CHAP.
II.--THE VICES AND ERRORS OF THE PHILOSOPHERS.
What
noble thing have you produced by your pursuit of philosophy? Who of
your most
eminent men has been free from vain boasting? Diogenes, who made such a
parade
of his independence with his tub, was seized with a bowel complaint
through
eating a raw polypus, and so lost his life by gluttony. Aristippus,
walking
about in a purple robe, led a profligate life, in accordance with his
professed
opinions. Plato, a philosopher, was sold by Dionysius for his
gormandizing
propensities. And Aristotle, who absurdly placed a limit to Providence
and made
happiness to consist in the things which give pleasure, quite contrary
to his
duty as a preceptor flattered Alexander, forgetful that he was but a
youth; and
he, showing how well he had learned the lessons of his master, because
his
friend would not worship him shut him up and and carried him about like
a bear
or a leopard He in fact obeyed strictly the precepts of his teacher in
displaying manliness and courage by feasting, and transfixing with his
spear
his intimate and most beloved friend, and then, under a semblance of
grief,
weeping and starving himself, that he might not incur the hatred of his
friends. I could laugh at those also who in the present day adhere to
his
tenets,--people who say that sublunary things are not under the care of
Providence; and so, being nearer the earth than the moon, and below its
orbit,
they themselves look after what is thus left uncared for; and as for
those who
have neither beauty, nor wealth, nor bodily strength, nor high birth,
they have
no happiness, according to Aristotle. Let such men philosophize, for me!
I
cannot approve of Heraclitus, who, being self-taught and arrogant,
said,
"I have explored myself." Nor can I praise him for hiding his poem in
the temple of Artemis, in order that it might be published afterwards
as a
mystery; and those who take an interest in such things say that
Euripides the
tragic poet came there and read it, and, gradually learning it by
heart,
carefully handed down to posterity this darkness of Heraclitus. Death,
however,
demonstrated the stupidity of this man; for, being attacked by dropsy,
as he
had studied the art of medicine as well as philosophy, he plastered
himself
with cow-dung, which, as it hardened, contracted the flesh of his whole
body,
so that he was pulled in pieces, and thus died. Then, one cannot listen
to
Zeno, who declares that at the conflagration the same man will rise
again to
perform the same actions as before; for instance, Anytus and Miletus to
accuse,
Busiris to murder his guests, and Hercules to repeat his labours; and
in this
doctrine of the conflagration he introduces more wicked than just
persons--one
Socrates and a Hercules, and a few more of the same class, but not
many, for
the bad will be found far more numerous than the good. And according to
him the
Deity will manifestly be the author of evil, dwelling in sewers and
worms, and
in the perpetrators of impiety. The eruptions of fire in Sicily,
moreover,
confute the empty boasting of Empedocles, in that, though he was no
god, he
falsely almost gave himself out for one. I laugh, too, at the old
wife's talk
of Pherecydes, and the doctrine inherited from him by Pythagoras, and
that of
Plato, an imitation of his, though some think otherwise. And who would
give his
approval to the cynogamy of Crates, and not rather, repudiating the
wild and
tumid speech of those who resemble him, turn to the investigation of
what truly
deserves attention?
Wherefore
be not led away by the solemn assemblies of philosophers who are no
philosophers, who dogmatize one against the other, though each one
vents but
the crude fancies of the moment. They have, moreover, many collisions
among
themselves; each one hates the other; they indulge in conflicting
opinions, and
their arrogance makes them eager for the highest places. It would
better become
them, moreover, not to pay court to kings unbidden, nor to flatter men
at the
head of affairs, but to wait till the great ones come to them.
As I say, I find
this
enormously amusing. Similarly amusing,
Tatian’s ridicule of Greek
entertainment, Greek religion and just about every other aspect of life
in the
Greek-speaking portion of the Roman world and in Rome itself.
When Tatian
leaves off his
diatribe against all things Greek and finally gets around to defending
Christianity, much of his case is like Justin’s. There
is one particularly important addition,
however. Tatian cites the conduct of
Christian women as important evidence for the superiority of
Christianity over
other philosophies.
My
object in referring to these women is, that you may not regard as
something
strange what you find among us, and that, comparing the statues which
are
before your eyes, you may not treat the women with scorn who among us
pursue
philosophy. This Sappho is a lewd, love-sick female, and sings her own
wantonness; but all our women are chaste, and the maidens at their
distaffs
sing of divine things more nobly than that damsel of yours.
There are lots
of
fascinating things in Tatian, and it is a pity that, because later
Christians
regarded him as a heretic, so little of his work has survived.
Similar to
Tatian in his
thinking about apologetic issues but vastly different in his approach
was one
of Tatian’s contemporaries, Theophilus of Antioch.
Theophilus discusses the circumstances that
led to the writing to this work in his introduction to Book II:
WHEN
we had formerly some conversation, my very good friend Autolycus, and
when you
inquired who was my God, and for a little paid attention to my
discourse, I
made some explanations to you concerning my religion; and then having
bid one
another adieu, we went with much mutual friendliness each to his own
house
although at first you had home somewhat hard upon me. For you know and
remember
that you supposed our doctrine was foolishness. As you then afterwards
urged me
to do, I am desirous, though not educated to the art of speaking, of
more
accurately demonstrating, by means of this tractate, the vain labour
and empty
worship in which you are held; and I wish also, from a few of your own
histories which you read, and perhaps do not yet quite understand, to
make the
truth plain to you.
