Adolf Harnack · 17 of 25

2. The Old Catholic Fathers’ doctrine of the Church. · Part 2

This conception of Adam as the representative of humanity corresponds to Irenæus’ doctrine of the God-man. The historical importance of this author lies in the development of the Christology. At the present day, ecclesiastical Christianity, so far as it seriously believes in the unity of the divine and human in Jesus Christ and deduces the divine manhood from the work of Christ as his deification, still occupies the same standpoint as Irenæus did. Tertullian by no means matched him here; he too has the formula in a few passages, but he cannot, like Irenæus, account for its content. On the other hand we owe to him the idea of the “two natures”, which remain in their integrity — that formula which owes its adoption to the influence of Leo I. and at bottom contradicts Irenæus’ thought “the Son of God became the Son of man”, (“filius dei factus filius hominis”). Finally, the manner in which Irenæus tried to interpret the historical utterances about Jesus Christ from the standpoint of the Divine manhood idea, and to give them a significance in regard to salvation is also an epoch-making fact.

“Filius dei filius hominis factus”, “it is one and the same Jesus Christ, not a Jesus and a Christ, nor a mere temporary union of an on and a man, but one and the same person, who created the world, was born, suffered, and ascended” — this along with the dogma of God the Creator is the cardinal doctrine of Irenæus: “Jesus Christ truly man and truly God” (“Jesus Christus, vere homo, vere deus”). It is only the Church that adheres to this doctrine, for “none of the heretics hold the opinion that the Word of God became flesh” (“secundum nullam sententiam hæreticorum verbum dei caro factum est”). What therefore has to be shown is (1) that Jesus Christ is really the Word of God, i.e., is God, (2) that this Word really became man and (3) that the incarnate Word is an inseparable unity. Irenæus maintains the first statement as well against the “Ebionites” as against the Valentinians who thought that Christ’s advent was the descent of one of the many moons. In opposition to the Ebionites he emphasises the distinction between natural and adopted Sonship, appeals to the Old Testament testimony in favour of the divinity of Christ, and moreover argues that we would still be in the bondage of the old disobedience, if Jesus Christ had only been a man. In this connection he also discussed the birth from the virgin. He not only proved it from prophecy, but his recapitulation theory also suggested to him a parallel between Adam and Eve on the one hand and Christ and Mary on the other, which included the birth from the virgin. He argues in opposition to the Valentinians that it was really the eternal Word of God himself, who was always with God and always present to the human race, that descended. He who became man was not a being foreign to the world — this is said in opposition to Marcion — but the Lord of the world and humanity, the Son of God, and none other. The reality of the body of Christ, i.e., the essential identity of the humanity of Christ with our own, was continually emphasised by Irenæus, and he views the whole work of salvation as dependent on this identity. In the latter he also includes the fact that Jesus must have passed through and been subjected to all the conditions of a complete human life from birth to old age and death. Jesus Christ is therefore the Son of God who has really become the Son of man; and these are not two Christs but one, in whom the Logos is permanently united with humanity. Irenæus called this union “union of the Word of God with the creature” (“adunitio verbi dei ad plasma”) and “blending and communion of God and man” (“commixtio et communio dei et hominis”) without thereby describing it any more clearly. He views it as perfect, for, as a rule, he will not listen to any separation of what was done by the man Jesus and by God the Word. The explicit formula of two substances or natures in Christ is not found in Irenæus; but Tertullian already used it. It never occurred to the former, just because he was not here speaking as a theologian, but expressing his belief. In his utterances about the God-man Tertullian closely imitates Irenæus. Like the latter he uses the expression “man united with God” (“homo deo mixtus”) and like him he applies the predicates of the man to the Son of God. But he goes further, or rather, in the interest of formal clearness, he expresses the mystery in a manner