Timothy Maradeo

Mathias Hanses

Latin 402

4 December 2021

The Christian Political Man: How Cicero Shaped and Modernized Christianity

Atticus: Et scilicet tua libertas disserendi amissa est, aut tu is es qui in disputando non
tuum iudicium sequaris, sed auctoritati aliorum pareas!

Atticus: And it is obvious that your liberty of speaking is lost, or you are the kind of
person who doesn’t follow your judgement in a debate, but submits to the authority of
others!

Marcus: Non semper, Tite…

Marcus: Not always, Titus… Leg.1.36-37 (Cicero 1959)

Imagine a Classics student at university – let’s call him Paul. Paul, like most students,

derives his theses by relying on scholarly traditions and historical writings of the past. Paul also

refuses to cite his sources. Somehow, he manages to graduate and become a professor.

Thankfully, his pupils, having learned proper citation techniques in other classes, do honestly

cite their ideas, many of which are derived from Paul’s instruction. After Paul’s students all

become successful scholars, they publish slightly different versions of Paul’s original concepts,

and it appears to all the world that Paul was an incredibly influential professor. Now imagine

Paul uses his platform to denounce all other Classics scholars whose work he originally

plagiarized. Paul has just bamboozled the world. Welcome to the history Christianity.
 While our metaphoric Paul gained all too much acknowledgement for unachieved

success, the 1st century Jewish-turned-Christian Apostle Paul perhaps did not receive enough.

While Jesus Christ is symbolically synonymous with Christianity’s philosophical origins, in

actuality the Apostle Paul offers a much more accurate and specific metaphor of how multi-

cultural traditions and ideologies converged to create this Roman Period religious movement that

spread throughout the West. Although modern Classical scholarship of the New Testament and

Early Christian period has shifted much attention on the Stoic and Epicurean (largely Hellenistic)

influences that shaped Christianity, not enough diligence has been granted to the Roman side.

Paul, as a citizen of Rome by his father’s name, represents a Jewish scholar whose psyche – and

therefore writings – were deeply submerged in Roman values.

The continuation of this Roman-Christian connection is in large part taken up by

Medieval theologians as well, such as Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, Ambrose, and St. Aelred of

Rievaulx. By these men, we have been passed down both primary and secondary evidence of

how the Roman Republic altered moral, rhetorical, and metaphysical tenants of Christianity. In

the quest to find uniquely Roman influences on Christianity that do not merely seem the product

of Roman carriers of Stoic ideals, Marcus Tullius Cicero by rhetorical and philosophical

evidence far outshines all other considerations. While some Classicists have led a smear

campaign on Cicero’s legacy, claiming his philosophical work is absent of original ideas, the

ideological history of Christianity bears a different account. In Cicero’s creation of a new and

original form of Natural Law, we see the philosophical birth of the Christian political man,

a modernization of otherwise abstract religious traditions.

While Cicero should not be considered an original thinker, having drawn from such

doctrines as Platonism, Aristotelianism, and Stoicism, his unique perspective as a “rational and
autonomous legislator” allows him to diverge from purely abstract discussions of philosophy

(Alonso 2012, 157-158). To him, philosophy must be embodied in a set of actions that have real-

world political and familial implications. This results in the second chapter of his De Officiis

being dedicated toward expediency, the idea that the easiest and most beneficial path for a

political entity is the correct one. This principle was taken up by enlightenment thinkers such as

John Locke; however, while Locke attributed industriousness and rationality with expediency,

Cicero finds within it the crucial component of honestas:

Immo vero honestas utilitatem secuta est. Off.3.19 (Cicero 1913)

On the contrary, honesty in fact has followed expediency.

Had the Ciceronian concept of expediency remained consistent, such authors as William Paley

and Francis Wayland in America’s early history would not have used it as a justification for

Indian removal or slavery.

Nevertheless, Cicero’s utilitatem forms the foundation of his Natural Law theory, and it

differentiates his Natural Law from former Greek variants. Because humanity naturally seeks

expediency, Natural Law provides orators with arguments that are meant to enhance Civil Law

by comparing it with philosophical concepts (Alonso 2012, 160). This provides an authority

outside of Civil Law that can be used to justify illegal actions, or actions that should soon be

made legal. It represents an application of Natural Law as a philosophical concept into the

domain of politics through orators as agents – the structure of Israelite prophets comes to mind,

both interpreting and reinforcing Torah laws through divine revelation or scholarly studies.

Cicero’s Natural Law supersedes Civil Law in a very Roman way in so far that it can edit laws

by presupposing human conditions – or natural human tendencies – that should be followed

according to expediency. Had Cicero lived during the enlightenment, we would have here the
basis for a type of Humanism. Nonetheless, according to his framework, all philosophical input

is relevant to the political sphere of the Roman Republic.

