Religious conflict of various sorts plagued the Byzantine Empire. In particular, doctrinal disputes between different Christian groups divided the empire and caused headaches for a succession of emperors. The earliest and most long-lasting religious dispute, however, was between Jews and Christians. Jews perceived Christians as heretics, as misguided Jews or, worse, as Gentiles, who had been deceived by a false messiah and persisted in their mistake, refusing to keep the Law or honour the Sabbath. For Christians, the continuing presence of Jews seemed to contradict prophecies about the advent of the Messiah; all Jews should have converted to Christianity after the resurrection. Treatment of Jews by Christian emperors varied, but conditions gradually deteriorated, with successive emperors removing certain rights previously enjoyed by Jews (Elli Kohen, History of the Byzantine Jews; Andrew Sharf, Byzantine Jewry from Justinian to the Fourth Crusade, The Littman library of Jewish civilization; Nicholas R.M. de Lange, “Jews and Christians in the Byzantine Empire: Problems and Prospects,” in Christianity and Judaism, ed. Diana Wood, 22–23).** In the fifth century CE Theodosius restricted the rights of Jews to hold public office** (Novella Th.3) (Codex Theodosianus, vol. 3, Novellae, eds. Paul Krüger, Theodor Mommsen, and Paul M. Meyer, Novella III: De Iudaeis Samaritanis haereticis et paganis; Fergus Millar, A Greek Roman Empire: Power and Belief under Theodosius II (408–450), Sather Classical Lectures, 12). The emperor Justinian went further. In 553, in his Novella 146, he prohibited the use of Hebrew scriptures in Jewish synagogues, declaring that the scriptures must be read in Greek (Corpus Iuris Civilis, vol. 3, Novellae, eds. Rudolf Schoell and Wilhelm Kroll, 714–18).

In this novella the Jews are presented as troublemakers who are stubborn and deaf to the truth (Leonard V. Rutgers, “Justinian’s Novella 146: Between Jews and Christians,” in Jewish Culture and Society under the Christian Roman Empire, eds. Richard Lee Kalmin and Seth Schwartz, 389). Justinian’s revision of the legal code also removed many of the legal and religious rights of Jews and, in fact, removed Theodosius’ statement about the legality of Judaism (Nicholas R.M. de Lange, “Jews in the Age of Justinian,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Justinian, ed. Michael Maas, 420). Jewish and Samaritan dis satisfaction with their treatment expressed itself in riots and revolts in the fifth and sixth centuries. In 556, for example, Jews and Samaritans in Caesarea at tacked and killed Christians, including the governor, and destroyed churches (Kohen, History of the Byzantine Jews, 31). In the seventh century, the emperor Heraclius decreed that all Jews in the empire should be forcibly baptised. The Doctrina Iacobi nuper baptizati or “The Teaching of Jacob, the newly baptised one” is a dialogue, written in Greek around 634 CE, between Jews who have been forcibly baptised as a result of this decree of the emperor Heraclius.

A century of conflict

Seventh-century Byzantium was marked by violence and political strife.The first decade saw imperial murders and usurpations: the emperor Maurice was slaughtered by supporters of the usurper Phocas in 602 (Agapius, Universal History, ed. trans. Alexander A. Vasiliev, PO 8, Part 2.2, 447–48); in 610 Heraclius led a rebellion and, once he was successful, had Phocas killed and his body mutilated (Robert G. Hoyland, Theophilus of Edessa’s Chronicle and the Circulation of Historical Knowledge in Late Antiquity and Early Islam, TTH 57, 59-61). Heraclius then (and for almost his whole reign) had to contend with numerous invasions of Byzantine territory (Frank R. Trombley, “Military Cadres and Battle During the Reign of Heraclius,” in The Reign of Heraclius (610–641): Crisis and Confrontation, ed. Gerrit J. Reinink Bernard H. Stolte, 241–60). By 619 many of the eastern regions (Mesopota mia, Syria, Palestine and Cilicia) had been lost to the Persians (Gerrit J. Reinink, “Heraclius, the New Alexander: Apocalyptic Prophecies during the Reign of Heraclius,” in The Reign of Heraclius, 81–94), including, most significantly, Jerusalem. The Persians had destroyed the Church of the Holy Se pulchre and stolen the relic of the True Cross. The loss of Jerusalem to the Persians, and with it the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the True Cross (with all its connotations of Christian triumph), sig nalled, to Jews and Christians alike, the end of the Roman empire (Hans J.W. Drijvers, “Heraclius and the Restitutio Crucis: Notes on Symbolism and Ideology,” in The Reign of Heraclius, 175–76; Robert L. Wilken, The Land Called Holy: Palestine in Christian History and Thought, 203).

