EXEGETES IN CLASSICAL AND BIBLICAL ANTIQUITY AND EARLY CHRISTIANITY

Seer (μ ντις), healer, carpenter, poet (θ σπις οιδ ς): These, according to Odyssey XVII 382-85, are the most important public service professions (δημιοεργο ) in the new polis. They should be called in, if necessary, from the ends of the world. The decadent members of the old warrior aristocracy, in contrast, whose aim in life is to waste and marry kingdoms (in this order), like Penelope’s suitors, have become obsolete. It is a new society that is envisaged here in the 8 century B.C. Soon the vision would also be expressed in legal terms, e. g. in Solon’s legislation ca. 600 B.C., which contains a similar list (13.43-62 IEG). It is striking how important, and closely related, the offices of μ ντις, ‘seer’, or ‘prophet’, and θ σπις οιδ ς, divinely inspired ‘singer’, or ‘poet’, seem to be in the new polis. And yet they seem to be two separate offices, besides ‘healer’, another office with a religious connotation. Why is this apparently so? Were they always separated or had they developed from a common source? Their further fate might provide a clue; for what emerges now, in that new society, is a new type of office, or counter-office, as one might call it; for it begins as a non-office, a non-official role, closely related to both, seer and singer, μ ντις and οιδ ς, one which I would tentatively call that of (poetic and prophetic) ‘critic’.

he has just read, and 3. he does so by applying the text to himself declaring that at the very moment he read the prophecy, it was fulfilled in him (Luke 4:21: σKµερον πεπλKρωται γραφJ α7τη ν το ς <σLν 3µ ν, 'this very text is being fulfilled today, as you listen'). New Testament writings use a range of motifs to depict Jesus as a prophet, his consciousness of having a divine commission, formulae like 'Amen, I say to you' reminding of phrases like 'Thus says the Lord', his prophetic foresight and knowledge of the minds of those around him, his use of symbolic actions and his visions and ecstatic experiences. 9 But all these elements are drawn together in his use of poetic language and, consequently, in the (critical) interpretation of that language, critical in the sense that it engages with conventional religious language and perceptions. In terms of content, the message which Jesus is said to have read in Nazareth on that Sabbath is no different from that proclaimed already by Amos: God will right social wrong. That which is really prophetic, or revolutionary, here is Jesus' exegesis.
Significantly, this kind of revolutionary activity aroused conflict, as the further development also of Luke's story shows (cf. Luke 4:28-29). Prophets often turned martyrs, paying with their lives for their sense of duty to their divine commission. Again, this phenomenon is not unknown in ancient Greek poetry either. Aigisthos, to get Klytaimnestra, had to kill the οιδNς νKρ whom Agamemnon had appointed as a guard to his wife (Odyssey 3.267-72). Vice versa, in Iliad 2.594-97 the singer Thamyris was blinded and lost his skills after boasting that he could sing without help from the muses. 10 The style of the book that was the literary outcome of Amos' prophecy further suggests that Amos may have been more of a θIσπις οιδOς than a µGντις. His style and poetry is increasingly appreciated by modern exegetes, 11 and it was famously praised and imitated already in antiquity, for example by Jerome, whose congenial translation even tempted Augustine to cite it extensively and discuss it, 12 although he was generally sceptical about Jerome's project of translating the Bible from the Hebrew on the ground that it rendered the text too comprehensible. One important aspect of prophetic poetry was its notorious obscurity and, consequently, its need for interpretation, which could be exploited for allegoresis and spiritual exegesis.
Here lie, as already pointed out, the common roots of ancient prophecy, poetry, and exegesis. Now Julian of Aeclanum wrote in the preface to his commentary on Hosea, Joel, and Amos that the excellent new translation from the Hebrew, which he used -it was Jerome's, though Julian consistently avoids mentioning his name -made allegoresis henceforth superfluous. 13 That Julian should have been free to choose his lemma on such grounds is interesting enough. It may indicate how far things had moved on since Jerome himself had first begun commenting upon his new translation, when he felt obliged to write parallel commentaries on the Greek as well as on the Hebrew version. 14 Only gradually his emphasis shifted in favour of the latter, on similar grounds as those put forward by Julian, 15 better historical understanding and better understanding of the literal meaning of the text. But now that was precisely what Augustine did not like. 16 Less obscurity in the text meant fewer opportunities for allegoresis. Less allegoresis however meant a gradual loss of spiritual meaning, an increased secularization of the language and the message of the Bible. Nonetheless however, Augustine did appreciate the linguistic quality of Jerome's translation, its language and style; he therefore moved himself in that direction, for example with his work On Christian Doctrine. Julian of Aeclanum, on the other hand, in spite of his announcement, continued, like the late Jerome, to allegorize and typologize. 17 The choice was therefore not an exclusive one. What we have here is merely a change (albeit controversial) in emphasis.