which shows that he did not fully realise the religious significance of the proposition, “the Son of God made Son of man” (“filius dei filius hominis factus”). He speaks of a “corporal and spiritual, i.e., divine, substance of the Lord”, (“corporalis et spiritalis [i.e., divina] substantia domini”) of “either substance of the flesh and spirit of Christ” (“utraque substantia et carnis et spiritus Christi”), of the “creation of two substances which Christ himself also possesses”, (“conditio duarum substantiarum, quas Christus et ipse gestat”) and of the “twofold condition not blended but united in one person-God and man” (“duplex status non confusus sed conjunctus in una persona — deus et homo”. Here we already have in a complete form the later Chalcedonian formula of the two substances in one person. At the same time, however, we can clearly see that Tertullian went beyond Irenæus in his exposition. He was, moreover, impelled to combat an antagonistic principle. Irenæus had as yet no occasion to explain in detail that the proposition “the Word became flesh” (“verbum caro factum”) denoted no transformation. That he excludes the idea of change, and that he puts stress on the Logos’ assumption of flesh from the Virgin is shown by many passages. Tertullian, on the other hand, was in the first place confronted by (Gnostic) opponents who understood John’s statement in the sense of the Word’s transforming himself into flesh, and therefore argued against the “assumption of flesh from the Virgin” (“assumptio carnis ex virgine”); and, in the second place, he had to do with Catholic Christians who indeed admitted the birth from the Virgin, but likewise assumed a change of God into flesh, and declared the God thus invested with flesh to be the Son. In this connection the same Tertullian, who in the Church laid great weight on formulæ like “the crucified God”, “God consented to be born” (“deus crucifixus”, “nasci se voluit deus”) and who, impelled by opposition to Marcion and by his apologetic interest, distinguished the Son as capable of suffering from God the Father who is impassible, and imputed to him human weaknesses — which was already a further step, — sharply emphasised the “distinct function” (“distincte agere”) of the two substances in Christ and thus separated the persons. With Tertullian the interest in the Logos doctrine, on the one hand, and in the real humanity, on the other, laid the basis of that conception of Christology in accordance with which the unity of the person is nothing more than an assertion. The “deus factus homo” (“verbum caro factus”) presents quite insuperable difficulties, as soon as “theology” can no longer be banished. Tertullian smoothed over these difficulties by juristic distinctions, for all his elucidations of “substance” and “person” are of this nature.

A somewhat paradoxical result of the defence of the Logos doctrine in the struggle against the “Patripassians” was the increased emphasis that now began to be laid on the integrity and independence of the human nature in Christ. If the only essential result of the struggle with Gnosticism was to assert the substantial reality of Christ’s body, it was Tertullian who distinguished what Christ did as man from what he did as God in order to prove that he was not a tertium quid. The discriminating intellect which was forced to receive a doctrine as a problem could not proceed otherwise. But, even before the struggle with Modalism, elements were present which repressed the naïve confidence of the utterances about the God-man. If I judge rightly, there were two features in Irenæus both of which resulted in a splitting up of the conception of the perfect unity of Christ’s person. The first was the intellectual contemplation of the perfect humanity of Jesus, the second was found in certain Old and New Testament texts and the tradition connected with these. With regard to the first we may point out that Irenæus indeed regarded the union of the human and divine as possible only because man, fashioned from the beginning by and after the pattern of the Logos, was an image of the latter and destined for union with God. Jesus Christ is the realisation of our possession of God’s image; but this thought, if no further developed, may be still united with the Logos doctrine in such a way that it does not interfere with it, but serves to confirm it. The case becomes different when it is not only shown that the Logos was always at work in the human race, but that humanity was gradually more and more accustomed by him (in