The Su ering of the Impassible God: The Dialectics of Patristic Thought

Paul L. Gavrilyuk

https://doi.org/10.1093/0199269823.001.0001
Published: 2004 Online ISBN: 9780191601569 Print ISBN: 9780199269822

CHAPTER

3 3 Docetism Resisted: Christ's Su ering is Real 

Paul L. Gavrilyuk

https://doi.org/10.1093/0199269823.003.0004 Pages 64–90

Published: March 2004

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

Abstract
The christological hymns and creedal statements of the rst three centuries are characterized by a
tension between Christ’s divine status and his subjection to human su ering. The Docetic attempt to
remove this tension was systematically opposed by the church. The reality of Christ’s su ering was
especially emphasized in theological re ections upon the experience of martyrdom.

Keywords: Basilides, Celsus, confession, creed, creedal statement, Docetism, Gnosticism, hymn, Irenaeus,
Melito of Sardis, Tertullian, theology of martyrdom, Valentinian Gnosticism, Valentinus
Subject: Early Christianity

He who believes that God was born and su ered (Qui natum passumque Deum…credit) and sought
again His Father's throne, and that He will come again from the skies, that on His return He may
judge the living and the dead, sees, if he follows the rewards of Christ, that the inner court of
1
heaven lies open to the holy martyrs.

HAVING provided a preliminary assessment of the divine impassibility remoto Christo, we are now in a
position to look more closely at how both divine impassibility and divine su ering interplayed in the major
christological debates of the early church. To remind the reader, the view that dominates the current
assessment of this issue splits the Fathers into two camps: the impassibilist majority and the passibilist
minority, the former having fallen prey to the philosophical thought of their age, the latter being the
harbingers of modern theological achievements. Quite often surprisingly meagre evidence is adduced to
qualify a theologian as either impassibilist or passibilist.

In the Introduction I have argued that the approach that sees (im)passibility as an either/or issue is
misleading. Contrary to the view held by the proponents of the Theory of Theology's Fall into Hellenistic
2
Philosophy, boldly theopaschite declarations (found in abundance in second‐ and third‐century and later
p. 65 patristic writings) do not by themselves provide an interpretative key to the doctrine of the incarnation.
On the contrary, they raise further questions. In every case when such provocative statements appear, it
should be asked: how do they function within the theology of a given author? What do they communicate
about the nature of Christ's divinity and about the role of the esh assumed in the incarnation? Instead of
merely assembling theopaschite statements as presumably conveying a biblical idea of divine involvement,
we will do better if we consider both impassibility and passibility as corollary terms necessary for an
adequate account of the incarnation.

Furthermore, the scholarly discussion of the issue is considerably impoverished by the fact that thus far it
has remained only on the micro‐level of those passages where (im)passibility is discussed or alluded to.
What is neglected in the process is the logic of broader doctrinal developments, as well as the complex web
of communal beliefs and practices leading to and feeding those developments.
 The Tension between Christ's Divine Status and his Subjection to
Human Su ering

Prior to debating the issues of whether and how God was involved in the su ering of Christ that dominated
the christological controversies, the early Christians sang hymns to the Cruci ed, confessed the Cruci ed in
baptism, ate the body of the Cruci ed in the Eucharist, expelled evil spirits by the power of the Cruci ed,
reorganized their calendar around the events leading to his cruci xion and resurrection, and, in the case of
the martyrs, followed the Cruci ed to the point of death.

As is widely acknowledged, several NT christological hymns, notably Philippians 2: 6–11 and Hebrews 1: 3–
4, express in a few succinct statements three major themes: rst, Christ's pre‐existence, second, his earthly
ministry with the emphasis on his su ering and cruci xion, and third, his exaltation and ascension to
3
p. 66 heaven. Philippians 2 has proved to be a real crux interpretum both for the Fathers and for modern biblical
theologians. At the beginning of the hymn Christ is identi ed as the one who ‘existed in the form of

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

4
God’. The next strophe (vv. 7–8), in sharp contrast to the rst, speaks of his ‘emptying himself’, ‘humbling
himself’, ‘being found in human form’, and ‘becoming obedient to the point of death’. The last strophe,
again in sharp contrast to the previous one, starts with a rather abrupt a rmation of Christ's glori cation
by the Father: ‘Therefore God also highly exalted him’, and ends with a confessional formula: ‘Jesus Christ
is Lord!’ The tension is created by the fact that the person to whom the rst line of the hymn ascribes what
can be broadly de ned as a divine status is described in the second strophe as undergoing such human
5
experiences as su ering and death.

The third strophe declares that ‘at the name of Jesus every knee should bend’, i.e. that the invocation of
Jesus' name has the same e ect as the invocation of the name of God, the obvious implication being that the
exalted one has a divine status (broadly de ned). The tension is stark and obvious: the person who emptied
and humbled himself, su ered and died on the cross, that very person is worthy of worship and adoration.

The church's worship of the Cruci ed is also expressed in Thomas's confession, ‘My Lord and my God!’
(John 20: 28) made before the risen Jesus bearing the marks of his cruci xion. In Revelation 5: 12 we nd a
heavenly choir singing praises to the Cruci ed who is symbolically portrayed as a sacri cial animal:
‘Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered to receive the power and wealth and wisdom and might and
honour and glory and blessing!’ The hymn in Heb. 1: 3–4 does not elaborate the theme of Christ's
humiliation and death, alluding to them as ‘puri cation for sins’. Nevertheless the basic structure of the
hymn is the same: pre‐existence, earthly ministry, and exaltation. Other NT hymns, such as John 1: 1–14 and
p. 67 Colossians 1: 15–20, do not develop the theme of exaltation, whereas 1 Timothy 3: 16 and 1 Peter 3: 18–22
(also considered by many form critics to be a hymn) do not refer explicitly to Christ's pre‐existence. Still, the
fundamental tension between Christ's divine status and his subjection to the human experiences of birth
and death is retained.

It is precisely because the above‐mentioned hymns contain in nuce this vital tension that they came to
occupy a pivotal role in the centuries‐long christological debates that led to the formulation of the major
confessional documents of the church. In the early church the hymns, with their emphasis upon Christ's
6
divine status, provided raw material for the creeds. The protocredal statements in turn informed the
theological vision of the hymns.

The common features of early Christian hymns and pre‐credal confessions have already become the subject
of several scholarly works. In this regard, 1 Tim. 3: 16 has been discussed as a credal hymn of the early
7
church. In his study of homologia in the NT Vernon Neufeld has drawn attention to the fact that the
liturgical hymn in Phil. 2: 5–11 is confessional in nature, ending with a protocredal statement, ‘Jesus Christ
8
is Lord.’ Along the same lines, Ernst Käsemann argued that Col. 1: 15–20 is a confession that was used in
9
the ancient baptismal liturgy.

More telling still are direct citations from the hymns found in the later creeds and expositions of faith. Thus,
for example, an expression from the rst strophe of the Colossians hymn, ‘the rstborn of all creation’, is
literally reproduced in a pre‐credal statement cited by Justin Martyr, the Antiochean exposition of faith
10
(268), the Caesarean creed (end 3rd c.), and several fourth‐century synodal creeds adopted in Antioch. The
following expression, ‘in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible…all
p. 68 things have been created through him and for him’, with slight modi cations appears with even greater
 11
frequency in the christological article of fourth‐century synodal creeds and credal summaries of faith. The
same applies to the in uence of John 1: 3 and Phil. 2: 5–11.

Even more important than material similarities is the fact that the structure of the second article of many
early pre‐credal statements and of all later synodal creeds repeats the same pattern of pre‐existence, earthly
ministry, and ascension. To give some idea of this pattern, let us consider a mid‐second‐century
christological protocredal statement cited by Justin Martyr in his Dialogue with Trypho and used, as the
12
context suggests, as an exorcistic formula:

pre‐existence Son of God and ‘ rstborn of all creation’

earthly ministry who was born through the virgin and became a man destined to su er, and was
cruci ed under Pontius Pilate [by our people], and died and rose again from the dead

exaltation and ascended into heaven

13

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

Despite Justin's tendency towards subordinationism, the tension between adjacent clauses is clearly
conveyed by this protocredal statement. We will see in Chapter 5 that the addition of the clause ‘of one
essence with the Father’ to the Caesarean creed at the Council of Nicaea further sharpened the already
14
present tension between Christ's divine status and the human experiences and actions ascribed to him.

