict purity and sexual denial to

which he was to adhere.92 He is named in the inscription as dou~lov tw~n qew~n, “slave of

the gods”. Ricl observes that such named people “formed an important and ancient

element in the permanent or temporary personnel of rustic shrines”93 at least in the part of

the world with which we are concerned.

The connection between the designation “slave” and some function connected

with a chapel, sanctuary or other dedicated building is seen in an inscription and a text

from Sinai. Their date and spatial context are almost identical.94 The sixth-seventh

century votive, inscribed on a granite boulder above the Cave of Moses on “Moses

Mountain”, offers a request that the “God of Moses remember your slave, […]mios,

deacon and keeper, the one who wrote [this inscription].”95 In the narrative of Anastasius

of Sinai’s Paterika, the shrine of Holy Elijah is kept by one who is described as “slave of

God” and “keeper”.96 Inscription and text use the term paramona/riov, which I have

translated by “keeper”. Here then is the christianised form of Rici’s sanctuary “minor

official”. The life-long devotion of Archippos as “slave of God” and custodian fits into

this perspective, and accents how crucial such a position was in relation to the shrine at

Chonai, even as it seems to be poles apart from the way the manifestation of Michael the

archistrategos.

91 It is clear that ascetic practice was neither an invention nor the monopoly of Christians. In fact many christian practices are simply adopted from their surrounding culture and their distinctiveness only fond in the ideological rationale for their use. See, generally, V.L. Wimbush (Ed.), Ascetic Behavior in Greco-Roman Antiquity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990). 92 G. Petzl, Die Beichtinschriften Westkleinasiens (Bonn: R. Habelt, 1994), 7-8 (§5). 93 Ricl, 88-89. 94 See I. Sevcenko, “The Early Period of the Sinai Monastery in the Light of its Inscriptions” DOP 20 (1966), 257, 258. 95 DOP 20 (1966), 264.§14 (my translation). 96 For this text, from a forthcoming new edition by A. Biggeli (differing from Nau’s edition), I am indebted to a personal communication of Professor Dan Caner.

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The Inversion

The astonishing inversion in the story comes with a minutely detailed tripartite encounter

between Michael and Archippos right at the critical moment of imminent destruction of

the shrine.97 Archippos’ terror at the sight and sound of Michael drives him to hide under

the sanctuary altar — an action that threatens to undermine the devoted care and

protection of the sanctuary that Archippos has exercised.98 Michael directly addresses

Archippos’ fear, having succeeded in calling the custodian to his left side. (The

positioning is significant.) The archistrategos’ question, “Do you recognise who I am?” is

met with a negative response. The ascetic is as much dictated by the immense

awesomeness that he beheld as his numbing terror. The question however leads to an

astonishing self-disclosure from the archangel: “You are not to cower at my countenance;

rather, you are to tremble at the mere form and power of the slave.”

The term that has been consistently applied to Archippos by the narrator viz.

slave, is now verbally appropriated by the archangel himself. This is more than the

servant language of leitourgiko/v and dia/konov and its cognates familiar enough from

Ps 103/4 and Hebrews 1. And the rationale is the same as for Archippos — Michael, like

Archippos, is attendant upon God: “I am the one poised at the ready before God. Yet

even I am not strong enough to gaze upon the awesome and unfathomable glory of

divinity, the untouchable furnace of immeasurable power emanating from his

countenance.” For all the qualitative otherness of the archistrategos from the ascetic, they

are suddenly joined together by Michael’s self-designation and by the spatial position

accorded Archippos. This is not merely a reaffirmation of the remonstrance of the

Apocalypse that an angel is a fellow-slave, su/ndoulov, of the seer (22:9), a reminder that

is rarely found elsewhere.99 But here the term su/ndoulov is not used but the fuller

expression dou~lov tou~ Qeou~. Moreover, the emphasis is not on the imparting of the

prophetic word as in the Apocalypse but on the custodianship of the sacred spring.

Archippos is shown to be parallel to the archangel as Michael demonstrates one of his

97 Narratio 11 (Bonnet 15-16). 98 Sisinnius and Metaphrastes removed the problem. 99 But see Anastasius of Sinai's Paterika 1 (Nau, “Anastase”, 60).

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angelic responsibilities — the protection of springs and their healing capacity.100 The

might of that protection may be overwhelming but it is generically of a piece with

Archippos’ prayerful positioning of himself between the flood and the sacred site.

A number of important consequences flow from this stunning inversion given the

build up in the narrative:

1. Slavery is used as a characterisation of all created beings under the triune

God, though its power is directly related to the devotion of any particular

being.