Christian apocalyptic literature had previously stated, based on the vision of the four beasts in the book of Daniel, that the Roman empire should be the last remaining empire, and that it would triumph over all others before the advent of the antichrist and the second coming of the Messiah (Paul Julius Alexander, The Byzantine Apocalyptic Tradition, ed. Dorothy deF. Abrahamse, 151). The victories of the Persians thus threatened Christian concepts of the eschaton and, for some Jewish communities in Jerusalem, gave credence to Jewish theology (Wilken, The Land Called Holy, 203). The Jewish apocalyptic work Sefer Zerubbabel, written just after the Persian conquest of Jerusalem, expresses the Jewish hope that this victory signalled the end of Christian hegem ony and the coming of the Jewish Messiah (Israel Lévi, “L’apocalypse de Zorobabel et le roi de Perse Siroès,” Revue des Études Juives 68 (1914): 129–60, 131–44; Martha Himmelfarb, The Apocalypse: A Brief History, 118–19; Robert L. Wilken, The Land Called Holy, 207–15).

For example, there are contemporary stories of Jews assisting the Persian invaders and taking up arms against the Roman soldiers, in the belief that they were assisting the end of Christian rule and bringing in the eschaton (Gilbert Dagron Vincent Déroche, “Juifs et chrétiens dans l’Orient du VIIe siècle,” Travaux et Mémoires 11 (1991): 17–273, 22; Wout Jac. van Bekkum, “Jewish Messianic Expectations in the Age of Heraclius,” in The Reign of Heraclius, 95–112, 103ff). This Jewish optimism was, however, short-lived.When, in 628, Heraclius reconquered Jerusalem, it was portrayed as a great victory of Christianity and a confirmation of Christian eschatological thought (Drijvers, “Heraclius and the Restitutio Crucis,” 178–79, 186–90). His triumphal entry into the city and restoration of the relic of the True Cross dramatised Christianity’s victory and emphasised the Christian belief in God’s salvific support of the Roman empire. It was shortly after this reconquest that Heraclius issued his decree that Jews in the empire should be forcibly baptised. There were good reasons, both theological and political, to issue this decree. The Persians had benefitted from the dissatisfaction of Jewish groups, who had been willing to support their military efforts against the Christian Romans (Gilbert Dagron Vincent Déroche, “Juifs et chrétiens dans l’Orient,” 28; Robert L. Wilken, The Land Called Holy, 206; Vincent Déroche, “Polémique anti-judaïque et émergence de l’Islam (7e–8e siècles),” REByz 57 (1999): 141–61). Heraclius is unlikely to have thought that forcible baptisms would eradicate such subversive acts, but this religious persecution of Jews aimed to weaken their position and served as a sign of his commitment to imperial unity based on religious uniformity.

Heraclius was seen to have an important role to play in preparing the empire for the second coming of the Messiah, stamping out disputes between Christian groups and ensuring that all those who lived in the empire were Christian (Dagron and Déroche, “Juifs et chrétiens dans l’Orient,” 30). Heraclius, at the same time as he was trying to unite different Christian groups by his proposal of the “one will” and “one energy” of Christ (Hans J.W. Drijvers, “Heraclius and the Restitutio Crucis,” 184; Pauline Allen Bronwen Neil, eds., Maximus the Confessor and his Companions: Documents from Exile, OECT, Introduction, 2–21), also considered it his responsibility to ensure that the remnant of troublesome Jews, who should have converted when the Messiah first appeared, were brought into the fold.