the patriarchs and prophets) to communion with God, till at last the perfect man appeared in Christ. For in this view it might appear as if the really essential element in Jesus Christ were not the Logos, who has become the new Adam, but the new Adam, who possesses the Logos. That Irenæus, in explaining the life of Jesus as that of Adam according to the recapitulation theory, here and there expresses himself as if he were speaking of the perfect man, is undeniable: If the acts of Christ are really to be what they seem, the man concerned in them must be placed in the foreground. But how little Irenæus thought of simply identifying the Logos with the perfect man is shown by the passage in III. 19. 3 where he writes: “ὥσπερ γὰρ ἦν ἄνθρωπος ἵνα πειρασθῇ, οὕτω καὶ λόγος ἵνα δοξασθῇ. ἡσυχάζοντος μὲν τοῦ λόγου ἐν τῷ πειράζεσθαι καὶ σταυροῦσθαι καὶ ἀποθνήσκειν, συγγινομένου δὲ τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ ἐν τῷ νικᾷν καὶ ὑπομένειν καὶ χρηστεύεσθαι καὶ ἀνίστασθαι καὶ ἀναλαμβάνεσθαι” (“For as he was man that he might be tempted, so also he was the Logos that he might be glorified. The Logos remained quiescent during the process of temptation, crucifixion and death, but aided the human nature when it conquered, and endured, and performed deeds of kindness, and rose again from the dead, and was received up into heaven”). From these words it is plain that Irenæus preferred to assume that the divine and human natures existed side by side, and consequently to split up the perfect unity, rather than teach a mere ideal manhood which would be at the same time a divine manhood. The “discrete agere” of the two natures proves that to Irenæus the perfect manhood of the incarnate Logos was merely an incidental quality he possessed. In reality the Logos is the perfect man in so far as his incarnation creates the perfect man and renders him possible, or the Logos always exists behind Christ the perfect man. But nevertheless this very way of viewing the humanity in Christ already compelled Irenæus to limit the “deus crucifixus” and to lay the foundation for Tertullian’s formulæ. With regard to the second point we may remark that there were not a few passages in both Testaments where Christ appeared as the man chosen by God and anointed with the Spirit. These as well as the corresponding language of the Church were the greatest difficulties in the way of the Logos Christology. Of what importance is an anointing with the Spirit to him who is God? What is the meaning of Christ being born by the power of the Holy Ghost? Is this formula compatible with the other, that he as the Logos himself assumed flesh from the Virgin etc.? Irenæus no doubt felt these difficulties. He avoided them (III. 9. 3) by referring the bestowal of the Spirit at baptism merely to the man Jesus, and thus gave his own approval to that separation which appeared to him so reprehensible in the Gnostics. This separation indeed rescued to future ages the minimum of humanity that was to be retained in the person of Christ, but at the same time it laid the foundation of those differentiating speculations, which in succeeding times became the chief art and subject of dispute among theologians. The fact is that one cannot think in realistic fashion of the “deus homo factus” without thinking oneself out of it. It is exceedingly instructive to find that, in some passages, even a man like Irenæus was obliged to advance from the creed of the one God-man to the assumption of two independent existences in Christ, an assumption which in the earlier period has only “Gnostic” testimony in its favour. Before Irenæus’ day, in fact, none but these earliest theologians taught that Jesus Christ had two natures, and ascribed to them particular actions and experiences. The Gnostic distinction of the Jesus patibilis (“capable of suffering”) and the Christ ἀπαθής (“impassible”) is essentially identical with the view set forth by Tertullian adv. Prax., and this proves that the doctrine of the two natures is simply nothing else than the Gnostic, i.e., scientific, adaptation of the formula: “filius dei filius hominis factus”. No doubt the old early-Christian interest still makes itself felt in the assertion of the one person. Accordingly we can have no historical understanding of Tertullian’s Christology or even of that of Irenæus without taking into account, as has not yet been done, the Gnostic distinction of Jesus and Christ, as well as those old traditional formulæ: “deus passus, deus crucifixus est” (“God suffered, God was crucified”).

