DIONISIO AREOPAGITA

It could be said that it was the author the Corpus himself who initiated the “legend” by quoting in one of his treatises a letter from Ignatius of Antioch dated around the time of the latter’s death, between 107 and 110 AD, which would put the actual Areopagite at an age of well over a hundred years. A chronicle from the 13th Century has Dionysius travelling to Rome after learning about Paul’s imprisonment and being subsequently sent by pope Clement to evangelize the Gauls together with Rusticus and Eleutherius, where the three would have been captured and executed in 96 AD. The chronicle continues with some Dionysian prodigies and revelations that run through the religious history of France and became very popular in the Middle Ages. In the same vein, Dionysius the Areopagite is identified with the Dionysius who was actually sent by pope Fabian in the mid-third century to evangelize the Gauls –with the same fellow evangelists–. This would indeed be St. Dionysius, first bishop of Lutetia (Paris), martyred and put to death in AD 270 on the hill that would later be called Montmartre in memory of these events.

Thus, if we were to believe in this identity, we would be dealing character with a lifespan of more than three hundred years old and an almost ubiquitous protagonism for those times and places, with at least three different dates of death. This far-fetched medieval construction is an unforced error that follows directly from the Passio Sanctissimi Dionysii of Hilduinus, abbot of Saint Denys from AD 815 (d.840), who received the manuscripts of the Corpus that had been handed down by Michael II the Stammerer to Louis the Pious in AD 827. Hilduinus assembled a team to make a Latin translation of the Corpus (AD 831-835) that was of questionable quality. His effort was part of a double campaign: his own initiative to increase the centrality of his abbey through royal mausoleums and Dionysian relics that established a connection between the Gallic kings and the story of the martyr and quasi-apostle Dionysius; and the political program of the Frankish kings to assert themselves and give primacy to “their” Popes in France in a closer relationship with the East than with Rome.

Without going into further detail, since the above cited sources give a perfect account of the difference between legend and historiography, there is an important point worth emphasizing: such are the literary, philosophical and theological merits of the CD that it has overcome this double or triple imposture, which, to any other text of lesser worth, would have meant total discredit and possibly oblivion.
It is also worth mentioning that the text acquired increased authority after it appeared in the proceedings of the Fifth Ecumenical Council held in Constantinople in AD 553, where borrowings from the teachings of Dionysius about the hierarchical distinction of angels can be identified. In the West, Dionysius is already mentioned and quoted profusely in the Lateran Council of AD 649. By the time of the Seventh Ecumenical Council, which took place in Nicaea in AD 787, Dionysius is explicitly recognized as a theological authority and criterion of comparison for the discernment of truth.

In addition, to the Parisian reception of the text we owe the first accurate and annotated Latin translation: the one made by John Scotus Eriugena (c. AD 862-866) at the request of Charles the Bald. Eriugena later made a second and better translation, which would have a profound and long-lasting influence. John Saracen had this translation in front of him when he made his own in AD 1167, aiming to further “westernize” the content of the text. But of this posterity and other enormous influences we will not give an account here, for it belongs to a separate chapter, that of the multiple receptions of the Corpus and its derivations.

At the time this summary was written, the real identity of the author of the Corpus Dionysiacum –presumed today to have been a Syrian monk– remains an open question and a matter of ongoing controversy. Although it is not central to an analysis of the metaphysics of light in the CD and its sources –given all that has already been established regarding its dating, structure and textual receptions–, it is worth giving a brief overview of the current state of the issue.

First, although the definitive dating arrived at independently by Koch and Stiglmayr on the basis of the textual correspondence between a section of Book IV of the De divinis nominibus –the very core of the work– and Proclus’ De malorum subsistentia allows, together with other established facts, to assign it a very approximate time of composition, it only casts even greater uncertainty on its author. The studies presented narrow down the date of composition to between AD 476-485 and AD 518-528. In addition and more precisely, it is now known that between AD 532 and 536 the Corpus Dionysiacum was translated in its entirety into Syriac by the priest and physician Sergius of Rhesaina (d. AD 536). The reference made in De ecclesiastica hierarchia to Peter the Fuller’s Symbol of the Faith, introduced in AD 511, can be added as reasonable evidence for the earliest writing date; and for the latest, the colophon in the Syriac translation of the treatise by Severus of Antioch –where the first known citation to the Corpus occurs–, dated AD 528.