Poetic (epic!) by nature, prophecy was constantly in need of interpretation. To some extent it was first created with precisely that in mind. Just as the first critics of Greek epic were the poets and rhapsodes themselves, 18 so the earliest Biblical exegetes were prophets, or the prophets were exegetes, of the historical (political, social and economic) situation with which they were confronted, of visions which they experienced and described, of symbolic acts which they performed. And that remained so throughout antiquity. Now some modern scholars seem to see prophecy as an archaic and, above all, irrational phenomenon which was gradually marginalised and eventually eclipsed by more sophisticated, structured, hierarchical, scholarly, and, that seems to be the implication, less inspired, literary forms, including exegetical ones. 19 From such a 13 Though the actual word 'allegory' (allegoria) is not used in this context, it is alluded to by diuinatio (cf. Berchman, Arcana Mundi): Iul. Aecl. tr. proph. praef. (CCL 88,): dehinc nostri operis ut lector agnoscat, et quam sim editionem secutus, et quo praecipue consideratu munus hoc difficillimae explanationis assumpserim, ut si et ipse de eorum numero est, quos cura lectionis exercet, haud de nihilo me fecisse cognoscat, ut istam postremam editionem, quae 'secundum Hebraeum' appellatur, eligerem: quandoquidem in prioribus editionibus elocutionum uitiata frequenter sensum uel doctrinae uel narrationis dirumpant, ut diuinatione magis quam conditione opus esse uideatur, posterior autem translatio, etsi non multum ipsi contextui splendoris adiecit, tamen elocutionum integritate, illa quae diximus interceptorum sensuum damna frequenter euitat.
14 See for this P. Jay, L'exégèse de S. point of view the rise of the commentary from prophecy coincides with the rise of orthodoxy from the charismatic communities of the first and second centuries, the expulsion and extinction of Montanism being a case in point. But was there really such a clear cut development, or did contemporaries experience that development, in so far as it took place, really as an eclipse of prophecy, or not rather as a kind of transformation? Can ancient prophecy really be narrowed down to a wild, archaic, unstructured and irrational form of religious expression or was it not perceived, in the relevant period itself, from the earliest time to late antiquity, as a phenomenon that was also inherently rational?
For the ancients, as we have seen, rational, if sometimes rationalising, exegesis of poetic and prophetic texts was an integral part of prophecy. Philo and Clement of Alexandria e. g. linked classical as well as Biblical prophecy to (preferably presocratic) philosophy, 20 but also to archaic poetry. Clement, towards the end of his Protrepticus, presents the Homeric seer Tiresias 21 (Odyssey 10.490-95 and 11.90-99) as a prophetic figure, Mosaic style, his staff (ξ λος) symbolising the Christian cross. 22 Indeed, a few paragraphs earlier 23 ξ λος denotes the ship's mast on which Odysseus lets himself be tied to resist the temptation aroused by the alluring song of the Sirens (Odyssey 12.178), thus saving himself and his crew. Salvation is the central motif in that passage, and Clement, quite unashamedly, draws a strikingly close parallel between Odysseus and Christ, perhaps uncomfortably close for our modern taste. But not for Clement, because the medium of his theology is poetry, i. e. prophetic poetry which includes its own interpretation. The Sirens' song may indeed be beautiful, but it is false. Their praise for Odysseus as renowned in song (πολυ µνητος) is true in that Odysseus indeed is πολυ µνητος, but it is also false, for it is not aimed at praising Odysseus, but at luring him to his destruction. Thus the proper response to 'divine song' (cf. Odyssey 12.185: θειοτIρην ,π᾿) on the earthly level is resistance. 