But beyond doubt the prevailing conception of Christ in Irenæus is the idea that there was the most complete unity between his divine and human natures; for it is the necessary consequence of his doctrine of redemption, that “Jesus Christus factus est, quod sumus nos, uti nos perficeret esse quod et ipse” (“Jesus Christ became what we are in order that we might become what he himself is”). But, in accordance with the recapitulation theory, Irenæus developed the “factus est quod sumus nos” in such a way that the individual portions of the life of Christ, as corresponding to what we ought to have done but did not do, receive the value of saving acts culminating in the death on the cross. Thus he not only regards Jesus Christ as “salvation and saviour and saving” (“salus et salvator et salutare”), but he also views his whole life as a work of salvation. All that has taken place between the conception and the ascension is an inner necessity in this work of salvation. This is a highly significant advance beyond the conception of the Apologists. Whilst in their case the history of Jesus seems to derive its importance almost solely from the fulfilment of prophecy, it acquires in Irenæus an independent and fundamental significance. Here also we recognise the influence of “Gnosis”, nay, in many places he uses the same expressions as the Gnostics, when he sees salvation accomplished, on the one hand, in the mere appearance of Jesus Christ as the second Adam, and on the other, in the simple acknowledgment of this appearance. But he is distinguished from them by the fact that he decidedly emphasises the personal acts of Jesus, and that he applies the benefits of Christ’s work not to the “pneumatic” ipso facto, but in principle to all men, though practically only to those who listen to the Saviour’s words and adorn themselves with works of righteousness. Irenæus presented this work of Christ from various points of view. He regards it as the realisation of man’s original destiny, that is, being in communion with God, contemplating God, being imperishable like God; he moreover views it as the abolition of the consequences of Adam’s disobedience, and therefore as the redemption of men from death and the dominion of the devil; and finally he looks upon it as reconciliation with God. In all these conceptions Irenæus fell back upon the person of Christ. Here, at the same time, he is everywhere determined by the content of Biblical passages; in fact it is just the New Testament that leads him to these considerations, as was first the case with the Valentinians before him. How uncertain he still is as to their ecclesiastical importance is shown by the fact that he has no hesitation in reckoning the question, as to why the Word of God became flesh and suffered, among the articles that are a matter of consideration for science, but not for the simple faith (I. 10. 3). Here, therefore, he still maintains the archaic standpoint according to which it is sufficient to adhere to the baptismal confession and wait for the second coming of Christ along with the resurrection of the body. On the other hand, Irenæus did not merely confine himself to describing the fact of redemption, its content and its consequences; but he also attempted to explain the peculiar nature of this redemption from the essence of God and the incapacity of man, thus solving the question “cur deus Homo” in the highest sense. Finally, he adopted from Paul the thought that Christ’s real work of salvation consists in his death on the cross; and so he tried to amalgamate the two propositions, “filius dei filius hominis factus est propter nos” (“the Son of God became Son of man for us”) and “filius dei passus est propter nos” (“the Son of God suffered for us”) as the most vital ones. He did not, however, clearly show which of these doctrines is the more important. Here the speculation of Irenæus is already involved in the same ambiguity as was destined to be the permanent characteristic of Church speculation as to Christ’s work in succeeding times. For on the one hand, Paul led one to lay all the emphasis on the death on the cross, and on the other, the logical result of dogmatic thinking only pointed to the appearance of God in the flesh, but not to a particular work of Christ that had not been already involved in the appearance of the Divine Teacher himself. Still, Irenæus contrived to reconcile the discrepancy better than his successors, because, being in earnest with his idea of Christ as the second Adam, he was able to contemplate the whole life of Jesus as redemption in so far as he conceived it as a recapitulation. We see this at once not only from his conception of the virgin birth as a fact of salvation, but also from his way of describing redemption as deliverance from the devil. For, as the birth of Christ from the Virgin Mary is the recapitulating counterpart of Adam’s birth from the virgin earth, and as the obedience of the mother of Jesus is the counterpart of Eve’s disobedience, so the story of Jesus’ temptation is to him the recapitulating counterpart of the story of Adam’s temptation. In the way that Jesus overcame the temptation by the devil (Matt. IV.) Irenæus already sees the redemption of mankind from Satan; even then Jesus bound the strong one. But, whereas the devil seized upon man unlawfully and deceitfully, no in-justice, untruthfulness, or violence is displayed in the means by which Jesus resisted Satan’s temptation. As yet Irenæus is quite as free from the thought that the devil has real rights upon man, as he is from the immoral idea that God accomplished his work of redemption by an act of deceit. But, on the strength of Pauline passages, many of his teachings rather view redemption from the devil as accomplished by the death of Christ, and accordingly represent this death as a ransom paid to the “apostasy” for men who had fallen into captivity. He did not, however, develop this thought any further.