Although the soundness of Stiglmayr’s work is well acknowledged, his hypothesis that the author of the Corpus is none other than Severus himself has not found much acceptance. It is not an unreasonable proposition, since part of the first testimonies point to the same person and place. In this regard, Stiglmayr provides plenty of evidence of coincidences of times, places and persons that make such an identity plausible, but none of these arguments has been proven conclusive. A quite detailed critical analysis of his and his opponents’ arguments can be found in Devresse’s work. Similarly, Sergius of Rhesaina was also once suspected by von Balthasar and Hausherr to have been the author of the Corpus on the grounds of his early translation of it into Syriac, thus suggesting one and the same author for both languages. The hypotheses of identity exceed the dozen “known” candidates, ranging from the two mentioned to yet another Dionysius, abbot of Rhinocorura –suggested by Hipler–, and including at least two different suggestions of joint authorship by a team of contributors, albeit for opposite reasons.
At one end, Mazzucchi, taken up by Lankila, put forward what has come to be called the “crypto-pagan hypothesis”. According to this hypothesis, faced with the rise of Christianity and a mounting loss of relevance, Damascius –or, more likely, a group of members of an Academy– attempted to preserve some fundamental ideas of Neoplatonism by infiltrating Christian doctrines with their own terminology and concepts.

At the other end, Mainoldi, after summarizing the prolonged controversy of the time over monophysitism, posits the existence of an editorial team of monks working at the Syrian convent supported by Emperor Justinian in his palace of Ormisda; their agenda: to produce –based on the work of a former disciple of Damascius named Hegias– a quasi-canonical text whose indisputable authority would favor the monophysite doctrine against what had been ruled in Chalcedon.
In either case, even allowing for the contradictions or inconsistencies inherent to the Areopagitic text, which mentions books of his authorship that have not been preserved –most likely nonexistent– and impossible acquaintances with persons of the 1st century AD, it is necessary to take into account the experience of reading and frequenting the text.

From the direct encounter with the work one does not get the impression of a multiplicity voices or an assemblage of units of variable sizes coming from different pens. The reader perceives and is left with the conviction of being in the presence of one and the same subject –both overflown and overflowing– of a single experience, and pursuing a single objective: the theoretical and mystagogical foundation of the θέωσις.

With regard to this specific point, we will adopt here the interpretation proposed by von Balthasar of a kenotic intention of the monk author of the Corpus in assuming an identity –even if in accordance with a custom of the time–, both as a tribute and to endow his writings with a lineage. Under this hypothesis, the choice of “the Dionysius of the Areopagus” makes perfect sense. Not for the primary purpose of seeking textual authority, but because his figure so clearly represents the identity of the text and the intention of the Corpus: a Greek convert who was a direct disciple of a Jewish convert. It is this confluence of traditions –Paul’s Christian theology of the Jewish exodus reformulated in the language of Neoplatonic divinization– what can be perceived not only in the intention of the text but also in the concrete expression of its exquisite –and complex– wording.

After a winter of rejection to which he was relegated by the correct dating of his work and the label of “pseudo-”, the twentieth century has shown a growing interest in the Dionysian universe, its sources and its almost contradictory originality, amalgamated into an expression of Christian Neoplatonism. The Corpus Dionysiacum enjoys today an important academic interest compared to the size of the preserved work. The Corpus has proven to represent a compendium of capital importance as an attempt of synthesis between the Neoplatonic philosophy and theology of the 6th century AD and the Christian beliefs. It is the subject of study not only on account of its reception and commentary as a quasi-canonical text in the later Middle Ages, but also because of its unique contribution to the philosophical and theological traditions that it has since influenced.

On the other hand, it should be noted that after the heyday of its reception, in the last three centuries of the last millennium the CD has shared the fate of those works that are considered in the context of the cultural or intellectual articulation between great periods. Whether due to the nature of their content or their privileged historical location, these works are most of the time approached with an emphasis on how much of their sources they collect and the impact of their receptions, to the potential detriment of the intrinsic richness of their originality and specific weight. Fortunately, there is a good tradition of 20th-century authors who have re-evaluated the author of the Corpus and his work not only from a historiographical perspective, but also through in-depth analyses of his philosophical contribution. One need only glance at the profusion of symbolisms and neologisms, but above all at the texture of the complex prose of the Corpus –which even when indulging in a certain lyricism does not lose focus on its objective–, to understand that this is a work that, while it operates within previous conceptual frameworks, overflows them and emerges with a singular force of attraction that makes it unique.

