Why did Women Embrace Sexual Renunciation in Late Antiquity?

Written by: Harry Fry


“Are the cups properly set out? Is dinner ready?”

(St Jerome, The Perpetual Virginity of Mary, 22.34).

The Letters of St Jerome can be scrutinised against the grain to reveal a sense of middle-class women’s life in the Late Antiquity household, yet most evidence such as this is problematic. For this period’s female history writers, non-elites rarely occupied their mostly elite, male-dominated narratives. Therefore, this investigation will attempt to differentiate from previous methodologies by truly separating the analysis of elite and non-elite women. In short, Christianisation and the growth of its practices, alongside a female desire to seek empowerment, led women to sexually renunciate, thus following asceticism. This essay will define asceticism as rejecting sexual relations, a removal from much of societal interactions, and gaining agency. This investigation will first outline the multifaceted routes necessary to handle primary sources. Subsequently, it will, importantly, disjoin elite and non-elite women, merging analysis between Christianity’s growing inquiry around celibacy and women’s reasons for escaping societal demands. A final section will consider a largely unestablished area of scholarship on female celibacy and its link with avoiding the potentially abusive environments facing all women in Late Antiquity. This will, resultantly, observe why a tangible female number saw the ascetic movement as a route to personal autonomy and freedom. Two considerations also ought to be followed. Firstly, how, instead of merely why, women chose this path; otherwise, research can wrongly assume that all women could “embrace sexual renunciation”. Secondly, the term “Late Antiquity” covers a male-dominated scholarly field, and consequently, efforts should be made to acknowledge the limitations within established historiography on women. 

Clark states that literary sources on women in the early Christian world are “written by men about women” and thus we must scrutinise between the lines of these writings. Elite women’s narratives were prioritised compared to non-elite women as higher-class females received greater publicity, making them appear more intriguing to male authors for discussion; although, even elite lives were frequently portrayed in fictionalised narratives. Contextualising this investigation’s scope, the sexual decisions of women were overwhelmingly reported by male authors in Antiquity. This means the era’s engrained misogyny, combined with an agenda to serve political commentaries over true representation, crafted sociologically twisted primary accounts, often the works of ecclesiastical writers such as Jerome. To him, asceticism was desired by women to become more masculine, as a woman’s “state of mind is indicated by a restlessness” (St Jerome, Letter 125, 6.23). Not only must scholars today oppose inaccurate features of this evidence, but they must also read between the lines to gain any comprehension of the personal and emotions of women. To break the ceiling of elite-dominated narratives, recent historiography has begun prioritising archaeology, inscriptions and Egyptian papyri in an attempt to reveal more comprehensive sketches of a woman’s life in Late Antiquity – why everyday women chose to be Christian or even an ascetic. Even then, surviving accounts will consistently fail to be equal to if an ascetic told their own story, especially in the context of women, where it can be seen as unacceptable for a woman’s sexual decisions to be probed and told by purely male mindsets. The factual reality of virtually absent writings on middle-class or lower-class women means a separate evaluation of them must take place to advance scholarship.  

Outlining the surge of Christianity and its practices in Late Antiquity, as well as subsequently considering the complex experiences of women during the period, can answer why asceticism rose in popularity. Firstly, non-elite women under Christianity will be observed. The New Testament itself contains pro-ascetic viewpoints, as in the Gospel: Jesus, the Virgin Mary, as well as eunuchs are unmarried, and all are blessed. Celibacy was not seen as a life alteration for all but endorsed for those with unique capabilities. Whilst literacy levels and access to a physical Bible copy for non-elite people can be questioned, church events such as sermons and even dissemination of the faith’s message during its surging popularity could have informed all societal structures. Moreover, primary accounts such as Jerome note his friend Paula travelling to the Egyptian desert amongst a flurry of women in the third and fourth centuries (St Jerome, Letter 108, 6). Whilst those without privilege would have been highly restricted in their movement across regions, this typical elite-oriented evidence reveals that ascetics covered broad spaces geographically, and thus likely could have communicated with a range of ordinary women. A multitude of regions throughout the Empire were Christianised or contained hints of the faith being present through surviving biblical artefacts, suggesting that rituals and the Christian message could have reached most corners of the post-Roman world, westwards and eastwards. The social structures within Late Antiquity are important, as one could argue that non-elite women looked up to those who were more elite. Narratives of ascetics such as Melania the Younger and her husband evidence that both genders in a position of wealth were well respected and admired by their ascetic juniors (Gerontius, The Life of Saint Melania the Younger, Latin 18). Therefore, not only is there multidimensional evidence for Christianity’s messages being spread contemporaneously to asceticism’s rise, but there is also a sense that ‘promising’ ascetics would have viewed prosperous and influential Christian women as esteemed. Through following in their footsteps, could mean to a non-elite woman that they were living a life akin to an elite woman.  

