The justice of God

    According to Paul, the “righteous decree of God” is that anyone who practices injustice, malice, strife, murder, deceit, boastfulness, and ruthlessness, among other things, is “deserving of death” (Rom. 1:29-32). The telos of sin is death and destruction (Rom. 6:16, 21, 23; Phil. 3:18-19; cf. Rom. 5:12-14; 8:6, 12-13; 1 Cor. 15:55-56; Gal. 6:8). This perspective isn’t unique to Paul, but can be found all throughout the Scriptures. [1] But why is this the case? Some might think that God has arbitrarily picked certain things to call “sin” and decided to kill anyone who practices these things. But this makes God out to be utterly cruel and “sin” and morality to be ultimately subjective. There must be an objective basis for sin and its just punishment. But why is sin deserving of death?

    God as the foundation of all existence

    One of the key attributes of God in monotheism is his greatness above all other things. God is ultimate; his existence and properties can’t be explained by something more fundamental than himself, because he is above all other things (Gen. 1:1; 2 Kgs. 19:15; Ps. 95:3-5; 96:4-5; 97:9; 103:19; 113:4-6; 135:5-6; Isa. 37:15-16; Acts 14:15; Rom. 11:36; Eph. 4:6; Rev. 4:11). Furthermore, he is absolutely unique in this respect; there are no others like him (Deut. 4:35, 39; 32:39; 1 Kgs. 8:60; 1 Chron. 17:20; Neh. 9:6; Ps. 86:8-10; 89:5-8; Isa. 40:18; 43:10; 44:6-8; 45:5-6, 18-22; 46:9; Jer. 10:6-12; John 17:3; 1 Cor. 8:4-6; 1 Tim. 2:5). It follows from this that God explains the existence of everything else. [2]

    The fact that God explains the existence of everything else was recognized by Paul in his preaching to the Athenians:

The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anyone, since he himself gives to everyone life and breath and everything. From one person he made every nation of people to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of their habitation, so that they would search for God and perhaps fumble about for him and find him, though indeed he is not far from each of us. For “in him we live and move and exist,” as even some of your own poets have said, “For we, too, are his offspring.” (Acts 17:25-28)

Likewise, the Hebrew Bible tells us that the continued existence of every living thing depends on God’s spirit, and if he removes his presence, we would cease to exist (Job 12:7-10; 34:13-15; Ps. 104:29-30). Jesus, in his exalted state, also holds together and sustains all things (Col. 1:17; Heb. 1:3).

    God as the foundation of morality

    God is not only the foundation of all existence, but the foundation of morality. If there are any objective moral facts, then he, as the ultimate principle beyond which there is no other, must explain the existence of such facts. Jesus confirms that God is “good” in a sense that absolutely nothing else is (Mark 10:18). God is perfectly good with no evil in him, and every other good thing is derivative from him (Jas. 1:17; 1 John 1:5). “God is love” (1 John 4:17). Just as darkness has no existence in itself, but is merely the lack of light, evil is just the lack of goodness and has no real existence. From a human perspective, some things that God creates are evil (Isa. 45:7), but he causes what appears to be evil to ultimately work out for our good; indeed, the creation was originally subjected by God to corruption “in hope” (Rom. 8:19-23, 28; cf. Gen. 50:20).

    Sin separates us from God

    Because God is perfect goodness and love, whenever we act contrary to goodness and love, we are removing ourself from him. This fact is stated in many places throughout the Scriptures (e.g., Deut. 31:17-18; Isa. 1:15; 59:2; Jer. 5:25-26; Ezek. 39:23-24; Mic. 3:4; Ps. 34:15-16; Prov. 15:29; Eph. 2:12; Col. 1:21). God is said to “hide his face” from those who do evil to others, so that he doesn’t listen to their prayers or act in their favor. God is love (1 John 4:17), and sin is anything that is contrary to God’s law (1 John 3:4), which is summed up in the commandment to love others. [3] Thus, anyone who fails to live up to the standard of love has darkness in them, whereas God himself is light with no darkness in him at all (1 John 1:5-7; 2:9-11). According to Paul, everyone has failed to live up to God’s righteousness (Rom. 3:9-23; cf. Ps. 14:1-3).