The decree does not seem to have been carried out systematically or effectively except in Carthage. Nor was it met with universal approval by contemporary Christians. A letter survives, attributed to Maximus the Confessor, in which he expresses his concerns about the ramifications of such a decree (Robert Devreesse, “La fin inédite d’une lettre de Saint Maxime: un baptême forcé de Juifs et de Samaritains à Carthage en 632,” Revue des Sciences Religieuses 17 (1937): 25–35; Joshua Starr, “St Maximos and the Forced Baptism at Carthage 632,” Byzantinisch-Neugriechische Jahrbücher 16 (1940): 192–96; Wolfram Brandes, “Heraclius between Restoration and Reform: Some Remarks on Recent Research,” in The Reign of Heraclius, 17–40, 38). The letter is addressed to Sophronius the Monk (probably the Sophronius who shortly there after became patriarch of Jerusalem) (Pauline Allen, ed. trans., Sophronius of Jerusalem and Seventh-Century Heresy. The Synodical Letter and Other Documents, OECT; Phil Booth, Moschus, Sophronius, Maximus: Asceticism, Sacrament and Dissent at the End of Empire), and in it Maximus sets out his three main objections to the forced baptisms: first, he feared that, by forcing people who were not properly prepared for it to be baptised, this decree was in danger of des ecrating the sacrament of baptism; second, he expressed fear for the spiritual well-being of these people who were in reality maintaining their Jewish faith while ostensibly being Christian; and finally, that these new initiates, having been brought into close connection with believing Christians, would be better able to spread discord and disbelief amongst the people. It would be an entirely different matter once these Christ-deniers were brought inside the church. Maximus begs Sophronius to explain why he should not fear the consequences of this move by Heraclius. Unfortunately we do not have Sophronius’ reply.

The Doctrina Iacobi nuper baptizati (hereafter Doctrina Iacobi) is plausibly interpreted in the context of such debates over forced baptism. It can be under stood as responding to the concern that forced baptisms would bring a new group of heretics into the church who would endeavour to lead true Christians astray. This reading sees the text as a sort of manual for Christians who are faced with Jewish questions, a list of potential questions and appropriate an swers, even answers which should appeal to Jews, having been drawn primarily from the Jewish scriptures.

Throughout, and in opposition to Maximus, the author seems to argue for the program of forced baptism. The text attempts to justify the Christian use of violence in baptising the Jews. Although Jacob himself draws attention to the violence,_ he claims he is glad that he was forcibly baptised_ (I.7), and Justus says he is sorry that he was not (IV.5) (Déroche, “Juifs et chrétiens dans l’Orient,” 70–219). The length to which the author goes to show that these Jews can be convinced of the truth of Christianity is in stark contrast to many contemporary anti-Judaic texts which claim that the Jews are too stubborn and are therefore unable to be converted (David M. Olster, Roman Defeat, Christian Response, and the Literary Construction of the Jew, Middle Ages series, 164). Most such polemics exclude Jews completely from those who are to be saved. The Jews are not part of God’s new creation. The author of the Doctrina Iacobi, by contrast, seems to argue that the forced baptisms are part of the divine plan of salvation and that they have taken place at the right time (i.e., that the eschaton is near). In response to the prefect’s declaration that all the Jews must be baptised, they respond that the time for baptism has not yet come (I.3) ( Déroche, “Juifs et chrétiens dans l’Orient,” 72). But, by the end of their con versation with Jacob, they believe that the time has indeed come, and they are glad to have been baptised.

Thus this text counters one aspect of Maximus the Confessor’s concerns (Robert G. Hoyland, Seeing Islam as Others Saw It: A Survey and Evaluation of Christian, Jewish and Zoroastrian Writings on Early Islam, 55), arguing that the eschaton is at hand and that the time for mass baptism of non-Christians has arrived, while at the same time providing Christians with the necessary tools to combat the questions of newly converted Jews (Averil Cameron, “The Byzantine Reconquest of North Africa and the Impact of Greek Culture,” Graeco-Arabica 5 (1993): 153–65, 162; Gerrit J. Reinink, “Heraclius, the New Alexander,” 93–94).

The Doctrina Iacobi and religious conflict

The dialogue is set in Carthage, although some of the discussion is about events taking place in Ptolemaïs in Palestine (which is arguably where it was written). Its popularity is attested to by the fact that, as well as the Greek version,versions or fragments survive in Slavonic, Syriac, Arabic and Ethiopian. It is ostensibly written by a recently baptised Jew called Joseph, who secretly records the conver sation which Jacob has with him and a group of other recently baptised Jews, and then with a non-baptised Jew, Justus. There were many polemical texts cir ulating during this period, but this is the only one which is ostensibly written by a Jew who was forcibly baptised as a result of Heraclius’ decree. Although generally referred to as a dialogue, the Doctrina Iacobi is a closed dialogue and is in many ways more like question and answer literature (Annelie Volgers and Claudio Zamagni, Erotapokriseis: Early Christian Question-and-Answer Literature in Context). Understanding the text as a type of question and answer literature makes sense in the context of the letter attributed to Maximus.The lack of openness in the dialogue is soon apparent.The group of Jews, often referred to as “the circumcised” (οἱ ἐκπεριτομῆς), asks Jacob brief questions and then is silent while he gives detailed and long answers, drawing on a large range of scriptural passages to make his case. Occasionally there is a follow-up question, but often the Jews quickly say they believe and then move on to another problem point. Towards the end of the dialogue another Jew turns up, an acquaintance of Jacob and cousin of one of the other Jews, who has escaped the forced baptisms because he was in Palestine at the time (this suggests that the governor of Carth age, George, was more effective in carrying out Heraclius’ decree than others elsewhere in the empire).