His idea of the reconciliation of God is just as rudimentary, and merely suggested by Biblical passages. He sometimes saw the means of reconciliation solely in obedience and in the righteous flesh” as such, at other times in the “wood.” Here also the recapitulation theory again appears: through disobedience at the tree Adam became a debtor to God, and through obedience at the tree God is reconciled. But teachings as to vicarious suffering on the part of Christ are not found in Irenæus, and his death is seldom presented from the point of view of a sacrifice offered to God. According to this author the reconciliation virtually consists in Christ’s restoring man to communion and friendship with God and procuring forgiveness of sins; he very seldom speaks of God being offended through Adam’s sin (V. 16. 3). But the incidental mention of the forgiveness of sins resulting from the redemption by Christ has not the meaning of an abolition of sin. He connects the redemption with this only in the form of Biblical and rhetorical phrases; for the vital point with him is the abolition of the consequences of sin, and particularly of the sentence of death. Here we have the transition to the conception of Christ’s work which makes this appear more as a completion than as a restoration. In this connection Irenæus employed the following categories: restoring of the likeness of God in humanity; abolition of death; connection and union of man with God; adoption of men as sons of God and as gods; imparting of the Spirit who now becomes accustomed to abide with men; imparting of a knowledge of God culminating in beholding him; bestowal of everlasting life. All these are only the different aspects of one and the same blessing, which, being of a divine order, could only be brought to us and implanted in our nature by God himself. But inasmuch as this view represents Christ not as performing a reconciling but a perfecting work, his acts are thrust more into the background; his work is contained in his constitution as the God-man. Hence this work has a universal significance for all men, not only as regards the present, but as regards the past from Adam downwards, in so far as they “according to their virtue in their generation have not only feared but also loved God, and have behaved justly and piously towards their neighbours, and have longed to see Christ and to hear his voice.” Those redeemed by Jesus are immediately joined by him into a unity, into the true humanity, the Church, whose head he himself is. This Church is the communion of the Sons of God, who have attained to a contemplation of him and have been gifted with everlasting life. In this the work of Christ the God-man is fulfilled. In Tertullian and Hippolytus, as the result of New Testament exegesis, we again find the same aspects of Christ’s work as in Irenæus, only with them the mystical form of redemption recedes into the background.

Nevertheless the eschatology as set forth by Irenæus in the fifth Book by no means corresponds to this conception of the work of Christ as a restoring and completing one; it rather appears as a remnant of antiquity directly opposed to the speculative interpretation of redemption, but protected by the regula fidei, the New Testament, especially Revelation, and the material hopes of the great majority of Christians. But it would be a great mistake to assume that Irenæus merely repeated the hopes of an earthly kingdom just because he still found them in tradition, and because they were completely rejected by the Gnostics and guaranteed by the regula and the New Testament. The truth rather is that he as well as Melito, Hippolytus, Tertullian, Lactantius, Commodian, and Victorinus lived in these hopes no less than did Papias, the Asia Minor Presbyters and Justin. But this is the clearest proof that all these theologians were but half-hearted in their theology, which was forced upon them, in defence of the traditional faith, by the historical situation in which they found themselves. The Christ, who will shortly come to overcome Antichrist, overthrow the Roman empire, establish in Jerusalem a kingdom of glory, and feed believers with the fat of a miraculously fruitful earth, is in fact a quite different being from the Christ who, as the incarnate God, has already virtually accomplished his work of imparting perfect knowledge and filling mankind with divine life and incorruptibility. The fact that the old Catholic Fathers have both Christs shows more clearly than any other the middle position that they occupy between the acutely hellenised Christianity of the theologians, i.e., the Gnostics, and the old tradition of the Church. We have indeed seen that the twofold conception of Christ and his work dates back to the time of the Apostles, for there is a vast difference between the Christ of Paul and the Christ of the supposedly inspired Jewish Apocalypses; and also that the agency in producing this conjunction may be traced back to the oldest time; but the union of a precise Christological Gnosis, such as we find in Irenæus and Tertullian, with the retention in their integrity of the imaginative series of thoughts about Antichrist, Christ as the warrior hero, the double resurrection, and the kingdom of glory in Jerusalem, is really a historical novelty. There is, however, no doubt that the strength of the old Catholic theology in opposition to the Gnostics lies in the accomplishment of this union, which, on the basis of the New Testament, appeared to the Fathers possible and necessary. For it is not systematic consistency that secures the future of a religious conception within a church, but its elasticity, and its richness in dissimilar trains of thought. But no doubt this must be accompanied by a firm foundation, and this too the old Catholic Fathers possessed — the church system itself.