As I will show in Chapter 6, the dispute between Cyril of Alexandria and Nestorius in part revolved around
the interpretation of two key texts: the christological article of the Nicene creed and the Philippians hymn.
The choice of Phil. 2 out of all the other passages in the NT was by no means accidental. The second article of
the creed and Phil. 2 are twin brothers, exhibiting the same threefold pattern and containing the same
tension. Origen paraphrased the tension involved in terms of a concise paradox: ‘he who was in the form of
p. 69 God saw t to be in the form of a servant; while he who is immortal dies, and the impassible su ers, and
15
the invisible is seen’. The logical structure of this paradox remained to be spelled out in the christological
debates of the next two centuries.

Later in this chapter we will explore the implications of this tension for second‐century re ections upon the
issue of divine (im)passibility. More speci cally, we will trace the major theological contours of the church's
resistance to the Docetic attempt to dissolve the tension. Before that, however, let us brie y turn to what
may be called the ultimate confession of the Cruci ed, the confession of the martyrs.

Divine Su ering in the Theology of Martyrdom

The early Christian theology of martyrdom left a permanent imprint upon the liturgical practices of the
church, upon the institution of monasticism, and upon the vision of the Christian life as an imitation of
16
Christ. In the words of Irenaeus of Lyons, Christians who die for Christ ‘strive to follow the footprints of
17
the Lord's passion, having become martyrs of the su ering One’. Martyrs chose to imitate Christ in the
most radical way possible: in su ering, humiliation, and death. St Ignatius of Antioch expressed this choice
most powerfully in his letter to the church in Rome: ‘Allow me to be the imitator of the su erings of my God
18
(πάθους του̑ θεου̑ μου).’ This is the earliest patristic statement that makes God the subject of Christ's su ering
on Golgotha. It is clear from the wider context of Ignatius' writings that he does not mean that God su ers
19
perpetually. The goal of martyrdom is neither masochistic enjoyment of su ering as such, nor the
aspiration that by death one will enter into a condition of ceaseless su ering with Christ. Many
exaggerations of modern passibilism would scandalize the ancient martyrs. For them, on the contrary, the
p. 70 imitation of Christ's su erings guaranteed participation in his glory in which all su ering ends (cf. Rom.
8: 18).

In his letter to the Ephesians Ignatius spelled out the already familiar credal tension between cruci xion
and ascension in terms of opposed adjectives: ‘There is only one physician, who is both esh and spirit,
born and unborn, God in man, true life in death, both from Mary and from God, rst subject to su ering and
20
then beyond it (πρω̑τον παθητὸς καὶ τοτε ἀπαθής), Jesus Christ our Lord.’ Along the same lines, Justin Martyr
21
wrote that Christ was ‘ rst made subject to su ering, then returned to heaven’.

It was believed that those who became partakers of Christ's resurrection also shared his impassibility. In the
theology of martyrdom impassibility acquired the special sense of a state enjoyed by the blessed after the
resurrection in which, according to St Paul, ‘corruptible is changed into incorruptible’ and all persecution
 and unjust su ering comes to an end. Justin Martyr wrote: ‘The unjust and intemperate shall be punished in
eternal re, but the virtuous and those who lived like Christ shall dwell with God in a state that is free from
22
su ering (ἐν ἀπαθίᾳ).’

23
God will raise Christians ‘incorruptible, impassible (ἀπαθει̑ς) and immortal’. It is noteworthy that
impassibility here appears in tandem with other negative adjectives and conveys the basic idea that the
resurrection state is very di erent from the tribulations of the present age. Justin is careful to distinguish
24
impassibility from mere insensitivity which, as the persecutors contend, awaits every mortal after death.
Justin also points out that resurrection impassibility is far from the Cynic ideal of indi erence that renders
25
moral performance in this life irrelevant for the life in the world to come.

The description of the resurrection state in terms of impassibility squarely limits Christ's su ering to the
temporal framework of the incarnation. Several writers of the NT emphasize that Christ's sacri ce on the
26
cross has a unique and unrepeatable (‘once‐for‐all’) character. In addition, many pre‐credal statements
and all later synodal creeds a rm that Christ su ered sub Pontio Pilato, attaching a clearly de ned point of

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

historical reference to his death. In the eyes of the ancients, the tag ‘in such and such year and month of the
p. 71 reign of such and such a governor’ was a common way of dating events, including one's birth and death.
Unlike the gods of the mysteries, Christ does not su er and rise periodically with the change of seasons or
with the arrival of harvest time.

However, the place accorded to Christ's su ering was such that it was bound to break the limitations of
history. The theology of martyrdom very quickly linked the idea of imitation to that of participation in the
passion of Christ. The di erence between imitation and participation is substantial: while it is natural to
imitate a past example, it is impossible to participate in a process that is not in some way continuing in the
present. If communion in Christ's su ering is open to those who follow him, then Christ's su ering itself
must be in some sense an enduring reality, extending beyond the boundaries of his earthly ministry.

27
We catch several glimpses of this idea in the NT. For example, in Saul's vision on the road to Damascus,
Christ implicitly identi es himself with the church in its present persecution: ‘Saul, Saul, why do you
persecute me…I am Jesus whom you persecute’ (Acts 9: 4). To persecute the church is to persecute Christ
himself. Converted, Saul once mentioned ‘the marks of Jesus branded in his body’ (Gal 6: 17), a tantalizing
statement that inspired the medieval tradition of stigmata and passion mysticism.

Participation is reciprocal: just as the martyr partakes of the passion of Christ so also Christ shares the
tortures of the martyr. Christ su ers in the martyr—this idea had a major impact upon the theology of
28
martyrdom. It is powerfully expressed in early third‐century North African martyr‐act, Passio Perpetuae et
Felicitatis. This work tells the story of the martyrdom of ve Christians who were apprehended and kept in
prison, waiting to ght with the wild beasts in the amphitheatre. One of the arrested, a young woman
named Felicitas, was pregnant and delivered unduly three days before the execution. A prison guard
watching her birth pangs expressed a doubt about her ability to withstand greater su ering. Which doubt
Felicitas met with the following remarkable reply: ‘I su er now myself that which is natural. But then,
29
another will be in me who will su er for me, because I am about to su er for him.’

p. 72 The grandeur of these words lies in their digni ed brevity. Christ will give strength to Felicitas on the day of
her martyrdom, he will be intimately close to her. Even more, he will be su ering in her and for her. Yet, as
Felicitas is keen to point out to the prison guard, Christ does not share in all kinds of her su erings. If Pilate
happened to have a headache on the day of cruci xion, Christ would not su er in him or for him, since the
procurator's su ering would be purely physiological, he would ‘su er what there was to su er’, patior quod
patior. Likewise, Felicitas' birth pangs are natural and involuntary. Her martyrdom, in contrast, is chosen
deliberately and purposefully. Christ su ers in those whose torment has as its ultimate goal the closest
30
possible union with the Lord.

The martyr's attachment to Christ at the point of death is so profound that she is mystically identi ed with
him. This is beautifully portrayed in another account of martyrdom, The Letter of the Churches of Vienne and
31
Lyons. The anonymous author describes how the onlookers present at the execution of Blandina, a ‘frail
and delicate female slave’, contemplate with amazement the following transformation:

Blandina was hung up fastened to a stake and exposed, as food to the wild beasts that were let loose
against her. Because she appeared as if hanging on a cross and because of her earnest prayers, she
inspired the combatants with great zeal. For they looked on this sister in her combat and saw, with
 their bodily eyes, Him who was cruci ed for them, that He might persuade those who trust in Him
that every one who su ers for the glory of Christ has eternal communion with the living God.
When none of the wild beasts at that time touched her, she was taken down from the stake and
taken back to prison. She was preserved for another contest. By gaining the victory in more
con icts, she might make the condemnation of the Crooked Serpent unquestionable, and she
might encourage the brethren. Though she was an insigni cant, weak, and despised woman, yet
she was clothed with the great and invincible athlete Christ. On many occasions she had
overpowered the enemy, and in the course of the contest had woven for herself the crown of
32
incorruption.

p. 73 So complete is Blandina's identi cation with the Cruci ed that those present look at the stake and see the
cross, they watch Blandina and Christ appears before them. It is noteworthy that in both cases Christ's
su ering has an element of active endurance. Christ does not multiply the su ering of the martyr by adding
his own su ering to it. On the contrary, Christ strengthens the martyr by taking her su ering upon himself.
He mystically substitutes his body in place of the martyr's body. In Felicitas' words: ‘another will be in me

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

who will su er for me’. In contrast to Whitehead's portrait of God as ‘a fellow‐su erer who understands’, in
the scene of Blandina's death Christ o ers more than just a helpless commiseration. His su ering gives the
power to withstand torture. Christ ghts for the martyr against Satan and helps her to conquer the enemy.
Paradoxically, Christ's passion in the martyr turns out to be his victorious action on her behalf.

