In this nuanced and clearly written study, Jaclyn Maxwell directs attention to an understudied paradox: how elite Christian clergy reconciled their own privileged status with the model of the humble, illiterate apostles. The focus throughout lies less on the realities of wealth and poverty in late antiquity than on “social imagination.” How deeply, Maxwell wonders, did new ideas about the dignity of ordinary people reach? (6, 159).
The first chapter begins by examining traditional Roman attitudes toward social inequality and manual labor, before turning to the views of early Christians in the first three centuries. Instead of finding consensus, Maxwell discovers differences of opinion. Social mobility, as well as the real although chronically unacknowledged presence of middling socioeconomic groups, can, in part, account for these divergent views, but a more powerful explanation, Maxwell suggests, lies in the fact that “people can hold inconsistent ideas and multiple identities simultaneously” (33), an observation that is reinforced in the chapters that follow.
Turning to the evidence of the fourth and fifth centuries, chapter 2 offers a rapid overview of the Cappadocians, John Chrysostom, Epiphanius, and the church historians. In general, Maxwell finds that although Christian teachings on wealth and labor did not affect social structure or relations, they did make traditional ideas about status more complex.
Chapter 3 focuses on how the Cappadocians and John Chrysostom viewed the apostles as models for episcopal office. On one hand, they extoled the simplicity of apostles, citing their lowliness and lack of education as proof of the universal appeal of Christianity (59). On the other, they retained traditional views on status and education. Gregory of Nazianzus thus continued to draw on stock insults to undermine his opponents, characterizing them as provincial, lower class, and uneducated, and flatly denied that the uneducated were suitable candidates for clerical office (66). Gregory of Nyssa opined that a virtuous life and an ability to communicate were more important qualifications for bishops (71). Only John Chrysostom consistently developed the social implications of the apostles’ lowly status. For him, their humble background “affirmed the value of ordinary people and called elite privileges into question” (76). These striking differences of opinion, Maxwell suggests, can be correlated in large part to the different audiences that the men addressed. While the Cappadocians wrote to their elite peers, Chrysostom spoke to a more diverse general audience.
Chapter 4 takes up the challenges posed to the ideal of apostolic simplicity by theological controversy. Although Epiphanius blames excessive education as the source of doctrinal error, later church historians tend to discredit theological rivals by pointing to their humble origins and substandard education. Aetius, for example, was pilloried for the catch-as-catch-can nature of his education and for having to support himself by working low-status jobs (100–101). While Nicene faith was presented as simple and straightforward—uneducated confessors could convert others just by reciting the creed (107)—impeccably educated bishops were upheld as an ideal (114).
The contrast between Chrysostom and the Cappadocians reemerges in chapter 5, which examines the tension between upper-class identity and the scriptural value of humility. Although sometimes drawing a direct connection between poverty and humility, Basil more often calls for an adjustment in attitude; nor was he above using humility as “a way to encourage others to be submissive to authority” (128–132). In exposing these contradictory tendencies, Maxwell is interested not in leveling accusations of hypocrisy but in understanding how biblical ideals and elite identity could coexist (144, 155). Choice plays a crucial role. Thus, in order to praise the humility of Macrina, Gregory details her family's wealth and social prominence but passes over her slaves, who shared the same lifestyle, because they had renounced nothing (141–142). By contrast, John Chrysostom grounds his discussions of humility in socioeconomic realities: to become humble means embracing lower-status people. But he too endorses the basic elements of the social hierarchy (147–150).
Summing up her findings, Maxwell concludes that “confirmation bias” operated as powerfully in the ancient world as it does in our own: although praising the simplicity of the apostles, elite bishops retained traditional attitudes towards manual laborers (160–161). But even if recollection of the apostles as “uneducated and ordinary men” did not change attitudes toward social inferiors, Maxwell suggests that it did expand the repertoire of ideas, and by poking holes “in the logic of elite claims to social and cultural dominance,” it provided openings for critique (163).
The patience and clarity of Maxwell's analysis is exemplary; equally rewarding is her reframing of the topic. Humility and simplicity have usually been discussed in the context of asceticism and understood as part of a philosophical legacy. By focusing instead on the model provided by the apostles, she helpfully repositions the discussion within a wider conversation on exegesis and exemplarity. Further questions arise from this new context. Although usually treated as a group, one wonders about differences among the apostles. Was Paul, for example, a more useful model for elite bishops than Peter or James, given that he was not only an itinerant laborer but also an educated author? Another question concerns the limits of apostolic exemplarity. For although Chrysostom freely admits that Junia was an apostle and that Priscilla led the church in her house, he never considers that their precedent had force in his own day. Does the selective uptake of other aspects of the apostolic model alter our assessment of the ambivalence with which elite bishops embraced the humble status of the apostles?
For this reader, one of the most interesting discussions concerns the clergy working in smaller towns and villages. Citing the study of Sabine Hübner, Maxwell notes inscriptional evidence that these clergy often held humble day jobs. “They included oil merchants, a doctor, a miller, a market-huckster, wine-dealer, and apple cider vendor, a maker of fishing nets, a maker of linen, a butcher, a potter, a gem-cutter, a goldsmith, and a money lender” (48). Although we know almost nothing about these figures, they are likely to have been the face of Christianity for the majority of followers. What, we wonder, would have been the force of the apostolic model for them? Did they draw authority as well as comfort from the apostles’ menial status? Intriguing in itself, the thought experiment also raises the question of (intra-confessional) clerical interaction. Did the biblical model of “ordinary” apostles help mitigate elite disdain, or otherwise promote cooperation among clergy of different status groups? Although we lack answers to these questions, we owe thanks to Maxwell for prompting them, as well as for illuminating a striking and disturbing paradox within early Christianity.