    We’ve already seen that God is the foundation of all existence, and actively sustains the life of every being. By sinning and removing ourself from God, the source of our very existence, by rights we should cease to exist (die). Thus, the fact that “the wages of sin is death” (Rom 6:23) isn’t because God is cruelly vindictive and enjoys killing people. Death, the cessation of existence, is the natural result of what happens when we try to distance ourselves from the ground of our own existence. Even when, by God’s mercy, our sin doesn’t result in physical death (see below), the result of that sin is called “death” (e.g., Matt. 8:22; Lk. 15:24, 32; Rom. 7:10; 2 Cor. 4:3; Eph. 2:1-5, 12; Col. 2:13; Rev. 3:1). Likewise, when by God’s grace we love and move closer to him, this is called “life” (John 5:24; 17:3; Eph. 2:5; 1 John 3:14); even though it doesn’t involve a literal return to existence, it is a return to the foundation of our existence.

    The mercy of God

    Every time that we sin (i.e., act contrary to love), we deserve to cease to exist. Indeed, it seems that this is integral to God’s very perfection. If “God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5), and he sustains all existence, how can he allow any “darkness” to exist whatsoever? [4] But then, why do we continue to exist, and how can God save us? Paul recognizes this problem: if God is faithful to keep his merciful promises, then “how could God judge the world?” (Rom. 3:3-6) The question is answered by Paul later in the same letter:

God did this [put forth Jesus as a sacrifice] to demonstrate his justice, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over the sins previously committed; it was to demonstrate at the present time his own justice, so that he is righteous and he justifies the one who has the faith of Jesus. (Rom. 3:25-26)

The reason that we don’t die every time we fail to act in accordance with love is because God “passed over” our sins. The reason that David didn’t die when he raped Bathsheba is because God “put away” his sin; the implication is that if God hadn’t put away his sin, he would have died (2 Sam. 12:13). Every time that we sin and continue to live, this is a demonstration of God’s mercy toward us!

    How can he do this and still be righteous? Paul tells us that it’s because Jesus was put forth as a sacrifice. Because our Lord Jesus Christ died for our sins and was resurrected, death itself will be destroyed, and all people will be raised to immortality (Rom. 5:12-21; 1 Cor. 15:19-28, 51-57; 2 Tim. 1:10). In this way, God can be both perfectly just and perfectly merciful. How is it that Jesus’ death brought about our salvation from sin and death? To be honest, I’m not entirely sure, but the best explanation that I’ve seen so far is the satisfaction theory of the atonement, which is explained here by Aaron Welch. [5]

    Conclusion

    We know from the Scriptures that the judgment for sin is death, and anyone who sins (which is to say, everyone) is deserving of this punishment. This isn’t because God is cruel and arbitrarily chooses certain actions that he will kill people for, but in fact, because of his perfect goodness. Because he’s the ultimate principle, the foundation of all existence, as well as perfect in goodness and love, nothing that is contrary to goodness and love can exist. When we sin, we distance ourselves from the ground of our own existence (God), and by rights we should cease to exist! The fact that any of us continue to exist after we sin is a demonstration of God’s mercy. Because of Jesus’ sacrifice, God can remain perfectly righteous while also being merciful, and he will ultimately destroy both sin and death.

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[1] Gen. 2:17; 3:3; Deut. 24:16; 2 Sam. 12:13; 2 Kgs. 14:6; 2 Chron. 25:4; Prov. 5:3-5; 12:7; 14:12; 15:24; 16:25; 23:13-14; Ps. 9:17; 31:17; 37:9-10, 20; 73:27; Isa. 1:28; 51:7-8; Jer. 31:30; Ezek. 3:18-21; 18:4-28; 33:8-19; Matt. 7:13-14; John 8:21, 24; Heb. 2:14; 6:8; Jas. 1:15; 5:20; 2 Pet. 2:6, 12-13; 1 John 3:14.

[2] For the logical derivation of this fact, see the following argument:

(P1) There is only one independent thing, namely God.

(P2) Everything that is dependent has an external cause (by definition).

(P3) The totality of dependent things is itself dependent.

(C1) God explains the existence of all dependent things.