24 Fulfilment will only be found with the hidden joys in heaven. 20 See Phil. Alex. Mut. 223; Q. Div. Her. 291; Clem. Alex. Strom. 6.67.1, and above note 6; for a double concept of ecstasy in Philo (trance-like and intellectual) in this context see J. R. Levison, 'Two Types of Ecstatic Prophecy According to Philo,' in: The Studia Philonica Annual 6 (1994) 83-89. 21 'Holz,' in: RAC 16 (1994) 87-116, especially 109-113. 24 Clement may here also have thought of the temptations faced by Christ (Matthew 4:1-11), in particular the 'last temptation' that the cross might be avoided (Matthew 16:21-23). In many ways Satan was of course right and the demons spoke the truth, or prophesied (Mark 1:24), but that was precisely why they had to be resisted. Now in Protr. 119.2-3 Clement relates the false prophetic song of the Homeric Sirens to that of the Euripidean Bacchants and draws a parallel between Odysseus and Tiresias. Ξ λος is the common metaphor, the mast on Odysseus' ship, and the staff in Teiresias' hand. Euripides uses βGκτρον for 'staff' (Bacchae 363f.), but, as Callimachus, In Lavacrum Palladis 5.127 (ed. Pfeiffer), points out, ξ λος can also be used for µIγα βGκτρον. The staff, but even more so, the one who holds it, gives guidance in a confusing situation. Significantly, he is an old man, πρIσβυς, γIρων, and blind, τυφλOς. And this precisely makes him also a seer. 25 In the centre piece of his passage Clement develops these motifs: 'Hurry, Teiresias, believe, and you shall see. Christ by whom the eyes of the blind regain their sight shines upon you more brightly than the sun ... You shall see heaven, old man, you who cannot see Thebes.' 26 Metaphors of song and prophecy support this message. The 'chorus is formed by the righteous' () χορNς ο δMκαιοι), it sets out, 27 a phrase which the late 3 rd , early 4 th century theologian Methodius of Olympus, in the preface to his work On Free Will, where he generally draws heavily on Clement's Protrepticus, modifies to 'a divine chorus of prophets' (θε Oς τις χορNς προφητ ν). 28 Clement lists the prophets and their activity (προφ ται λαλο σιν) as one of several effects caused by the song (Vσµα) sung by the chorus, a hymn (7µνος) to the universal emperor: τN Vσµα στL το πGντων βασιλIως· ψGλλουσιν α κOραι, δοξGζουσιν γγελοι, προφ ται λαλο σιν. ΤN Vσµα is a central phrase in Clement's Protrepticus. It recurs as τN Vσµα τN καινOν 29 and καινJ ρµονMα 30 and echoes Apocalypse 14:3: καL Tδουσιν δJν καινKν.
Thus, for Clement, prophecy is poetry holding the key to its own meaning. In 1 Corinthians 14:27 Saint Paul famously compared the interpretation of speaking in tongues to prophecy, and in the middle of the fourth century Diodore of Tarsus is still alluding to that passage in view of his own interpretation of Saint Paul's letter 25  :5 (Ζακχα ε, σπε σας); for πMστευσον, ,ψει cf. John 11:40 (Fν πιστε σης ,ψ τJν δOξαν το θεο ), for ΧριστNς πιλGµπει cf. Isaiah 35:5 (τOτε νοιχθKσονται (φθαλµοL τυφλ ν), 42:7 ( νο ξαι (φθαλµο ς τυφλ ν), 42:18 (καL ο τυφλοM, ναβλIψατε δε ν) and, besides many others, 29:18 (καL ο ... (φθαλµοL τυφλ ν βλIψονται). The last passage is cited in Luke 4:18, where it supports the view that Jesus' ministry is prophetic from its outset. See also Matthew 11:5 (τυφλοL ναβλIπουσιν). The motif repeatedly recurs in healing narratives. Cf. also the motif of the blind leading the blind, e. g. Matthew 15:14 (τυφλοM εσιν )δηγοL τυφλ ν); 23:16 (ο2αL 3µ ν, )δηγοL τυφλοM), which is alluded to (at least indirectly) in Eurip. Bacch. 185f. and picked up by Clement. 27  to the Romans: 'If someone interprets the words of the prophet, that is also called "prophecy".' 31 He discusses Romans 12:6: 'Our gifts differ according to the grace given to us. If your gift is prophecy, use it as your faith suggests.' There can be no doubt that Diodore understood his own exegetical work as a prophetic activity, as did his pupil, Theodore of Mopsuestia, who wrote his famous commentary on the Dodekapropheton, his second work altogether (his first being significantly on the Psalms), 'against the arguments of those who uncritically apply themselves to the prophetic voices.' 