The same letter preserves another account of remarkable endurance. The deacon Sanctus, arrested by the
authorities together with the other Christians, was put through unbearable torture, including the
application of red‐hot iron to ‘the most delicate parts’ of his body. The narrator explains how Sanctus was
able to endure everything because ‘it was Christ who su ered in him and did great wonders, destroying the
enemy and showing as a pattern to the rest that there was nothing terrible where there is the love of the
33
Father, nothing painful where there is the glory of Christ’. The author tells us that, to the surprise of the
cruel authorities, Sanctus' second torture became a source of miraculous cure for the wounds left by the rst
one. In this account, Christ's presence in the martyr brings about not just miraculous endurance, but
healing.

Thus, the early Christian theology of martyrdom o ers the insight that Christ's su ering (in the quali ed
sense of providing power to endure persecution to those who su er for his sake) extends beyond the
historical limits of the incarnation onto the experience of the martyrs. This idea received its development in
the earliest surviving paschal sermon, composed by Melito, bishop of Sardis. According to Melito, the divine
Logos su ers not only in the martyrs of the present, but also in the patriarchs and prophets of the past:

It is he who in many endured many things: it is he that was murdered in Abel, and bound in Isaac,
and exiled in Jacob, and sold in Joseph, and exposed in Moses, and slain in the lamb, and
persecuted in David, and dishonoured in the prophets. It is he that was en eshed in a virgin, that
p. 74 was hanged on a tree, that was buried in the earth, that was raised from the dead, that was taken
34
up to the heights of the heavens.

Here the Logos's su ering with the just of OT times is woven into a description of the key points of the
incarnation, which are enumerated in the second article of the early creeds. That the Logos spoke through
35
the prophets and apostles was a common conviction of early fathers. But Melito develops this idea and
considers not only the speech acts, but also the su erings of the Logos as transcending the temporal
boundaries of the incarnation and extending out into the whole of salvation history. The theology of
martyrdom made a similar move in a rming Christ's su ering in the martyrs. It would be premature to
dismiss this move as a piece of poetic imagination.

In Melito's surviving works and fragments divine involvement in salvation history is held in creative
tension with the description of God in negative attributes, including immortality and impassibility. Melito is
far from advocating an unquali ed theopaschitism. According to Melito, the impassible Logos ‘accepted the
passions of the su ering one through the body which was able to su er, and dissolved the passions of the
36
esh’. As in the martyr‐acts, the su ering of the Logos occurs in and through the human body.

The Fathers, including Melito, were concerned to point out a crucial dissimilarity between the passion of
Christ on the cross that was rst and foremost ‘for us’ and ‘for our sins’ and the persecution of the saints
that bore witness to the passion of Christ, but was not redemptive in the same sense. Augustine, for
 37
example, emphasized that ‘No martyr's blood has been shed for the remission of sins.’ In the later
christological controversies, it became expedient to distinguish as sharply as possible between the Logos'
indwelling of the saints and prophets of the past without sharing in their experiences and the Logos'
becoming incarnate in Christ and participating in the human condition to the uttermost. Thus, for example,
Athanasius of Alexandria took pains to correct certain unidenti ed heretics in his letter to Epictetus written
38
c.371:

p. 75 Accordingly, it is no good venture of theirs to say that the Word of God came into a certain holy
man; for this was true of each of the prophets and of the other saints, and on that assumption He
would clearly be born and die in the case of each one of them. But this is not so, far be the thought…
We are dei ed not by partaking of the body of some man, but by receiving the Body of the Word
39
Himself.

We may surmise that these legitimate theological concerns contributed to the fact that Christ's su ering in
the martyrs and the persecution of the Logos with the prophets and righteous of the past remained

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

somewhat isolated theologoumena in the early patristic writings.

According to a more generally accepted view, the persecution of the OT righteous served as a pre guration
40
of the passion of Christ. This interpretation does not require an extension of the su erings of the Logos
beyond the limits of the incarnation into the OT history. It was Melito, among many others, who elaborated
with painstaking poetic detail a vision that the events of the OT serve as a preliminary sketch, as a model of
the things that will become a reality in the NT. The idea of pre guration, of foreshadowing, rather than that
of actual participation became widely accepted in patristic theology. In her worship of the Cruci ed the
church wanted to make one thing clear: God is faithful to his redemptive purposes in history even if that
entails assuming fragile humanity and dying the death of a slave on the cross.

Pagan Reactions to Worship of the Crucified God

It is precisely the latter point that proved to be a stumbling block for pagans, simple folk and philosophically
minded alike. Even those pagans who knew precious little about Christianity recognized that the gure of
the Cruci ed held a central signi cance for the members of this strange secret society. Pagan ridicule and
disgust at Christians is powerfully expressed by a mid‐second‐century gra to, discovered in 1857 on the
wall in the Palace of the Caesars on the Palatine Hill. This ancient caricature sketchily portrays a boy on his
knees before a cruci ed gure with a donkey's head. The words scratched below the gra to read:
‘Alexamenos worshipping his god.’ The caricature itself is a fruit of a curious confusion. It was gossiped
p. 76 around among antagonistically disposed pagans that the Jews worshipped an ass and that they used to have
41
a donkey's head hanging in the holy of holies in the Temple. According to Tertullian, later the
42
accusations of onolatry (ass‐worship) were directed at Christians. We may surmise that the scribbler of our
gra to intended to kill two birds with one stone: Christians were ridiculed together with the Jews for
43
worshipping the Jewish God nailed to the cross.

For more re ned tastes a second‐century satirist Lucian wrote a lampoon, The Passing of Peregrinus in which
he mocked the Christian veneration of martyrs. The book painted Christians as naïve and gullible followers
of an imposter, Peregrinus. Lucian remarked in passing that Peregrinus was revered by his followers ‘as a
44
god…next after that other whom they still worship, the man cruci ed in Palestine’. The report is again
confused. Lucian made Christ into a divinized, martyred hero, despite the insistence of the apologists that
worship belongs to God alone, whereas martyrs should be piously remembered—nothing more. But Lucian
45
was not in the least concerned about making such subtle distinctions.

More religiously serious pagans felt that their pietas was itself o ended by the new sect's object of worship.
Minucius Felix recorded such pagan indignation: ‘He who explains their ceremonies by reference to a man
punished by extreme su ering for his wickedness, and to the deadly wood of the cross, appropriates tting
46
p. 77 altars for reprobate and wicked men, that they may worship what they deserve.’ Those who worship the
Cruci ed deserve to be cruci ed!—this is the battle cry of a heart burning with piety. The pagans were
disgusted with the appalling innovations that the atheistic Galileans introduced into the traditional ways of
imaging the divine realm. Many believed in good faith that the Christians provoked the jealous anger of the
47
Olympians (together with the rest of pantheon) by being unreservedly attached to the cruci ed God.
 On the popular level the clash was between the two modes of piety, the old and the new, while on a second,
more re ective level, the con ict was between the Christian revelation and divergent philosophical accounts
of divine involvement. More discriminating pagans pinpointed exactly where the heart of the o ence lay:
‘The gods are not hostile to you because you worship the Omnipotent God but because you maintain that a
man, born of a human being, and one who su ered the penalty of cruci xion, which even to the lowest of
48
men is a disgraceful punishment, was God…’

To claim that the Omnipotent God was cruci ed seemed both impious and inconsistent with the nature of
God. The charge of inconsistency, although less popular, was particularly pressed by the philosophers. A
curious fth‐century Nestorian fabrication of a letter from the famous Neoplatonist Hypatia to Cyril of
Alexandria, furnishes a suitable example of what the common charge of inconsistency could have looked
like:

The pagans, those poorly informed and those who are wise, found an opportunity to accuse this
doctrine [Christianity] and call it inconsistent, for the evangelist said, ‘No one has at any time seen

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

God.’ How, therefore, they [pagans] say, do you say that God was cruci ed? They say, how was he
49
a xed to the cross, who has not been seen? How did he die, and how was he buried?