P2 is definitionally true, and P3 is very plausible. If P3 is true, then the totality of dependent things must have a cause that is external to it and independent, which by P1 must be God. But even if P3 is false, that means that the totality of dependent things is independent, and therefore (given P1) that it is God (pantheism). In either case, the existence of all other things is explained by God.

[3] The fact that the Law is summed up in the commandment to love others is repeated by almost every single New Testament author (Matt 7:12; 22:35-40; Mark 12:28-33; Luke 10:25-28; John 15:10-17; Rom 13:8-10; Gal 5:14; 1 Tim 1:5-7; Jas 2:8; 1 John 2:10; 3:14, 23-24; 4:7-12, 16-21; 2 John 5).

[4] Incidentally, this also removes the supposed ‘tension’ between God’s love and his justice. As it turns out, the fact that “God is love” is precisely why he must also be just, because he cannot allow anything contrary to love to exist.

[5] I don’t know how far the light-darkness metaphor can be stretched, but I see Adam’s sin as a darkness so great that it cast a shadow on everything that came after it, and Jesus as a light that is far greater and will ultimately overtake everything (Isa. 42:6-7; 49:6; Matt. 4:16; John 1:4-5; 8:12; 9:5; 12:46; Eph. 5:14; Rev. 21:23).

Joshua the Firefighter

30-year-old firefighter Joshua Messias tragically sacrificed his life today to save all 200 children from a burning school. Unfortunately, because he saved all the children and not just some of them, his sacrifice was completely meaningless. If only he had saved just a few of them, then his death would have really meant something.

Also, the fact that all the children were saved basically means that burning buildings aren’t dangerous. No one is going to learn to stop playing with matches if some children don’t die. It was quite irresponsible of Joshua to save all the children, as they will surely go burn down more buildings now. It’s almost like Joshua didn’t care about burning buildings at all.

One of the students that we reached for comment, Calvin, said, “I don’t understand why he saved all of us. It would have been more glorious if he had shown his power as a firefighter by letting most of the students burn to death.” Another student, Wesley, responded, “One of my classmates didn’t want to go with Joshua at first, but he stayed with her and insisted that she should go until she finally went with him. He’s so mean. It would have been much kinder if he had respected her free choice and respectfully left her to burn to death.”

Let this be a lesson to all firefighters. Only ever try to save some people from a burning building. If you save all of them, you’re nearly as bad as an arsonist yourself.

Does this story make any sense? Do these objections to Christian universalism make any sense?

“If everyone will be saved from sin, then Jesus’ death didn’t matter.”

“If everyone will be saved from sin, then sin doesn’t matter / God doesn’t care about sin.”

“God sends people to hell for his glory, to show his power.”

“God sends people to hell because he respects their free choice.”

“If God saves everyone from sin, it’s like he’s working with the sinners.”

Credit to Drew Costen for this concept

Edit: Some people have been confused about the analogy, thinking that the burning building is a metaphor for hell and rightly objecting that God saves us from sin, not hell. The burning building is a metaphor for sin. I thought this was fairly clear based on the way I phrased the questions (“If everyone will be saved from sin”), but it’s probably my fault for choosing a burning building rather than something less similar to traditional depictions of hell.

Past interpretations of John's prologue (part 3 of 3)

    In the last two posts, we’ve been looking at how early Christians interpreted the prologue to John’s gospel (John 1:1-18). So far, we’ve seen the Wisdom Christology view found in the Odes of Solomon and the Logos Christology view of the 2nd-century Christian apologists. They interpreted John’s prologue in very different ways, but, contrary to the common modern reading, didn’t interpret it as a proof-text of Jesus’ co-equal deity with the Father. In this post, we’ll look at the 4th-century readings of John 1, two views that were later deemed heretical and one which ultimately won out.

    Interpretation #3: Subordinationism

In the middle of the 4th century, shortly after the Council of Nicaea (AD 325), there was a debate between two bishops, Eusebius of Caesarea and Marcellus of Ancyra, over the meaning of John 1:1. [1] First we’ll consider Eusebius’ interpretation and then move on to Marcellus. Eusebius’ reading of John 1:1 is preserved in his Ecclesiastical Theology, written around AD 330.