For those who dedicate themselves to the study of the tradition of medieval Neoplatonism, it is very satisfying to witness the relevance that the figure of Dionysius Areopagite has recently gained, not only because of his influential medieval reception, but also because of his own standing as a late-antique theologian and philosopher. It may be worth mentioning that the International Society for Medieval Philosophy (SIEPM, Leuven) dedicated two international congresses to Dionysius the Areopagite, in 1999 and 2019. Also, one of the most important academic meetings about this author, his traditions and interpreters, was held in Oxford in 2016. The proceedings of this congress, together with other collaborations, resulted in a publication that is an indispensable bibliographical reference on the subject.

In the absence of a detailed biography of its author –beyond the above mentioned speculations about his identity–, the relationship of the Corpus with its sources depends on a strong proof of linkage on the basis of cross-references, structural and discursive correlations, and comparative morpho-syntactic analysis of the texts. In this regard, it is worth noting the relevance of the latest critical editions by Suchla and Heil-Ritter and, secondarily, of the compilation of Latin translations by Chevallier. Also worth mentioning for their philological value are the Spanish editions by Cavallero, which feature a more literal translation and include an excellent linguistic apparatus.
Suchla defines the CD as “a self-contained collection of treatises and letters”. To give a notion of its physical dimension, in a standard contemporary book layout a complete edition without apparatus or citations would barely reach two hundred pages (about 6,300 lines). In the Parisian codex it amounts to exactly 216 folios. The treatises, constituting almost the totality of the CD (about ninety percent), follow the literary genre of the Greek dialogue, with a dedication to the interlocutor. The epistles, contrary to what would be expected by someone looking for a pseudo-apostolic “imposture” due to them being addressed to disciples of the 1st century AD, do not follow –with the exception of Epistle X– the canon of the Gospel letter, with its initial salutation, body and final doxology, but the literary form of the correspondence of Hellenic tradition.

The relative weight of the treatise De mystica theologia in the Dionysian system is enormous, considering that it consists of only a few pages –i.e. three percent of the total Corpus. As for the most extensive treatise of the CD, on the topic of the divine names (DN), Dillon has presented it as continuing a discussion initiated in ancient philosophy and taken up by Plato in two of his works –Cratylus and Parmenides–, from whom Proclus, and later also Dionysius, receive it. However, as Louth argues, the intention of the author of the Corpus differs from those of his predecessors: his is to enunciate in an orderly manner the divine names that manifest God’s causality with respect to all creatures.
As with the De divinis nominibus, if one considers the Platonic tradition of the Timaeus –with its Neoplatonic re-readings and numerous commentaries– and the Neoplatonic tradition since the Enneads, the topics of De caelestibus hierarchia and De ecclesiastica hierarchia are hardly original, but the same cannot be said of their treatment. The form of presentation, original vocabulary and balancing between legacies with which Dionysius revisits these topics is absolutely distinctive. Bucur points out that Dionysius owes to Clement not only an emphasis on divine ineffability to balance out the anthropomorphism of the Scripture, but also the first conception of a “heavenly hierarchy”, albeit obviously not under that name, which is his own invention and legacy.

It would be misleading to assume that Dionysius’ apophatism is entirely original, or a Neoplatonic innovation alien to the spirit of Judaism and Christianity. One need only examine the collection of earlier sources already carried out by Philo and Clement to conclude otherwise. Following this paradigm, the author of the Corpus is, first, a consummate compiler of the great pre-existing traditions; second, an exceptional synthesizer of these traditions, harmonizing them to the point where, at first glance, almost everything seems renewed, and the adjustments to the received material –always preserving its conceptual integrity– become apparent only upon closer examination; and third, a soloist who adds his own contributions, making amendments wherever he deems it necessary (whether it’s Origen or Proclus he is correcting) and completing the work to his liking.

