The Doctrine of Memory in Origen of Alexandria: Intersecting the Theory of Divine Names, Platonic Recollection, and Feminine Perspectives

1 Introduction

Scholars generally believe that the doctrine of memory has not been developed in detail by Origen. The absence, at least in his preserved writings, of a systematic reference to memory in the constitution of the human subject has been repeatedly stigmatised by scholars.^[1] This explains the gap in scholarship, which this article aims to fill, of any study thoroughly dedicated to the understanding of memory in Origen. The strongly Platonising representation that drove Origenian studies in the twentieth century has often presented the absence of the Platonic doctrine of recollection/anamnesis – with the only, dubious exception of a passage from On Prayer 24,3^[2] – as one of the main flaws of Origen’s thought. Charles Bigg referred to the absence of both the doctrine of anamnesis and an explicit reference to “God’s memory” as a logical weakness in Origen. He further elaborated that it would force us to think of the soul as incarnate in a life of penance in which, however, it cannot be fully aware of what it should learn: “What is the value of a schooling in which each lesson is forgotten as soon as learned?”^[3] Bigg’s assumption is that, had Origen dealt with the problem of memory, he would have done it according to Platonic hermeneutical canons, that is, upholding the doctrine of anamnesis, as he seems to do in the aforementioned passage of On Prayer.^[4]

The following pages will be devoted to debunking this issue, showing that not only Origen reflects on memory, but that he distances himself from the Platonic anamnesis. Rather, memory is an integral part of Origen’s theory of divine and human names.^[5] According to Origen, in the etymology of each proper name – either human or divine – it is possible to recognise the “memory” of the entity to whom the name is ontologically linked.^[6] Such a close link between Origen’s theory of names and the doctrine of memory is particularly visible in the allegorical interpretation of some male and female evangelical figures. For instance, Origen understands Zechariah as the “memory of God” (μνήμη), and his wife Elizabeth as the “promise of God.”^[7] Similarly, their son, John the Baptist, is interpreted as an angel sent by God from the heavenly regions to be a “voice” (φωνή) that foretells the “word” (λόγος).^[8] Proposing a close reading of biblical figures that explicate this journey from the “memory” of God (Zechariah) to the “promise” (Elizabeth), to the “voice” (John), and, finally, to the “Word” (the Logos himself), the present article makes use of a feminine-oriented perspective, showing how characters belonging to female gender – in particular, Elizabeth, Mary, the Samaritan woman – are consciously used by Origen to indicate the ascensive path from the memory of God to the full contemplation of the Logos. This implies the idea that women are especially dignified as utterers of God’s name, ascending from being the “memory of God” to the “voice of God.” As such, this study draws from the methodologies set by different scholars who investigated how ancient authors, including Origen, used feminine and masculine as two complementary conceptual and intellectual metaphorical categories.^[9]

The article is divided into three sections. In the first, I analyse the passage of On Prayer 24,3 in the original context of the Origenian understanding of names, focusing particularly on the value of “remembering” (ὑπομιμνήσκω). In the second, I deal with the most explicit occurrence of Origen’s doctrine of memory, that is, his exegesis of Zechariah. In the third, I show how Origen’s interpretation of three female characters (Elizabeth, Mary, and the Samaritan woman) exemplifies the shift from “memory” to “presence” and what is the significance of this shift for Origen’s doctrine of memory.

2 The Doctrine of Memory and the Doctrine of Names in Origen

As mentioned earlier, On Prayer 24 is the only alleged reference to the doctrine of anamnesis. According to this interpretation, “memory” would have to be interpreted as the act of recalling the divine perfections that the soul contemplated before its incarnation.^[10] By contrast, I contextualise this passage within Origen’s theology of names which, I claim, constitutes the real hermeneutical framework of Origen’s theology of memory.^[11] In On Prayer 24,1, Origen wonders how to interpret the command to sanctify the Father’s name in the Lord’s Prayer, noting that “the implication of the text is that the name of the Father has not yet been hallowed.”^[12] He then reflects on what the “name” of the Father is and how it should be hallowed:

Now a name is a designation that sums up and describes the particular quality of the one named. For example, Paul the Apostle has a certain quality all his own, both of soul by which he is what he is, and of mind by which he can contemplate certain things, and of body by which he is a certain way. Thus, the special character of these qualities, which is incompatible with anyone else, is indicated by the name “Paul”: for no one else is exactly like Paul in these respects. But in the case of human beings, since their individuating qualities are subject to change, their names are rightly changed according to Scripture.^[13]

Origen points out that the change of name presented by the Scriptures in the case of Abraham, Paul, and other characters follows the modification of some of the qualities of the subject to whom the name refers. It is therefore impossible to consider the underlying substance the same as it was. The transformation of the name should not be explained in rhetorical terms but as an expression of a change in substance. Such an account of names referring to the very nature of an entity on occasion resembles some theories in circulation but also doesn’t duplicate any ancient account that we know, at least.^[14] In Against Celsus 1,24, Origen stands in clear opposition to both the Aristotelian doctrine, expounded in On Interpretation, according to which names are arbitrary representations of an object,^[15] and to the Epicurean one, according to which they represent an utterance of sound created by the first men following the reaction to the sensations provoked by objects.^[16] Some points of contact, as already noted by Dillon, can be found with the Platonic doctrine of Cratylus – and, one could add, to its later revision by Alcinous – where the name’s correctness derives from its ability to describe the object as it is in itself.^[17] Dillon, together with other scholars, has also highlighted the link between Origen’s doctrine and some magical texts, namely the Nag Hammadi Greek Magic Papyri, the Corpus Hermeticum, and the Chaldean Oracles, whence Origen had supposedly borrowed the idea expressed in Against Celsus, 1,25 according to which names lose their original power when translated.^[18] Origen also shows familiarity with the Stoic doctrine according to which names exist in nature because they are imitations of the things signified, thus making the study of etymologies possible.^[19] In this regard, Keough pointed out that Origen’s doctrine of names – and, one could add, his whole theory of knowledge – is indebted to the Stoic ideas reported by Diogenes Laertius. In particular, he inherited the idea of a substantial difference between the proper name of something (ὄνομα), which would reveal the specific mode of being of a subject, and common nouns (προσηγορία), which indicates a general property to an entire class of subjects.^[20]

Despite the various points of contact with other doctrines on names – which Origen discusses in great accuracy – it would be incorrect to understand Origen’s doctrine of names as a Christian shuffling of other philosophical ideas.^[21] Language, according to Origen, is not a human convention and names are by no means arbitrary; rather, they are a manifestation of the power of the subject to which they refer, as Origen explains at length in Against Celsus.^[22] In Stoic terms, we could say that names, according to Origen, are always “proper names” inasmuch as they are directly connected with the specific mode of being of the named object. Unlike in Stoicism, they cannot however be regarded as an imitation of the object in the intellect, being rather a phonetic expression that corresponds to the ontological reality. Origen deems the study of the etymologies of Hebrew names to be fundamental: being the “original” language, Hebrew maintains the connection between name and named, a bond that can only be explained in other languages but not translated with a different name. In fact, the translation of the name breaks the ontological bond that binds it to the named.^[23] For this reason, Origen strenuously opposes the idea, expressed by Celsus, that “it makes no difference whether one calls the supreme God by the name used among the Greeks, or by that, for example, used among the Indians, or by that among the Egyptians.”^[24] On the contrary, considering the pagan gods to be nothing more than disguised demons, Origen explains that each of their names possesses an ontological link with the demon to which it refers.^[25] The belief that names are ontologically linked to the subjects also allows Christians to activate the powers to which the names refer. This is why they must avoid pronouncing the names of pagan gods, in order to prevent the risk of summoning the corresponding entity.^[26] On the other hand, by pronouncing God’s names in an appropriate manner, Christians are able to perform miracles.^[27]