This telling observation about a common pagan perception of Christianity could be based upon Nestorius'
own complaint that ‘the heathen indeed are not content to name Christ God because of the su ering of the
50
body and the cross, and the death’.

p. 78 The ctional Hypatia admits later in the letter that when she learned about Nestorius' teaching she
51
immediately wrote to him, saying: ‘the questions of the pagans are solved’. Presumably, Nestorius'
explanation, that it was a man who su ered and was seen on the cross, while the divinity remained invisible
and impassible, made perfect sense to the pagan intelligentsia. We should, however, beware of making too
52
much of this forgery.

A straightforward way of taming the o ence of the cross was open to the church: as long as Christians did
not ascribe a divine status to their founder, they deserved pity at best and ridicule at worst as overly gullible
followers of a teacher with an ass's head. If the Christians chose this way, no Roman governor would
persecute them as subversive sectarians. If the Christians agreed not to place the Cruci ed on the same
plane as the immortal gods, their claims would cease to threaten pagan piety. Much to the chagrin of
pagans, the majority of the Christian schools did not embrace this solution. They kept impiously insisting
53
that ‘a man who lived a most infamous life and died a most miserable death was a god’. This dictum of
54
Celsus summarizes a common pagan bewilderment at the theological indecency of Christianity.

Many pagans shared the view of Celsus that Jesus did not handle his cruci xion in a God‐be tting manner:
‘If he was really so great he ought, in order to display his divinity (εἰς ἐπίδειξιν θεότητος), to have disappeared
55
suddenly from the cross.’ Discussing this point, Origen compares Celsus' reaction to that of the Jews who
stood near the cross and reviled Christ, shouting at him to come down. It should be noted that Celsus o ers
a subtle, but signi cant modi cation of this same ‘divine escapism’ motif: in order to ‘display his divinity’
p. 79 Christ should have disappeared from the cross, not just dismounted before all who stood around. The
sudden disappearance of the deity from the scene was not uncommon in stories about divine visitation
throughout the world. It was precisely a sudden miraculous disappearance that was taken to be revelatory of
56
the true identity of an otherwise incognito divine visitor.
 The Function of the Divine Impassibility in Docetism

The ‘escapist’ way of taming the scandal of the cross found a great number of adherents. Already a century
before Celsus the church was pressed to oppose emerging Docetic interpretations of the gospel narratives.
Docetism narrowly de ned is the view that the founder of Christianity had only an apparent, not a real
human body and was subject to the human experiences of birth, fatigue, thirst, hunger, su ering, death,
and the like in appearance only, in reality being immune from them. Docetism, understood more broadly,
includes views that divide the hero of the canonical gospels into the two subjects, one divine, the other
merely human: the title ‘Christ’ tending to be ascribed to the divine subject, and the title ‘Jesus’ to the
57
human one. According to this two‐subject version of Docetism, ‘Jesus’ was the subject of the human
experiences, reported in the gospels, whereas ‘Christ’ was either not implicated in those experiences at all
or implicated only putatively. Let us note that the broader version of Docetism embraces a variety of
speculations about the nature of Jesus’ body, including the view that ‘Jesus’ possessed a real human body
(which is precisely what is ruled out by the narrow de nition of Docetism). However, as Michael Slusser has

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

pointed out in a de nitive essay on the extent and de nition of Docetism, there is a fundamental agreement
p. 80 between these two versions of this heresy:

In the view of Irenaeus, the malice of those who taught a ‘seeming’ Christ lay in their denial that
the heavenly Savior was ever really involved in the material and human realities of this creation as
we experience them. This denial was no less complete in the case of doctrines which separated the
heavenly Christ from the earthly Jesus than it was in the case of doctrines which held that Jesus
58
was a phantom.

We will follow Slusser in classifying the two‐subjects Gnostic christology as broadly Docetic, despite the fact
that some of those who endorsed this view treated Jesus' body as more or less real.

59
The origins of Docetic beliefs in Christianity are obscure. Hippolytus knew a Gnostic sect called Docetae.
60
Docetic tendencies were widely shared by many (although not by all) Gnostic groups. At the same time
61
Docetic reinterpretations of the gospels were not restricted to the early Christian Gnostics. R. M. Grant
argued with great persuasiveness that Docetism, especially its earlier forms, owed as much to heterodox
62
Jewish sectarian thought as to Graeco‐Oriental speculation. This observation delivers yet another blow to
the interpretation favoured by the Fall of Theology into Hellenistic Philosophy theorists who sharply
contrast the God of intertestamental Judaism with the God of the philosophers. The actual interplay of
di erent proposals about the divine involvement, as we saw in Chapter 1, was much more intricate.

Docetism, whatever its origins, posed the fundamental question that concerns us in this study: which
actions and experiences ascribed to Jesus Christ in the gospels may be deemed tting for a divine visitor
from the heavenly realms? That Christ was indeed such a visitor was not debated by the Gnostics.
Furthermore, the Docetists broadly agreed that certain human experiences of Jesus Christ were not God‐
be tting and that a thorough reinterpretation of the gospel narratives was in order.

Just how the story of the gospels had to be revised depended partly upon the guiding considerations and
p. 81 partly upon the ingenuity of a given Docetic group. As far as guiding considerations are concerned, no
rigid criteria were established. The debate on the authority and content of the apostolic tradition formed a
suitable framework. The Gnostics appealed to secret revelations that went back, as they alleged, to the time
of the apostles. Most Gnostic teachers rejected the church's rule of faith and claimed to have access to
63
esoteric apostolic tradition. The church Fathers argued that the Gnostics could not o er a reliable evidence
of apostolic succession and therefore could not claim the authority of apostolic tradition for their
64
speculations. The details of this debate need not concern us here.

In part, the Docetic reinterpretations were driven by a non‐theological concern for the greater acceptance of
the Christian message in pagan society. A slave's death on the cross was unanimously regarded as shameful
65
and degrading. There was nothing heroic or inspiring about such a death, so ran a common pagan verdict.
These sentiments are expressed, for example, in a Basilidean account of the cruci xion which puts the
following confession into the mouth of Christ:

And the plan which they devised about me to release their Error and their senselessness—I did not
succumb to them as they had planned. But I was not a icted at all. Those who were there punished
me. And I did not die in reality but in appearance, lest I be put to shame by them because these are
 my kinsfolk. I removed the shame from me and I did not become fainthearted in the face of what
happened to me at their hands. I was about to succumb to fear, and I su ered according to their
sight and thought, in order that they may never nd any word to speak about them. For my death
which they think happened, (happened) to them in their error and blindness, since they nailed
66
their man unto their death. For their Ennoias did not see me, for they were deaf and blind.

The writer proceeds to explain how Christ vanished from the scene of the cruci xion ‘altering shapes’ and
how all those who were witnessing the event, in a t of self‐delusion cruci ed Simon of Cyrene, the bearer of
67
the cross. Meanwhile, the triumphant Christ invisibly present behind the scene, was ‘laughing at their
p. 82 ignorance’. It is clear that the ‘divine deception’ scenarios were created by the Gnostics to remove the
shame of cruci xion. Despite the intricacies of the Gnostic cosmology and Christology, the undergirding
conviction, shared by Celsus and the satirists, was clear: God‐be tting actions should not overstep the
boundaries of social propriety. Such was a minimal, yet unavoidable test that a pagan account of divine
involvement had to pass.

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

Along similar lines, the Docetic segment in the apocryphal Acts of John narrates how at the time of the
cruci xion the apostle John ed to the Mount of Olives and hid himself in a cave, being unable to bear the
sight of Jesus' su ering. John was weeping when he suddenly heard the voice of the Lord, revealing to him
the true nature of things: ‘John, to the multitude down below in Jerusalem I am being cruci ed, and pierced
with lances and reeds, and gall and vinegar is given me to drink. But to you I am speaking, and pay attention
68
to what I say.’ This announcement was followed by a vision of a cosmic ‘cross of light’, which, according
to John's invisible interlocutor, had various names: Word, Mind, Jesus, Christ, Door, Way, Son, Father,
Spirit, and so on. The mysterious voice went on to explain that there is a profound di erence between the
cross of light which ‘marked o things transient and inferior’ and the illusory wooden cross of Golgotha:

But this [the cross of light] is not the cross of wood which you will see when you go down here,
neither am I he who is upon the cross, whom now you do not see, but only hear a voice. I was
reckoned to be what I am not, not being what I was to many others; but they [orthodox Christians]
will call me something else, which is vile and not worthy of me…Therefore I have su ered none of
69
the things which they will say of me.

