In this third chapter the role played by the literary aspirations of the LM’s author will come to the fore. In an attempt to show how he has molded his materials with a definite theme or purpose in mind, the social reality which has been so often associated with local, Asclepian (or simply indigenous) healing must be queried. In no way should the results of this examination diminish our access to the reality “on the ground” in Seleukeia. Instead, these {113|114} results should enhance that access by bringing into focus the way reality is shaped by the author of the text. What I hope to make clear is that it is only through making a close examination of the Miracles, our chief conduit to that Seleukeian reality, that we can hope to achieve the social or anthropological high ground that a text like this one seems to offer.

With this in mind, I would like to begin by examining the rhetorical position adopted by the author in his preface to the Miracles. The author opens the Miracles (after a brief proem) with a citation from Herodotus, the father of classical historiography. This citation is the oracle given to Croesus in Book 1 of the Histories: “In crossing the Halys river Croesus will destroy a great kingdom” (Mir. preface 50; compare Herodotus 1.53). This oracle is used by the author of the Miracles to illustrate the opacity of pagan oracular wisdom. As he says, “in puzzles and riddles lies the whole honor of the oracles” (preface 36–37). He then proceeds to compare these devious oracles to the “healings and oracular sayings (ἰάματα καὶ θεσπίσματα)” of the saints, which he says are “wise, true, complete, holy, perfect, and truly worthy of the God who has given them” (preface 75–77).

The Miracles employs a similar paratactic style in the formulaic introductions and conclusions found in each miracle. A key phrase for the introduction is something like the following from the opening of Mir. 42: “I should mention (μνημονευτέον) this miracle, of which I obtained the remembrance (μνήμην) only with some difficulty.” Likewise, these story-units often have formulaic closings, which serve to conclude the miracle as they push the reader on to the next one. For example, the conclusion to Mir. 13 (31–38) reads:

This pattern of formulaic beginning and formulaic ending does not occur so explicitly in every miracle, but the author is very regular in his framing of the stories. I will draw more attention to this technique again when I treat individual miracles in subsequent sections of this chapter.

I would like to turn now to an examination of Thekla’s character in these miracles. Over the next several sub-sections I shall be examining closely two groups of miracles in particular: 1) the miracles which are primarily concerned with Thekla’s divine power, as displayed in her confrontations with local pagan gods as well as in her miracles of vengeance; and 2) the miracles of healing. This latter group is the one that usually attracts separate attention among scholars, but I hope to show that (despite my division for the sake of analysis) there is no good reason to divide the miracles from one another in any formal manner whatsoever. In other words, miracles of healing may be distinct from the vengeance miracles in terms of content, but there is no overarching structural difference between the two groups, either in terms of narrative or the overall picture of Thekla that is offered. {120|121}

While it is unusual that the martyr is the subject of the abuse—this only happens in one other miracle (Mir. 28)—in other ways this short miracle exhibits shared rhetorical characteristics of all of the miracles. The most important is the description of Thekla’s “all seeing and divine eye.” This epithet could be taken as representative of the way Thekla’s presence in Seleukeia is understood by the author of the Miracles: she never stops watching and never stops working miracles. As the author says later in the collection, “The final miracle, this will never come; there will never be a final miracle of the martyr” (Mir. 44.2–3). In the words of Mir. 22, this is because Thekla is always “watchful.” Interestingly, this unceasing gaze is only once described in terms of shepherding or assisting the helpless—orphans show up in Mir. 35—a tone or characterization which could have easily drawn upon biblical motifs from the Psalms, Isaiah, and the Gospels. Instead, Thekla’s gaze is directed at everything that is “her own” (cf. John 10:27). In the case of Mir. 22, “her own” takes the form of the consecrated “loot” (τὸ φώριον), but in human terms the impact of the theft would have fallen upon “her attendants and servants” (ὑπηρέται καὶ πάρεδροι), exactly whom she “visits” (ἐπιφοιτήσασα) to reveal the location of the stolen cross. Elsewhere, Thekla’s “own” is defined as the individuals who seek to honor her, such as the author of the Miracles himself: “she knows to help with the greatest gifts (τὰ μέγιστα) those who honor her a little (μικρά)” (Mir. 41.7–8).

Thus, her principal focus is upon defending and protecting those who are attached to her in some way: in Mir. 22 this means her “assistants” (presumably priests and virgins attached to her shrine), but in Mir. 44, it means the author, whom we know, from Mir. 12 and elsewhere, is not a monk (though he appears to become a priest in Mir. 41; see below). While her gaze is omnipotent in its scope, it focuses on those who are connected to her: in other words, there is a correspondence between those who need her, who honor her, and whom she looks out for. For the author of the Miracles this correspondence is one-to-one between his text and the assistance that Thekla provides for him. {122|123}

Related to this correspondence between those who need Thekla and those whom she helps is Thekla’s authority over the region of Seleukeia and Isauria/Cilicia generally. The verb ἐπιφοιτάω (“to visit, haunt”) is the most common verb used of Thekla’s activities “on the ground.” Thus, as in the passage quoted from Mir. 22 above, she “visits” her assistants directly after and in response to her “watching” the thief steal and hide the cross. In the Miracles there is a causal relationship between her omnipotent, divine vision (sometimes “listening”: e.g. Mir. 45.20–21), and the practical “haunting” which she performs, either visibly (as herself or in the guise of another), or in dreams.

Her final act against Sarpedon is to “silence him”—in fact the act quotes her direct speech: “Silence! Shut up!” (1.18)—a speech-act which accomplishes the spiritual work of the miracle. In concluding his account of Thekla’s attack on Sarpedon the author of the Miracles comments that the god simply “left,” abandoning those at his shrine (“whether one wants to call it a tomb or a temenos”) who patiently waited on him “devoting themselves to prayers and supplications.” Thus, the inability of Sarpedon to fulfill the hopes of his suppliants—essentially because he is an upstart man, not a god—is contrasted with Thekla’s authority in recapturing a land that was originally her own {125|126} possession. Finally, just before moving on to the second god to be dispatched (Athena), the author of the Miracles closes with a typical summary statement, which underlines the completion (and narrative autonomy) of this miracle: “This was the prelude of the miracles of the martyr, which no one disbelieves any longer, but instead those who are here see it, and all everywhere are amazed (θαυμάζουσι)” (1.23–25). The paratactic style, evident here in the very first miracle, emphasizes the one-to-one correspondence between the miracles that Thekla accomplished and those that are recorded in this collection.

The demise of Sarpedon’s sanctuary at the Sarpedonian cape, south of Seleukeia, is followed in Mir. 2 by Thekla’s conquering of the mountain sanctuary of Athena just to the north. With these two miracles Thekla acquires military dominance over the intermediary plain between the cape and the mountains, that is, the lowland area where the ancient city of Seleukeia and the hilltop shrine of Hagia Thekla were located. Thus, there is a very important theme being established in the first miracles: Thekla is autochthonous in Seleukeia, a status which mutually confirms and is confirmed by her divine power. As noted above (p. 65–66), it is the supernatural event of Thekla’s disappearance into the ground which provides the narrative transition between the Life and the Miracles halves of this work. By beginning the Miracles with these mythological, or even patriological, stories about Thekla’s physical dominance over the coastal territory of Isauria, the author is only continuing a theme which he began in the “previous composition” (τὸ προλαβὸν σύνταγμα), as he calls the Life in the preface (Mir. preface 7). From a narrative point of view, the exertion of her divine power in overcoming Sarpedon and Athena is only a logical outworking of the claim that she placed on this territory when it supernaturally opened up for her to disappear into, at the end of the Life.