    According to Eusebius, “the Word” obviously cannot be understood as a literal word like that which is spoken by a person (ET 2.9-13). It would be nonsense to interpret the Word as an attribute of the Father, because then we would have to read John 1:1 as saying, “In the beginning was God, and God was with God, and God was God” (ET 2.14.3-9)! The fact that the Word is “in the beginning” proves that it isn’t without beginning, but is generated by the Father (ET 2.14.3, 13). The Son is co-eternal with the Father, and is the same as the Word, so it’s possible to replace “Word” with “Son” in John 1:1 (ET 2.14.11-12). The fact that the Word was “with” God, not “in” God, proves that he was a person and not a mere attribute (ET 2.14.3). Finally, because John says that “the Word was God [theos]” without the article (i.e., not “the God,” ho theos), it proves that the Word was not “the God who is over all,” but is rather a divine being made to closely resemble the Father’s divinity (ET 2.17.1-3).

    Eusebius places the same emphasis on the lack of the article in John 1:1c elsewhere. For example, in his letter to Euphration, dating to ca. AD 320, he states, “he himself is Son of God, but not true, as God is. For there is but one true God... ‘and the Word was God,’ [John 1:1c] but not the one true God.” [2] In his oration to emperor Constantine, dating to AD 335, he assumes that the Word is the intermediary that connects God to creation, i.e., the Logos of Greek philosophy, not the Most High God, which would be “strangely confounding things most widely different” (Oratio 11.12, 16; 12.7).

    Eusebius’ interpretation of John 1, that the Logos is a divine being co-eternal with but second to God himself, was first held by the 3rd-century theologian Origen of Alexandria. Origen was the first to hold explicitly that the Logos was eternally generated by God (Peri Archon 1.2.1-4; 4.4.1). He said that, while there may be some Christians who believe the Logos to be just as divine as the Most High God, they are a “most obscure sect of heretics” who deny that the Father is greater in all ways than the Son (Contra Celsus 8.14-15; cf. Peri Archon 4.4.8). Origen believed that the lack of the article in John 1:1 was significant, and proved that the Logos is not “true God,” but is a god by participation in the Father’s divinity, because he is “with the God” and “unceasingly contemplates the depths of the Father” (Comm. on John 2.2).

    Therefore, the interpretation of John 1 held by Eusebius of Caesarea and Origen of Alexandria was subordinationist. They believed that the Logos of John 1:1 was an eternal divine being (“God”), but a separate and lesser god, distinct from “the true God” who is the Father. This Logos became flesh in the man Jesus Christ.

    Interpretation #4: Modalism

Eusebius’ opponent, Marcellus of Ancyra, held a very different interpretation of John 1. Marcellus pointed out that in the Old Testament, God used singular pronouns to describe his unique divinity, so there can only be one divine person (Frag. 91, 92, 97). [3] Thus, he argued, the word of God cannot be a second god or Logos-demiurge, but is the literal reason and spoken word of God, similar to a human’s reason and spoken word (Frag. 67, 87-89, 99). It is a “power” (dynamis) of the Father, rather than a separate person (Frag. 70). Marcellus accuses Origen and the other Logos theorists of using unbiblical ideas from Platonic philosophy (Frag. 22), which was frankly not an incorrect accusation.

    Because the word was not a personal demiurge, Marcellus believed that it “was only the word” before it took on flesh (Frag. 5, 7, 8). Therefore, all of the names and titles which are applied to Jesus in the New Testament, including “Jesus” and “Messiah,” must only apply to the human flesh which the word of God inhabited (Frag. 7). However, Marcellus was emphatic that Jesus was not only a man, which he actually accuses Eusebius of implicitly believing (Frag. 126-128). On the contrary, he states that the spirit of Jesus is identical to God; God’s word is what animated the human flesh of Jesus, controlling it like a puppet, which is how “the word became flesh” (Frag. 5, 7, 73, 104-105).

    Marcellus was excommunicated by a council of Eastern bishops in 336, because of his modalist beliefs and his refusal to acknowledge their condemnation of Athanasius (a trinitarian). Four years later, he sent a letter to Julius I of Rome (the pope) appealing their decision. In this letter, he expressed his belief that, prior to his birth, Jesus was “the true and actual word of God” and “a power [dynamis] inseparable from God,” citing John 1:1-3 in support, and that “the Father’s power, the Son, is indistinguishable and inseparable” from him, citing John 10:30, 38 and 14:9 in support. This was considered orthodox in the West, and both he and Athanasius were reinstated the next year by a council of fifty Western bishops presided over by the pope.