32 Generally, λεγχος can be a (boring) treatise as well as a work polemical in nature. Similarly, βασανMστως can mean 'critical' in a rational sense, as well as 'scrutinising' in an ascetic context. Characteristically, Theodore speaks of προφητικαL φωναM rather than, perhaps, γρGφαι. In his view therefore the diligent exegete must also be an ascetic prophet, an artistic poet, and an acerbic critic. All these elements are required to keep the biblical message alive. Theodore's rationalism is often praised, and even more often condemned, but rarely explained. Why should critical scrutiny be so important for an exegesis of the prophets? Why a historical exegesis? Is it for an antiquarian purpose, or does Theodore believe, if we assume, as we may, that he understands himself as called in a prophetic capacity, that an historical interpretation is in a special way capable of releasing to the present the full potential of the prophetic message contained in the relevant prophetic books? Theodore's approach was philological and literary. He wanted to do justice to the texts as texts, to their genre. He also aimed hard at understanding them within their own historical frame. He had already tried to do that for the Psalms, who were even more similar to epic poetry than the prophetic books. But what was the theological dimension of that approach?
The Hellenistic and early Post-Hellenistic period, or, roughly, the time between 200 B.C. and 200 A.D., had seen, to some extent, the separation of philological and philosophical exegesis, or poetry, criticism, philology, philosophy, and science. 33 But this was still a far cry from the process that led to the development of modern academic disciplines. True, there was specialisation, but there was also a lot more overlap than in modern times. Philosophers were able to engage in philology and wrote scientific treatises in verse. Porphyry's famous recording of Plotinus's that 'Longinus was a philologue, not a philosopher' (Vita Plotini 14.19) confirms that. Longinus could do both, philosophy and philology, as the recent study by Irmgard Männlein-Robert reiterates: He was both, philosopher and philologue. 34 His time, the period in which he lived, allowed him, and indeed made him, to be just that. In the case of Early Christianity one could argue that philology and philosophy, or exegesis and systematic (doctrinal) theology, separated with Origen. But again, that sounds like a contradiction in terms. Origen precisely united the two elements in his person, and he remained a model for later theologians, 35 in whose works the two aspects continued to be closely connected.
A sore issue here is allegory. We heard that it was first applied as a rationalist technique, to depersonalise mythical gods and reduce them to natural forces. The problem was obvious. This could not possibly be done with the Biblical message. Tatian in his address to the Greeks emphatically distinguishes the historical force of the Biblical faith from the feeble and contradictory message of Greek myth: It is precisely the non-rationalist belief in bodily resurrection, he argues, that makes sense in the light of creation and incarnation. Any rationalisation of myth simply cannot overcome its contradictions. If Minos and Rhadamanthys are the judges of the underworld, what happened before they lived? 36 Rather oddly, Tatian seems to be concerned about pagan religion. He warns pagans not to allegorise their myths, as this might further undermine their religion. 37 But his concern is only rhetorical. He assumes that pagan religion is rationalised by way of allegory and that there is no need for this in Biblical religion.