There are two important aspects to this aside about Paul. First, calling Paul her διδάσκαλος is reminiscent of the description of their relationship in the Life: Paul is consistently invoked in that earlier work as Thekla’s teacher rather than as her “companion” (as in the second-century ATh). Thus, it is important to note that Paul’s distinctive character in the Life is carried into the Miracles. Second, mentioned along with the setting up of the temple in Seleukeia is that fact that Paul’s “own city” is Tarsus. As the author comments:

This passage also continues a theme begun in the Life, but only in its concluding chapters (especially Life 27). In that earlier passage the author of the LM sets Seleukeia in comparison with Tarsus for the beauty of its surroundings and the quality of its people. However, here the emphasis is, as we might expect, on Thekla’s ownership (so to speak) of Seleukeia, in parallel with Paul’s ownership of Tarsus. The author jokes that this competition is all in good fun, {128|129} but the literary purpose of this aside is clearly to establish further the current theme, which is definitive for Thekla’s relationship to Seleukeia. Her divine power is linked to her control over the region, and, as becomes increasingly apparent as the reader progresses, the extent of Thekla’s power in the region corresponds to the extent of coverage the author of the Miracles gives her.

As proof that the author is aware of this problem, there is the miracle that Thekla performs on behalf of Iconium (Mir. 6). The author’s introduction to that miracle reads as follows:

Her compassion for Iconium is described as almost a stretch of her good character, since this city had already shown itself to be disreputable through {129|130} how it treated her in the Life (see pp. 40–42 above). Nevertheless, she condescends to visit it and delivers the city from a band of Isaurian brigands. This passage is reminiscent of the end of the ATh and the Life when Thekla returns to Iconium from meeting Paul in Myra. Instead of setting up residence there and converting her home city to Christianity she only visits her mother briefly, then pushes on to Seleukeia. There appears to be no wavering in this tradition—in other words, there is no alternative legend that has her staying in Iconium. Like the passage just quoted from Mir. 6, Thekla’s visit to Iconium at the end of the ATh/Life is almost a formality, and one which serves mainly to fix the reader’s attention on her much closer relationship with Seleukeia. Iconium is used in the Miracles as well as at the end of the Life only for the sake of contrast with the city she calls her own.

What emerges, therefore, from these first four miracles is that Thekla’s divine power is linked to her affiliation with, “assignment” to, or even ownership of Seleukeia and its environs. Thekla’s power extends only to this area, which corresponds to the area covered by the Miracles itself. In taking possession of this land from the pagan daimones, Thekla is characterized as taking back possession of a region which the author accords to Christ from a deeply rooted past. In his mind the pagan gods are intervening innovators who have arrived on the scene recently and need to be removed from power. How far back in time their rule is meant to extend is unclear. The author is primarily concerned with Thekla’s triumph and setting things aright: he only notes that “as soon as” (ἅμα) she appeared in Seleukeia, she defeated Sarpedon (Mir. 1.14). Beyond this the reader is not invited to inquire further into the muddy “past-times” history at work in the background. In contrast, however, the two main literary arguments of these initial stories appear unambiguous enough: 1) the autochthonous nature of Thekla’s character and 2) her power to contend with even the most revered and ancient of the pagan gods.

Despite the programmatic nature of the first four miracles in the collection, Thekla’s power is not confined to those divine beings who might be considered her equal. Often throughout the Miracles she is portrayed as meting out justice on groups or individuals whose hubris leads them to act against a city, a church, or an individual whom Thekla considers her own. In a number of miracles Thekla defends cities and churches from the brigands for whom the Isaurian mountains were famous throughout classical and late antique history. Alongside these city-defense miracles stand a group of vengeance stories {130|131} in which individuals are vindicated for wrongs that they have suffered. The narrative focus in these latter miracles is on how the offenders meet their (often violent) deaths. Both groups, city-defense and individual-vindication, employ the rhetorical conventions noted above, but each shares certain internal characteristics as well, which it will be worthwhile to examine in more detail.

A pair of two city-defense miracles begins just following the miracles against the pagan gods. In Mir. 5, Seleukeia is protected against a surprise attack by the brigands. In Mir. 6 Iconium is preserved by Thekla when faced with a similar danger. Another pair, Mir. 26 and 27, concerns the defense of two Isaurian cities, Dalisandos and Selinous, which were beset by sieges also perpetrated by brigands from the mountains. In Mir. 28 one of Thekla’s churches, presumably the shrine at Hagia Thekla, is pillaged but is restored to its former glory once Thekla wreaks punishment on the brigands. This latter miracle demonstrates a combination of elements from the city-defense and individual-vindication miracles.

Similar rhetoric is at work in Mir. 6, in which Thekla saves her home city of Iconium from the same type of attack. Yet the emphasis there is on the swiftness and pervasiveness of Thekla’s rebuttal. As the author says, “all [the attackers] were subject to the same danger and ruin. ‘No messenger escaped alive,’ as one might say in parody of Homer (ὁμηρίζων)” (6.10–12). The brigands are so utterly destroyed that it is almost as if they never existed. They are a prop for displaying Thekla in action, even while, as a locus of societal trepidation, they have an important role to play in communicating Thekla’s empathy to a local audience. Further, the miraculous works of Thekla in saving these two cities from certain demise are explicitly equated at the end of Mir. 6: “the one trophy is not much more common than the other, for both are the work of a sole hand, thought, and ability” (6.13–15). Thekla’s power is given no bounds. Like with the “all seeing and divine eye” which always watches over her region and people, the author of the Miracles is invoking again a sense of uniformity among Thekla’s miraculous activities. The paratactic structure serves to reinforce this uniformity in its pairing of equivalent or near equivalent miracles (e.g. Mir. 5 & 6; 26.47–53 & 27) and its repetitive method of framing stories of Thekla’s divine power.

All of this scene-setting serves to focus the narration on the main point of action, which is Thekla’s reversal of the brigands’ newly found fortune. The climax is told succinctly but not without reinforcing the sense that Thekla is fully in control of the region, despite appearances:

The conclusion to Mir. 28 presents the brigands in a much weakened state, having been handed over by Thekla to a company of “Roman” soldiers which then proceeds to cut their throats. These soldiers are also fully aware of the role that Thekla has played in the capturing of the looters. According to the text, the soldiers sing and rejoice in triumph and then replace the stolen ornaments in Thekla’s church (even though Thekla has supposedly already done this in preceding paragraph). Their reaction is perhaps intended to offer an example of how the reader should react to the Miracles in general: “they reconsecrated the ornaments that belonged to the martyr, while also marveling (θαυμάζειν) and struck (καταπεπλῆχθαι) that she did not endure for long at all the boldness (τόλμης) of those brigands and offenders” (28.37–40). Thekla’s unwillingness “to endure” the hubris of her enemies is essential to the author’s conception of her role in Seleukeia: she always responds swiftly. This is because, first, the crime is worthy of a proper response and, second, her swiftness is concomitant with her power and ability to set wrongs right, especially when it concerns something dear to her (as all of these miracles do). The reaction of the witnesses is one of dumbfoundment—in this case, both the brigands and the soldiers were reduced to speechlessness due to their awe of Thekla’s power.