    In summary, Marcellus’ interpretation of John’s prologue was modalist. He argued that the word in John 1:1 was God’s literal logos, an attribute of the Father, which he used to control the body of Jesus Christ. “The Word was God” (John 1:1c) means that the word was no different from God, the Father. The “word became flesh” (1:14) when God created a human flesh and puppeteered it using his word. There is therefore no personal distinction between the Father and Jesus.

    Interpretation #5: Trinitarianism

In the debate between Eusebius and Marcellus, the trinitarian interpretation of John’s prologue — that “the Word was God” (Gk: theos ēn ho logos) refers to a second person in the one God — doesn’t appear to have even crossed their minds. As far as I can tell, this interpretation first appears in the writings of Athanasius of Alexandria, in ca. AD 360. [4] In his fourth discourse against the Arians, he writes,

For the Word, being Son of the One God, is referred to Him of whom also He is; so that Father and Son are two, yet the Monad of the Godhood is indivisible and inseparable. And thus too we preserve One Beginning of Godhood and not two Beginnings, whence there is strictly a Monarchy. And of this very Beginning the Word is by nature Son, not as if another beginning, subsisting by Himself, nor having come into being externally to that Beginning, lest from that diversity a Dyarchy and Polyarchy should ensue; but of the one Beginning He is own Son, own Wisdom, own Word, existing from It.

For, according to John, “in” that “Beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,” for the Beginning was God; and since He is from It, therefore also “the Word was God.” And as there is one Beginning and therefore one God, so one is that Essence and Subsistence which indeed and truly and really is, and which said “I am that I am,” and not two, that there be not two Beginnings; and from the One, a Son in nature and truth, is Its own Word, Its Wisdom, Its Power, and inseparable from It. And as there is not another essence, lest there be two Beginnings, so the Word which is from that One Essence has no dissolution, nor is a sound significative, but is an essential Word and essential Wisdom, which is the true Son. (Discourse 4.1)

According to Athanasius, when John says that the Word was “in the Beginning,” he indicates that he was in the Father (who is the Beginning of all things). Thus, although “the Word was God” — in the highest possible sense of divinity — there is nevertheless still only one God, because there is one Beginning (the Father).

    Athanasius also brings up a second argument: the Son is called “Word,” and yet God is essentially reasonable, never having been without his rationality (logos), therefore the Son must essentially and always exist alongside the Father (Discourse 4.2-5). This argument was first brought up by Origen, as evidence of the eternality of the Son (Peri Archon 1.1.6; 2.1-4), and would have been a point of agreement between Athanasius and the 4th-century subordinationists. However, Athanasius believed that the Logos was divine in the highest possible sense, not just by participation in the Father’s divinity but by his very essence (Discourse 3.4, 6, 15), contrary to the subordinationists (Origen, Comm. on John 2.2; Eusebius, ET 1.2).

    According to Athanasius, “the Word became flesh” when he began to control a human body. In his book On the Incarnation, he refers to the human aspect of Jesus as the “human body” or “instrument,” and says that the Word controlled it as the mind controls the body (18.1; 42.7). This is also evident in his later letter to Epictetus, where he says that the body suffered, but the Word did not. In this way, his views were similar to Marcellus, who also denied that there was any really human soul within Jesus.

    For most of the 4th century, the three views of John 1 outlined above were considered to be within the realm of orthodoxy, at least in some part of the church. [5] All three factions insisted that they affirmed the Nicene Creed, and that they affirmed it in its original, intended sense. [6] This changed in AD 380, when the Roman emperor Theodosius I declared that only the trinitarian interpretation of the Nicene Creed would be considered orthodox, and all other views were outlawed (see the Edict of Thessalonica). The next year, this was confirmed at a council in Constantinople that only trinitarian bishops were able to attend. [7] From that point onward, the trinitarian interpretation of John’s prologue was unanimous in the church (basically, because it was the only legal view to hold).