Within such a framework, Origen explains in On Prayer 24 that the change of names that occurred to Abraham and Paul should not be understood as a simple representation of their spiritual transformation, but as a direct manifestation of it. In his Commentary on John Origen explains that, when a logikos approaches God, he undergoes a substantial ontological change that alters his primary qualities, marking the change of his natural status that results in the shift of his ontological class of beings.^[28] Origen explains that the world is constituted by rational creatures that are hierarchically disposed according to the order dictated by their degree of noetic participation in God.^[29] The highest rational creatures are unified with God to the point of being defined themselves as “gods”:

There are certain gods (θεοὶ) of whom God (ὁ θεὸς) is god … There are other beings besides the gods. Some of this are called “thrones”, other are said to be “principalities”, and others besides these are called “dominions” and “powers.”^[30]

Regarding these classes of rational beings, Origen explains that it is possible to call ἄνθρωπος every rational creature, claiming that:

The names of higher powers are not names of the natures of living beings, but of orders (οὐχὶ φύσεων ζῴων ἐστὶν ὀνόματα, ἀλλὰ τάξεων) of which this or that rational nature (λογικὴ φύσις) has been prepared by God.^[31]

If, however, common names express their belonging to an ontological class, proper names express the very nature of the subject. The significance of Origen’s interpretation of the nature and meaning of names stands, therefore, in the idea that the name evokes a person’s history. In other words, Abraham is called by his name because this is a phonetic expression of his personal history. In each name, therefore, is engraved the “memory” of the subject to whom it is referred. By their very nature, the proper names of rational creatures bring about the memory of their history.

The relationship between entities and names is further complicated in the case of the “name of God” by the fact that, in Origen’s words, “God is always invariable and immutable, consequently always has the same name, that of ‘he who is’ as it is written in Exodus, and some analogous definition.”^[32] Returning to the problem of On Prayer 24, namely, in what sense the name of God is sanctified, Origen explains that God is holy in all his works in such a way that holiness represents a permanent property of his immutable essence and, accordingly, of his name. Consequently, when we speak of God’s “name” we do not indicate, as it is in the case of rational creatures, the ontological manifestation of a substance, meaning, borrowing Aristotelian language, of an ontological subject of properties. Rather, God’s names are understood in two distinct ways.

On the one hand, God’s names express God’s properties which, since God is immutable, are in turn immutable and eternal. In this sense, it is not possible to understand as proper names of God the epinoiai of the Son mentioned in the Commentary of John.^[33] While some of them represent the Son in-himself (Wisdom, Logos, Truth, Light, Life), some others are ways through which the Son helps less rational beings to understand him.^[34] Nevertheless, Origen warns the reader not to consider these aspects as related to the essence of the Son: “No one takes offence when we distinguish the aspects (ἐπινοίας) of the Saviour, thinking that we also do the same with his essence (τῇ οὐσίᾳ).”^[35] The epinoiai are only logical aspects of the Son through which he manifests his properties and acts in the world, being only logical aspects of his essence rather than ontological entities, as I have shown elsewhere.^[36] In addition, no epinoia can be preached as a proper name of the Father, that is, the only self-sufficient God (αὐτόθεος ὁ θεός ἐστι),^[37] because he surpasses all attributes and descriptors:^[38]

God the Father of the truth (ὁ πατὴρ τῆς ἀληθείας θεὸς) is more than (πλείων) and greater than (μείζων) the truth and, being the Father of Wisdom, is greater than and surpasses Wisdom (ὁ πατὴρ ὢν σοφίας κρείττων ἐστὶ καὶ διαφέρων ἢ σοφία), to this extent he transcends (ὑπερέχει) being true light.^[39]

In this sense, Origen explains that the biblical commandment “thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain” should be understood as the sinful attribution to God of properties (that is, names) that are not his own.^[40]

On the other hand, Origen deemed all rational beings who bear witness to God to be recognised as “names of God.” Every rational being bears witness to God through his own name and through the invocation of divine names. In the Commentary on John, for example, Origen explains how the Lord is called Sabaoth because of the existence of certain logikoi, called Sabai, who proclaim and serve him.^[41] In a few pages, it will be shown that this is true not only for male but also for female names, who are deemed to reveal God just as their male counterparts.