In the latter miracle, Symposios is not at all successful because, as the narrator says, “the undefiled and immaculate hand of the virgin was clearly protecting and guarding those letters like imperial seals (βασιλικὰ σήμαντρα)” (10.15–17). While this is surely another ex post facto interpretation, it is confirmed rhetorically by the vengeance of Thekla which follows her confounding of the erasure: “In the end [the worker Symposios had hired], who waged war against the godly letters fell off his ladder, broke his bones, and all at once paid the penalty for his audacity” (10.19–21). Thus, Symposios receives a harsh, immediate punishment from the martyr—in the form of the broken body of his hired worker. Without delay, the punishment inflicted on this worker serves to provoke Symposios’ conversion to the orthodox faith: “Immediately at that moment, having exchanged his false opinion, Symposios pronounced, breathed forth, confessed, publicly and visibly proclaimed, and was teaching the very formula [of the inscribed creed] which he had formerly attacked: the consubtantial Trinity” (10.21–25).

Within the space of two or three sentences the author of the Miracles has set up the story, described Symposios’ misdeed, shown how Thekla swiftly brought punishment, and, finally, concluded the miracle in the most miraculous way possible, with the offender’s own conversion. This pattern evokes the punishments of the brigands, who themselves testified to Thekla’s power (e.g. Mir. 5). One difference, however, between those group miracles and this one concerning an individual is that the groups are not usually converted but only bear witness to the identity and the supernatural power of the one performing the miracle. The benefit of focusing the narrative on an individual is that the author can more convincingly draw the miracle to its best possible conclusion: the offender himself is converted to Christianity. {136|137}

Some punishments of individuals, however, do not end with such a pleasant finale. The punishment of Pappos, for example, appears very harsh by comparison. In Mir. 35 Pappos is described as a βουλητής, a provincial administrator in charge of grain distributions to the military (35.1–3). His partner in this, Aulerios, suddenly dies, leaving a moderate inheritance to his children. Out of greed, however, Pappos seizes the inheritance and leaves Aulerios’ orphan children destitute. As the author poignantly observes, “Their misfortune was thus double, becoming orphans as well as loosing the few possessions that still belonged to them” (35.9–11). At this point Thekla intervenes, appearing to Pappos in a grim nightmare. She claims that Aurelios presented himself before Christ in heaven, “the emperor above all,” and condemned Pappos, pleading for divine retribution. In the end, Thekla proves to be both the messenger and agent of justice, as she predicts that one week from that day Pappos will die (35.15–26).

Pappos is not portrayed as indifferent to this news. On the contrary, he is stupefied by the nightmare (as are the brigands and Roman soldiers in Mir. 28), and in the end he finds the strength to repent of his “oppression” (συκοφαντία; cf. lxx Ecclesiastes 5:7 [5:8]). Nevertheless, without hesitation, on the appointed day Pappos meets his end (10.39–40). The author cannot resist concluding with a comment on the story’s widespread fame: “no one of those in our city, nor anyone in theirs [i.e. Isaurian Eirenopolis], was ignorant of the fate that comes from injustice (μετ’ ἀδικίας)” (10.41–42).

A few important points need to be observed regarding the conclusion of this miracle. First, the miracle takes place in Eirenopolis, approximately sixty-five miles to the west of Seleukeia. The author underlines the unity of reporting both there and in Seleukeia with regard to Pappos’ punishment as meted out by Thekla. Thus, by setting the miracle in Eirenopolis, the author projects a uniformity of opinion over the whole region. This narrative strategy makes the knowledge of the people correspond to the regional boundaries of Thekla’s spiritual activities: the cognitive uniformity between the individuals described and the collection itself cannot be emphasized enough, as it is central to the self-presentation of the Miracles as a whole. Second, Thekla’s divine power to extinguish the life of an offender like Pappos is complete and effective. Even though, as the narrator remarks, Pappos turned in the end (during his week of reprieve) to “ill-timed philanthropy” (ἄκαιρον φιλανθρωπίαν), his earlier greed was superlative and deserving of the punishment that he received.

Why would the author of the Miracles not take the opportunity here to make something out of Pappos’ conversion following his vivid nightmare? One answer is, of course, that the author recorded simply what he thought had {137|138} happened, but an author as concerned as he is with the consistency of Thekla’s portrayal surely has some idea of how each miracle connects to Thekla’s spiritual nature (even if it proves to be only a hazy conception). A better answer would be that the intended effect of Mir. 35 is to show the lengths to which Thekla will go in displaying her divine power and authority over the region. Confirmation of this comes at the end of the miracle in a framing section designed to push the reader on to the next miracle:

In this passage the author categorizes his miracles into those that are depressing and those which are cheerful. Of course, as it is part of a framing device, this formulation should not be taken as definitive for the whole of the Miracles. Nevertheless, the author demonstrates a crucial awareness of the spectrum of responses that these miracles might bring, responses which are in turn related to the degrees of Thekla’s wrath as presented in the Miracles itself.

When taken as a whole, the vengeance miracles evince several defined rhetorical and literary characteristics. First, from a literary point of view, the vengeance miracles are related to the author’s depiction of Thekla’s divine power over the whole region of Isauria, as established through her epic battles with the pagan gods in Mir. 1–4. Essential to this depiction is the direct control Thekla exhibits over the cities in the plains between the mountains and the ocean—particularly Seleukeia (Mir. 5), but also Selinous (Mir. 27), Olba (Mir. 24.5), and the otherwise unknown Dalisandos (Mir. 26; see below). Yet a reader could assume that Thekla’s victory over Athena’s “Mt. Kokusion” is symbolic for Thekla’s ability to protect also cities like Iconium (Mir. 6) and Eirenopolis (Mir. 34 and 35), both of which are located some distance from the coast, within and beyond the mountains that were so infested by the brigands. Thus, among the vengeance miracles, the reader is offered a much wider compass for Thekla’s activities, yet it is a compass which is predicated on her symbolic victories over the pagan gods—the ultimate expressions of her power, perhaps—which are presented at the very beginning of the work. {138|139}

Second, the characterizations of those on whom Thekla metes out her punishments are very stylized. This stylization is used to great effect: it focuses the narration on the action which really constitutes each miracle. For example, in Mir. 35 Pappos’ stunned reaction to the nightmare in which Thekla condemned him to death is a device which builds the tension of the miracle. The reader wonders whether Pappos is going to be let off the hook or whether he will die on the day appointed, as Thekla predicted. Ultimately, maintaining the consistency of Thekla’s resolve is more important rhetorically to this author than any gain from Pappos’ repentance (which the author claims “was not by choice, but by necessity”; Mir. 35.38). The effect is to focus the narration on Thekla’s promise coming true, which proves so harsh and emotionally cold in the telling that the author must acknowledge the difference between Thekla’s action in this miracle and her more charming, compassionate work elsewhere.

