The Presence of Aristotle in Byzantine Theology
With the kind permission of Professor David Bradshaw, below is an excerpt from his chapter, “The Presence of Aristotle in Byzantine Theology” in The Cambridge Intellectual History of Byzantium, edited by Anthony Kaldellis & Niketas Siniossoglou (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017).
Any attempt to survey the place of Aristotle within Byzantine theology must begin by recognizing that the category of “Byzantine theology” is itself a modern construction. The Byzantines did not think of themselves as Byzantines, but as Romans. This fact is not merely a matter of nomenclature, but a reminder of their strong sense of continuity with the classical and early Christian past. As regards theology, in particular, the Byzantines saw no sharp line dividing their own times from the foundational era of Christianity. Although they recognized the authority of the Church Fathers, they did not think in terms of a closed and completed “age of the Fathers.”[1] The holy and God-bearing Fathers (as the Byzantines would have called them) were not limited to a particular time or place, but included all who had faithfully received and expounded the True Faith, particularly in response to heresy. From the Byzantine standpoint—which remains that of the Eastern Orthodox Church today—such persons will never cease to be found within the Church, for they constitute the living seal of its guidance by the Holy Spirit.
To understand the role of Aristotle within Byzantine theology, then, one must begin with some sense of his place within early Christian thought. At one level this was rather minimal. Aristotle was never regarded, by either Christians or pagans, as a guide to the spiritual life of the order of Pythagoras or Plato. Several of the Church Fathers found the writings of these latter two so impressive that they supposed these authors must have read the books of Moses during their travels in Egypt.[2] No one ever made a similar suggestion about Aristotle. When Aristotle is mentioned by the Fathers, it is often for the purpose of denouncing certain of his teachings that they regard as impious, such as the mortality of the soul, the restriction of divine providence to the heavens, and the view that human happiness depends upon external goods.[3] Occasionally he was also criticized for holding that the universe is eternal and uncreated, although since this view was widespread in antiquity it was not always associated specifically with Aristotle. Apart from his erroneous teachings, Aristotle was also viewed with suspicion because of his founding of logic, a field all too often employed (and abused) by heretics, such as by the “neo-Arian” Aetios in the fourth century. When Gregory of Nazianzos remarks that he writes of the Trinity “in the manner of fishermen, not the manner of Aristotle,” his statement has a dual meaning: it indicates both that he has spoken plainly and without unnecessary technicalities, and that he has spoken honestly without sophistical deceptions.[4]
Yet this is far from the whole story. Whatever their antipathy toward Aristotle, early Christian authors were also participants in a culture in which Aristotelian ideas had long ago become commonplace. They were perfectly comfortable drawing upon such ideas, although typically without acknowledgement, or perhaps even awareness, of their Aristotelian provenance. Without attempting anything like a complete catalog, it is worth noting a few examples of such indirect borrowing before advancing into the Byzantine era. This will be helpful both as a way of exploring the varieties of Aristotelian influence and because the ideas in question remained vitally important for the Byzantines.
One relatively straightforward example is the analysis of created beings into matter and form. By the time of the Church Fathers such analysis had become part of the common stock of ideas shared by the educated. Already in the second century, we find Tatian asserting that God is the creator of both matter and form, a formula that became a standard way of affirming creation ex nihilo.[5] The Fathers generally assumed, in good Aristotelian fashion, that matter is necessary for both change and numerical diversity. Bringing this premise to bear on their decidedly non-Aristotelian belief in the immortality of the soul, as well as their belief in angels, led to a theory known as “pneumatic hylomorphism.” This is the view that all creatures, including angels and souls, are composites of form and matter, although obviously the matter of angels and souls is highly refined in comparison to
that of sensible bodies. This view seems to have been more or less universally held in the early Church, particularly since it meshed well with biblical passages such as the parable of Lazarus and the various appearances of angels.[6] It remained the common view among the Byzantines, who generally understood it to imply that there are gradations of materiality. John of Damascus, for example, affirms that the angels are “incorporeal and immaterial” in relation to human beings, but “dense and material” in relation to God.[7]
[1] See Chapter 17.
[2] Justin Martyr, Apology I 59–60; pseudo-Justin, Exhortation to the Greeks 22, 25–27, 29, 31–33;
Clement of Alexandria, Stromata 1.15, 1.25, 5.14; Eusebios of Caesarea, Preparation for the Gospel 10.4, and books 11–12; Cyril of Alexandria, Against Julian 1.18.
[3] Festugière 1932: 221–263; Runia 1989.
[4] Gregory of Nazianzos, Oration 23 12.
[5] Tatian, Address to the Greeks 4–5. See also Irenaeus, Against Heresies 2.10, 2.16.3, 4.20.1; Origen, On First Principles 2.1.4; Basil of Caesarea, Hexaemeron 2.2.
[6] E.g. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 5; Tatian, Address to the Greeks 4, 12–13; Irenaeus, Against Heresies 2.34; Athanasios, Life of Antony 31; Basil of Caesarea, Letter 8 (probably by Evagrios); Gregory of Nazianzos, Orations 28.31, 38.9; see the discussion in Jacobs 2012.
[7] John of Damascus, Exposition of the Orthodox Faith 17 (p. 45); cf. his Three Treatises on the Divine Images 3.24–25.
