Barry, Jennifer. “Diagnosing Heresy: Ps.-Martyrius’s Funerary Speech for John Chrysostom.” Journal of Early Christian Studies 24, no. 3 (2016): 395–418.
In this article, Barry examines the Funerary Speech for John Chrysostom by Pseudo-Martyrius. She argues that Ps.-Martyrius uses medical language to make the case that John is not a heretic but rather a “symbol of Christian orthodoxy” (395). Specifically, Ps.-Martyrius compares John with the Empress Eudoxia to point out that her suffering is the result of heresy while John’s is the symptom of righteous suffering. Barry points to the author’s treatment of the community of lepers in Constantinople as further evidence that he (or she) prioritizes accurate diagnosis as a means to distinguish righteousness from heresy.
According to Barry, the Funeral Speech was written by an anonymous author soon after John’s death in 407 CE. John had been exiled due to his connections with Arianism, but his reputation had fully recovered by 438 CE. In Barry’s analysis, this “discursive politics” points to “a larger dilemma: episcopal exile was not always a clear indicator of orthodoxy” (398). In this context, Ps.-Martyrius works hard to shore up John’s reputation. One of the techniques he uses is to connect John to Job, whose suffering was also misunderstood by those around him. Ps.-Martyrius also ensures that the motives and methods of John’s enemies are made clear. These were chiefly Theophilus of Alexandria and also the Empress Eudoxia.
Barry turns next to examine Ps.-Martyrius’s use of an “imperial literary foil” (400). According to T. D. Barnes, Eudoxia in the Funeral Speech fits the standard template of a ruler who persecutes Christians, falls ill and, in pain, acknowledges error before finally dying. Barnes cites Antiochus IV and Herod Agrippa as other examples of this literary schema. Barry also points to Lactantius’ text On the Death of Persecuting Emperors, which follows the same pattern. Barry notes that these “retributive schemas and vivid depictions of human suffering … surface in heresiological texts as well” (401).
Eudoxia is singled out through use of this framework. Barry notes that Ps.-Martyrius subverts the schema by making his object a woman. Barry suggests that the author made the choice to single out Eudoxia because “her body contains a more grievous error” (404). To elaborate on this, Barry points to a key passage in the Funeral Speech that links John’s exile to Eudoxia’s miscarriage. Ps.-Martyrius explicitly makes the target of God’s anger Eudoxia’s body – not the emperor’s and not the bishop Theophilus’s. Furthermore, the author emphasizes this point by quoting Genesis 3:16 – the curse of Eve. Other typological links are also established with, for example, Jezebel. The result of Eudoxia’s miscarriage is that the evil within the empress is killed; immediately after, she calls for John to return from exile. But John’s return is temporary. Ps.-Martyrius describes how Eudoxia called for John’s exile a second time. As he narrates, in response “another arrow of the Lord again hit the woman” which released a “painful and many-headed illness” (νόσημα πολυκέφαλος) (406). What follows is a detailed, gory description of Eudoxia’s suffering – but notably without any gynecological ailments. Barry argues that Ps.-Martyrius “intentionally distances Eudoxia from her sex and queers her gender” to ensure that she is placed “firmly within the retributive tradition” (408). In case there are any lingering doubts as to the cause of Eudoxia’s suffering, Ps.-Martyrius writes that she asks “Why do you attack me, John?”
The description of Eudoxia’s illness as “many-headed” is a deliberate reference to the legend of Hercules and the Lernean Hydra. Eudoxia, in Ps.-Martyrius’ view, spews many-headed lies, including heresy, the “many-shaped monstrosity” (410, referencing a contemporary’s description). The only solution is the intervention of the divine. The result is a second miscarriage. Rather than repenting, Eudoxia calls John’s rival to her bedside and receives communion. Through Ps.-Martyrius’s narration, we then “hear her vomit out both soul and Eucharist, and we smell the stench emanating from her belabored breaths and the decaying bodies” (411). In the author’s view, this disease proves that Eudoxia harbors “nothing short of a war against the Church” (411). But it is only through divine intervention that we are able to perceive the contagious, corrupting influence of Eudoxia’s many-headed illness and many-shaped lies.
Barry also argues that Ps.-Martyrius is deeply concerned with proper diagnosis. To further demonstrate this point, she examines the medical language used to describe John’s charitable works with Constantinopolitan lepers. John was drawn to those who had what Ps.-Martyrius calls “the sacred disease” (413). This illness, commonly identified as epilepsy, had no clear cause. The author is very concerned with this; in true Hippocratic fashion, he sees that “to understand when a disease is from natural causes and when it is from the divine is to affirm one’s credibility as a true physician” (415). Ps.-Martyrius stresses the contagious nature of the sacred disease as well as its alienating properties. Because of its contagiousness, the sacred disease was seen as a “plague on society” (415) whose best treatment was ostracism. John fights against this stigma, as did many other Christian writers. Ps.-Martyrius consciously connects these church fathers, emphasizing that it is John’s righteousness that allowed him to recognize the true nature of the “sacred disease.” John’s response to the ostracism of lepers is to build a hospital for them in the heart of the community. But his neighbors protested and even filed suit. Ps.-Martyrius narrates that these opponents of John were “lamely launch[ing] arrows into the heavens” (417). Like Eudoxia, they will one day feel the – much deadlier – arrows of the divine.
In conclusion, Barry re-emphasizes that Ps.-Martyrius places great value on accurate diagnosis. Only by developing a “discerning eye” (418) can one distinguish the suffering caused by heresy from that which proves righteousness. To develop this distinction, the author relies on the suffering of two “very public and very visible bodies” (418): the Empress Eudoxia and the lepers of Constantinople. By taking a closer (and rather unpleasant) look, we readers will be able to distinguish this unrighteous suffering from the pains of the martyr John Chrysostom. Throughout this article, Barry makes her argument thoroughly and very clearly. She provides a persuasive analysis of a neglected source that points out many fascinating facets and avenues for further exploration.