Following Philo, Clement and Origen did allegorise Biblical themes in a pagan manner, i. e. as if they were dealing with poetic, epic, mythical texts; however not as excessively as Valentinian is supposed to have done, by and large denying faith and history a part in the salvation process. 38 Clement and Origen rejected Gnostic allegoresis, but were themselves attacked for their allegoresis by those who sided with Tatian's position, like Theodore of Mopsuestia. Three centuries after Tatian, but only inches away from his position, Theodore wrote in his Treatise against the Allegorists, in fact the preface to his commentary on Psalms, also known to Julian of Aeclanum, that Philo 'had adopted allegory from the pagans, who themselves had used it as a way to disprove their myths,' and that Origen had followed him. In Theodore's view 'using this method implies that the Scriptures are essentially false myths needing explanation.' Consequently, Origen's methods, adopted as they are from Philo, 'are flawed on three fronts: they are pagan, they are Jewish, and they make the scriptural record a lie.' 39 35 Note, for example, the similarity in this respect of such different theologians like Athanasius, Eusebius of Caesarea, Hilary, Ambrose, Jerome, and Theodoret of Cyrus. 36 See Tatian. Or. Graec. 6 (15.6-8 Marcovich; 6.20-22 Schwartz; 10 Whittaker): δικGζουσιν δH µ ν ο2 ΜMνως ο2δH αδGµανθυς (Cν πρN τ ς τελευτ ς ο2δεµMα τ ν ψυχ ν, =ς µυθολογο σιν, κρMνετο), δοκιµαστJς δ α2τNς ) ποιητJς θεNς γMνεται. 37 See Tatian. Or. Graec. 21 (43.5-7 Marcovich; 23.5-25 Schwartz; 42 Whittaker): B νδρες λληνες, µηδH το ς µ θους µηδH το ς θεο ς 3µ ν λληγορKσητε· κν γFρ το το πρGττειν πιχειρKσητε, θεOτης καθ᾿ µ ς ν ρηται καL 3φ᾿ µ ν καL 3φ᾿ 3µ ν. Of course, Theodore, like Tatian, too, allegorised, but, or so he claimed, not in order to rationalise his religion, like the pagans, or to adduce additional meaning, like some Christian allegorists, 40 but merely for a simple philological and literary understanding of the text. This is where his rationalism comes in. Rationalism, in Theodore's view, is required for the interpretation of the Bible, precisely because the Bible is no myth, but history and prophecy, prophetic history. Allegory in the theological sense is only permitted in connection with the latter, i. e. as theoria, 41 the fuller, or deeper, understanding of a (none the less simple, 'historical') reality. Where allegory is employed without being grounded in history, it tends to lose its argumentative force and become arbitrary, like etymology. An example of such a use of allegory is Julian of Aeclanum's variation on Jerome's exegesis of Joel 1:4, where the four types of locust are cast as the four generic emotions. 42 Such a kind of reflection may be interesting, and even in the tradition of ancient philosophical exegesis, but its theological, and prophetic, relevance, by Antiochene standards, is clearly limited.
The idea of prophetic exegesis, in connection with poetic expression in speech, song and writing, was to repeat, re-live, or re-enact, the experience of the original in as powerful a way as possible, but not without understanding. Ecstasis, but not obscurity. Erudition, but not getting lost in trivia, like, in Julian's view, Jerome, 43 who had ended up veering between Origen's allegories and Rabbinic etymologies. But Julian here criticises the Jerome of 406, the author of the commentaries on the Minor Prophets. 44 In his commentary on Jeremiah, after 414, Jerome subscribes to an approach very similar to that of Julian: He discusses almost exclusively the text  (1997)  translated from the Hebrew, distances himself from Origen the allegorist, 45 tries to get to the point more quickly, focuses on history and uses typology only when it is required on grounds of traditional church theology (e. g. a particular verse applied to Christ, like Jeremiah 11:19-21, the motif of the lamb led to the slaughter). 46 This change of attitude may have had various reasons. It may have been due in part to the dedicatee of the commentary, Eusebius of Cremona, 47 who supposedly preferred literary exegesis. For the time after 416 it may in addition be influenced by the fact that in that year Jerome probably lost much of his library during a raid on his monastery. 48 But the explanation Jerome himself gives in the preface to the commentary dating long before that time is that he did not want to discuss again at length things which had already been discussed in earlier prophetic commentaries, or topics that were self-explanatory. 49 Now why would Jerome have to emphasize this? Probably precisely because he had acted differently in the past and may have been criticised for it. In the preface to the commentary on Jeremiah Jerome reacts against a calumniator, probably Pelagius, who had criticised his Pauline exegesis, in particular his commentaries on Ephesians. This critic, so Jerome, simply failed to understand the principle of a commentary, namely to put many different views side by side and give the reader the chance to make up his own mind. 50 Though Jerome here once more defends his former practice, he does not resort to it, but abandons it in favour of an approach very similar to Julian's. One could even say in this context that Julian's commentaries are almost revised versions of Jerome's commentaries, which Jerome himself could have produced in the mood in which he was when he embarked on On Jeremiah. This is all the more striking as Jerome resorts to the new approach from an anti-Pelagian perspective. His aim was to associate Pelagius with Origenism. His invectives against the Alexandrian allegorist are also aimed at Pelagius. His own exegesis must show no trace of that kind of exegesis. Ironically, On Jeremiah is that commentary of Jerome which is most similar to the commentaries of Pelagius' and Julian of Aeclanum's. : ut nuper indoctus calumniator erupit, qui commentarios meos in epistolam Pauli ad Ephesios reprehendendos putat nec intellegit nimia stertens uaecordia leges commentariorum, in quibus multae diuersorum ponuntur opiniones uel tacitis uel expressis auctorum nominibus, ut lectoris arbitrium sit, quid potissimum eligere debeat, decernere.
