In this article, I propose a new way of interpreting athletic metaphors in early Christian literature. I argue that the metaphorical figure of the athlete would have evoked for ancient readers not simply the ideas of competitive struggle, but also the idea of sexual abstinence, a lifestyle choice closely associated with athletes in the Greco-Roman world. The article collects and discusses evidence for the practice of athletic celibacy, drawing together a disparate collection of medical and philosophical literature, with Christian sources, from the second and third centuries CE. It demonstrates that athletic celibacy was a familiar concept in this period, and that many observers were interested in the methods that athletes used to control their sexual urges, including applying lead plates to their loin muscles. The treatment of this evidence suggests that there was greater interest in sexual abstinence among non-Christians than has previously been understood, and that athletes were implicated in controversies about whether or not total abstention from sex was a healthy lifestyle choice. As such, I argue that it is plausible to regard the athletic imagery of early Christians not only as a metaphorical comparison between two kinds of strident individuals, but also as advocacy for the celibate life as the most healthful lifestyle.

This essay seeks to provide a framework for the four articles that follow. While the employment of medical metaphors by the writers of Late Antiquity has long been recognized, for medical historians the domains to which the metaphors are applied have remained largely in the background. Attention has tended to focus on the metaphors themselves and on the degree to which they reflect actual historical medical thought and practice. More recently attention has focused on the cultural, conceptual, and moral purpose of medical metaphors and how their employment might in itself be therapeutic. This article addresses three recent shifts in the way the role of medical metaphor is viewed, including its cognitive implications for the hearer.

In late antique theological texts, metaphors of the brain were useful tools for talking about forms of governance: cosmic, political, and domestic; failed and successful; interior discipline and social control. These metaphors were grounded in a common philosophical analogy between the body and the city, and were also supported by the ancient medical concept of the brain as the source of the sensory and motor nerves. Often the brain was imagined as a monarch or civic official, governing the body from the head as from an acropolis or royal house. This article examines two unconventional metaphors of the brain in the work of the fifth-century Greco-Syrian bishop Theodoret of Cyrrhus—the brain as a treasure within the acropolis, and the brain as a node in an urban aqueduct—both of which adapt the structural metaphor of governance to reflect the changing political and economic circumstances of imperial Christianity. Drawing upon medical theories of the brain, Theodoret expands upon the conventional governance metaphor of brain function to encompass the economic and the spiritual responsibilities of the bishop-administrator. Just as architectural structures (acropolis, aqueduct) contain and distribute valuable resources (treasure, water) within the city, so the brain accumulates and redistributes nourishing substances (marrow, blood, pneuma ) within the body; and just as the brain functions as a site for the transformation of material resources (body) into spiritual goods (mind), so the bishop stands as a point of mediation between earthly wealth and the treasures of heaven.

Humankind, for Gregory of Nyssa, was poisoned through a primordial act of eating the forbidden fruit from the Garden of Eden. As a result, the toxin of sin and death has been blended into the body and soul of each person, dispersing itself throughout the component parts of their nature. If eating and drinking initiated the spiritual and physical degradation of humanity, Gregory argues, then it must also be through eating and drinking—namely, through the Eucharist—that humanity will be healed. This article proposes that Gregory's instruction on the Eucharist in his Catechetical Oration should be understood as more than merely a metaphorical flourish, more than a clever use of medical imagery at the service of a sacramental theology. Rather, his use of technical medical terminology and concepts about dietetics and pharmacology are an example of medical knowledge being applied within the embodied practices of a particular Christian ritual. That is, when read in light of the crucial medical concept of krasis —in which health and disease are identified as a delicate blending of hot, cold, wet, and dry—we are better able to discern how Gregory's discussion of ritualized bread-eating functions as a medical intervention into the diseased and dying nature of humanity. In his discussion of food's power to reconfigure the four fundamental qualities of human physiology, Gregory presents the Eucharistic bread as part of a dietary regimen, a method for blending Christ's healing and life-giving power into bodies that are currently bent toward death. In this way, the bread is offered as a singularly potent antidote for sicknesses afflicting body and soul alike.

In Paedagogus 1.6.28, Clement describes baptism through the metaphor of a cataract surgery that enables the percipient to see God. In antiquity, cataract surgery was neither a common nor a safe procedure, which raises the question: why does Clement use such an unlikely metaphor for baptism? In this article, I demonstrate that this medical metaphor of cataract surgery enabled Clement to blur the line between the physical and the spiritual. The visual component of the metaphor allowed Clement to draw from Epicurean sensory perception and epistemology, which understood objects to emit tiny films that entered the eye of the body , with repeated contact leading to concept formation, in order to describe how the eye of the soul could see God once it has been transformed through baptism. For Clement, it is only through baptism that the cataract can be removed, thereby providing the baptized Christian with deified eyes to see God. In addition to having her cataract removed, according to Clement, the nature of the baptized Christian's vision changes from intromission to extramission, from receiving films to emitting a visual ray back to the divine. I further argue that the medical component of the metaphor allows Clement to describe the baptized Christian as fundamentally different from the rest of humanity and as part of an elite group that has undergone this uncommon and dangerous cataract surgery. Through these two aspects of his metaphor, Clement describes and defines Christians in terms of their medically modified eyes that enable them to see and to know God.