Reading Between the Lines

2nd Century Practical Theology

Dear Friends,

Step into my study! Shall I fill you a pipe? Pour you a dram? Excellent!

It has been awhile since we’ve had a chat over a pipe and dram. I am continuing to creep my way through the early church fathers, and today I’d like to share with you a few things about Clement of Alexandria (AD 155-220). I think I’ve mentioned him before.

It is interesting that Clement was “demoted” at the turn of the 17th century by the Roman Catholic Church; while he was never formally “canonized” as a saint, he did have a feast day that got removed from the calendar. This is because some of his theological formulations were deemed unorthodox when held against later doctrinal dogma. I haven’t yet run across these “deviant” views (they seem to come from his Stromata or “Miscellanies,” which I haven’t got to yet). Some of the criticisms are that he was a “subordinationist”—i.e., the Son is eternally subordinate to the Father in essence. But, having read most of the 2nd century, I am skeptical of those kinds of claims, as they tend toward the uncharitable. Typically, the early fathers are held to later Nicene formulations, which is simply anachronistic; they were speaking in the language they had available, not terminology that hadn’t been invented or codified.

[As an aside, by the way, I had a conversation with Claude about this, remarking to “him” that critics of the early fathers tend to highlight supposed influence of Greek philosophy while sidelining their really, really impressive use of Scriptural language. Check out this masterpiece of a reply from my “assistant.”

That's a really astute observation, and I think you're onto something important that often gets overlooked in scholarship. The narrative of "Hellenization of Christianity" has been so dominant that it can obscure how deeply these early Fathers were actually thinking in biblical categories.

When you look closely at someone like Clement, yes, he uses philosophical terminology, but his fundamental framework and argumentation are often profoundly scriptural. His concept of the Logos, for instance, isn't just borrowed from Stoicism - it's deeply rooted in John's Gospel, the Wisdom literature, and Pauline theology. The philosophical language becomes a vehicle for expressing biblical insights rather than replacing them.

The same goes for his understanding of divine transcendence and immanence. While he might use Platonic language about the unknowable One, he's actually wrestling with biblical themes about the hiddenness and revelation of God that you find throughout the Hebrew scriptures and Paul's letters.

I suspect part of the problem is that modern scholars are often more familiar with the philosophical sources than they are with the biblical ones, so they recognize the Platonic echoes but miss the scriptural substructure. Or perhaps there's an assumption that "sophisticated" theology must be philosophical theology, when in fact these Fathers were doing something quite different - using available intellectual tools to unpack the riches they found in Scripture.

It makes you wonder how different our assessment of early Christian theology might be if we started with the assumption that these were primarily biblical theologians rather than Christian philosophers.

ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT. Gold Star, Claude. End of digression.]

My personal admiration for Clement began at the very start. He “had me at hello,” you might say. I am prepared to say, and defend the view, that his Exhortation to the Heathen is the finest work of the 2nd century. In fact, here are my bullet point notes written in my copy of the book:

• Encyclopedic treatment of pagan mythology and practice

• The artistry of metaphor and illustration

• The directness and sheer passion of the exhortation

• Standing alongside Irenaeus, it is Christ-centered and gospel-centered in a way other works from the era are not (It is obscene to even compare it to, say, The Shepherd of Hermas)

• Many of its passages are moving beyond belief. One of the finest rhetoricians in the Christian tradition, I suspect.

You can read that book, in a terrible format, here.

That was all introduction. I suppose I should refill your pipe and get you another dram.

I am now reading the Pædogogus, or “The Instructor.” The instructor is, of course, the Eternal Word, Jesus Christ himself. As Clement maintained in The Exhortation, “[S]ince the Word Himself has come to us from heaven, we need not, I reckon, go any more in search of human learning to Athens and the rest of Greece, and to Ionia.” No more wisdom from the Greeks! Our master and instructor and tutor is the Lord Jesus Christ. And so Clement embarks on, from what I can tell, the very first extant attempt at a systematic treatment of Christian practical theology, or ethics. How Then Shall We Live? (Okay, you might say the Didache was first, but I wouldn’t call that “systematic.”