Third and finally, there are important correspondences drawn between the collection itself and the events taking place in the miracles. For instance, in Mir. 28 the soldiers are amazed (θαυμάζειν) and astonished (καταπεπλῆχθαι) at the swiftness with which Thekla dealt with the brigands. Besides being a subtle aside on the inefficiency of the soldiers in real life to deal with the local insurrections threatening Seleukeia, this comment presents to the reader a model for the appropriate reaction to the telling of Thekla’s Miracles. The word θαῦμα and its cognates are programmatic for the Miracles as a whole, and there is some indication in the preface of the Miracles (preface 10) that θαύματα is to be considered the official title of this second half of the LM.

Included in the Miracles are around six or seven stories in which Thekla is allowed to demonstrate her power to help people in ways beyond effecting their vindication following some misfortune. The group of vengeance miracles just discussed is much larger than this “humanitarian” group, by about two-to-one, yet the two groups are linked through the author’s depiction of Thekla’s power to produce unforeseen or supernatural outcomes in straightened circumstances. For example, in Mir. 15 a “well born and faithful” Cypriot man comes with his family and servants to Seleukeia to celebrate Thekla’s annual panegyris. They leave their boat at the dock, guarded only by two boys. Without warning, a fierce storm arises and pulls the boat out to sea, with the two boys still on it, trapped and with no means of escape. In a miraculous show of power and compassion, Thekla appears on the boat—“storm-tossed and about to be sunk”—seizes the helm, unfurls the sail (not something one would normally do in high winds!), and brings the boat to safety, while at the same time “reproving the storm” (15.26–33). She docks the boat at the very place from which it was pulled loose, and in the end, when the Cypriot man and his family return, they do not realize that anything has even happened until the two boys explain their adventure and Thekla’s intervention, and the pilgrims go away “marveling” (θαυμάζοντας) at the martyr and “glorifying” (δοξάζοντας) her (15.42–50).

It is important to recognize in this miracle the absence of any immediate personal need relating to an individual, either in terms of sickness or in terms of harm done by someone else. While it is true that the lives of the two boys are at stake, the miracle is performed, according to its narration, out of respect for the faithful Cypriot man (15.35–36). He comes to Thekla’s shrine at Seleukeia to pay her honor, so Thekla ensures that everything is as he left it when he returns to the dock from her panegyris. Yet, the conclusion of miracle shows there is more going on than Thekla’s concern for that one man. The boat, the locus or site of the miracle-working itself, appears to be the very means by which the boys return to Cyprus and report the miracle to their fellow Cypriots—though all that is explicitly said is that they reported it both in Seleukeia and Cyprus (15.42). In any case, this miracle is symbolic of Thekla’s power to insure that her own fame is widely spread: the miracle-working she does in Seleukeia effects its own dissemination, in the city and abroad. {140|141}

A characteristic of these humanitarian miracles is that their narration is often more elaborate and exciting than those of the punishment-vengeance type. This is true in the case just cited: the wind and waves of the storm in Mir. 15 are described in detail, which increases their perceived menace to the boat and the two frightened boys. A provisional interpretation of the typically intensified emotional component of the humanitarian miracles is that there is less “action” than in the vengeance or healing miracles. By action I do not mean Thekla’s appearances as much as the overturning of a helpless situation or the cure of a hopeless disease, the real meat of the Miracles in terms of its narration.

A different, literary interpretation might be that the humanitarian miracles are devices meant to tie the larger structure together: for instance, Mir. 15 comes between a very long, complicated miracle about the healing and conversion of Hypsistios and a series of shorter healing miracles involving disconnected individuals. Mir. 15 thus serves as an interstitial miracle which transitions from a long narrative to a series of shorter paratactic narratives and brings variety to this series of miracles which is otherwise dominated by healing.

This story should be classed among Thekla’s humanitarian miracles because her appearance at Dalisandos is described as a tribute to the public devotion the city showed on her behalf: “just as the city magnificently honors her, it obtains from her a miracle which was even more magnificent” (26.3–6). In fact, the miracle verges on becoming an ekphrasis of the city of Dalisandos:

In narrative terms, this evocative and deliberate digression serves very well to connect three healing miracles dealing with diseases of the eye (Mir. 23; 24; 25) to three miracles of protection dealing with Isaurian brigands (Mir. 26.47–52; 27; 28). As noted, the end of Mir. 26 provides the first of these city-defense miracles. Mir. 26, therefore, confirms the interpretation offered above that the humanitarian displays of Thekla’s power—here couched in explicit terms of performance and display—offer a rest for the reader, something to unify distinct sections of the work, as well as delighting and distracting from the occasional monotony of vengeance and healing.

In Mir. 45 concerning Xenarchis, Thekla gives the remarkable gift of literacy, and by doing so is presented primarily as a helper for someone in need—the narrator says that Xenarchis “pleased the martyr” and that it was Thekla who “listened and acted,” emphasizing again Thekla’s attentiveness to those who are devoted to her. Secondarily, Thekla’s power is invoked as something which works instantaneously and without warning:

Thekla’s divine power is instantaneous, and once again the reader sees the correct model for response modeled before his eyes. “Astonishment” (ἔκπληξις) is, in the Miracles at least, the result of a supernatural occurrence, but, more specifically, it is the result of the completeness, swiftness, and {143|144} “unhesitating” nature of Thekla’s acts of divine power. Thus, the appearance of the supernatural in nature is not, in itself, the catalyst of this response; rather the catalyst is the specific way in which Thekla manifests her concern for those under her care. The “astonished” reaction of the Roman soldiers in Mir. 28 to the swiftness with which Thekla dispatched the brigands is uniform with the reaction of the bystanders here in Mir. 45.

In concluding this section, let us consider the final miracle in the whole collection, Mir. 46, which concerns a woman named Dionysia. In one important concern, this miracle can be read as atypical of the stories in Miracles: Thekla never actually performs a miracle. In this way it could be linked with {144|145} her flying across the sky in a chariot in Mir. 26. Both are exhibits of Thekla’s divine power but through display rather than action. However, a distinction should be drawn between them in that the display of Thekla’s power in Mir. 46 is very intimate and personal, witnessed only by one person, whereas the chariot scene in Mir. 26 is theoretically open for all to see (though the author emphasizes that it is only those willing to climb the mountain who will catch a glimpse of her).

Mir. 46 begins with Dionysia having just “renounced” (ἀποτάττεσθαι) her husband, children, household—“in a word, everything”—to become a female monk and live at the shrine of Thekla. The night after she does this Thekla is said to “sleep with her (συγκαθευδῆσαι) and embrace her [literally, ‘grasp her tightly’; περιδεδρᾶχθαι] for the duration of the night” (46.1–4). The only witness to this event is a certain Susanna, the “bedmate” (σύγκοιτον) of Dionysia, who the author claims is the one who told him this miracle. Susanna relates that when she saw Thekla sleeping alongside Dionysia, “sleeping in-between them,” she was “amazed” (θαυμάζειν) and “astonished” (καταπεπλῆχθαι) out of fear of the martyr. Once again, the emphasis of this miracle is on the proper response to Thekla’s divine power: Susanna, a trustworthy source for the details of the miracle, also exhibits, in her very testimony, the cognitive, emotional, and even physical characteristics of so many individuals and groups in the Miracles.