As the passage from the Acts of John makes clear, in some Gnostic teachings the cross became a symbol of
higher cosmic realities and lost any connection with the historical event of Jesus' humiliating execution.
Apart from considerations of social impropriety of cruci xion, there were deeply ingrained theological
p. 83 convictions that made their stamp upon the Docetic reinterpretations of the passion narrative. In any
Docetic system one deals with an intricate web of presuppositions about the Godhead, cosmos, human
beings, salvation, and Christology. The theological views of the Gnostic groups defy clear‐cut classi cation
70
partly due to insu cient evidence and partly due to the nature of the writings themselves.

71
The Gnostics left us the most daring ights of speculative fancy which continue to fascinate the learned.
72
They indulged in the most exalted apophaticism on a par with that of Numenius, Albinus, and Plotinus.
Together with the later Platonists, the Gnostics tested the logical limits of the language of negative
theology. For Basilides, for example, the supreme God was unoriginate, beyond knowing and beyond being,
beyond words and beyond any description. In this context the negative adjective ‘impassible’ was quite
often applied to the divine realm. It was a common dualistic conviction, running through most (but not all)
Gnostic writings, that the divine and spiritual entities could not come in direct contact with matter and
could not be subject to the decay and corruption associated with bodily substances. It was widely accepted
among the Gnostics that matter and body were intrinsically evil and therefore beyond redemption.
Gnosticism is characterized by a rift between creation, conceived in emanationist terms and ascribed to the
evil activity of an imperfect deity, and redemption, regarded as a work of a higher deity. Given these
background beliefs, it was supremely inappropriate and soteriologically pointless for the impassible being
to be implicated in the experiences of birth, su ering, and death.

The most radical Docetists claimed that the divine saviour assumed esh in appearance only, either denying
73
the reality of Christ's body altogether, or questioning the fact that his body was human. According to
Origen, it was precisely an overriding concern to protect the absolute divine impassibility that led to the
denial of the reality of cruci xion: ‘Those who introduced Docetism imagined him [the saviour] to be
p. 84 impassible (τὸ ἀπαθὲς) and superior to such mishaps as humbling himself ‘unto death’ and becoming
74
obedient ever to the cross…’ The experiences that were predicated of the (broadly de ned) divine subject
 in Phil. 2 were dismissed by the Docetists as putative. Such was the Docetic ‘solution’ to the tension inherent
in the hymn.

Another version of Docetism, mentioned in the beginning of this section, was concerned to preserve the
divine impassibility at the expense of dividing the gure of the gospels into two distinct subjects, identi ed
as spiritual and eshy, heavenly and terrestrial, the impassible and the passible one. The Docetists
interpreted the impassibility of the divine subject as entailing a complete separation from the unseemly
75
human experiences of the human subject, particularly those of birth and death. Cerinthus, among others,
taught that Jesus was a real human being, born of Joseph and Mary, and that ‘after his [Jesus'] baptism
Christ descended upon him in the form of a dove, from the power that is over all things, and then he
proclaimed the unknown Father and accomplished miracles. But at the end Christ separated again from
76
Jesus, and Jesus su ered and was raised again, but Christ remained impassible, since he was pneumatic.’

The teaching of the Ophites, as reported by Irenaeus, also involved the descent of the heavenly Christ
(accompanied by Sophia) upon the earthly Jesus during baptism and Christ's separation from Jesus just

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

77
before the cruci xion. Certain Valentinians, according to Irenaeus, went further in their speculations and
split the subject of the gospels into four parts. They declared that only the psychic and corporeal (also called
‘ine able’) parts su ered, whereas the ‘spiritual seed’ and ‘the Soter’ parts remained immune from
78
su ering, having separated from the other two parts at the trial of Pilate.

Although each of the four parts of Christ played its own role in the Valentinian cosmology, the four‐part
p. 85 christology, as it functions in this account of the cruci xion, is no di erent from the two‐subjects
christology, since it states that two parts remained impassible, while the other two su ered in a rather
grotesque manner.

Since our survey is not intended to be exhaustive but only illustrative of the variations in the two‐subjects
Docetic christology, further examples of this view need not be adduced here. It is crucial for us that the
divine impassibility functioned in all these strands of Docetism in a similar way: it led to the denial of any
divine association with the unseemly human experiences of birth, su ering, and death.

The Church's Rejection of Docetism

Let us turn our attention to a curious feature of certain brands of Gnostic theology that put substantial
limitations upon their use of the term ‘impassible’ with reference to the divine realm. Gnosticism,
particularly in its Basilidean and Valentinian versions, is characterized by a peculiar juxtaposition of two
con icting types of theological discourse. The rst type, already discussed at length, was represented by a
highly developed form of apophatic theology. The second type was bluntly anthropopathic and drew rather
indiscriminately upon Jewish sectarian thought, old Homeric myths, and the stories of the mystery cults.
Unfortunately, much of the youthful gaiété of the old sagas faded away under the in uence of the decadent
79
spirit of the ageing Hellenism! Unlike the heroes of Homer, ‘young in their souls’, the Gnostic aeons were
no longer merrily consorting, artfully stealing, frankly deceiving, and viciously ghting against each other.
Instead, the Gnostic deities fornicated, deceived, and schemed against each other in a rather psychopathic
80
manner. Troubled residents of the Pleroma were a icted with fear, distress, and insatiable desire—a
81
grim, but realistic picture of the subconsciousness of the ‘age of anxiety’, so profoundly alienated from its
youthful pagan past.

Divine pathē were not just an archaic rudiment of the Gnostic cosmology, something one could easily
dispense with. The existence of gendered aeons was explained in terms of passionate copulation between
di erent pairs of parent deities. According to the Valentinian myth, an aeon called Sophia was liberated
82
p. 86 from primary evil passions which then generated the substances that constituted the material world.
The belief that di erent passions, e.g. phobos and eros, were instrumental in bringing gods into existence,
was a part of the Homeric theogony. The Valentinians reworked this belief rather ingeniously and developed
a full‐blooded cosmology on the basis of it.

By blending the language of the old myths about the passionate escapades of the gods with the apophatic
method (the very method that was designed to purge the divine realm from unworthy emotions and to
remove gender quali cations!), the Gnostics created a confusion in the rules of proper theological discourse
and threatened to deprive God‐be tting language of all meaningful application. If the Gnostics had just
resorted to the old language of the myths, they would not be so dangerous. But the two types of discourse,
 jumbled together, created an explosive mixture. Plotinus was scandalized and embarked upon a lengthy
83
treatise in refutation. It was all the more disturbing that some Gnostic ideas appeared to be dangerously
close caricatures of Plotinus' own views, a point that A. D. Nock summarized in an aphorism that Gnosticism
84
was ‘Platonism run wild’.

Irenaeus was the rst to point out an inconsistency in those Gnostic systems that both upheld the most
elevated view of the divine impassibility that led to Docetism and ascribed the worst conceivable passions
and crimes to the inhabitants of the Pleroma:

They [the Valentinians] attribute the things that befall human beings to the Father of all, who, so
they say, is also unknown to all. They deny that he himself made the world, lest anything small
(pusillus) be ascribed to him. At the same time they endow him with the human a ections
(a ectiones) and passions (passiones). If they knew the Scriptures and were taught by the truth they
would know that God is not like human beings and his thoughts are not like human thoughts. The
85
Father of all is very far from the a ections and passions that are typical of humans.

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

J. K. Mozley argued that, considered more sympathetically, the Valentinian system may be freed of the
86
p. 87 charge of inconsistency. On his reading, the Valentinians reserved impassibility exclusively for the
supreme God, the ‘Father of All’, whereas the rest of the deities in the Pleroma were passible. Irenaeus, as
the following text illustrates, was quite aware of this line of defence and did not nd it convincing:

If [as the Valentinians claim] it is impious to attribute ignorance and passions (passionem) to the
Father of all, how can they [the Valentinians] say that he emanated a passible (passibilem) aeon?
How can they call themselves religious, if they attribute the same impiety to the divine Sophia?