In line with the classical Dionysian scholars, Riggs has more recently acknowledged that the Areopagitic system is a confluence of Christian and Platonic traditions. He points out, however, that in the first existing manuscript the “Christian tone” of the Corpus is emphasized through the addition of three works by John Philoponus and the commentaries of John of Scythopolis, making it more acceptable. In relation to Christian tradition, Constas argues that Dionysius not only exploits the fictional connection with Paul, but actually develops a learned hermeneutics of his writings. Furthermore, Ravelli, having done extensive research on the influence of Origen’s metaphysics on Evagrius’ spirituality, highlights the indisputable contribution of both to Dionysius’ contemplative philosophy.
In this regard, as with the mystical approach to certain topics by the author of the Corpus, it cannot be said that he used only the language of Gnostic initiation or Neoplatonic theurgy, nor is his negative theology entirely Platonic or Plotinian. The Christian reinterpretations of Platonism introduced by the Cappadocian Fathers are inevitable influences in these two central aspects. The brothers Basil of Caesarea (AD 329-379) and Gregory of Nyssa (AD 335-394), as well as their friend Gregory of Nazianzus (AD 330-389), took part in the doctrinal debates of the 4th century AD and were considered staunch supporters of emerging orthodoxy.

All three, but especially Gregory of Nyssa, played an important role in the development of Dionysius’ negative theology. A strong connection can be observed between Gregory’s meditation on Moses’ ascent to Mount Sinai and Dionysius’ precepts for penetrating the darkness of the Scripture. And even though it is not possible to specify the exact form in which the reception took place, the influence of De vita Moysis and In Canticum Canticorum on the Areopagite’s metaphysics of light is also undoubtedly enormous. However, it is necessary to consider a broader influence, on the basis of Contra Eunomium and other writings where Gregory emphasizes the inability of language to adequately capture the essence of God. This is clearly a direct source of Dionysius’ apophatism. But Gregory also stresses that conceptual language can be true in some sense and that, by affirming God’s activities in the world, Christians gain a “sense of presence” of what is beyond them. Dionysius’ method of affirming and negating every name of God in order to achieve greater agnosia (καὶ ἔστιν αὖθις ἡ θειοτάτη θεοῦ γνῶσις ἡ δι ̓ ἀγνωσίας γινωσκομένη) therefore owes much to Gregory’s insistence on both the necessity of language and its inadequacy. In this way, it permeates the author’s objective in the Corpus to show –with a Greek texture but within the framework of the theology of Exodus– the names by which God has revealed himself. Thus, while pointing out man’s relationship with God and a path of elevation to Him, he says-without-saying who God is.

Although the Bible and the Cappadocians are not thought to be the only sources of the Corpus’ semantics, Stang finds it surprising that Dionysius borrows so openly from the vocabulary of the Neoplatonists. Despite this, the precedence of Christian premises compels him –as Edwards and Dillon point out– to merge the Ineffable with the realm of being, and to make God himself the sole subject of theurgy, with results that resemble much more closely Iamblichus’ De misteriis than Proclus.

Doubts about whether the Greek text that has been received is the original text would be justified even if the Syriac translation did not exist, which, according to some scholars, provides likely evidence of more primitive readings. The current debate among scholars on this issue is quite heated, as can be seen in the contrasting views of Perczel and Fiori. In any case, it is clear today to specialists the extent to which Dionysius is indebted to a philosophy based on Neoplatonic reinterpretations –particularly those of Proclus in his In Platonis Cratylus commentaria and his Theologia Platonica, from which he borrows structure and text– as well as to an apophatic theology that he seeks to give new expression to. In a certain sense, the Corpus presents an integrative journey through the tradition from Plato to Proclus, and from an original Platonic theology to a late theological mysticism, albeit in the form of a Christian Trinitarian Neoplatonism.

On the other hand, it would not be mistaken to assume some connection between the author of the Corpus and Damascius, especially in light of the studies by Lilla, who points to textual lines from De primis principiis and In Parmenidem as evidence of the latter’s influence on Dionysius, which he deems greater than that of Proclus and other Neoplatonists. Lilla provides a series of topics of convergence and divergence between the two authors. Firstly, the influence on Dionysius of Damascius’ One-All (ἓν πάντα) and the similarities between Damascius’ first principle –the Ineffable– and his via negativa and the first principle and method of the author of the Corpus. Likewise, the imprint of Damascius’ notion of the first intelligible triad in that of Dionysius.

In light of the above, this brief account of Dionysius does not align itself with those who emphasize a strong continuity between pagan Neoplatonism and its “Christianization”, such as Perl and Gersh, nor with those who posit a sharp break between pagan Neoplatonists and Dionysius, such as Golitzin. We will insist here that continuities, breaks, and originalities can be pointed out for each specific topic addressed, while remaining faithful, for the overall perspective, to the spirit of integration and complementarity that the Corpus Dionysiacum itself conveys.