For
He who gave the mouth for speech, and formed the ear to hear, and made
the eye
to see, will examine all things, and will judge righteous judgment,
rendering
merited awards to each. To those who by patient continuance in
well-doing seek
immortality, He will give life everlasting, joy, peace, rest, and
abundance of
good things, which neither hath eye seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it
entered
into the heart of man to conceive. But to the unbelieving and
despisers, who
obey not the truth, but are obedient to unrighteousness, when they
shall have
been filled with adulteries and fornications, and filthiness, and
covetousness,
and unlawful idolatries, there shall be anger and wrath, tribulation
and
anguish, and at the last everlasting fire shall possess such men. Since
you
said, "Show me thy God," this is my God, and I counsel you to fear
Him and to trust Him.
And
that God sees all, and that nothing escapes His notice, but that, being
long-suffering, He refrains until the time when He is to
judge-concerning this,
too, Dionysius said:- "The eye of Justice seeing all, Yet seemeth not
to
see."
And
that God's judgment is to be, and that evils will suddenly overtake the
wicked,--this, too, Aeschylus declared, saying:-
"Swift-looted
is the approach of fate, And none can justice violate, But feels its
stern hand
soon or late.
And
may we not cite Simonides also? "To men no evil comes unheralded; But
God
with sudden hand transforms all things."
Euripides
again:-"The wicked and proud man's prosperity Is based on sand: his
race abideth
not; And time proclaims the wickedness of men."
Once
more Euripides: "Not without judgment is the Deity, But sees when oaths
are struck unrighteously, And when from men unwilling they are wrung."
Theophilus
closes Book II
with an invitation to keep the discussion going. “Who
is desirous of learning, should learn
much. Endeavour therefore to meet [with me] more frequently, that, by
hearing
the living voice, you may accurately ascertain the truth.”
Athenagoras:
what seems to be the difficulty?
And
now do you, who are entirely in everything, by nature and by education,
upright, and moderate, and benevolent, and worthy of your rule, now
that I have
disposed of the several accusations, and proved that we are pious, and
gentle,
and temperate in spirit, bend your royal head in approval. For who are
more
deserving to obtain the things they ask, than those who, like us, pray
for your
government, that you may, as is most equitable, receive the kingdom,
son from
father, and that your empire may receive increase and addition, all men
becoming subject to your sway? And this is also for our advantage, that
we may
lead a peaceable and quiet life, and may ourselves readily perform all
that is
commanded us.
Tertullian:
the
apologetic of the absurd
In any case, the
absurdity
of belief is a favorite theme for Tertullian—not the absurdity of
Christian
belief, but the absurdity of pagan belief, particularly the things they
believe
about Christians. No one has ever
produced evidence that Christians kill and eat infants or that they
commit
incest for the simple reason that they have never indulged in such
practices. Furthermore, it is absurd to
imagine that even the hope of eternal life could persuade men to commit
acts as
abominable as those the Christians are accused of having performed:
See
now, we set before you the reward of these enormities. They give
promise of
eternal life. Hold it meanwhile as your own belief. I ask you, then,
whether,
so believing, you think it worth attaining with a conscience such as
you will
have. Come, plunge your knife into the babe, enemy of none, accused of
none,
child of all; or if that is another's work, simply take your place
beside a
human being dying before he has really lived, await the departure of
the lately
given soul, receive the fresh young blood, saturate your bread with it,
freely
partake. The while as you recline at table, take note of the places
which your
mother and your sister occupy; mark them well, so that when the
dog-made
darkness has fallen on you, you may make no mistake, for you will be
guilty of
a crime--unless you perpetrate a deed of incest. Initiated and sealed
into
things like these, you have life everlasting. Tell me, I pray you, is
eternity
worth it? If it is not, then these things are not to be credited.
Adding
to the absurdity of pagan accusations, the general
immorality of the pagans themselves.
Tertullian laments the gluttony, debauchery, and licentiousness
of his
society, characteristics that seem especially blameworthy when compared
to the
relatively high standards of earlier ages.
Tertullian claims that there had once been a period of 600 years
in
which Rome had not seen a single divorce, but that in his own age women
seemed
to desire divorce “as if it were a natural consequence of marriage.”
It’s
absurd also to think of Christians as politically
disloyal. Christians believe, he says,
that when Rome falls, dreadful woes will overtake the world, harbingers
of the
end. Christians have “no desire to be overtaken by these dire events”
and
therefore pray fervently that the empire will be preserved, “We pray,
too for
emperors, for their ministers, and for all in authority, for the
welfare of the
world, for the delay of the final consummation.”
I came, I
saw, I was conquered: Minucius Felix’ Octavius
Well,
the consummation at least of this lecture can’t be
delayed much longer, but there’s one more apologetic work I should
mention
briefly. The apologetic writers of this time (and much later) borrowed
freely
from one another, and it’s not always easy to tell which came first. There’s a fascinating little apologetic work
called Octavius which overlaps
a great deal with Tertullian’s apology.
We don’t know whether Tertullian borrowed from Octavius
or if Minucius Felix borrowed ideas from
Tertullian. What makes this work
different,
though, is the format. Minucius sets his
apology within the framework of a personal story. His
friend Octavius, a fellow Christian, has
come up to Rome for a visit. They are
joined by another friend of Minucius, Caecilius, who is a pagan. As they are walking along,
Caecilius blows a kiss to an image of
Serapis—and Octavius rebukes Minucius for allowing a friend to observe
such a
superstitious ritual. This leads to a
long conversation/discourse in which Octavius basically “witnesses”
Caecilius. The result?
A happy one for all as Caecilius converts:
I yield to God; and I
agree
concerning the sincerity of the way of life which is now mine. Yet even
still
some things remain in my mind, not as resisting the truth, but as
necessary to
a perfect training of which on the morrow, as the sun is already
sloping to his
setting, we shall inquire at length in a more fitting and ready manner.
Now,
of course, one might dismiss such a story as wishful
thinking on the part of Christians.
People don’t really convert so easily, do they?
Well, in some eras, people do convert: and just
that easily.