They say that the aeons emanate from the Father of all as the rays from the sun. Since all aeons
come from the same source, either they all would be passible (capaces passionis) with the one who
emanated them, or they all would remain impassible (impassibiles). It is impossible that some
aeons so emitted would be passible, and the rest impassible. If they allow that all of the aeons are
impassible, they would themselves dissolve their own argument. For how is it possible for the
inferior aeon to be subject to passion, if they all are impassible? If, as some of them claim, all the
aeons participated in this passion, then they would attribute passion to the Logos, who is the
originator of Sophia. Since the Logos is the Nous of Propator, this would entail that he and the
87
Father himself would be involved in passion.

Irenaeus' point may be summarized as follows: if the ‘Father of all’ is impassible, so should have been his
divine o spring; if, on the contrary, his o spring are passible, the ‘Father of all’ would also be subject to
passion. Irenaeus' critique of the Gnostics was no di erent from the standard anti‐anthropomorphic
objection that evil intentions, passions, and actions cannot be ascribed to the supreme God. Positively,
however, there was a lot more to defend. Irenaeus saw in Docetism an attack upon the very core of the
apostolic teaching about Jesus and pointed out that ‘according to the opinion of no one of the heretics was
88
the Word of God made esh’. At stake in the Docetic programme was a thoroughgoing rejection of the
incarnation.

As I have observed earlier, many apologists considered an open attack upon the prevailing social
conventions to be the most successful defence strategy. They did not hesitate to admit, in the spirit of
Tertullian's celebrated aphorism—cruci xus est dei lius; non pudet quia pudendum est. Et mortuus est dei
89
lius; credibile est quia ineptum est   —that the divine birth, su ering, and cruci xion were unseemly,
scandalous, and o ensive in the eyes of the world. At the same time Tertullian and other apologists
p. 88 recognized that it was not enough to argue that the divine incarnation was merely an absurdity as far as
human logic was concerned. It had to be shown that the method of our salvation was worthy of God.

The Fathers had to meet the Docetic attacks on several fronts. A rival theological, cosmological,
anthropological, christological, and soteriological system had to be developed. The polytheistic framework
had to be dismantled. Against the pessimistic cosmology of Gnosticism, the Fathers had to insist upon the
biblical vision of creation. Contrary to the Gnostics, the world was the work of a perfectly good, omnipotent,
and omniscient creator, not the mistake of an evil and ignorant Demiurge. Everything in the created order
90
was good and nothing was intrinsically worthy or unworthy of God. Those material means became worthy
that God chose for the sake of salvation. Hence, it was not shameful for God to participate in the process of
human birth, if through that process humanity was restored to incorruption. Attacking Marcion's view of
 Christ Tertullian exclaimed: ‘All that you regard dishonorable in my God (dei mei penes) is the sacrament of
human salvation. God corresponded with man, so that man may learn how to act like God. God treated man
as his equal, so that man could treat God as his equal. God was found to be small, so that man could become
great. You [Marcion] who disdain such a God, I am not sure whether you believe that God was cruci ed
91
(deum cruci xum).’ This type of argument for the God‐ ttingness of actions may be called teleological:
given that the means are neutral and the goal is worthy, the course of actions undertaken to bring about a
particular praiseworthy result is itself God‐be tting.

Furthermore, to say, as the Gnostics did, that esh was beyond redemption was to attribute weakness to
God and to limit God's benevolent ability to restore the esh to incorruptibility. Since real humanity was in
need of redemption God assumed real esh, not a phantom of the esh. Tertullian argued against Marcion
92
that if God despised esh he would equally despise a phantom of the esh.

Curiously, the Fathers also advance what may be called a Cartesian argument before Descartes. Only in this
case the ‘God is not a deceiver argument’ is not for the reality of the external world, but for the reality of

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

93
particular divine actions in the incarnation. Phantom birth and sham cruci xion, the Fathers were quick to
p. 89 point out, would be an outright divine deception. Since it is un tting for God to deceive, the escapist
version of the cruci xion scene could hardly be construed as a manifestation of divinity. On the contrary,
94
the Docetic solution itself is unworthy of God.

The sacrament of the Eucharist and the testimony of the martyrs provided a practical antidote against the
Docetic beliefs. As Ignatius wrote, the Docetists ‘abstain from the Eucharist and prayer, because they refuse
to acknowledge that the Eucharist is the esh of our Savior Jesus Christ, which su ered for our sins and
95
which the Father by his goodness raised up’. If Christ su ered in appearance only, the su ering of the
96
martyrs became a vain suicide. Some Gnostics rejected the idea of martyrdom, while others reinterpreted
97
it as atonement for one's personal transgressions. In the catholic church there was a coherence between
such major practices, as the sacraments and martyrdom on the one hand and beliefs about the incarnation
on the other. The Docetists, in contrast, had radically to reinterpret, modify, or eliminate these practices
altogether in order to square them with their theology.

The resistance to these Docetic tendencies led to a clearer demarcation of the function of the divine
impassibility. For the Docetists divine impassibility ruled out direct divine involvement in the material
universe, but did not exclude the passions of the divine aeons. For the Fathers, on the contrary, divine
impassibility was an apophatic quali er of all divine emotions and did not rule out God's direct contact with
98
creation. The ‘scandal’ of Gnosticism lay in the contradiction between divine impassibility and far too
human passions. In orthodox Christianity the scandal and the paradoxical tension lay elsewhere: in the
a rmation of the incarnation of the God who in nitely surpassed everything in creation.

The church Fathers of the second and third centuries agreed that Christ su ered truly and resisted all
Docetic reinterpretations of the incarnation. It remained to be spelled out more precisely just what Christ's
su ering meant for God. Without abandoning divine impassibility, the Fathers at times were prepared to
state the issue in boldly theopaschite terms. On other occasions they resorted to a paradoxical a rmation,
p. 90 implicit in the rules of faith and early christological hymns that the Impassible su ered. This paradoxical
a rmation was intended to emphasize the personal unity of the incarnate Son of God in the face of the
Docetic division of Christ into two subjects. The permanent contribution of the apologists to the
development of church teaching lies in holding tenaciously to the paradox of the incarnation. In my
judgement, in the writings of the apologists we do not yet have a clear sense as to how and under what
conditions su ering may be predicated of God. If there was a consensus patrum on the issue that Christ
su ered in reality, there was as yet no tangible agreement on how to spell out the implications of the
church's worship of the Cruci ed as God. Further light on this issue was shed in the controversies with the
Patripassians and the Arians.

Notes
1 An epitaph on the grave of the Martyrs Felix and Philip, ascribed to Pope Damasus, c.360. H. P. V. Nunn, Christian
Inscriptions, 60.
2 Michael Slusser has conveniently assembled the following theopaschite passages in the Appendix to his dissertation:
Barnabas, 5. 1, 5–6, 12–13; 7. 2–3; 14. 4; 2 Clement, 1. 1–2; Ignatius, Eph. 1. 1; 7. 2; 18. 2; Rom. 6. 3; Smyrn. 1. 1–2; Polyc. 3. 2;
 Martyrium Polycarpi, 17. 2–3; Ad Diognetum, 9. 2; Apocalypse of Baruch, 4. 15; Testament of Levi, 4. 1; Sibylline Oracles, 6. 26;
8. 249–50; Tatian, Or. 13; Athenag., Leg. 21. 4; Tertullian, De patientia, 3. 2. 9; Ad uxorem, 2. 3. 1; Adv. Marc. 21. 16. 3; 2. 27. 2;
De carne Christi, 5. 1; Clem., Protr. 10. 106. 4–5; Paed. 1. 8. 74. 4; Strom. 4. 7. 43. 2; 5. 11. 72. 3; 7. 2. 6. 5. To these may be
added: Melito, Peri Pascha, 46, 66, 69–73, 79, 96, 100; frag. 13; frag. II. 3; II. 13–14; II. 21; Hippolytus, Contra Noetum, 18.
3 Oscar Cullmann, The Earliest Christian Confessions; Jack T. Sanders, The New Testament Christological Hymns; Kelly, Early
Christian Creeds, 18–23.
4 Modern scholarship has exposed several interpretative di iculties involved in this verse. The majority view, which I
endorse here, sees this hymn as a irming that Christ was in some sense equal to God. For a good survey of di erent
interpretations see R. P. Martin, Carmen Christi, and in R. P. Martin and B. J. Dodd (eds.), Where Christology Began. For
discussion of the meaning of the hymn in the context of Hellenistic religions see Adela Yarbo Collins, ʻThe Worship of Jesus
and The Imperial Cultʼ, 243  . For the contemporary theological significance of various traditional interpretations see
Sarah Coakley, ʻKenosis and Subversionʼ, 82–111.
5 I use the expression ʻdivine statusʼ in a sense that may or may not imply the ontological equality of Christ with God the
Father, just as it neither implies, nor rules out subordination to the Father.
6 See an observation of the author of The Little Labyrinth, quoted in Eusebius, HE 5. 28: ʻAnd how many psalms and hymns,
written by the faithful brethren from the beginning, celebrate Christ as the Word of God, speaking of Him as divine?ʼ See