Prior to considering why ascetic renunciation would have been attractive to non-elite women, this question’s scope can be challenged: was asceticism a viable option to ordinary women in Late Antiquity? Upon the fall of the Roman empire and its established legal system, new Germanic laws were a replacement for the legislative norm. However, these were comparatively worse for women: women were not legally independent from their husbands and had more stringent limitations on their ability to handle resources. This signifies a lack of personal female autonomy, particularly as the idea of a woman being second to the husband persisted through this period; even the New Testament forbids women to have “authority” over men (New Testament, Genesis 3, 16.1). Grubb’s research centring around marriage scrutinises Egyptian papyri, illustrating how mainly women faced complicated divorce processes and remarrying constraints. Typically, permission would have been required by either a woman’s father or husband, regardless of social positioning. While societal and household restrictions would have made an ascetic life desired, it is unlikely that masses of ordinary women had the capacity to “embrace” it. Further, the reality of an ascetic’s life cannot be overdrawn, as it would have been confined to regular duties, namely praying and following a simple livelihood, only promising sexual renunciation. Most of the evidence and modern scholarship being from androcentric lenses stunts understanding. The scholarship today remains in need of reformed analysis concerning female history by female scholars. The repeated instances of male Late Antiquity authors dehumanising their female subjects, regardless of origin, restricts perspective on their lives. For instance, a third-century North African churchman argued to women that their “[husband] rules over [them]” (Tertullian, On the Apparel of Women, 1.9). There is implicit evidence of ordinary women being ascetics – particularly in Melania’s life – but noteworthy ascetic leaders and martyrs did not climb into the historical mainstream without resources (Gerontius, The Life of Saint Melania the Younger, Latin 18). St Jerome’s narrative on his friend Paula’s journey as an ascetic is invaluable, yet her financial position remains unclear (St Jerome, Letter 108, 6). Only a thin number of ordinary women genuinely being able to become ascetics is confirmed, and a leading role without elite status appears virtually impossible. 

Elite women’s interest in Christianity, whilst parallel, can be studied with more nuance. Given they were occasionally able to hold positions or notable influence in the Church, and thus recorded in official records, evaluating elites compared to non-elite women is less conjectured. Vitally though, whilst socialist-oriented revisionist scholarship such as that of Grubb is valuable, it has begun to overlook the reality of upper-class power dynamics. The legal and social restrictions placed on women within the household were if anything, more intense for aristocratic women due to increased pressure from families to secure a prosperous marriage with successors, continuing the dynastic line. 

Whilst growing consideration of non-elite lives is necessary, the scholarship cannot begin to overlook the different challenges also faced by elite women. Clark’s leading study on the opportunities for women to hold power in the Church is elite-focused yet does well in evaluating how wealthy women could hold official roles in the church as teachers; asceticism gave rise to even more potential agency for them. Given the role of women in the Bible, such as Jesus’ mother Mary, it was not illogical to infer that women were able to possess influence and that they may have personally felt worthy of an official position. As asceticism grew under the Church, female ecclesiastical power became more recognised and endorsed through wealthy ascetics training young nuns. Particularly in Christian sub-churches, notably Gnostics and Montanists, a heavier focus on celibacy offered moments for ecclesiastical women with resources to climb; notably, Gnostic leader Marcus elevated women to co-priests alongside him. Despite this segment of research identifying women rising to even equality under asceticism’s rise in Late Antiquity, examples are slim and solely limited to wealthy, privileged female leaders. Moreover, suggestions by Clark that elite women were influential and drew in others of similar standing are ungrounded. Instead, only individual women are proven to have been given a promoted role; any idea that whole families or communities of elite ascetics rose is unsubstantiated in explaining their desires.  