Justus is set up as a more difficult opponent, learned in the scriptures,whose father taught Jacob, and he does bring up new questions for Jacob to deal with, but he is also quickly convinced of the truth of each an swer and in fact it is his cousin Isaakios’ wife and mother-in-law who maintain their disbelief for the longer period (III.12). The text thus does not present a real dialogue or argument, but rather a series of questions and detailed answers.The dialogue seems to have been written as an erotapokrisis, designed to give Chris tians plausible answers to the types of questions Jews might ask about Christian ity. The dialogue (or question and answer text) thus seeks to aid Christians in conflict with Jews. Alongside this discursive violence, the text also figures reli gious conflict in several interrelated ways.

Fear

The dialogue emphasises the fear of both the Jewish and the Christian communities felt by the group. They fear the Christians because the prefect George had decreed that any Jews who had been forcibly baptised should then be forced to attend catechetical classes and to listen to sermons to ensure they truly believed (Déroche, “Juifs et chrétiens dans l’Orient,” 262). These Jews are meeting because they do not believe, and fear the con sequences if they are discovered. Isaakios, for example, fears being burned by the Christians (I.43). Likewise, the group fears being treated as Christians by non-baptised Jews, who would consider them unclean because of their baptism. The characters in the text meet secretly and promise not to record the con versation or to tell outsiders about the discussion or the membership of the group (I.43). Naturally the author then has to justify the fact that the dialogue has been written down word for word. Joseph (the supposed author) goes to great lengths to record it, stationing his son at the window in the next house so that he could take notes from what he could overhear through the open win dows, and every so often dashing out to inform his son about the goings-on (I.43). Twice he explains what he did and twice records that one of the Jews (first Isaakios and then Justus) questioned him about it (I.43; III.4). He hides his true purpose by claiming to have diarrhoea. All of this seems very staged, but it serves to highlight the fear which such a group of Jewish converts would feel, and therefore the strength of the conflict between Christian and Jew ish groups in this period.

Violence

Violence is a major aspect of Jewish-Christian interaction in the text, and it is violent on both sides of the conflict. According to the Arabic version of the text (there is a lacuna in the Greek text at this point), Jacob was imprisoned for one hundred days for refusing to be baptised and, when he still refused, was baptised by force (I.3). At the end of the dialogue Justus is willing to endure torture and death for his new-found Christian beliefs (V.17). Violence of the Jews towards Christians is also treated in the dialogue. Jacob admits to brutal behaviour towards Christians in his youth (I.40). He says he hated Christ (ἐμίσουν τὸν Χριστόν) and did terrible things to Christians (καὶ τοῖς Χριστιανοῖς κακὰἐνέδειξα). His behaviour is linked to the (often violent) conflict between the circus factions, which he used to his advantage, changing sides when he saw an opportunity to brutalise Christians (I.40). There is some attempt to justify the Christian use of violence in baptising the Jews. Although Jacob himself draws attention to the violence, he claims he is glad that he was forcibly baptised (I.7), and Justus expresses regret that he was not (IV.5). Similarly, Justus’ willingness to die for his new-found beliefs is treated very positively (V.17). By contrast, the author does not justify the Jewish use of violence; Jacob says he was young and thoughtless and is now sorry for his actions (I.40). The ways in which violent conflict between Jews and Christians is presented in this dialogue point to a Christian author. Christian brutality is mentioned, but justified; Jewish violence is given in more detail and is presented in terms of dev ilry and mistaken hatred of Christ (I.40). Jacob admits that he refused to pay at tention to what the prophets say about Christ (I.40).

