The 4th century social justice warrior

He was the first to condemn slavery, over 1,500 years ago. Gregory of Nyssa critically examined society, looking at the relationships and structures everyone takes for granted.

Ryan Gilfeather

Ryan Gilfeather explores social issues through the lens of philosophy, theology, and history. He is a Research Associate at the Joseph Centre for Dignified Work.

A mosaic shows a saint with a beard holding a bible and his hand held up in a blessing.

Gregory of Nyssa fresco.

Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

In January 2023 the Church of England committed £100m to invest in communities affected by historic slavery. Rightly so. Research since 2019 shows that the wealth it accumulated through historic investment in a slave trading company and receiving gifts from slave traders, may still benefit its finances today. This past is, as the Archbishop of Canterbury says, shameful. So, it is only right that these actions are addressed.

This story also highlights the complex relationship between Christianity and enslavement. On one hand, inspired by their faith, Christians led the fight for abolition. But on the other, some Christians supported and benefitted from the enslavement of other humans. And, the further back we look in history, the more Christians seem to accept enslavement as part of the fabric of society.

There is, however, an exception. In the late fourth century AD, Gregory of Nyssa, a bishop and theologian, critically examined this practice of enslavement, which so many others did not even think to question, and explicitly names it as a sin, about a millennium and a half before the abolitionist movements. Gregory is, in this way, a light in the darkness and an inspiration to Christians today.

He is convinced, on a fundamental level, that the domination of one human being over another in slavery is incompatible with Christian belief. In one of his sermons on the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, delivered in Cappadocia (Turkey), he calls slavery a sin.

It is a ‘gross example of arrogance… for a human being to think himself the master of his own kind’: When someone…arrogates dominion to his own kind, so as to think himself the owner of men and women, what is he doing but overstepping his own nature through pride, regarding himself as something different from his subordinates?'

It is wrong to dominate others, because all human beings share the same fundamental nature. That nature is being made in the image of God:

'God said, let us make man in our own image and likeness. If he is in the likeness of God, and rules the whole earth, and has been granted authority over everything on earth from God , who is his buyer, tell me?'

Since we are made in the image of God, we share His freedom to choose our own path, be it good or evil. When you enslave another, you take away this fundamental freedom and treat them as if they are animals, lower than the image of God:

'Why do you go beyond what is subject to you and raise yourself up against the very species which is free, counting your own kind on a level with four-footed things an even footless things?'

Therefore, Gregory says it is a shameful arrogant pride to enslave another human being, because you treat that which is made in the image of God as less than human, denying them the freedom God has given them.

We see this conviction about slavery as domination playing out in his biography of his sister Macrina. As wealthy aristocrats, his family owned enslaved people. Yet, at the heart of his narrative about his sister’s life, he explains how she began to treat her family slaves as equals:

'Weaning her [mother] from all that she had been accustomed to, she led her down to her own standard of humility, showing her how to live in equality with the whole body of virgins (slaves), that is, by sharing with them the one table, the same kind of bed, and all the necessities of life on an equal basis, with every distinction of rank removed from their life.'

Gregory does not explicitly say she freed these enslaved people, but inviting an enslaved person to share one’s table was a way of freeing them called manumissio inter amicos. In these passages, he particularly praises Macrina for undoing destructive relationships of domination, where one human treats another as less than themselves and lower than the image of God.

Gregory isn’t perfect. His condemnation of enslavement centres on the enslaver: he encourages his audience to avoid the moral pitfall, rather than expressing concern for the enslaved people. In another text he says it is good to free slaves, but he does not appear to campaign to end slavery. As we saw in the biography of his sister, he is so concerned to undo the relationships of domination of one person over another, that he is less clear if these people are free to leave. Finally, there is no evidence from his contemporary theologians that Gregory persuaded anyone else that slavery was a sin. In these ways, from our perspective today we would want Gregory to go further to dismantle slavery, or shift his perspective.

But, we don’t need him to be perfect. He offers a light in the darkness, not the rising of the sun. Gregory is an inspirational example of critically examining the fabric of one’s society, looking at the relationships and structures everyone takes for granted, and having the clarity and courage to see and proclaim that they are fundamentally incompatible with what he thinks the Bible says about the worth of human beings.

Many Christians are inspired by this way of thinking today. Even if they don’t know Gregory of Nyssa’s name, they will be drawn to charitable giving, certain professions, or activism, out of a deep desire for all to be treated with equality, because all are made in the image of God. To name one example of many. In the UK, Christians were heavily involved in the real living wage campaign. Society at large told them it was impossible to pay a wage where one did not need to choose between feeding and seeing one’s children. But, they campaigned alongside other community groups so that workers are being paid enough to live on, because they were convinced, like Gregory, that all human beings are due the same dignity and worth.

Enslavement: Voices from the Archives.

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Ageing

Care

Change

Death & life

20 September 2024

6 min read

A Tolkien poem helps a nurse understand the ravages of dementia

'Not all who wander are lost.'

Helen Cowan

Helen is a registered nurse and freelance writer, writing for audiences ranging from the general public to practitioners and scientists.

An elderly woman wearing headphone looks up and to the side with a big smile.

Playlist for Life

Not all who wander are lost.

Often written on a care home wall, on an inspirational poster, these words are usually set against a forest background, or compass, for added effect. They have also been used as the title of a conference paper discussing so-called smart trackers for people with dementia, whilst, Not all who wander need be lost is the title of a concise guide to navigating the heartbreaking challenges when a loved one is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease or other dementia.