In order to better understand the journey of elite female ascetics rising under the Church, their personal experiences must be expanded upon. Essentially, how the reality of societal structures in Late Antiquity made sexual renunciation attractive and more viable for wealthy women. It was unaligned for elite and non-elite women: Late Antiquity exemplified a sharp wealth inequality, even between females. Whilst elites had financial power as well as familial and implicit political connections to rely on, there are arguments for all classes being restricted. As previously evaluated, elite women would have typically faced stricter familial expectations, limiting the usage of monetary means to leave social conformity. Stronger pressures and a lack of personal decision-making made asceticism an attractive venture for those fortunately positioned. Melania the Younger is a core example, as her husband chose an equal path after they lost children, and he eventually supported her wish (Gerontius, The Life of Saint Melania the Younger, Latin 15). Importantly though, Melania remained living a life of luxury: her chronicler depicts her remaining financially prosperous, bathing outside for parts of the day and holding widespread autonomy (Life 19). Whilst her chronicler Gerontius is rightly accused of overstating her successes, true ascetics were meant to convert to an extremely simple life, against Gerontius’ narrative of her. Therefore, these objective descriptions of her everyday life – against a favourable interpretation of her as a legitimate ascetic – are more likely rooted in truth. Even though this narrative is well grounded, Melania provides a singular in-depth instance of these experiences. It cannot be said this was by any means a common experience for wealthy female ascetics. An anonymous chronicle covers well-documented females in Late Antiquity who often renounced social life (Lives of Roman Christian Women). Though these exemplify wealthy women travelling to become hermits, their actual lives upon converting are undefined. Melania’s opportunistic life cannot be said to have been repeated. Therefore, whilst asceticism was attractive for all classes of females towards moving out of institutional barricades, it remains challenging to propose the reality of ascetics’ lives upon conversion. In addition, it remained a more straightforward and attractive opportunity for elites. 

Through removing prominent examples of female ascetics, we can consider the social problems and dangers facing all women in Late Antiquity. This will allow full comprehension of their desire to escape to the quasi-isolated life of an ascetic. As gender historians such as Marcusson note, the socio-political climate post-Roman empire is not widely understood. During the Roman Empire, male-led power dynamics were explicit, yet the extent to which this remained unchanged into Late Antiquity is challenged. Arguments for it growing less intense are summarised by Brown, who argues the law was cemented for both genders in Late Antiquity and goes against Gibbon’s concept of societal infrastructure collapsing. In actuality, it was likely a combination of both: implicit changes to recognised female autonomy, yet continued sentiments of women as below males in overall power. On a micro level, households and everyday life did not begin widely favouring women, as traditional routines persisted: high levels of objectification and institutional responsibility for women as brides and producers of offspring. Whilst it can be argued that women ran households and children’s upbringing to an extent, there were a multitude of irregularities: abusive marriages within all social classes as well as the assault of female slaves. The ecclesiastical opportunities granted to some elite women have been identified yet remaining linked to a constantly male-led family would limit any chance for complete freedom, unless a husband uniquely chose to grant his wife this. Asceticism seemingly offered a clear escape – official exit and separation from the household to a life of independence under other women. However, given ascetic leaders were often male, and non-elite ascetics would not usually be offered any luxury, one could refute this evaluation. Instead, the frequency of abuse and intense restriction in society would have crafted enough desire for all women favouring Christianity to move away from their lives, if able to do so. Therefore, an extended part of the analysis can name asceticism as an illusory path, where a new life was desired, not considering its reality.  

Following this investigation’s trend of analysis, non-elites should be granted separate room in historiography to allow equal consideration of all societal structures. However, once their different experiences under Christianity’s rise and their own personal nuances have been evaluated, both can be merged to propose a conclusion. The crux behind ascetic renunciation’s popularity should be attributed to Christianity’s role and personal female desires. However, the glory of an ascetic’s life must not be overwritten, as non-elite ascetics, apart from escaping society, had little chance of prosperity upon converting. That is if they possessed sufficient agency to do so in the first place. Whilst prioritising women’s and non-elite women’s history in Late Antiquity is essential, the widespread struggles they walked through cannot be forgotten. 


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