    Conclusion

The common trinitarian interpretation of John’s prologue, that “the Word” refers to a second divine person within the one God, was not always believed by the early church. The earliest surviving interpretation of this passage, from the Odes of Solomon, was an exaltational, Wisdom Christology reading, which held that “the word” was the literal word of the Father that was embodied in Jesus. The most common 2nd-century interpretation among Christian theologians was based on two-stage Logos theory, which held that “the Word” was a personal being that was generated by God “in the beginning.” In the 3rd and 4th centuries, both subordinationist and modalist readings of John 1 coexisted, while the trinitarian reading was the latest to appear (in the mid-4th century). Thus, from a historical perspective, the trinitarian reading isn’t the most likely interpretation of John’s prologue; on the contrary, it’s an extreme anachronism.

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[1] Maurice Wiles, “Person or Personification? A Patristic Debate about Logos,” in The Glory of Christ in the New Testament: Studies in Christology in Memory of George Bradford Caird (Oxford: OUP, 1987), 281-289; Samuel Fernández, “Marcellus and Eusebius on the Gospel of John in De ecclesiastica theologica” 35, no. 1 (2018): 107-120.

[2] https://www.fourthcentury.com/urkunde-3/.

[3] For a translation of the surviving fragments of Marcellus’ writings, see https://www.fourthcentury.com/marcellus-intro/.

[4] If anyone else knows of any earlier (pre-Athanasian) evidence of this interpretation, please share it! I’d be happy to add it to this post.

[5] Although, due to the conflicts of the period, all three of them were excommunicated at one point or another by a council. Eusebius of Caesarea was excommunicated by a council of fifty-nine bishops at Antioch in 325 and reinstated by the Council of Nicaea in the same year.

Marcellus of Ancyra was excommunicated by a council of Eastern bishops at Constantinople in 336, reinstated by a council of more than fifty Western bishops at Rome in 341, excommunicated again by Eastern bishops at the councils of Antioch (341) and Serdica (343), reinstated by Western bishops at the same Council of Serdica, condemned by the Council of Milan in 345, finally deposed by the Roman emperor Constantius II in 347, and condemned again by Eastern bishops at Sirmium in 351.

Athanasius of Alexandria was excommunicated by a council of sixty Eastern bishops at Tyre in 335, reinstated by the Council of Alexandria and the Council of Rome in 341 (the same council that reinstated Marcellus), condemned by Eastern bishops at the Council of Serdica in 343 (the same council that excommunicated Marcellus), condemned again at Sirmium in 351 (the same council that condemned Marcellus), reinstated by the Council of Alexandria in 353, condemned at Arles (353) and the Easterners at the Council of Milan (355), and reinstated at Alexandria in 363.

The doctrinal turmoil of this period is often passed over by trinitarians in favor of a simplistic narrative where trinitarianism was affirmed once and for all by the Council of Nicaea in 325. This account forgets the fact that even Arius himself was reinstated as presbyter by a council of two hundred bishops at Jerusalem in AD 335.

[6] Eusebius of Caesarea was actually the one who formulated the original creed at the council, which was only substantially modified by the addition of the word homoousios (see here). Marcellus’ theology is also thought to have played a significant part in the Council of Nicaea, because of the anathema at the end of the Creed of 325 against “those who assert that the Son of God is of a different hypostasis or ousia”; he was the one who claimed that the Son was the same hypostasis as the Father. Athanasius of Alexandria obviously accepted the Nicene Creed, as his (trinitarian) interpretation of it eventually won out. The creed was originally intended to be ecumenical, excluding no Christology except for Arius'.

[7] Socrates, Ecclesiastical History 5.8.5-10; Sozomen, Ecclesiastical History 7.7.2-5.

Past interpretations of John's prologue (part 2 of 3)

    In this series of posts, we’re looking at how early Christians interpreted the prologue of John’s gospel. Last time, we saw how the Odes of Solomon, a late 1st- or early 2nd-century text closely related to the gospel of John, understood the prologue. Based on what the author of this text says, he would have interpreted John 1 as saying something like the following:

In the beginning was the Word, and it was both with God and was God the Father. God made all things through his word, and nothing that exists was made without it. God’s word brings life and enlightens all people with knowledge. This word came into the world, to God’s own people, but was rejected; those who didn’t reject it were made children of God. The Word became like us by being perfectly embodied in the human Messiah. He was exalted to become just like God, perfectly revealing God to us.