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

also, Pliny the Younger, Ep. 10. 96. On this issue, see Jaroslav Pelikan, Christian Theological Tradition i. 173.
7 O. R. Wilson, ʻA Study of the Early Christian Credal Hymn of I Timothy 3: 16ʼ.
8 Vernon H. Neufeld, The Earliest Christian Confessions, 61, 67, 145.
9 ʻEine urchristliche Taufliturgieʼ, 133–48.
10 Justin, Dial. 126. 1; Antiochean exposition of faith in Hahn and Hahn, 151; Dedication Council creeds, formula 2 (not in 1, 3,
or 4), in Ath., De synodis, 23; Antiochean creed of 363, in John Cassian, De incarnatione, 6. 3; creed of Ancyra/Antioch (371),
in Marcellus, ekthesis; Syrian creed of c. 380, in Apostolic Constitutions 7. 41; creed of Mopsuestia (late 4th c.), in Theodore
of Mopsuestia, A Commentary on the Nicene Creed, acc. to reconstruction of J. Lebon. The relevant texts are reproduced in
Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, 74, 186–8, 207, 268, 276.
11 See Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, 182–9.
12 In Apol. 2. 6 Justin mentions exorcisms ʻin the name of Jesus Christ who was crucified under Pontius Pilateʼ. The same
invocation is twice quoted in the apocryphal Acts of Peter and Andrew (4th c.?), ANF xiii. 527.
13 Justin, Apol. 1. 13.
14 Cf. Daniel Liderbach, Christ in the Early Christian Hymns, esp. 83–6.
15 qui immortalis est, moritur et impassibilis patitur et invisibilis videtur. Origen, In Leviticum Homiliae, 3. 1, trans. G. W.
Barkley, Origen on Leviticus, 52. Cf. Augustine, Sermo, 212. 1; 215. 5.
16 See W. H. C. Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church; Gordon Jeanes, ʻBaptism Portrayed as Martyrdom in
the Early Churchʼ, 158–76.
17 Iren., haer. 3. 18. 5, trans. A. Roberts, ANF i. 447.
18 Ignatius, Rom. 6. 3. Cf. Eph. 1. 1: ʻBeing as you [Ephesians] are imitators of God, once you took on new life through the
blood of God (ἐν αἵματι θεου̑) you completed perfectly the task so natural to you,ʼ trans. Michael W. Holmes, The Apostolic
Fathers, 137. Cf. Acts 20: 28; Gr. Naz., Or. 45. 22.
19 Ignatius, Eph. 7. 2. See Jonathan Bayes, ʻDivine ἀπάθεια in Ignatius of Antiochʼ, 27, 29.
20 Ignatius, Eph. 7. 2, trans. Holmes, 141.
21 Justin, Dial. 34.
22 Apol. 2. 6; cf. Athenag., Leg. 10. 5–6, 31. 4. 9; Gregory Thaumaturgus, Fides non universa, 2.
23 Dial. 46. 7.
24 Apol. 1. 57; cf. 1.45.
25 Apol. 2. 3.
26 Rom. 6: 9–10; 1 Pet. 3: 18; Heb. 7: 27; 9: 12, 26–8; 10: 10.
27 Phil. 3: 10; 2 Cor. 1: 5, 4: 10; Rom. 8: 17; Col. 1: 24. See Joseph Ton, Su ering, Martyrdom, and Rewards in Heaven, 138–41,
178–80.
28 See B. Dehandschutter, ʻLe Martyre de Polycarpe et le développement de la conception du martyre au deuxième siècleʼ,
664–5.
29 Modo ego patior quod patior; illic autem alius erit in me qui patietur pro me, quia et ego pro illo passura sum. Passio
Perpetuae, 15.
30 The union with Christ was believed to be achieved at the point of the martyr's death: ʻat the very hour of their tortures the
most noble martyrs of Christ were no longer in the flesh, but rather the Lord stood by them and conversed with themʼ,
Martyrium Polycarpi, 2, trans. M. H. Shepherd, 149–50.
31 The martyr‐acts describe a local persecution in south France which took place in 177. Most scholars agree that the letter is
authentic. See A. Chagny, Les Martyrs de Lyon de 177.
32 Eusebius, HE 5. 1. 41–2, trans. Bruno Chenu et al., 47–8.
33 Eusebius, HE 5. 1. 23, trans. Chenu, 47.
34 Peri Pascha, 69–70. Cf. Peri Pascha, 59; frag. 15. 18–27; new frag. II. 2–3, trans. S. G. Hall (with slight changes), On Pascha
and Fragments, 37–8.
35 Justin, Apol. 1. 62, 64; Origen, Princ. 1. Praef. 1 develops allusion in Heb. 11: 24.
36 Peri Pascha, 66.
37 Augustine, Tract. in Joan. 84; Leo the Great, Ep. 84, 97.
38 For dating see Hanson, Search, 420.
39 Ath., Ep. 61. 2. Cf. Ar. 3. 31 and Ep. 59. 11.
40 Jean Danielou, From Shadows to Reality.
41 Tacitus, Annals, 1. 5. 3. 4; Tertullian, Apology, 16; Ad nationes, 1. 14. See John J. Gager, The Origins of Antisemitism, 46, 79.
42 Tertullian reports that around 197 an apostate Jew once appeared on the streets of Carthage carrying a figure robed in a
toga with the ears and hoofs of an ass, bearing a label: Deus Christianorum Onocoetes (ʻthe God of the Christians begotten
of an assʼ). Tertullian adds with indignation that ʻthe crowd believed this infamous Jew,ʼ Ad nationes, 1. 14.
43 There is a curious Christian (?) amulet with ass and foal, bearing an inscription: D[ominus] N[oster] Ie[sus] Chr[istu]s Dei
Filius. It could be a symbolic representation of triumphal entrance in Jerusalem. The amulet is dated c.400. See Thomas F.
Mathews, The Clash of Gods, 49–51.
44 De morte Peregrini, 11–16. The Basilidean Gnostics endorsed a pagan contention that those who a irm the reality of
crucifixion proclaim ʻthe doctrine of a dead manʼ, The Second Treatise of the Great Seth, 7. 60. 22. See also a rather obscure
passage from the Apocalypse of Peter, 7. 74. 13–15: ʻAnd they [the non‐Gnostic Christians] will cleave to the name of a dead
man, thinking that they will become pure.ʼ
45 A similar misconception was shared by the pagan authorities who refused to give the body of St Polycarp back to his
admirers, fearing that the Christians would ʻabandon the Crucified and begin worshipping this one [i.e. Polycarp]ʼ, Mart.
Polyc. 17. 2, trans. Shepherd, 155.