2. The immense qualitative difference between the archangels and this God

means that even where characteristics of the pagan gods are infused with

the archangel, those characteristics (and by implication the gods from

which they come) are subjected to God. Zeus, Artemis, Echidna, the

Mother Goddess are affirmed, in the words of the antagonists ironically

given to them, as “spellbound”.101 Relatedly, the appropriation of pagan

resources (motifs, mythology etc) is now completely authorised by

devoting such things to and under God.

3. The custodianship of Archippos that tied him to a place also ties Michael to

the same place,102 also as a custodian. Hence the everlasting commitment of

Michael to watch over the sacred site stems from one who is also a “slave

of God”, both of whom depend on God as the one who safeguards the

place. As a consequence, just as Archippos, as “slave of God” can be

represented iconographically, so also can Michael, also as “slave of God”.

The human being engaged in the “angelic askesis” becomes a further 100 This specific and located responsibility is identified as one of the key mediations of angels by Theodore the Studite: Orat VI (In sanctos angelos) 2 (PG 99.733A). The full ascription, di’ a0gge/lwn u(da/twn kai\ phgw~n th/rhsiv o(mou~ te kai\ i1asov, may even be an allusion to the story at Chonai, though healing sites dedicated to Michael existed at Sosthenion, Germia and Pythia (to name a few). 101 Narratio 7 (Bonnet 11-12). 102 “This holy place” (to\n a#gion to/pon tou~ton) in Archippos’ description of the site is matched by Michael’s “this earth” (th\n gh~n tau/thn) in the dialogue of their encounter in Narratio 11 (Bonnet 15). That this is intended is indicated by the expansive expression “all that country” (pa~sa h9 gh~ e0kei/nh) in chapter 12 (Bonnet 18) which feels the shuddering impact of Michael’s shattering of an originally impenetrable monolith. Compare the similar affirmation by Michael at another of his shrines, Gargano, in Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend (Sept. 29): “I have chosen to dwell on earth in that place, and to keep it for my own; and I will by this sign to make manifest that I watched over the place and guarded it!” (edition: G. Ryan and H. Ripperger (trans), The Golden Legend of Jacobus de Voragine, (NY: Arno Press, 1969 [1941), 579).

20

demonstration that the asomatic can be manifest in material reality, just as

the archangel’s circumscription to place justified circumscription in an

icon.

4. Slavery, and its subjection of the body, becomes an avenue to the

incorporeal because it is a participation in the very same servitude to God

that characterises the angels.

This is recognised in the story by a remarkable change in the naming of

Archippos. Whilst he retains his status or office of “slave of God” under the narrator’s

hand, Archippos, when he is addressed by Michael, is no longer “blessed” (maka/riov)103

— the term that governed him in his ascetic discipline. He is “holy” (o3siov)104 — an

epithet that accompanies the encounter with Michael and the witness of his mighty

works. Significantly, this becomes the almost singular way of referring to Archippos

throughout Sisinnius’ retelling. And, as a sign and seal on that change of status,

Archippos is called from devotion to the shrine — which is now, as always, under the

custodianship of Michael — first to the left side of the archangel and then at the finale of

the story, to the right side of the archistrategos, the position of power and authority.105

Then and only then, does Michael finally funnel the waters into an underground chasm,

the ultimate vindication of the glory of the place, all witnessed by the now conjoined holy

slave of God, Archippos.

The story of St Michael of Chonai may be characterised as pilgrim literature

designed to incite the imagination of the ordinary person visiting the site. Accordingly the

call, not merely to devotion to the site but to the archistrategos — the consummate

custodian — is designed to provide a stable point for popular belief, indeed to confirm

the sanctity of the popular devotion that had withstood synodal, patristic, iconoclastic,

perhaps even scriptural (Colossians 2:18) attack. Although a succession of critical shake-

downs of confidence amongst ordinary religious practitioners have left their mark on the

story, one of the clearest is the crisis caused by those who have succumbed to the wiles of

the devil so as to loathe angels. Archippos, local childhood pilgrim and devoted attendant

of the site, becomes not so much the far-distant ideal of the ascetic life but the ideal sign 103 Narratio 4 (Bonnet 5). 104 Narratio 11, 12 (Bonnet 15, 17, 18, 19). 105 Narratio 12 (Bonnet 19).

21

and seal of devotion to a sacred site and its patron. Even more, that devotion is

recognised as a participation in and representation of angelic devotion to the site. Such

devotion, the mark of a “slave of God”, means that the ascetic and the archistrategos,

seemingly separated by the qualitative difference of material and immaterial reality, are

in fact conjoined before the Triune God.