This exaltational, Wisdom Christology interpretation of John’s prologue appears is the earliest surviving reading of this text. In this post, we’ll look at another interpretation, the Logos Christology reading of John 1, which dates to the mid-2nd century AD.

    Interpretation #2: Logos Christology

The basis of Logos Christology was formed by Philo, a 1st-century Alexandrian Jew who was deeply influenced by Hellenism. Drawing on the Platonic concept of a world of Ideas beyond the physical world, and the Stoic concept of a logos, or rational power, that permeates all things, Philo believed that God’s logos was a bridge between the unknowable God and the physical creation. [1] Philo referred to the Logos as the power of God (Cher. 1.27-28), the first-begotten Son of God (Conf. 63, 146; Mos. 2.134), the mediator between God and the physical creation (Her. 205-206; Plant. 8-10, 18), the Wisdom and Image of God (Conf. 146; Fug. 137-138; LA 1.43), the Angel of the Lord (Fug. 5; Somn. 1.228-239), and even as a second god (QG 2.62; Somn. 1.229-230). According to Philo, the Logos is to be held in the second place after God himself (Fug. 50-52; LA 2.86).

    Philo’s view on the creation or generation of the Logos was somewhat complex. Just as there is a distinction between a word in one’s mind and the same word after it is spoken, he held, there is a distinction between the internal (endiathetos) and uttered (prophorikos) Logos. The Logos first existed in God’s mind, but was uttered by him, after which the physical world was created (Abr. 83; Migr. 70-71; Mos. 2.127). In this way, the Logos is “neither created nor uncreated” (Her. 205-206); although the uttered Logos is the most ancient of God’s creations (LA 3.175), it also existed eternally in God’s mind before it was uttered. Whether or not Philo viewed the Logos as a personal being or a personification (James Dunn argues cogently for the latter view [1]), it came to be seen by later philosophers as a person.

    One such philosopher, Justin Martyr, became a convert to Christianity and an apologist in the mid-2nd century. Justin made a connection between the Logos of Hellenism and the “Word” in John’s prologue. Prior to Justin, this passage (John 1:1-18) appears to have received very little attention — in the writings of the Apostolic Fathers, Jesus is only referred to as “Word” once, in one of Ignatius’ contested epistles (Magn. 8.2). Justin, on the other hand, refers to Jesus as “Word” no less than twenty times in his First Apology (5; 10; 12; 14; 21; 22; 23; 32; 33; 36; 46; 63; 64; 66) and six times in his Second Apology (6; 8; 10; 13), bringing this title from John’s prologue (and Revelation 19:13) back out of obscurity.

    According to Justin, the Logos is a personal being who pre-existed Jesus’ birth, when he became man (e.g., 1 Apol. 5; 2 Apol. 6; 13). Justin Martyr refers to the Logos as “another god and lord, subject to the Maker of all things” (Dial. 56). However, Justin admitted that his belief in Jesus’ personal pre-existence was not held by most of his Christian contemporaries (Dial. 48.2-4). The Logos inspired not only the prophets of the Hebrew Bible, but also the Greek philosophers, including Plato (1 Apol. 46; 59-60; 2 Apol. 10; 13). Regarding the generation of the Logos, Justin states,

I shall give you another testimony, my friends, from the Scriptures, that God begot before all creatures a Beginning, who was a certain rational power proceeding from Himself, who is called by the Holy Spirit, “the Glory of the Lord,” “the Son,” “Wisdom,” “an angel,” “god,” and “lord” and “Logos”... for he can be called by all those names, since he ministers to the Father’s will, and was begotten by an act of the Father’s will.

This is just as we see happening among ourselves; for when we speak some word [logos], we beget the word; yet not by abscission, so as to lessen the rational power [logos] within us, when we speak the word. And we also see this happening in the case of a fire, which is not lessened when it kindles another, but remains the same; and that which has been kindled by it likewise appears to exist by itself, not diminishing that from which it was kindled. (Dial. 61.1-2)

Justin goes on to apply Proverbs 8:22 (“the Lord created me at the beginning of his way”) to the Logos (Dial. 61.3). Thus, like Philo, Justin had a two-stage theory of the Logos, in which it first existed in God’s mind and at some point (“the beginning”) was uttered to become a personal being. Justin uses the analogy of a fire lighting another fire to show that the Logos could be numerically distinct from God without lessening God’s own power (Dial. 128-129).