51 And even more ironically, Julian's Tractatus in Osee, Iohel, et Amos were traditionally held to be works of Rufinus of Aquileia, against whom Jerome (with the help of Eusebius of Cremona, Exegesis, for Julian, to return to Julian, is a renewal of the original experience of formulating the text in the first place. Interpretation is therefore a creative and artistic, or, in ancient terms, inspired, poetic, prophetic activity. The link between poetry, prophecy, and exegesis is strongly emphasized in Julian's commentaries. It starts with the role of David, the perceived author of the Psalms. Fidicen ille sacerrimus, Julian calls him, 'that holiest of bards', or 'minstrels'. This is the very beginning of his Tractatus prophetarum. Fidicen is θIσπις οιδOς, the divinely inspired, prophetic poet. 'David, our Simonides, Pindar and Alcaeus, also Flaccus, Catullus and Serenus. He makes Christ sound on his lyre,' 52 Jerome writes. In Romans 4:6 and 11:9 and Acts 1:16 and 2:25 David is called a prophet, and not just by way of Christian propaganda. Philo calls the Psalmist 'a prophetic man,' 53 and so does Josephus (Antiquit. 8.109-10), and even a Qumran scroll (11 Q Ps a ). 54 Ultimately, Early Christian writings do of course go further than that. In  Press, 1986). 55 For example, when, as told in Mark 2:23-28, his disciples pick ears of corn one Sabbath, this is explained (by Jesus) as a re-enactment of David's and his followers' intrusion into the Temple at a time of hunger to eat the loaves on display reserved for the priests. 56 For example, Greg. Naz. or. 5.30 (SC 309, (SC 466,: ) µIγας ∆αυLδ, δι ʆ Cν τε προτυπο συµβαλικ ς τJν σωτηρMαν µ ν, καL δι ʆ Cν 3ποδεMκνυσι το ς νθρ ποις τ ς µετανοMας τNν τρOπον ο%Oν τινα τIχνην πιβGλλων το τ τ κατορθ µατι διF τ ς πεντηκOστης ψαλµωδMας δι ʆ ς λλη νMκη κατF το ντιπGλου µ ν τοιµGζεται. 57 For example, Theodoret sees in the situation described above, note 27, a prefiguration of the Eucharist; cf. Theodoret. Comm. in 1 Reg 52 (PG 80, 576B): προδηλο µIντοι τ ν µOνοις το ς ερε σιν πονενεµηµIνων µεταλαβ ν, τJν π σι προτεθεισοµIνην το ς ε2σεβIσι τρGπεζαν µυστικKν. Jesus' entry in Jerusalem, too, as told in Mark 11:1-11, has this kind of function. For further links see J. Danielou, 'David,' in: RAC 3 (1957)  We are left wondering why Bede, as a historian, should have so disliked literal exegesis of this kind, 69 though we do know, that as an exegete he by far preferred the spiritual approach. In any case, for Julian it was important to take seriously the poetry in the Song of Songs qua poetry, i. e. as naturalistic and, as such, prophetic poetry in a Biblical context with a historical dimension. At one point he lists three lessons which can be drawn from a literal understanding of the poetry of the Song of Songs.On Cant. 8:2, apprehendam te et inducam in domum matris meae, ibi me docebis, he writes, and this is one of the passages which Bede particularly loathes: 'Even in his very infancy already he showed us many things which we must learn: First, that he, the maker of all who are born of a conjunction between a man and a woman, built for himself a body from the virgin without assistance of a man; then second, that no sin is congenital to man, since he is on the one hand enveloped in flesh, fully, in truth, and on the other hand he stands out as free from any blemish; and finally, that only godlessness can attribute our being to the works of the devil, as the true God himself pleases to be not only its founder, but also its inhabitor.' 70 It is therefore precisely for salvation-historical reasons, for the emphasis on the incarnation, that Julian perseveres with a literal reading of the Canticum. And it is that which makes the Canticum, as a poem, prophetic for him. Otherwise it might just be another allegory on the spiritual life. Even if it could be demonstrated that, as such an allegory, it also had a christological dimension, this would not be truly rooted in the historical Christ event. And it is the latter which is vital for Julian.