It is often the case that such a merging of disciplines has a large echo in subsequent

generations – enter the Apostle Paul. While there is no direct evidence to suggest that the

progenitor of Christianity in Rome read the works of Cicero, it is not entirely impossible, as

scholars have accepted that Paul read Latin and that he studied non-Jewish traditions like Greek

philosophy under the Pharisee doctor of Mosaic Law, Gamaliel. Considering his targeted

audience was predominantly non-Jewish, Paul in the same manner as Cicero creates a Natural

Law theory in order to circumvent the Greeks’ lack of adherence to Mosaic Law:

ὅταν γὰρ ἔθνη τὰ μὴ νόμον ἔχοντα φύσει τὰ τοῦ νόμου ποιῇ, οὗτοι νόμον μὴ ἔχοντες

ἑαυτοῖς εἰσιν νόμος· ΠΡΟΣ ΡΩΜΑΙΟΥΣ 2:14 (Stephanus Textus Receptus, 1550)

For when the Gentiles who do not have the law by birth do the things of the law, they,

although they do not have the law, are a law unto themselves.

Although Paul and Cicero’s intentions diverge significantly as Paul’s mission was a religious one

– although it is worth considering that post-enlightenment category of “religion” as independent

from society did not exist in the classical world – still we see a political aspect to Paul as one

who took part in Roman citizenship, especially when confronted legally and, according to Acts,

put in Roman prisons. Additionally, the bulk of Paul’s influence manifests in the form of letters –

a rhetorical (and practical) device which Cicero also employs.

Licet enim mihi, M. fili, apud te gloriari, ad quem et hereditas huius gloriae et factorum

imitatio pertinet. Off.1.22.78 (Cicero 1913)

 For I am allowed, Marcus my son, to take pride in you, from which both the inheritance

of this glory and the imitation of the deeds extend.

Both characters manifest paternal language in their appeals, as the undisputed letter to the

Romans, Galatians, and Corinthians similarly display with Paul. Aside from just rhetoric,

modern Pauline scholarship focuses on the Greek – Stoic and Epicurean – influences upon Paul’s

thinking. It is possible that any similarities between Cicero and Paul are a byproduct of this

ideological shared common ancestor; however, considering Early Christianity’s tendency to not

cite “pagan” sources, discussions of such a distinction will get nowhere. While the connection

between Paul and Cicero manifests in covert philosophical and rhetorical similarities at best,

later generations of Christian thinkers throw themselves headfirst into Cicero’s teachings, and

they are not quiet about it!

Bishops had unparalleled political power in the Holy Roman Empire, as Justina, mother

of Valentinian II, flatly expresses – “in questions concerning the faith, it is the bishops who are

the judges of Christian emperors, and not the emperors who are the judges of the bishops”

(Emeneau 1930, 49). This grants the theological ponderings of the 4 th century, such as Ambrose

of Milan, a societal ramification which students of the Classics would be astonished to hold

today. Yet, it is fascinating to see that Cicero, although writing already two Roman governments

removed from the Medieval Period (for Rome had seen two very distinct empire systems since

the Republic), his philosophical ideas still have authority in politics. Ambrose’s De Officiis

Ministrorum, which clearly derives from Cicero’s De Officiis, at first glance appear to be similar

in name only. While Cicero’s writing reflects a refinement of Latin rhetoric, Ambrose entirely

forgoes linguistic flourish, instead focusing on cultivating the religious contents of his writing

(Emeneau 1930, 50). While Cicero’s rhetoric enhanced his duty as an orator – and his letters
clearly display the weight of his persuasion efforts in trying to amass support for the Republic –

Ambrose sees rhetoric as an impediment to living a holy life. For him, it fosters pride.

However, upon a deeper analysis one cannot deny the Ciceronian attitude of Ambrose’s

De Officiis Ministrorum. Both works include a paternal narrative structure, but, while Cicero

writes as if for moral guidance to his son, Ambrose attempts to provide guidance for the clergy

(Emeneau 1930, 51). Cicero’s philosophical tenants are applied where Biblical references agree

with but do not explicitly state certain principles. For instance, Ambrose borrows Cicero’s

descriptions of beneficentia and liberalitas in stating that one man cannot be robbed for the

benefit of another, and he expands the doctrine by proposing that the Church should not require

its subjects to collectivize their possessions (Emeneau 1930, 51). This is consistent with

Ciceronian Natural Law in so far that according to expediency’s requirement for honestum, one

cannot take another’s goods (do what is most expedient) if it is done without honesty or virtue. In

fact, the Roman intuition of honestum generates a type of glory out of honest utility, one which is

remembered in the modern word honor (Gaffney 1981, 38).