It would be wrong, I think, to interpret this miracle in a sexual way: if anything Mir. 46 serves as an example of Christian female companionship of the sort that one sees at work, on the male side, in John Moschus’ Spiritual Meadow (c. 600). Nevertheless, there is a clear sensuality in how the miracle is retold by Susanna, ostensibly in her own words (46.6–7). During the night Susanna sits up several times in bed, “leaning on her elbow and gazing at the martyr” (46.8–9). Likewise, the martyr’s presence makes her “lost in her thoughts—for she was carefully watching her” (46.11–12). The visual theme is continued when Thekla finally leaves their bed: at the end of the night Susanna saw the martyr “slink off (ὑποδραμοῦσαν) back to her bedchamber (θάλαμον), where it is said she sunk down (καταδῦναι)” (46.14–16).

Mir. 46 provides, therefore, a convenient point for summation because it has certain characteristics common to the miracles of divine power. To reiterate, these miracles comprise the majority of stories in the Miracles as a whole and they have nothing to do with illness, incubation, or healing. Instead, they are meant to display the supernatural, divine power or authority of Thekla over the region and people of Seleukeia and its environs. They emphasize the appropriate response to both the miracles experienced in the text and the Miracles as a text to be read. In fact, one of the most intriguing elements of this collection is the repeated, sometimes subtle assertion that the Miracles and Thekla’s miraculous activities in Seleukeia are coterminous. This is at the very least true in a spatial sense, but there are indications—such as the bookends of Thekla’s disappearance in Life 28 and Mir. 46—that it is true in a temporal sense as well. “Wonder” and “astonishment” are repeatedly invoked not just on account of the events themselves but on account of how rapid, complete, and effective Thekla’s power proves to be: there is a tone of the superlative in all of these miracles.

Finally, the appearances of Thekla in person are common. This is an important point for the sake of comparison and contrast with Asclepian literature, but it is also important for understanding this author’s conception of Thekla’s presence in Seleukeia. In Mir. 46 Thekla appears in as intimate a fashion as possible; she sleeps alongside one of her own and embraces her. Yet in Mir. 26 she is depicted in very distant, impersonal, and lofty (even mythical) terms riding like Apollo on a fiery chariot across the sky over Dalisandos. In this dichotomy there is a clear, perhaps subconscious, invocation of the union of two natures, divine and human, in Christ—despite a demonstrable resistance on the part of this author to equating the miracle working of Thekla and Jesus (e.g. in Mir. 45). Thekla, in her divine power and authority, can also appear (significantly, at the very end of the Miracles) in the most personal and physical form possible. {146|147}

Mir. 8 thus also concerns Dexianos, though it is told in a very different way from Mir. 7. The two provide an instructive contrast between different styles of narration within Thekla’s healing miracles. In this miracle Dexianos is riding on a skittish horse that bucks the bishop off, a fall which results in his broken leg. Once again, the reader is immediately assured that Thekla provided him with help, this time because “she had great care for our man” (8.4–5). The pairing of Mir. 7 and 8 is further solidified by the author’s statement that in both cases Thekla accomplished “the exact same miracle (θαῦμα).” As in the vengeance miracles, the uniformity of Thekla’s miracle-working activity is once again underlined in this passage.

However, in Mir. 8 the source of the cure is not explicitly mentioned, though the oil has been signaled already in Mir. 7. Instead, the statement that both miracles were “identical” (ἴσον)—ambiguous as it is—leads to a comment on how Thekla makes use of common materials in her cures. The oil is thus clearly in mind when he concludes his accounts of Dexianos with this more theoretical passage:

This passage seems to be a comment on the methods of ancient doctors, who were known for their elaborate and extreme methods (cf. Mir. 12). It is difficult {148|149} to gauge the precise import of this rhetoric since we obviously do not have the writings (if there were any) of the doctors in Seleukeia competing with Thekla for patients. Yet, in the context of the Miracles as a whole, the statement at the beginning of this passage that Thekla deserves to be admired (θαυμάζειν) for her preference for readily available ingredients fits well with the rhetoric we have observed thus far. Thekla achieves the miraculous using as little effort (in human terms) as possible: in fact, the less effort she can be shown to have used in a particular cure or act of vengeance, the more divine her status in the eyes of this author. According to his rhetoric here, the lack of fancy prescriptions is actually a sign of Thekla’s superiority in the game of healing. This is, of course, a reversal of ancient logic, and one wonders whether the author is here consciously polemicizing against Aelius Aristides’ Hieroi Logoi. Perhaps local medical practices were still relatively isomorphic with what Aelius describes, so that the Miracles can be said to be engaging real practices on the ground in Seleukeia. Mir. 12 would seem to confirm this hypothesis, since it describes the author’s own experience, but the rhetoric here in Mir. 8 (as well as in Mir. 12, as we shall see) is highly argumentative and selective, so it is very difficult to tell how accurate his picture of ancient medicine really is.

Before examining how the success of the poultice is described, there are a few points to make about the prescription itself. Most important is the emphasis on proportionality and direct contact. The wool equals Aurelios’ exact height and, consequently, can serve as a something like a substitute for the boy—yet pure, healthy, and untainted. The physical husk of this substitute, {150|151} the wool, is then burnt away, leaving only its essential elements. Finally, the potion is applied directly to the infected area, as if the poultice were simply replacing the inflamed area, reconstituting a healthy neck. The correspondence between the sick boy and the poultice is therefore one-to-one.

This endorsement of a single doctor’s ability to solve a serious medical problem runs counter to the other appearances of doctors in the Miracles. As already noted, the doctors at the beginning of Mir. 11 are unsuccessful, as is Sarpedon. Likewise, in Mir. 18 a pagan (literally, “Greek”) woman Aba, who broke her leg riding on a mule, was disappointed by “some Jews,” “some enchanters” (ἐπαοιδοί; related to the “doctors”?), and even “Sarpedonios,” none of whom were able to heal her leg. Yet, “either on their own counsel or by her own prompting,” as the text says, the woman was moved to the shrine of Thekla, where she was healed. (At the end of this miracle comes another {151|152} denunciation of “expensive” and “precious” remedies [18.38–41].) In addition, at the beginning of Mir. 38, the grammarian Alypios is described as being “abandoned” by the doctors and “himself reckoning the illness stronger than any human assistance.” In this hopeless state, he seeks out the martyr’s shrine, whom he considers to be “the only place of refuge for illnesses of this kind,” that is, illnesses which have no human solution (38.1–8). Finally, in a miracle concerning a little boy whose eye is filling with pus (Mir. 24), Thekla’s remedy (slicing open the eye) is compared to the skill with which a doctor would use a scalpel (24.41–42). However, instead of wielding a scalpel herself, she has an angry crane puncture the boy’s eye with its bill. Not unaware of the different registers of miracle-telling, the narrator claims that this was accomplished “in sport rather than in earnest” (24.21).

The latter miracle highlights an underlying theme in all of the miracles in which Thekla offers a prescription or trumps local doctors. Namely, Thekla’s healings of sick individuals are effortless for her. They require no strain or discomfort on her part; in fact, she appears to make no sacrifice at all (except perhaps the one she already made in her two abortive martyrdoms in the ATh). The prescriptions can be very brief, such as the one for Dexianos in Mir. 7, or they can be elaborate, such as the one given to Aurelios’ grandmother in Mir. 11. Additionally, the application of the prescription can be told with varying degrees of detail. In Dexianos’ case that detail is very limited, especially for his broken leg in Mir. 8, where the cure is not discussed at all: “these two were identical.” In Mir. 11, however, the application is more involved and is complicated by the fact that the grandmother appears to have made too little of the poultice. The doctor’s role is not directly related to Thekla’s appearance to the grandmother, and there is no mention that the doctor gave credit to Thekla.