It is within this theoretical framework that Origen writes that phrase which has been understood by many scholars as a reference to the doctrine of recollection.^[42] In the passage, Origen refers to the fact that rational creatures are able to understand God because the “names” used in Scripture to describe him are a direct manifestation of his being, thus explaining that every rational creature can become a witness of God “because of the name.”^[43] Origen quotes the passage from Deuteronomy 32:2-3, explaining that those who call on the name of the Lord bear fruit in all the souls who hear them thanks to the Lord’s name own properties.^[44] In this sense, human beings have the power to sanctify God’s name on earth, making its power manifest. He then goes on to say:

But the one who is able to utter speech “like rain,” which works together with those who hear it for the production of the fruits of their souls, … this man can do all this because of the name. Since he understands that he needs God to bring all this to perfection, he calls Him to his side as the true provider of what I have mentioned. And everyone who sees clearly will, as well, remember the things concerning God (ὑπομιμνήσκεται) rather than learn them for the first time, even if he thinks he hears them from someone or supposes that he finds out the mysteries of true religion (τῆς θεοσεβείας μυστήρια).^[45]

The use of the verb ὑπομιμνήσκω and the general Platonic echo of the passage might recall Plato’s Meno, Phaedrus or Phaedo. ^[46] Even more, this conception seems to uphold Alcinous’ doctrine of the recollection of abstract and nonrepresentational contents by means of innate conceptions that make our philosophical reasoning possible.^[47] However, the previous analysis of divine names in Origen shows that this affirmation is not at all linked to a presumed “recollection” of what the soul has already learned in another life – an idea which, incidentally, would be difficult to reconcile with what Origen states in De Principiis regarding the inadequacy of Plato’s doctrine of ideas.^[48] Rather, it must be placed within the Origenian framework of the doctrine of names. First, it should be noted that everyone who speaks about God does so “because of the name.” Therefore, Scriptural names for God – Adonai, Sabaoth, and Christ’s epinoiai^[49] – are an expression of God’s economy of salvation, bearing in their own nature the “memory” of God’s action in the world. Secondly (and most importantly), the invocation of the name causes the divine properties or agents connected with these names, here referred to by the term μυστήρια, to be immediately evoked. In this process, the verb ὑπομιμνήσκω signifies that knowledge of the mysteries is immanent in the names of God, which “remind” the divine truths to the rational souls. In other words, the utterance of God’s name evokes the presence of God in the believers’ heart. As a consequence, when human beings reflect on God’s names they do not “learn,” but rather “remember” God’s mysteries, because those mysteries had already been made present through the very utterance of the names. As the name is the manifestation of the power of the subject to which it refers, the ascensional path of every creature toward God begins with the utterance of God’s name and its related power.

3 The “Memory of God” and the Character of Zechariah

The Origenian understanding of memory within the theology of names is evident also in the passages scattered throughout Origen’s corpus where he explicitly deals with “memory” and “remembering.” The “memory of God” is often presented as a psychological means with the imaginative function of preparing the believer for the true contemplation of God. Accordingly, he who prays to God is urged to leave all sensible images behind and to purify as to “remind himself (ὑπομιμνήσκω) so far as he is able of the Majesty whom he approaches.”^[50] This work of purification turns memory from sensible images to its remembrance of God.^[51] Memory is thus the imaginative function that makes people turn to their interiority and refrain them from doing evil.^[52] Memory is presented both in its positive function of preparation and in its negative function of retainer of evil images that prevent the full contemplation of God.^[53] In both cases, memory is both a container of earthly images and an active function of the human mind with a proper imaginative capacity of preparing the human mind for the next level of knowledge, that is, the noetic one.^[54]

Such interpretation of memory as “preparation” and its connection to the doctrine of names is particularly evident in Origen’s exegetical interpretation of the character of Zechariah, whose very name he interprets as the “memory of God.” In the Commentary on John, the Homilies on Luke, and the Homilies on the Psalms, Origen systematically proposes a dichotomic interpretation that opposes the “memory” of God represented by Zechariah with his presence.