Rationality of Jews

Jews are not presented in an entirely negative fashion, perhaps suggesting an author with Jewish sympathies. Unlike other contemporary Christian polemics, the dialogue does not present Jews as stubborn and unable to be converted to the truth (Yossi Soffer, “The View of Byzantine Jews in Islamic and Eastern Christian Sources,” in Jews in Byzantium: Dialectics of Minority and Majority Cultures, eds. Robert Bonfil, Oded Irshai, Guy G. Stroumsa, Rina Talgam, 845–70). By contrast, the Jews in the text are rational beings, able to be swayed by reasoned arguments. Lay Jew ish intellectual life is presented as vibrant and engaging, arguably suggesting that the author had some experience of such theological conversations in the Jewish community (Olster, Roman Defeat, 160). Excommunication was not practised by Jewish leaders, nor was it unusual for different interpreters of scripture to have entirely different views. The questions in the Doctrina Iacobi express particularly Jewish concerns about Christian doctrines, and the answers draw heavily on the Old Testament to make their case. At one point (I.12) the Jews ask why Moses said to live by the Law, whereas Jacob has said it is not necessary anymore to be Jewish or ob serve the Sabbath.They are conflicted: “We want to observe the Sabbath and be lieve in Christ” (Ἡμεῖςκαὶ σαββατίζειν θέλομεν καὶ τῷ Χριστῷ πιστεύειν I.12). Jacob responds by arguing that the Sabbath and the Laws are like the moon and the stars: they are good, but their light is still surpassed (and in fact hidden) by that of the sun (Christ). In his answer he explicitly draws on Deuteronomy, Malachi, the Psalms, Genesis and Isaiah. He also makes use of 1 Timothy and 1 Thessalonians, but he does not draw attention to these as he does to the Old Testament texts. Other Jewish questions are dealt with in turn.

1. Why does God reject the synagogue, which is supposed to be the place in which the people come to know God (I.32)? Jacob replies that Judaism has reached its full term, and draws on the prophet Isaiah to argue that Christ surpasses the old and that the way to know God now is through Christ and his resurrection.
2. Why did Christ die the death of a criminal (I.33)? Jacob replies that the prophets had decreed that the Messiah would save humanity through his crucifixion. He uses texts from Deuteronomy, Numbers, Jeremiah, Isaiah and the Psalms which refer to the Messiah being placed on wood in pain, and to his out stretched arms and to his pierced hands and feet. In such examples,which could be multiplied, the questions are either generated from within Judaism or draw on resources that would be most rhetorically effective amongst a Jewish audience.

Christians themselves are not presented very positively. The Jews still do not want to marry Christians or associate with them, and Jacob at one point suggests that the converted Jewish race would remain separate from the wider Christian population. Jacob de scribes his forced baptism as violent (I.3) and all the characters are extremely fearful of the Gentile Christian population (I.43).Violence by Christians towards Jews is not a prominent theme in pro-Christian polemical literature of this peri od, leading scholars such as David Olster to argue that this text could only have been written to convert Jews or to strengthen Jewish-Christian identity, rather than merely using them as the traditional enemy to prove “Christianity’s integrity”.

Conflict with Saracens

Further interreligious conflict is explored towards the end of the dialogue, when the prophet Muhammad is mentioned (although not by name, but simply as the prophet among the Saracens) (V.16). According to Abraham, the brother of the character Justus, this prophet caused many in the Jewish community to rejoice, believing him to be their awaited prophet who would foreshadow the Jewish Messiah (V.16). The author presents the Jewish community as hopeful and expectant, anticipat ing the arrival of their awaited prophet.

The Doctrina Iacobi is evidence for ways in which the advent of Islam reshaped Christian apocalyptic. As O’Sullivan points out, it is too early to be considered a polemic against Islam (Shaun O’Sullivan, “Anti-Jewish Polemic and Early Islam,” in The Bible in Arab Christianity, ed. David Thomas, The History of Christian–Muslim Relations 6, 63). Hence the author of the Doctrina Iacobi makes it clear that the Jews should think of this new prophet as false, focusing their attention instead on the true Messiah, Jesus Christ, whose advent and status they had misinterpreted as false (V.16). As we have seen, the author argues that there should be no conflict between Jews and Christians, since all Jews should (and can) become Christians. His learned character, Justus, is truly converted by the arguments of Jacob and declares that he wants all his family to become Christian (V.17). At this point Jacob asks (V.17). These Jews who have joined with the Arabs will cause serious problems for Jews newly converted to Christianity (V.17). The Jews and Saracens are presented as an allied and violent force. Justus ex pects (and possibly seeks) violence from the Jewish community and links them very closely with the Arabic community. This is the group against which Justus wishes to fight and die in the cause of Christianity, if necessary. By these means the author presents the Arabs (or Saracens) as the correct enemy for both Christians and Jews.