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

46 Minucius Felix, Octavius, 9. 3.
47 On this issue, see Robert L. Wilken, ʻPagan Criticism of Christianityʼ, 117–34, esp. 123 and his later book, The Christians as
the Romans Saw Them, 48–67.
48 Arnobius of Sicca, The Case Against the Pagans, trans. G. E. McCracken, 1. 36, p. 84. Cf. Augustine, Enarrationes in Psalmos,
40. 4 (38. 451). For a discussion of this point see Babcock, ʻChrist of the Exchangeʼ, 106 n. 1.
49 In Cyril, Ep. 88. 1 (spurious letter of Hypatia to Cyril), trans. J. I. McEnerney, St Cyril of Alexandria: Letters 51–110, 130.
50 Nestorius, Liber Heraclidis, 1. 1. 1, trans. Driver, Nestorius, 7.
51 Ep. 88. 2.
52 The spurious origin of this letter is betrayed by an obvious anachronism: Hypatia died in 415, thirteen years before
Nestorius became the patriarch of Constantinople. See Emilien Lamirande, ʻHypatie, Synésios et la fin des dieuxʼ, 467–89;
Sarolta A. Takács, ʻHypatia's Murder—the Sacrifice of a Virgin and its Implicationsʼ, 47–62.
53 Origen, Contra Celsum, 7. 53.
54 Ibid. 4. 1–10, 14–16; 5. 1–5. Cf. also emperor Julian's indignant remark: ʻ[T]his his new Galilean God, whom he [Diodore of
Tarsus] declares eternal because of a fable, was by his ignominious death and burial destitute of that Godhead which
Diodore invents.ʼ Quoted by Fecundus of Hemiane, Pro defens. trium capit. 4. 2 (PL 67: 621A –B ), trans. Grillmeier, Christ in
Christian Tradition, i. 353.
55 Origen, Contra Celsum, 2. 68. Celsus seems to suggest an essentially Docetic solution to the scandal of the cross without
being aware of the Docetic strand within Christianity. See ibid. 2. 16, 23.
56 See on this subject Edwin Yamauchi, ʻThe Crucifixion and Docetic Christologyʼ, 1–20; ʻAnthropomorphism in Hellenism and
Judaismʼ, 213. Curiously, the canonical gospels present us with several examples of disappearance stories. For example,
Christ's escaping a sure death by stoning in Luke 4: 29–30. It is important to note, however, that this particular
disappearance does not function for Luke as divinity‐revealing (although it forms a part of an overall plan of Christ's going
to meet his death in Jerusalem). In Luke 24: 13–35 Christ dines incognito with the two disciples and is recognized by them
ʻin the breaking of the breadʼ (traditionally interpreted as an allusion to the Eucharistic celebration), and upon being
identified, vanishes from their sight. Again, for Luke the breaking of the bread, not the disappearance, becomes identity‐
revealing.
57 There were exceptions to this rule. Valentinians, according to Tertullian, held that the heavenly Jesus descended upon
Christ in the sacrament of baptism in the likeness of a dove, Adv. Valent. 27.
58 Michael Slusser, ʻDocetism: A Historical Definitionʼ, 172; ʻTheopaschite Expressions in Second‐Century Christianityʼ, 222–8.
Slusser has in mind Iren., haer. 3. 11. 3; 16. 1; 18. 3–6; 22. 1–2. For a di erent, but compatible classification of various
Docetic strands see Simone Pétrement, A Separate God, 144–56.
59 Hippolytus, Ref. 8. 3. 25. Cf. Clem., Strom. 7. 17.
60 e.g. Cainites ( (Ps.‐?) Tertullian, Adversus omnes haereses, 2. The groups that produced the Tripartite Tractate, 1. 5, and The
Letter of Peter to Philip, 7. 2, reflect non‐Docetic strands in Gnosticism.
61 Di erent Docetic interpretations of the crucifixion were shared by e.g. the Marcionites, Manicheans, some Muslims (Quran,
4. 157), the Medieval Bogomils, and the mysterious Aphathartodocetae mentioned by John Damascene (De haer. 84; PG
94: 754  .).
62 R. M. Grant, ʻGnostic Origins and the Basilidians of Irenaeusʼ, 121–5.
63 Tertullian, De prescr. 19; Ptolemy, Letter to Flora in Epiphanius, Haer. 33. 7. 9.
64 Iren., haer. 3. 2–5; Origen, Princ. 1. Praef. 2.
65 For valuable quotations from Cicero and Seneca see Martin Hengel, Crucifixion, 30–1, 89.
66 The Second Treatise of the Great Seth, 7. 2; emphasis added. Cf. Iren., haer. 1. 24. 4.
67 This motif is corroborated by the account of Iren., haer. 1. 24. 4. Let us note that Hippolytus' account is di erent: he
ascribes to the Basilideans a version of the ʻtwo‐subjectʼ christology, according to which a bodily part of Jesus su ered,
and the spiritual part remained immune from su ering, Ref. 7. 20. 9–12.
68 Acts of John, 97, trans. J. K. Elliott, The Apocryphal New Testament, 320. This work was most probably written in late 2nd c.
Only chaps. 87–105, which form a self‐contained body of material, exhibit clear Docetic influences.
69 Acts of John, 98–9, trans. Elliott, 320–1. Cf. The (First) Apocalypse of James, 5. 31. 1–30. We must note, however, that the
author of the Acts of John makes every e ort to reconcile his obviously Docetic account of crucifixion with the reality of
 persecution and martyrdom. In the same work its apocryphal author, the imprisoned apostle John, assures his readers
that the divine Lord ʻhimself su ers with the su erersʼ and speaks about piercing, wounding, death, and blood of the
Logos. See Acts of John, 101; 103.
70 Davies, ʻThe Origins of Docetismʼ, suggested a classification of the types of Docetism according to one of the four
dominant factors: doctrine of the Godhead, cosmology, anthropology, and Christology. This classification accounts well
for the variety of grounds on which the reality of Christ's human experiences was denied.
71 See Richard Smith, ʻThe Modern Relevance of Gnosticismʼ.
72 H. A. Wolfson, ʻThe Negative Attributes in Plotinus and the Gnostic Basilidesʼ, 121–5.
73 According to Epiphanius, Haer. 41, this view was advanced by Cerdo the Syrian.
74 Origen, Comment. in evangelium Joannis, 10. 25(4). Cf. Iren., haer. 3. 16. 1: ʻ[Unidentified Gnostics] say that He merely
su ered in outward appearance, being naturally impassible.ʼ
75 Iren., haer. 3. 11. 7.
76 Christum autem impassibilem perseverasse, existentem spiritalem. Iren., haer. 1. 26. 1, trans. A. Roberts, ANF i. 352. A
similar story was spread about Simon Magus by his adherents. Haer. 1. 23. 3. Irenaeus, in general, is a fairly reliable source
of information about Gnosticism. On Irenaeus' reliability see F. M. M. Sagnard, La Gnose Valentinienne et le témoignage de
saint Irénée, 94–103.

Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/book/6095/chapter/162374544 by University Library user on 21 January 2023

77 Iren., haer. 1. 30. 12–13; 3. 16. 6; 3. 16. 9; 3. 17. 4; 4. 2. 4.
78 Ibid. 1. 1. 7–8. Tertullian, Adv. Valent. 27. On Valentinian christology see G. A. G. Stroumsa, Another Seed.
79 Plato, Timaeus, 23C .
80 Hippolytus, Ref. 5. 26.
81 The expression is taken from the title of E. R. Dodds's work Pagans and Christians in an Age of Anxiety.
82 Iren., haer. 1. 4. 2; 1. 5. 1–6; Clem., Excerpta ex Theodoto, 45. 1–2; Hippolytus, Ref. 6. 29. 32. 2–6.
83 Plotinus, Enneads, 2. 9.
84 ʻGnosticismʼ, 267. I must disagree with A. H. Armstrong's view that the impact of Greek philosophy upon Gnosticism was
superficial. See his ʻGnosis and Greek Philosophyʼ, 87–124.
85 Iren., haer. 2. 13. 3 (PG 7: 743B –744A ); cf. 2. 13. 6 (PG 7: 745B ).
86 Impassibility of God, 27–8.
87 Iren., haer. 2. 17. 6–7 (PG 7: 764A –B ).
88 Ibid. 3. 11. 3; cf. 1. 9. 3.
89 De carne Christi, 5. 4.
90 Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 3. 10; De carne Christi, 5. 9.
91 Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 2. 27.
92 Ibid. 3. 10. In this essay Tertullian argues specifically against Marcion, but his point is applicable to any form of Docetism.
93 Descartes, Meditations, 4.
94 Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 3. 9–11.
95 Ignatius, Smyrn. 6. 2, trans. Holmes, 189. Cf. Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 2. 27; 4. 40.
96 Ignatius, Smyrn. 3; Trall. 10.
97 Clem., Strom. 4. 12.
98 Thomas Weinandy makes a similar point with regard to the theology of Irenaeus. See Does God Su er?, 93.