Do not be fooled that such a development is merely philosophical. The connection here

between religious/philosophical considerations and the conduct of the state is the birthplace of

the forms of rationality which allowed modern policies to be created such as Social Security,

Affirmative Action, and weighted Tax systems. In the technical sense, these policies are the

manifestation of Christianity’s intermingling with Rome, the notion that Christian ideals and

Roman ideals (Ciceronian by nature) may be combined to form a religious person (the Christian)

that imposes structures of his religion – such as here the notion of charity – on an entire political

system without converting that system into a theocracy. In this way Christian principles are

modernized by Ciceronian political tendencies. Somehow, through Ambrose and others, Cicero’s
Natural Law converted Christianity into a set of political policies, thereby modernizing it by

separating it from merely philosophical considerations. Thus, we speak of the Judeo-Christian

tradition in Western Culture, ignorant of Cicero’s role as an intermediator in the process. Let us

call this the idea of the Christian-political man, for before Cicero’s influence in the Medieval

period, the concept of a Christianized state that was not religiously or governmentally Christian

was unthinkable, and there was not yet a form of rationality that would allow it to develop. The

United States, with its separation of church and state yet with obvious Christian tendencies, is the

manifestation of this development in political philosophy, but Ambrose was not the only

translator of Cicero for the West.

Following in his footsteps, his student, Augustine of Hippo, continues the tradition of

disdaining rhetoric for its carnal attractiveness – one has to find the Medieval project endearing

at times like this, their overblown fear of enjoying anything at all. Yet, it is amazing that such

inspiration in these times would be taken from Cicero of all people, a man whose self-inflation

tactics are evident to even a beginner student of Latin, let alone fanatical and critical Medieval

Latinists. The irony makes for an interesting history, especially considering Augustine’s high

praise of Cicero’s Hortensius:

Sed liber ille ipsius exhortationem continet ad philosophiam et vocatur Hortensius. Ille

vero liber mutavit affectum meum et ad te ipsum, domine, mutavit preces meas et vota ac

desideria mea fecit alia." Conf.3.4.7 (Augustine 1898)

But that book of his contains a praise toward philosophy and is called the Hortensius.

Truly that book changed my desire and, toward you yourself, my Lord, it changed my

prayers and vows, and it made my desires another.

According to the Confessions, Augustine encountered the Hortensius when studying rhetoric in

Carthage at the age of eighteen. The curriculum included by this time philosophical traditions

within the rhetoric department, though Augustine is effect most by the appeals to virtue and

morality contained within the book, for, in his later years, he dismisses the rhetoricians of the

school. Cicero and Augustine share in this book two dark periods in their lives: Cicero, when his

daughter Tullia died and Caesar had overtaken the Republic for a time and Augustine when his

journey into lust, sin, and the teachings of the Manichaeans began – what he would later refer to

as wasted years.

Little remains of the Hortensius, except that it was structured in the form of a dialogue,

with four speakers defending particular branches of study: Catullus poetry, Lucullus history,

Hortensius rhetoric, and Cicero philosophy (Taylor 1963, 488). Some have suggested Augustine

is critical of Cicero for his use of the phrase cuiusdam Ciceronis, “a certain Cicero;” however, he

does refer to highly respected philosophers such as Plato with the same term while reserving

harsher rhetoric for the Manichaeans and rhetoricians (Taylor 1963, 492). Prior to the Holocaust,

the system of rationality for understanding evil was primarily taken from Augustine’s response

against Manicheanism – that evil is the privation of “the good,” merely its absence not its

opposite equal. This idea dominated the development of the history of Western philosophy until

Hitler resurrected evil by giving it a physical body – the concentration camp, as Levi, Levinas,

and Arendt among others have argued. Augustine’s work, therefore, ought to be seen as central

to Western philosophy and Christianity. If Hortensius and the works of Cicero at large are the

first inspiration for Augustine’s mission, it is evident that Cicero’s role in influencing Christian

thinkers – here one of the cornerstones of Roman Catholicism – goes beyond mere philosophical

abstraction, but also into the spirit and motivation for why Christian philosophy ought to be done
at all. Thus, even if Greek philosophy is the animus of Christian thought, Rome remains its

anima, its driving force.