As a care home nurse for more than ten years, I have seen residents wander - not lost but “walking with purpose”, as it is sometimes known in the caring community. “Nobody gets up and walks without a reason,” says Suzanne Mumford, Care UK's Head of Nursing, Care and Dementia; perhaps they are easing pain, or boredom, or looking for something that they can’t describe. I remember residents exploring, enquiring into self-made mysteries solvable only by themselves, examining everything from door handles to another resident’s buttons, even escaping with surprising speed. Walking with them, often in silence, can bring a sense of relief, comfort and companionship.

What I didn’t know was that this is a quotation from a poem by JRR Tolkien, published in The Fellowship of the Ring seventy years ago. The actual line is - “Not all those who wander are lost”.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”

We first hear this poem in Chapter Ten of Book One, as Frodo reads it in the postscript of a letter from Gandalf. As I read it, the imagery of being lost, withered, frost-bitten, in darkness, burned and broken, speaks something, in poetic picture language, of the ravages of dementia, the harrowing losses, the valley of tears. It brings to mind residents unaware of familiar objects or surroundings, looking straight through loved ones without a flicker of recognition, losing also language, continence, mobility and the ability to swallow.

The TV presenter Fiona Philips recalled an agonising decline in her mother as she succumbed to Alzheimer’s, describing how, in the final stages, her mother “spent whole chunks of time just sitting and staring ahead, only able to give out a series of sounds”. Fiona herself now lives with dementia. “'It’s devastated my family and it’s the biggest health and social care challenge we face as a country,” she says.

I once interviewed retired doctor Jennifer Bute, who lives with dementia. She talked of time travel (perceiving herself as living in a time from her past); disorientation to place and person; frightening hallucinations when old memories are seemingly ‘unlocked’; and ‘emotional unzipping’ when agitation and anxiety increase, often in the late afternoon or evening in something poorly understood as a symptom, known as ‘sundowning’.

Yet there is something more to this poem – each of the pains has a promise – not all who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither; and, most poignantly, deep roots are not touched by the frost. In dementia, it is true that deep roots are untouched, that an enduring aspect of a person’s identity never truly withers, though it may be mostly unseen. Something remains. Oliver Sacks the famous neurologist emphasised that, even in the late stages of Alzheimer’s, the person is still ‘alive inside’ (the inspiring documentary with this title is recommended). In stunning real-life stories, he has shown how music appears to ‘call back the self’, awakening moods, memories and thoughts that had seemingly been lost. He refers to music’s extraordinary ‘neural robustness’ and describes one man, unable to tie his tie or find his way to the stage, yet able to perform a perfect piano solo. In one life-affirming, must-watch, tear-jerking video, gospel music was shown to enliven, calm, focus and engage a man simply known as Henry.

Watch Henry

Singing can “provide islands of arousal and awareness like nothing else can”, according to Alicia Clair, Professor of Music Therapy. I’ve seen singing bring the person into the present for a passing moment, illuminating a face that seemed far away. One otherwise-silent lady completed the chorus of ‘Daisy, Daisy’ before descending into dementia again. Others have laughed, clapped, danced, embraced and even shed a silent tear during music therapy sessions, when music elicits memory. Doll therapy meanwhile has sometimes restored and revealed a sense of nurture, purpose, care and pride, with residents feeding their new friend before accepting their own food, folding its clothes and taking care of it cradled in their arms. Though it divides opinion, a doll can preserve dignity if it de-escalates agitation or engagement in physical or verbal abuse; a sense of dignity also comes from the person being able momentarily to give care rather than receive it.

“From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken,” continues Tolkien's poem, and, though not the original intention, these powerful images of renewal and restoration paint a picture of something known as “paradoxical lucidity”, or unexpected cognitive lucidity and communication in some patients with severe dementia, especially around the time of death (though sometimes long before).

Anecdotes are recorded of “unexpected, spontaneous, meaningful, and relevant communication or connectedness in a patient who is assumed to have permanently lost the capacity for coherent verbal or behavioral interaction due to a progressive and pathophysiologic dementing process”. Some scientists are seeing them as a paradigm shift in the understanding and perhaps even treatment of dementia. I will never forget when a woman in the late stages of dementia, with little spoken language, was brought back to the nursing home weeks after hospital admission; she had been perilously ill. With bright eyes, she took my arm and, as if the mist had cleared for a moment, spoke warmest words of thanks to me for helping her on the day she collapsed. In another fleeting and irreproducible moment, a lady wished me happy birthday, before continuing her silent walk around the home. Witnessing such an event is ethically and emotionally transformative.

The concept of remaining ‘alive inside’ even when abilities, language and memory are eroded by dementia is taken to the next level in Christianity, which teaches that life continues even after death itself. The Bible speaks of new life beyond the grave; the fire shall be woken, a light shall spring. And there will be a crown (and the gold will glitter). The Crown of Life is referred to, being bestowed upon "those who persevere under trials." Dementia is one of life’s severest trials; a cross to bear. In the 1912 hymn “The Old Rugged Cross”, another cross is spoken of, being the cross of Christ at his crucifixion. Clinging to that cross, living out a Christian life, the hymnwriter wrote of “exchanging the cross for a crown” at life’s end. After ashes, hope awaits the Christian.

Playlist for Life is a charity encouraging people to create playlists for people living with dementia.

Playlist for Life