This is, in fact, atypical among the Miracles: in nearly every miracle in which bystanders or third-parties are involved, such as the Roman soldiers in Mir. 28 or Aurelios’ grandmother in Mir. 11, they acknowledge that it is Thekla who accomplish the miracle, thereby reconfirming the testimony of the collector. The absence of the doctor’s recognition of Thekla’s work is possibly related to the fact that Thekla appeared to the grandmother in person, instead of in a dream, the validity of the latter being more open to challenge than a direct epiphany. In other words, this miracle contains so direct a manifestation of Thekla’s presence that the doctor’s verbal or notional affirmation is rendered unnecessary. Nevertheless, despite this lack of formal acknowledgment, the narrator remarks parenthetically, “it was the martyr, I think, who {152|153} put this idea into his head” (τῆς μάρτυρος οἶμαι καὶ τοῦτο ἐπὶ νοῦν ἀγαγούσης; Mir. 11.46–47). Clearly an ex post facto device, this remark serves the purpose of keeping the martyr’s presence firmly in the reader’s mind, even though her direct action has not been logically linked to the doctor’s handiwork. From a literary point of view the lack of logical coherence may be considered a fault of the text, but the complexity of Mir. 11 adds depth to the miracles by prescription while still maintaining a sense of consistency (albeit imposed) about Thekla’s healing work in Seleukeia.

The miracles by prescription just discussed are a unique group in the Miracles as a whole because they include a description of the special method by which Thekla accomplishes each miracle. This is not true for many of the miracles: as we have seen, some she simply accomplishes by willing them (e.g. Mir. 8). These less detailed miracles serve the rhetorical purpose of reinforcing in a short compass the picture painted by the longer miracles and programmatic passages, the preface and epilogue in particular. However, among the healing miracles there is another subgroup which might be called “healing miracles leading to conversion.” This group is notable for its additional narrative goal, that of bringing superior praise to Thekla for converting people to Christianity. This is a small group of miracles in total number simply because Thekla is most often depicted caring for those already under her care or petitioning her for help, such as Dexianos in Mir. 7–8, Bassiane in Mir. 19, Pausikakos in Mir. 23, and the author himself in Mir. 12, 31, and 41. The group of miracles leading to conversion nonetheless has special significance for the Miracles because conversion is more than once lauded as the supreme miracle which Thekla accomplishes.

Crucial to the argument of Mir. 17 is Maximinos’ conversion, which occupies the central place within the ring composition of Leontius’ healing. It is clear from its placement as well as from the way it is told that Maximinos’ miraculous acceptance is preeminent, even though Leontios’ experience is (in the end) told in more detail. Maximinos’ response of “astonishment” at Leontios’ renewed leg is common for bystanders of every miracle, as demonstrated in numerous examples above. What is new in this case the narrator’s comment that Thekla “took care ahead of time” (προμηθουμένη) to bring Maximinos to conversion (17.32). In this way it is revealed Thekla’s chief purpose behind Leontios’ healing is to lead this wealthy citizen of Syrian Antioch to Christ, which was her intention from the beginning (17.32–33). Once again there is a correspondence between Thekla’s miracle working and the text itself. The centrality within Mir. 17 of Maximinos’ conversion is emphasized by the author through its placement at the center of the two narratives about Leontios; but it is also Thekla’s stated opinion in the miracle that Maximinos was her a central part of her aims in healing of Leontios. Thus, in the very telling of a miracle which places Maximinos at the center, Thekla is “overheard” (so to speak) to have intended Maximinos to be at the center all along. The practical/literary and notional/spiritual coincide in his conversion.

Isokasios’ healing is told in a very straightforward, typical style for the Miracles: he falls ill (no details); he seeks out a place of “tranquility” (ἠρεμία), which he only finds at Thekla’s shrine; while sleeping she brings him a prescription (again, no details), which he carries out and is healed. At the end of the miracle, however, the point is clearly made: “While chastising his unbelief, she did not withhold her assistance” (39.13–15). Thus, Thekla’s failure to convert Isokasios is rhetorically transformed into a positive quality of hers: she refuses to withhold help from those who seek her out. There are too few examples in the Miracles of individuals who do not know Thekla prior to her assistance to prove whether this quality of Thekla’s character holds true all the time. One assumes it does not, since Pappos repents after being chastised by Thekla in Mir. 35 but is killed anyway for his sin against the orphaned children of Aulerios. Nevertheless, the point is made clearly enough in this and the following miracle that Thekla’s compassion extends (in principle, at least) to those who are not Christians to begin with, and even to those who choose not to become Christians after their healing (unwise as it is). {156|157}

Finally, in concluding the miracle, the narrator attempts to draw the reader’s attention back to the work of Thekla: “I assign (λογιούμεθα) this healing to the power of the martyr, but your attribution I assign to your foolishness (ἀμαθίᾳ). But, this latter point is to me of little importance compared to the former” (40.31–33). The author’s rhetorical coup de grâce in Mir. 40 is to undercut his own attacks on Aretarchos’ lack of wisdom and to reemphasize the work of the martyr in healing a serious illness. For the reader this provides the continuity he has come to expect in terms of miracle-framing: this passage performs the role of a closing summary. Moreover, to reinforce his emphasis on the martyr’s work in Mir. 40 the author includes, as Mir. 41, a healing which Thekla worked for himself: she heals his ear at a critical time right before he is supposed to speak publicly at her panegyris. Thus, his criticism of an ungrateful sophist in Mir. 40 is contrasted with the self-conscious modeling of the correct response to Thekla’s compassionate healing in Mir. 41. Both concern prominent pubic speakers, but, of the two, only the author has the wisdom to assign the work to the omnipotent martyr. Furthermore, {157|158} the author depicts himself as engaged in the work of praising Thekla herself, whereas Aretarchos has the air of both narcissism and idolatry.

Compared to some of the punishment miracles, in which Thekla is often depicted as severe and unyielding (e.g. Mir. 35), the martyr’s response to Isokasios and Aretarchos, as prominent unbelievers, is very tolerant and even tacitly condoning (despite the author’s antagonistic rhetoric). Two points should be emphasized: 1) she still heals them and 2) the author of the Miracles still includes these miracles. Nevertheless, Mir. 39 and 40 have the rhetorical value of showing Thekla at work outside her normal role, yet still within the Seleukeia region: this underlines her spiritual dominance, even if some individuals still cling to powerless daimones like Sarpedon.

In Mir. 14, as also in Mir. 17, the conversion of Hypsistios (Maximinos in Mir. 17) is the central narrative goal of Thekla’s healing work. Unlike Mir. 17, however, Hypsistios is inflicted with his disease by Thekla, who elsewhere is always depicted as the healer. However, Hypsistios is healed at the end of the miracle, and Thekla makes it clear earlier in her speech that he deserves his disease because she has “always been mistreated and abused” by him, though the reader learns nothing else about these abuses. Yet, despite these caveats, the implication of the miracle is that Thekla has the power not just to remove sickness but also to inflict it. Once again, Mir. 35 concerning Pappos serves as a touchstone because, even though he repented of his sin, Thekla still killed him without mercy.