As regards the details of the eschatological hopes, they were fully set forth by Irenæus himself in Book V. Apart from the belief that the returning Nero would be the Antichrist, an idea spread in the West during the third century by the Sibylline verses and proved from Revelation, the later teachers who preached chiliastic hopes did not seriously differ from the gallic bishop; hence the interpretation of Revelation is in its main features the same. It is enough therefore to refer to the fifth Book of Irenæus. There is no need to show in detail that chiliasm leads to a peculiar view of history, which is as much opposed to that resulting from the Gnostic theory of redemption, as this doctrine itself forbids the hope of a bliss to be realised in an earthly kingdom of glory. This is not the proper place to demonstrate to what extent the two have been blended, and how the chiliastic scheme of history has been emptied of its content and utilised in the service of theological apologetics.

But the Gnostics were not the only opponents of chiliasm. Justin, even in his time, knew orthodox Christians who refused to believe in an earthly kingdom of Christ in Jerusalem, and Irenæus (V. 33 ff.), Tertullian, and Hippolytus expressly argued against these. Soon after the middle of the second century, we hear of an ecclesiastical party in Asia Minor, which not only repudiated chiliasm, but also rejected the Revelation of John as an untrustworthy book, and subjected it to sharp criticism. These were the so-called Alogi. But in the second century such Christians were still in the minority in the Church. It was only in the course of the third century that chiliasm was almost completely ousted in the East. This was the result of the Montanistic controversy and the Alexandrian theology. In the West, however, it was only threatened. In this Church the first literary opponent of chiliasm and of the Apocalypse appears to have been the Roman Presbyter Caius. But his polemic did not prevail. On the other hand the learned bishops of the East in the third century used their utmost efforts to combat and extirpate chiliasm. The information given to us by Eusebius (H. E. VII. 24), from the letters of Dionysius of Alexandria, about that father’s struggles with whole communities in Egypt, who would not give up chiliasm, is of the highest interest. This account shews that wherever philosophical theology had not yet made its way the chiliastic hopes were not only cherished and defended against being explained away, but were emphatically regarded as Christianity itself. Cultured theologians were able to achieve the union of chiliasm and religious philosophy; but the “simplices et idiotæ” could only understand the former. As the chiliastic hopes were gradually obliged to recede in exactly the same proportion as philosophic theology became naturalised, so also their subsidence denotes the progressive tutelage of the laity. The religion they under. stood was taken from them, and they received in return a faith they could not understand; in other words, the old faith and the old hopes decayed of themselves and the authority of a mysterious faith took their place. In this sense the extirpation or decay of chiliasm is perhaps the most momentous fact in the history of Christianity in the East. With chiliasm men also lost the living faith in the nearly impending return of Christ, and the consciousness that the prophetic spirit with its gifts is a real possession of Christendom. Such of the old hopes as remained were at most particoloured harmless fancies which, when allowed by theology, were permitted to be added to dogmatics. In the West, on the contrary, the millennial hopes retained their vigour during the whole third century; we know of no bishop there who would have opposed chiliasm. With this, however, was preserved a portion of the earliest Christianity which was to exercise its effects far beyond the time of Augustine.