In the Homilies on Luke, Zechariah’s mutism caused by his lack of faith in the angel’s announcement is a symbol of the prophets’ silence after the coming of Christ.^[55] His refusal to believe in John’s forthcoming birth expresses his obstinacy to linger in an economy marked by “memory” even when this has lost its connection with the Word (λόγος). Zechariah is a figure of the Old Testament economy, which possessed the “memory of God.” Such memory, after the manifestation of the Logos, has been overcome. Zechariah is therefore defined as ἄλογος both in the sense of “unable to speak” and in the sense of “irrational,” just as irrational are the rituals of the Jews that have lost their contact with the Logos.

More sophisticated is the interpretation given in the Commentary on John, where Zechariah’s etymology is related to the birth of John the Baptist, who is the “voice” (φωνή) paving the way for the “Word” (λόγος):

And perhaps it is because Zechariah disbelieved in the birth of the voice (φωνή) which makes known the Word of God (λόγος τοῦ θεοῦ) that he loses his voice and regains it when the voice (φωνή) which is the forerunner of the Word is born. For a voice must be listened to so that the mind can afterwords receive the word (λόγος) revealed by the voice. It is for this reason that John is also a little older than the Christ.^[56]

Zechariah does not believe because he is still immersed in the Old Testament economy characterised by the memory of God rather than his presence.^[57] Thus, Zechariah’s decision to call his son “John” rather than by his own paternal name should be understood within the theory of names:

Now the name “Zechariah” is said to mean “memory,” (μνήμη) and “Elizabeth” “oath of my God,” or “Hebdomad” “Sabath of my God.” John was born as “gift” from God indeed, from the “memory” concerning God related to the “oath” of my God concerning the Father to prepare for the Lord a prepared people.^[58]

The passage is particularly revelatory not only because it indicates the symbolic meaning of the names of Zechariah, John, and Elizabeth but also because it shows the intimate connection between the names and the realities to which they refer. John the Baptist, son of “memory” and “prophecy,” is interpreted as an angel of God who descends from the heavenly regions to proclaim the Logos. His very name is part of that ontology of divine names according to which rational beings are called by a name that manifests their salvific functions. John is “grace” because he is φωνή, the “voice” that foretells the λόγος. On the other hand, Zechariah’s insistence on calling his son by the name of John, rather than by his paternal name, is explained by the fact that the appearance of the “voice” entails an overcoming of the usefulness of memory. The voice implies the presence of what is referred to, while memory indicates only its remembrance. Neither John could have been called “Zechariah,” because the name must be a manifestation of the power of the subject. Origen elaborates on this aspect in the Commentary on the Psalms when dealing with the passage from Psalm 76:3. “I have sought the Lord and I have not been lost. My soul refused to be comforted; I remembered (ἐμνήσθην) my God and I rejoiced”:^[59] Origen first recognised the function of memory as something good and as a source of consolation and rejoicing.^[60] Then, he adds:

To remember God is already a great good, and the holy ones have names, so that their names signify remembering God. “Zechariah” is interpreted “memory of God,” since “Zachar,” according to the Hebrew language, is “memory.” When someone is remembering the Lord, the father prays for what he would possess by means of his son’s name.^[61]

True to the idea that the name represents the essence of things, the saints call their children Zechariah so that they will “remember God,” as opposed to many people who call their children by profane names such as Φιλάργυρος so that they may become rich.^[62] If Zechariah is the name that best suits an Old Testament prophet, whose task was to remind people of God, the Baptist could not be called by this name, as Origen explains in another passage:

Therefore, I want to say why John is not called Zechariah. Well then, someone is wanting to remember God when God is absent; by remembering (μεμνῆσθαι) him he makes clear that God is not present (πάρεστιν) with him. But for one who is present, there is no need for memory about the one present.^[63]

The figure of John, who is the voice (φωνή) announcing Christ no longer falls within the realm of memory (μνήμη), but into that of presence (πάρειμι). The function of memory in Origen is thus finally made explicit, marking its incompatibility with the Platonic doctrine of recollection. In fact, remembering is an inferior function of knowledge because memory corresponds to a mental image of something. This is also the reason why the precursor angel of Christ, John the Baptist, is called the “son of memory,” that is, of Zechariah, but cannot be identified with it. He overcomes the memory in the name of the “voice” (φωνή) that makes the Word (λόγος) fully present:

Since, then, John said, “Look at the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world,” and he was going to show forth the Son of God, God the logos, for this reason he is not called, as his predecessor was, “Zechariah” and “Remembering God,” but “Showing” (Δείκνυμι). And let us ourselves pray to move from “Remembering God” to “John,” so that we may see him present, because we have no more use for the memory of God, but for the vision of God, because of his presence, since indeed, “Blessed are the pure in heart, since they shall see God.” For if the memory of God makes glad, his presence to someone who senses it does what? I am coining a term for that: “it overgladdens” (ὑπερευφραίνει).^[64]

The function of memory, manifested in Zechariah and his name, gives ground to the eschatological vision of the Logos. This one is accomplished through φωνή, that is, through John the Baptist, the son of memory who overcomes it. Through John’s testimony, rational creatures transmute their voices into the Word, realising their very own nature of logikoi. Just as in the case of the passage of On Prayer 24, Origen’s understanding of memory is confined to a psychological function that either imperfectly compensates for the absence of true contemplation or is used as preparation for a forthcoming contemplation.^[65] As such, memory can be used as a theological function that accounts for the spiritual transformative path engaged by the soul.

4 Female Prophetic Voices: Mary, Elizabeth, and the Samaritan Woman

The process of turning memory into vision is mirrored in Origen’s interpretation of the female figures of Mary, Elizabeth, and the Samaritan woman. Being all born in the economy of memory, they become able to utter a prophetic voice after their encounter with the Word. As such, these evolving figures perfectly encompass the Origenian understanding of the feminine as embodying the transformative power of God. As in many other instances discussed in this volume, his exegesis of female characters serves as a narrative expedient to explore the more complex nuances of his theology.^[66]

In Luke 1, Mary’s voice filled Elizabeth with the Holy Spirit and, in turn, Elizabeth’s voice is prophetic when she blesses Mary’s womb. Similarly, the Samaritan woman’s conversion in John 4 makes her an apostolic voice to others. In all three instances, Origen’s interpretation establishes an ascensive path between φωνή and λόγος, voice and word. In addition, before the encounter with the Logos, both the Samaritan woman and Elizabeth show an understanding of God which is not based on vision but rather on memory. Origen interprets the Samaritan woman as the type of the heterodox, allegorically represented by the five husbands.^[67] Following the encounter with Jesus, the Samaritan woman is turned into a spiritual Christian who leads others to salvation through her apostolic voice:

He also uses this woman as an apostle, as it were, to those in the city. His words inflamed the woman to such an extent that she left her water jar and went into the city and said to the men, “Come, see a man who has told me everything that I have done. Could this not be the Christ?” … So that the disciples came and were amazed that she, too, a mere woman and easily deceived, was considered worthy of engaging in a conversation with the Word.^[68] … Here, then, a woman proclaims Christ to the Samaritans, and at the end of the Gospels also the woman who saw him before all the others tells the apostles of the Resurrection of the Saviour.^[69]

The woman becomes worthy of entering into conversation with the word/logos and is here entrusted with the mission of spreading the gospel to humankind, becoming a voice who spreads the word.^[70] It is also worth noting that the water jar left behind by the Samaritan woman at the well represents the old economy and heterodox teachings. She is the type of the changing occurring to a rational creature passing from the memory of God – that is, knowing that a Messiah was to come but held false and confused teachings – to the vision that transforms her into a voice.