Thus, the miracles about healing leading to conversion all have a different message, but at the same time they can be grouped together because they employ the rhetorical commonplace of conversion. Mir. 14 is unique in the group because of its length and it is in direct contrast to the tolerance she shows Isokasios and Aretarchos (Mir. 39 and 40). One gets the sense that the latter two may have been too prominent (or too close to the author?) to receive a waking vision of Thekla such as what appeared before Hypsistios. In any case, the topic of conversion proves to be fruitful for the author of the Miracles because it provides the narrative structure for two of the longest miracles in his collection (Mir. 14 and 17) as well as the necessary locus for sophistic antagonism in Mir. 39 and 40, which in turn propels a key story in Mir. 41 concerning his close relationship with Thekla. It is appropriate at this point, therefore, to consider the miracles that happened to the author himself and how they reinforce the picture of Thekla’s literary patronage which he established in the Miracles’ preface.

There are two miracles, Mir. 12 and 41, in which the author himself figures prominently as the subject of Thekla’s power to heal. Mir. 12 is the longer of the two and is made up of a complex series of two independent stories spread {160|161} over three dream sequences. Mir. 41 is more straightforward and concerns the healing of the author’s ear just before he is about to speak at Thekla’s panegyris. Both miracles make implicit arguments for Thekla’s approval and patronage of the author’s project of publishing her miracles. Like the programmatic passages in the preface and the epilogue, these two miracles serve to orient the reader with regard to Thekla’s involvement with the collection: both emphasize that without her assistance the author would not have succeeded in collecting and presenting the Miracles. The afflictions which the author suffers in these two stories impinge directly on his ability to communicate the message that she has inspired and commissioned him to communicate. Moreover, at the same time as the author is arguing that his collection of Thekla’s miracles is the result of her miraculous intervention, he is also arguing that, in order for Thekla’s miracles to achieve their goal, they must be collected and disseminated. Furthermore, he insists in his preface and epilogue that this dissemination also depends on her divine power. Thus, the correspondence between the Miracles as a literary collection and Thekla’s power to work θαύματα is reinforced multiple times in different rhetorical contexts, not least in the healing miracles which concern the author directly.

As just noted, Mir. 12 is composed of two independent stories spread over three successive dream sequences. In the first story, the author is healed of an inflammation of his index finger (12.1–40). The inflammation is called “anthrax” (literally, “coal”) and proves too malignant for the doctors (ἰατροί) to cure by their “art” (τεχνή) and their “drugs” (φάρμακα). Instead, they decide that to save his life they must amputate the offending finger, and they promise to return the next day to do just that. In between their decision and the impending amputation—in a state of “terror and tears”—the author has his first dream (ὀνειροπολέω). In this dream he is sleeping in the atrium of the healing shrine when a swarm of wasps appears and begins to attack him “brandishing their stingers like spears.” Suddenly Thekla appears and, taking hold of the edge of her cloak and wrapping it around her hand, chases the wasps and tramples them under her feet. The author wakes to find that he has been miraculously healed from his inflammation. The doctors’ response is a conflicted one, as the texts explains:

Several points could be made about the author’s depiction of the doctors in this passage. Most important for the present discussion, however, is the narrative progression of the miracle: the doctors’ inability to effect a cure results in a drastic prescription on their part which Thekla’s compassionate intervention renders unnecessary. Moreover, this passage is unique in the Miracles because Thekla’s work appears to imitate that of the doctors instead of simply being more effective. The actual miracle of physical healing, fantastical in its dream-narration, is by the end of the story couched in traditional, pragmatic medical terminology: Thekla has made her “examination” (ἐπίσκεψις) and she has effected a “cure” (ἰατρεία). In addition, the passages scattered throughout the Miracles which condemn the complicated and expensive remedies of the doctors should also be brought to bear on an interpretation of this miracle. Most importantly, the picture of the failure of the doctors’ φάρμακα here reinforces the rhetorical stance taken in those other, more directly polemical passages. This miracle is not very polemical towards the doctors at all but is consistent nonetheless with the author’s comparisons between their φάρμακα and Thekla’s simpler prescriptions, such as clay from the Cilician coast (Mir. 18). As noted earlier in this chapter, such comparisons are meant to heighten Thekla’s divine status: the power of the healer is in inverse proportion to the sophistication and expense of the remedy.

In the second dream of Mir. 12 the author is approached by “some black manikin” (ἀνθρωπίσκος τις αἰθίωψ) named Zamaras and handed a dark bronze tremissis. He states that this dream seemed to forebode something: “I took this [tremissis] unwillingly and not with pleasure, I confess; for this dream (ὄναρ) seemed not a prophecy (μάντευμα) of anything good at all” (Mir. 12.62–63). The author wakes up to find out he has been excommunicated by the local bishop, Basil, whom he claims had it in for him all along and whom he earlier slanders by calling him a “youngster” (μειράκιον; 12.44) and “little boy” (παιδάριον; 55). He finds out by means of “a white Zamaras” (i.e. Basil himself, whom he now openly calls a drunkard). This Zamaras/Basil comes to him and excommunicates him personally, but without even a single co-accuser present (and with a “foul and rude phrase, I do not lie”; 14.71). The author claims that the public reaction to his excommunication was vociferous, with several prominent individuals coming to his defense, including a certain saintly “Thomas” and the author’s own parents (14.76, 85). In the midst of this clamor and confusion, however, he comes to the realization that the events of his dream about Zamaras were “symbols (σύμβολα) and a premonition (προάγγελσις) of the present events” (Mir. 12.89–91).

Moreover, once this narrative structure is taken into account, it is not even clear at the end of the miracle that the grim vision of the black Zamaras is to be taken as a portent of evil. As the author remarks just before his culminating third dream, the events of the second dream were “symbols” and a “premonition” of what actually happened. Indeed, he goes on to say that, on the basis of his reappraisal of the second, foreboding dream, that the events of that dream “would eventually relieve the evil” (12.90–91).

The narrative of Mir. 12, therefore, is told both as a circle and as a progression. It is told as a circle in the sense that Thekla’s healing of the author’s finger and her vindication of his rightful position in the Seleukeian church frame the actual injustice done to the author: in other words, Thekla’s attention to his personal needs is both the starting and ending point of his excommunication narrative. At the same time, Mir. 12 is told as a progression in the sense that the author only comes to realize the significance of the second, middle miracle once its events have come true. The validity of the “premonition,” as he calls it, thus encourages him that Thekla is ultimately behind these events. Of course, the narrative purpose behind both the circular (or ring) structure as well as the psychological progression of the author’s cognizance is to emphasize that Thekla was never very far away from these events. While there is no hint of what we might call Providence in Mir. 12, the portrayal of Thekla is consistent with (and perhaps paradigmatic for) the other miracles in his collection, both of healing and vengeance. In particular, the assumption that no event escapes her “all seeing and divine eye” (Mir. 22) is cleverly worked into this miracle using a complex series of two miracles told over the course of three dream sequences. All the while the author is also making use of multiple structural patterns. Moreover, the author makes use of his own healing as an internal topos to speak about something else, namely Thekla’s patronage of his project and the omnipotent and pervasive power of Thekla against sickness and evil. Like when Leontios is healed in Mir. 14 for the sake of Maximinos’ conversion, Mir. 12 is not an isolated healing story but one which points the reader to a larger argument about the character of Thekla. Mir. 12 is also very significant for this overall project, not just because it programmati- {165|166} cally concerns the author’s own authority in the community, but because it is the longest and most sophisticated attempt, narratively speaking, to represent a specific vision of Thekla, which is carefully constructed throughout the whole of the Miracles.