It is because the historical dimension of the Christ event is so central for Julian that he also wants to take all history seriously. And in the case of the prophets this means the history of their lifetime. Thus he begins his commentary on Hosea (it is in fact his comment on Hosea 1:2, principium loquendi Dominum in Osee) with a historical survey on prophecy and prophets in the Bible: Historically speaking, he writes, Hosea was, of course, not the first Biblical prophet. Elijah and Elisha went before him, and many others whose words and deeds are recorded in the books of Samuel and Kings (Reges). 71 Nor can David and Solomon be dismissed; for they, too, are legitimate prophets in the eyes of the Gospels and the Apostles, and they, too, handed down their prophecies in written form. 72 But the difference, glaringly obvious to every experienced reader (peritus lector), between those older types of prophecy and these more recent ones, beginning with Hosea, is that the older ones lack that sense of urgency arising from the imminence of disaster.
Even though they may well have spoken of the captivity of the people, they did so with a quiet mind, free from fear of the proximity of evil. Their song was about something which they only saw from afar. 73 The more recent prophets, in contrast, find themselves actually exposed to the full blast of a roaring revenge. They report about it as eye witnesses. They are emotionally involved, full of fear, and pleading with God. They also express God's feelings, God, who hardly needs to be coerced into taking revenge in this situation. So while they implore the help of divine pity, they also record, pitiless, in quasi tragic style, the course which disaster takes. 74 Julian thus seems to subscribe to an idea similar to the one which we developed earlier in this paper by looking at the ancient Greek situation. At a very early stage there were poets and epic historians. They were prophetic singers (prae-cinebant). Their songs and prose epics contain prophecy, but only in a wider sense, in so far as they represent epics and poetry, i. e. in so far as they are handed down through a literary tradition (litteris tradidisse). Their authors did not personally experience any existential urge or immediate pressure with regard to their prophecy. As far as we are concerned, their minds were quiet. They wrote quasi quietis mentibus. The more recent prophets, however, beginning with Hosea, had a more personal sense of urgency in view of the period in history which has assumed prophetic meaning for us, from the Assyrian and Babylonian captivity to the (first as well as second!) coming of Christ (as redeemer and judge). 75 Their literary style is therefore more immediate, existential, emotional, and tragic. As a consequence their prophecy is more directly focused on the outcome. It is more easily recognisable as prophecy. These prophets have therefore become known as The Prophets, or prophets in the narrower sense.  [65][66][67][68][69][70]: principium igitur istorum uatum, qui hac praecipue appellatione signati sunt ut 'prophetae' nominarentur, a beato Osee susceptum esse The phenomenon is similar to that of the rhapsodes and early Homeric critics, though there are clear differences as well. There certainly seems to be more sense of political and especially religious urgency in the Biblical prophets, and none of them ever seems to have been charged (whether justly or unjustly) with atheism. As far as Julian of Aeclanum is concerned, I do find it interesting that he should have been conscious on the one hand of the link between poetry and prophecy in the case, for instance, of the Psalms and the Canticum, but on the other hand also of the difference between these 'calmer' (i. e. historically less involved) forms of poetry, and the dramatic poetry of the later prophets, and that he should have seen this in a salvation-historical perspective, but again, without reducing it to that; for he is interested in both, christological typology and dramatic style, the immediate historical context in which the texts originated (the 'exile', captiuitas, and its prehistory and aftermath), and the more universal theological use to which they were eventually put (in Christianity). None of this can be taken for granted, despite the relatively important role which this kind of prophetic exegesis had to play within Early Christian Biblical exegesis. 77