Image: Plato, Aristotle & Pythagoras—16th-century fresco, Romania.
Any attempt to survey the place of Aristotle within Byzantine theology must begin by recognizing that the category of “Byzantine theology” is itself a modern construction. The Byzantines did not think of themselves as Byzantines, but as Romans. This fact is not merely a matter of nomenclature, but a reminder of their strong sense of continuity with the classical and early Christian past. As regards theology, in particular, the Byzantines saw no sharp line dividing their own times from the foundational era of Christianity. Although they recognized the authority of the Church Fathers, they did not think in terms of a closed and completed “age of the Fathers.”[1] The holy and God-bearing Fathers (as the Byzantines would have called them) were not limited to a particular time or place, but included all who had faithfully received and expounded the True Faith, particularly in response to heresy. From the Byzantine standpoint—which remains that of the Eastern Orthodox Church today—such persons will never cease to be found within the Church, for they constitute the living seal of its guidance by the Holy Spirit.
To understand the role of Aristotle within Byzantine theology, then, one must begin with some sense of his place within early Christian thought. At one level this was rather minimal. Aristotle was never regarded, by either Christians or pagans, as a guide to the spiritual life of the order of Pythagoras or Plato. Several of the Church Fathers found the writings of these latter two so impressive that they supposed these authors must have read the books of Moses during their travels in Egypt.[2] No one ever made a similar suggestion about Aristotle. When Aristotle is mentioned by the Fathers, it is often for the purpose of denouncing certain of his teachings that they regard as impious, such as the mortality of the soul, the restriction of divine providence to the heavens, and the view that human happiness depends upon external goods.[3] Occasionally he was also criticized for holding that the universe is eternal and uncreated, although since this view was widespread in antiquity it was not always associated specifically with Aristotle. Apart from his erroneous teachings, Aristotle was also viewed with suspicion because of his founding of logic, a field all too often employed (and abused) by heretics, such as by the “neo-Arian” Aetios in the fourth century. When Gregory of Nazianzos remarks that he writes of the Trinity “in the manner of fishermen, not the manner of Aristotle,” his statement has a dual meaning: it indicates both that he has spoken plainly and without unnecessary technicalities, and that he has spoken honestly without sophistical deceptions.[4]
Yet this is far from the whole story. Whatever their antipathy toward Aristotle, early Christian authors were also participants in a culture in which Aristotelian ideas had long ago become commonplace. They were perfectly comfortable drawing upon such ideas, although typically without acknowledgement, or perhaps even awareness, of their Aristotelian provenance. Without attempting anything like a complete catalog, it is worth noting a few examples of such indirect borrowing before advancing into the Byzantine era. This will be helpful both as a way of exploring the varieties of Aristotelian influence and because the ideas in question remained vitally important for the Byzantines.
One relatively straightforward example is the analysis of created beings into matter and form. By the time of the Church Fathers such analysis had become part of the common stock of ideas shared by the educated. Already in the second century, we find Tatian asserting that God is the creator of both matter and form, a formula that became a standard way of affirming creation ex nihilo.[5] The Fathers generally assumed, in good Aristotelian fashion, that matter is necessary for both change and numerical diversity. Bringing this premise to bear on their decidedly non-Aristotelian belief in the immortality of the soul, as well as their belief in angels, led to a theory known as “pneumatic hylomorphism.” This is the view that all creatures, including angels and souls, are composites of form and matter, although obviously the matter of angels and souls is highly refined in comparison to
that of sensible bodies. This view seems to have been more or less universally held in the early Church, particularly since it meshed well with biblical passages such as the parable of Lazarus and the various appearances of angels.[6] It remained the common view among the Byzantines, who generally understood it to imply that there are gradations of materiality. John of Damascus, for example, affirms that the angels are “incorporeal and immaterial” in relation to human beings, but “dense and material” in relation to God.[7]
[1] See Chapter 17.
[2] Justin Martyr, Apology I 59–60; pseudo-Justin, Exhortation to the Greeks 22, 25–27, 29, 31–33;
Clement of Alexandria, Stromata 1.15, 1.25, 5.14; Eusebios of Caesarea, Preparation for the Gospel 10.4, and books 11–12; Cyril of Alexandria, Against Julian 1.18.
[3] Festugière 1932: 221–263; Runia 1989.
[4] Gregory of Nazianzos, Oration 23 12.
[5] Tatian, Address to the Greeks 4–5. See also Irenaeus, Against Heresies 2.10, 2.16.3, 4.20.1; Origen, On First Principles 2.1.4; Basil of Caesarea, Hexaemeron 2.2.
[6] E.g. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 5; Tatian, Address to the Greeks 4, 12–13; Irenaeus, Against Heresies 2.34; Athanasios, Life of Antony 31; Basil of Caesarea, Letter 8 (probably by Evagrios); Gregory of Nazianzos, Orations 28.31, 38.9; see the discussion in Jacobs 2012.
[7] John of Damascus, Exposition of the Orthodox Faith 17 (p. 45); cf. his Three Treatises on the Divine Images 3.24–25.
Image: Plato, Aristotle & Pythagoras—16th-century fresco, Romania.
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