The same kind of ascensional path from memory to voice (φωνή) and word (λόγος) is found in the figures of Mary and Elizabeth, which are interpreted by Origen in relation to the works of their respective sons. This is particularly the case of Elizabeth since her son – John the Baptist – is the “voice” (φωνή) who foretells the “word” (λόγος):

That John was benefited in his formation by the infant still being formed when the Lord came to Elizabeth in his mother will be clear to one who has understood the comments we have made about John being the Voice, but Jesus the Word. For there is a loud voice (φωνή) in Elizabeth when she is filled with the Holy Spirit because of Mary’s greeting, … and the mother become the mouth, as it were, and prophetess of the Son when she cries out with a loud cry and says: “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.^[71]

The relationship between Mary and Elizabeth is shaped according to that between Jesus and John the Baptist.^[72] Therefore, Mary bears a predominant position in comparison to Elizabeth. Origen defines her as not only mother of Christ but also “mother of all those who have Christ in them,” adding that “Mary, who is superior, goes to Elizabeth, who is inferior, just as the Son of God goes to the John the Baptist.”^[73] Just as Mary was filled of the Holy Spirit after the coming of Jesus in her womb, so Elizabeth was filled by means of her son, John the Baptist, as Origen explains in the Homilies on Luke: “So there is no doubt on this point. Elizabeth, who was filled with the Holy Spirit at that moment, received the Spirit on account of her son.”^[74] Before being filled by the Holy Spirit by means of her son, Elizabeth, whose name Origen takes to manifest the “oath of my God,” was paired with her husband Zechariah, whose name, as already discussed, manifested “memory.” In other words, Elizabeth had a knowledge of God which is based on memory rather than on vision. Therefore, it is their respective children that made both Mary and Elizabeth able to prophecy:

Elizabeth prophesies before John; before the birth of the Lord and Saviour, Mary prophesies. Sin began from the woman and then spread to the man. In the same way, salvation had its first beginnings from women. Thus, the rest of women can also lay aside the weakness of their sex and imitate as closely as possible the lives and conduct of these holy women whom the Gospel now describes.^[75]

The soteriological role of the two women is therefore structured according to the idea that Mary and Elizabeth are to the female gender just the same as Jesus and John are to the male. Thus, names of both genders have connections to God’s names, both men and women have the power to recall God’s power. Both women became prophetesses after their pairing with the Logos, which happens through their sons for Mary and Elizabeth whilst through the encounter with Jesus for the Samaritan woman. This schema of changing by means of meeting the Logos is found also in Origen’s interpretation of the Song of Songs, where the bride (either the soul or the church) changes her status by the union with the husband (the Logos).^[76] In the Samaritan woman’s case, the paring with the Logos outclasses that with the Old Testament and heterodox economy. In the case of Elizabeth, her previous mate Zechariah, representing “memory” itself, is overcome by the meeting with her son John, the voice. In Mary’s case, bearing the Word in her womb made her so filled with the Holy Spirit as to make her able to pass it to both John and to her mother. After such encounters, they are turned into apostles to others, becoming representatives of the theological category of the “voice,” just like John the Baptist, and announcing the mysteries of the word/logos.^[77] Such a process of spiritual transformation takes the form of a renovation from a previous condition, when they only held a memory of God, to a condition when they possess the vision of the Logos and, consequently, they act as apostolic and prophetic voices to others.

5 Conclusions

Posing as the first attempt to understand Origen’s doctrine of memory, this article has proposed an analysis of the little we know about such a topic in Origen’s theology. While no systematic attempt to enquire about memory is traceable in Origen’s thought, the psychological function of memory does present itself as a minor but significant element. Having cleared the way from any unnecessary connection to the Platonic doctrine of recollection, Origen’s understanding of memory has been connected to the framework of the doctrine of names. Memory is shown as the result of the very nature of names and their ontological capacity to evoke the power of the object named and make it present in the mind of the utterer even before its full intellectual understanding. The analysis of biblical characters, especially Zechariah, has further shown how the psychological function of memory has been turned by Origen into a theological category of the path of ascension of human beings toward God. The seeking of God in memory is overcome when his presence occurs, shifting from an economy of memory/imagination/manifestation to one of presence/contemplation. The intellectual significance of the theological category of memory and the need to overcome it is not only mirrored but even displayed by Origen in a feminine perspective. Not only men and women are equal representatives of the divine names in their becoming “voice” of God, thus overcoming “memory.” Women seem to represent such shift even better than men, as they embody – even literally, considering that the image that Origen uses is that of pregnancy – precisely the path from “memory” to “voice,” inasmuch revealing the whole history of salvation as a process of spiritual transformation for the better.