Tracking the timeline further, it seems Cicero’s influence is not time-dependent. Writing

in the 13th century A.D., the Italian friar Thomas Aquinas continues the paternal tradition begun

by Paul and Cicero by quoting 1st Corinthians as the introduction to his Summa Theologiae, the

magnum opus of his large collection of writings: “as little ones in Christ, I gave you milk to

drink, not meat” (1.3) (Jordan 2005, 496). By starting the book in this way, he begins by creating

a hierarchy of spiritual learners in a religio – a religious community (Jordan 2005, 496). Right

away, we see a very Ciceronian integration of principles, in this instance from the Late Medieval

Period, into the societal context. Aquinas also focuses less on rhetorical features of his work;

however, along this line of reasoning, perhaps some bias and stereotyping of the Medieval

writing method has crept its way into academia, with Dr. Jordan writing “a reader encounters . . .

the erasure of rhetorical features altogether in favor of a devouring pedagogy” (497). There are

many forms of rhetoric, and such techniques as paternal language and references to figures of

high authority within the audience’s community should still be considered skillful rhetoric. One

need not reinvent the Latin language as a prerequisite of effective writing.

Nevertheless, Aquinas does indeed refer to the “authorities” on both philosophical and

religious matters. He solidifies the connection between Ambrose and Cicero by citing each work

in parallel to one another:

Tullius probat in libro De off., quod nihil potest esse utile quod non sit honestum. Et hoc

idem habetur per Ambrosium in libro De off. Summa theologiae 2-2.145.3

(Jordan 2005, 498)

 Tullius proves in his book, De Officiis, that nothing is able to be expedient that is not

honorable. And this same thing is had through Ambrose in his book De Officiis

Ministrorum.

The decision to translate honestum as “honorable” is the right one, for at this time, in the Late

Medieval period, it had undergone the Christianization that Cicero had unwittingly prepared it

for. As Dr. Jordan states (which contradicts his early point on rhetoric), “a careless reader will

lose track of whose ‘book of duties’ is being cited in any given sentence” (498). The impression

given by Aquinas here is clear, however unusual – that Cicero, a pagan politician, and Ambrose,

a faithful bishop, are mutual authorities on Christian doctrines. The fact that both authors’

distinctions are unclear suggests Ambrose’s work was so heavily influenced by Cicero as to be

doctrinally parallel. Of course, the conscious recognition of that is heretical!

On the topic of heresy, Cicero’s significance in the Summa Theologiae may be put into

perspective by the fact that Christ himself is notably missing from the sections on moral

discussion (Jordan 2005, 499). Instead, Aquinas’s reliance on the auctoritates displays his

tendency to philosophize Christianity in a manner completely foreign to that of modern

fundamentalist Christianity. One may suggest Cicero’s act as an intermediator between Greek

traditions for his Latin audience is similar to Aquinas’s adaptation of both Greek and Roman

sources for his Christian audience.

Other authors, such as St. Aelred of Rievaulx take up the controversy of interpreting how

far Cicero can go as a pagan in comparison to Christian principles. His De Spirituali Amicitia

enters into conversation with Cicero’s De Amicitia by asking in the familiar dialogue format

“Aren’t Cicero’s words sufficient for you here: Friendship is the sharing together of human and

divine experiences in a spirit of goodwill and love?” (Aelred 1953, 123). It is decided that
Cicero’s definition, as a pagan, is sufficient, but that “true friendship cannot exist among those

who are without Christ” (Aelred 1953, 123). Ultimately, it is conceded that Cicero was “ignorant

of the nature of true friendship,” because he was writing prior to Christ and without allusion to

Israelite sources (Aelred 1953, 122). Aelred’s work represents how Cicero’s influence on

Christianity remained entirely unconscious even leading up to the Late Medieval Period. These

thinkers and their audiences did not realize that Cicero’s work happened to fit so well into their

set of Christian principles because it was one of the main sources from which many of the

complex, Medieval ideas emerged to begin with. Thus, even while they deny him as a source,

they cannot help but return to the eloquence and relatability of his concepts. What an odd image

– the Medieval Christians as prodigal sons ideologically returning to Pater Cicero!

To give the devil his due, Cicero’s greatest criticism, one that has been leveled both in his

time and by Classics scholars many years later, is that he does not develop his own concepts in

philosophy. They argue that his failure to primarily use his own voice in De Re Publica, and his

confession that he is following the dialectic structure set forth by Plato in his De Legibus,

displays him as the sort of author that borrows instead of creates his own unique material

(Seagrave 2009, 495). Considering the wealthy trail of Medieval thinkers and Christian actors

that have been impacted by his ideas – and who give credit to him both indirectly and directly –

this preposition is no longer satisfactory.

Ultimately, Cicero’s legacy is rich for its effect on political and Christian spheres of

influence that continue to remain relevant in the modern day. His Natural Law and its

implications created a philosophical system for converting religious ideas into Civil society by

finding within the religious ideals a human ideal that necessitated their entry into law. Although

to some he may seem a dubious, self-loving old man with an ego that spans the centuries, if
anyone is to say “Cicero’s merit is only in his ability to borrow from others,” we are obliged to

say “non semper, Tite.”

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