In this article, Clark traces the “ideology of antifamilialism” (358) in Christian antiquity. She draws on a variety of sources to parse the argumentative and interpretive techniques used to promote this ideology. Clark identifies antifamilialism with a variety of Christian principles, including the promotion of celibacy, the exaltation of the virgin, and the emphasis on a spiritual rather than temporal family. But, Clark notes, this literary evidence “gives us little access to ‘reality’” (358). Rather, antifamilialism as Clark characterizes it is fundamentally a form of propaganda whose effect is to “bolster the power of ecclesiastical leaders and their values” (358).
Clark begins by providing examples of antifamilial views advocated by Church Fathers. She first presents Jerome’s disgust at pagan marriage and the Roman “‘sentimental ideal’ of matronhood” (358). Christianity’s ideal is, of course, the virgin. Jerome characteristically says that the virgin will receive a “one-hundred-fold harvest” while the married woman will only get “thirtyfold” (358). Clark reads similar tendencies even in the New Testament itself. Here, the motivation for antifamilialism is that the end times are near. In this eschatological context, Clark says that Christians understood Jesus as preaching that traditional values must be displaced by “an ethic of radical allegiance to God alone” (359). Clark supports this assertion by quoting Paul’s epistles, in which the apostle “praises the unmarried state ‘because of the impending distress’ (1 Cor. 7:26)” (359). In the fourth and fifth centuries, though, antifamilialism was extricated from its eschatological context. Clark gives the example of John Chrysostom, who continued to disparage marriage but denied that the end times were near. Instead, his antifamilialism was motivated by misogynism. For Chrysostom, women (especially rich ones) are “wild beasts” rather wives. Many antifamilial writers imagined that men “bear the greatest burdens of marriage” because they are unable to “try out” the “commodity” – that is, their wives – before “acquiring it” (361).
Yet antifamilalism was not always misogynistic. Clark cites authors who exhorted women to remain virginal in order to avoid “female servitude and subjection,” not to mention “the difficulties of bearing and raising children” (361). Furthermore, at least one argument in favor of virginity was relatively indifferent to gender. Gregory of Nyssa promotes celibacy as a way to avoid “the constant production of new beings doomed to die” (362). This dark turn has philosophical appeal for both sexes. The Old Testament also offers broad support for celibacy through the transposition of codes on priestly purity onto Christian marriage. At the same time, the ascetics’ appeals to the Hebrew Bible are necessarily selective, avoiding the “tales of incest, polygamy, and rape” (364). From the story of Abraham, for example, the willingness to sacrifice family (Isaac) for God was greatly esteemed – but the patriarch’s polygamy was diminished. A final example of “gender-neutral” exhortations for celibacy are those based on the idea of a family of Christian faithful. Jesus repeatedly calls his followers “brother,” “sister,” and “mother.” At first, this appeal was eschatological. But the most potent articulation is due to John Chrysostom’s image of Jesus as Bridegroom, which is especially directed to (young) female ascetics. Indeed, Chrysostom promises “the faithful virgin that … Jesus will be ‘hotter’ (sphodroteros) than any human” (368).
These exhortations had a fair amount of success. Yet they also encountered significant resistance. For example, non-ascetic audiences might have viewed celibacy as “a genuine threat to the reproduction of society” (371). Even the ascetics themselves acknowledged the fierceness of their opposition, including from fellow Christians. One motivation for resistance to antifamiliasm is that family wealth might be given by an ascetic to the church “rather than entering the family’s coffers” (373). In many cases, this involves the transfer of vast sums of money; Clark claims that Olympia’s donations to the church “would have sustained around 211 000 poor people” (374).
Partly in response to these criticisms, the ascetics did temper their ideology of antifamilialism at times. For instance, Augustine inveighs against lust rather than family per se. Indeed, he warned virgins “not to presume that they are better than Sarah and Abraham” (376). Ascetics also praised the marriages of some parents – especially their own. The emphasis, again, is on moderation and sexual restraint rather than celibacy. And Augustine, too, was faced with criticism, notably from Julian of Eclanum. Clark claims that these voices upholding marriage, isolated as they were, “may well have reflected the views of the majority of ‘ordinary’ Christians” (378). If ascetic propaganda had limited success, Clark suggests that the aims of ascetic rhetoric may have been less to make “social norms or the law more rigorously ascetic” (379) and more to communicate what they believe God commanded.
In this article, Clark paints a complex and convincing picture of antifamilialism in early Christianity. On the one hand, ascetic antifamilial rhetoric convinced thousands of Christians to divert energy – and wealth – “from families and secular pursuits to religious institutions and charities” (380). Clark suggests that this shift benefitted women; from a feminist perspective, she claims, antifamilialism was a success. On the other hand, the Church fathers failed to bring about significant, swift change in law or societal norms. Indeed, Clark argues that most “ordinary” Christians remained unconvinced by antifamilialism. Yet this talk of success and failure is problematic. First of all, Clark does not convincingly show why a feminist perspective should be used to deem antifamilialism a success, and does little to show a real improvement in women’s lives. Additionally, Clark supports her analysis of “ordinary” Christians’ views only through the tangential evidence that they “continued to marry and reproduce” (378). Second, Clark herself recognizes that discussing “success” and “failure” suggests “there is some ‘reality’ … [that] we might be able to measure without ambiguity” (380). But literary sources – especially those written by educated men with financial interests at stake – are fundamentally ideological; as Clark says, “the literary remains are not a copy of some extraliterary domain of ‘the real’” (380). Clark’s recognition of this is heartening. Within this framework, she has certainly succeeded at her goal “to push and jab at these documents to make them yield up their ideological content” (380). What remains is to contextualize her findings and, crucially, to shore up the ramifications of the artifacts of a literary elite for ordinary men and women.