The miracle ends with a very important summary of the author’s perception of his relationship with Thekla. In the end, she made it possible for him to give the speech on her behalf, a speech during which he garnered admiration (θαῦμα) for what he said, even though he modestly acknowledges that it was not an admirable (θαυμαστός) speech (41.24–27). He claims that at some point (perhaps after the speech?) he was judged worthy to become a member of “the council of elders (τῆς ἱερατικῆς γερουσίας) and the catalogue (τοῦ καταλόγου) of preachers and teachers,” and during his tenure in this esteemed company Thekla was constantly present alongside him (41.27–29). He says that she continued “almost constantly” to “appear” to him (ἐπιφαινομένη) “at night” (νύκτωρ) and was in the habit of offering him (ὤρεγεν) a book (βιβλίον) or a papyrus (χάρτης). Each of these gifts, he says, appeared to be “a sign (σύμβολον) of her absolute approval (πλείστη εὐδοκίμησις) of me” (41.30–31). He adds at the very end of Mir. 41 that if he is going to speak but Thekla does not appear to him in this way, then the inverse meaning—that she disapproves—is just as clear. Yet, despite this final self-effacing caveat, the emphasis {167|168} in Mir. 31 on the author’s patron-client relationship with Thekla is as explicit as at any other place in the Miracles.

In fact, this assertion of “absolute approval” recalls the short Mir. 31 in which Thekla appears to the author to encourage him to press on in his work. As discussed above, Thekla indicates her approval in Mir. 31 by taking a notebook (τέτρας) from his hand and reading it (ἀναγινώσκειν); she also smiles and indicates with her “gaze” (βλέμμα) that she is pleased (ἀρεσκεῖν) with his work. By contrast, in Mir. 41, which comes only five miracles from the end of the work, Thekla is depicted as handing him a book instead of taking one away. Admittedly the context is different—the former relates to his miracle collection, the latter to his public speaking—but it might still be argued that this subtle change is perhaps a symbol that the author knew that he was nearing the completion of his work. The taking of the τέτρας in Mir. 31 could thus symbolize the unfinished state of the text which needs Thekla’s miraculous intervention to produce the finished product, now a βιβλίον, delivered by Thekla herself in Mir. 41.

The two healing miracles that concern the author himself demonstrate more clearly than any other parts of the Miracles that the miracle collection and Thekla’s divine power to heal and wreak vengeance are, in the final analysis, corresponding entities. This correspondence appears in the Miracles in a number of ways.

First, the author’s programmatic rhetoric in the preface, the epilogue, and Mir. 31 display the Miracles as a quest for its own completion. The role that Thekla plays for the author is to encourage the publication of his work as well as to propel its dissemination afterwards (Mir. epilogue 8–15). The paratactic style serves this quest very well in its ability to move the reader speedily on from one miracle to the next.

Second, the author places himself at the center of the Miracles through the autobiographical literary mode that he adopts in Mir. 12, 31, and 41. In emulation of Herodotus, the author uses these autobiographical miracles to buttress his claims elsewhere that the testimony on which he relies is trustworthy. Thus, by combining the first person account of Thekla’s healing of his finger and his ear (Mir. 12 and 41) with the third person “omniscient” accounts of others’ experiences of Thekla’s miraculous power, he weaves a web of authenticity in which the alternating first and third person modes reinforce one another. The authenticity and comprehensiveness of his reporting strengthens the correspondence between the miracles Thekla accomplished and the miracles he has included: in other words, “what you see is what you get.”

Third, and finally, the author has chosen a specific physical area and type of person which he intends to cover in the Miracles. By no small coincidence, this is the same area over which Thekla achieves mastery in performing miraculous feats of vengeance and healing for her suppliants. Topographically speaking, Thekla reclaims in the Miracles her divinely assigned authority over the whole region around Seleukeia: from the Sarpedonian cape and shrine in the south (Mir. 1), to Mt. Kokusion in the north (Mir. 2), and to numerous cities extending as far to the west as Eirenopolis (Mir. 19 and 34), and as far to the east as Tarsus and even Antioch (Mir. 29 and 17). Thus, the coastline of {169|170} southeastern Turkey, and especially the estuary of the Kalykadnos, is safely under her watchful eye. In terms of suppliants she only really helps those in prominent positions—the reader is never told why. Only occasionally does she work a miracle for someone who is explicitly poor (e.g. Mir. 23). Moreover, it is intriguing that these occasional pro bono miracles always include a statement about how Thekla cares for the poor. Surely this rhetorical stance means that the Miracles itself was intended for an educated, elite audience: all the miracles deal with wealthy or prominent people except for those which are labeled otherwise. Those whom Thekla helps are the very people intended to read the collection.

This multi-faceted and subtle correspondence highlights the artificiality, or simply the literary quality, of the text, especially in its organization and subject matter. Thus, there are clear groupings of miracles, such as the opening fights against daimones (Mir. 1–4) and the closing miracles for the literati (Mir. 38–41). These groups show the author moving from one theme to another, not very systematically but, nonetheless, in a way that eschews any idea that this is a “random sampling” of Thekla’s miracles in Seleukeia. Likewise, the choice of location and class of people generally points to a special interest on the part of the author. This is not at all to say that he simply wrote the Miracles from scratch—there are enough narrative anomalies in the stories and a healthy variety of narrative patterns which suggest that he truly was making a “collection” (συλλογή). Rather, the correspondence between the Miracles as a text and {170|171} Thekla’s spiritual activity in Seleukeia underlines the author’s role in shaping the source material into what is ultimately an audacious and complex literary work aimed at drawing together multiple strands of experience and legend for the benefit his home city.

What needs to be emphasized most of all, from this point of view, is that the author’s choices in rewriting and organizing the (now lost) sources of his collection have a distinctive, literary impact on the view of Seleukeia with which a reader, ancient or modern, is presented. The author attempts to offer that reader a consistent picture of Thekla, and crucial to reading the text aright is understanding that her consistency depends on the author’s conception of her role in the production of the collection itself. When a reader is confronted with so intimate a relationship between author and saint, he or she must keep in mind that the saintliness of Thekla is bound up with the author’s conception of his own career and literary work. Thekla and the author of the Miracles mutually construct one another: the author in showing his devotion by collecting and publishing her “life and works”; Thekla in showing her approval through vindicating, healing, and encouraging the author in his pious endeavor. The Miracles of Thekla, therefore, offers a distinctive portrait of its author while attempting to present a new and distinctive portrait of his patron saint. The literary choices summarized and explained above do, in fact, offer a window on the plain of Seleukeia in late antiquity, but this window is the one through which the author himself has decided that we should look. {171|}