    Following Justin’s example, two-stage Logos theory became the primary lens through which John 1 was interpreted by 2nd-century Christian apologists. Theophilus of Antioch argues that the first words of John 1:1, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,” refer to the internal (endiathetos) Logos in God’s own mind, whereas “and the Word was God” refers to the emission of the uttered (prophorikos) Logos to become a personal being (To Autolycus 2.10, 22). Athenagoras of Athens and Tatian of Adiabene also held that the Logos was brought forth from God’s mind in the beginning, making him “the first product of the Father” (Legatio 10) or “the first-begotten work of the Father” (Oratio 5; 7). Clement of Alexandria also clearly held to two-stage Logos theory, and thus interpreted John’s prologue:

Now an idea is a conception of God, and this the barbarians [non-Christians] have termed the Logos of God... Now the Logos, coming forth, was the cause of creation; then he also generated himself, when “the Word became flesh” [John 1:14] that he might be seen. (Stromata 7.3.15-16)

Now the Son is called the Logos, of the same name as the paternal Logos. But this [the paternal Logos] is not the Logos that became flesh, and not the Logos of the Father, but a certain power of God, as if it were an emanation of His Logos that has become mind and pervaded the hearts of men. (quoted in Photius, Bibliotheca 109)

Clement made a distinction between “the paternal Logos,” which is an impersonal power of God, and “the Logos” which is the Son; the latter came forth from the former to create the world, and eventually became flesh. Elsewhere, he refers to the Logos as “the first creation of God” (Strom. 5.14), “the first-created god” (Exc. ex Theo. 20), and together with the Spirit as “those primitive and first-created powers” (Comm. on 1 John 2.1).

    Finally, another early adherent to Logos Christology was Tertullian of Carthage, a Christian apologist of the late 2nd and early 3rd centuries. Like the other two-stage Logos theorists, Tertullian used the analogy of a human first considering a word in his mind, and then bringing it forth by speaking it. God existed alone before the beginning, but in the beginning, he brought the Logos forth, making it “second to Himself by agitating it within Himself” (Against Praxeas 5-6). Regarding the creation of the Son, he states,

[God] has not always been Father and Judge, merely on the ground of His having always been God. For He could not have been the Father previous to the Son, nor a Judge previous to sin. There was, however, a time when neither sin existed with Him, nor the Son; the former of which was to constitute the Lord a Judge, and the latter a Father. (Against Hermogenes 3)

Thus, like other 2nd-century Christian philosophers, Tertullian believed that the Logos, a personal being, was brought into existence a finite time ago. This creation of the uttered Logos is “the beginning” spoken of in both Proverbs 8:22 and John 1:1 (Against Hermogenes 20).

    In summary, the prologue of John fell into relative obscurity in the time of the Apostolic Fathers (apart from the Odes of Solomon, which we saw in the previous post). It was brought out of obscurity by Justin Martyr, who made a connection between the “Word” of John 1 and the Logos of Hellenistic philosophy. This interpretation quickly spread to other 2nd-century Christian apologists, who were likewise extremely influenced by Platonism and Greek philosophy. [2] They believed that the Logos, as a personal being, was brought into existence at “the beginning,” and later became human as Jesus. They interpreted John 1 as saying something like the following:

In the beginning was the internal Logos, and this was with God (in his mind). It was then uttered to become the Logos, a second god. God made all things through the Logos, and nothing that exists was made apart from him. In him is the light which brings knowledge and life to humanity. The Logos came into the world, to his own people, but was rejected; those who didn’t reject him were made children of God. The Logos was born as a human, Jesus, who, as the Logos, always perfectly reveals God.

    In the next post, we’ll finish by examining how John 1 was interpreted into the 4th century AD, when there were major conflicts over Christology in the church.

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[1] James D. G. Dunn, Christology in the Making: A New Testament Inquiry into the Origins of the Doctrine of the Incarnation (2nd ed.; London: SCM Press, 1989), 220-230.

[2] Thomas E. Gaston, “The Influence of Platonism on the Early Apologists,” The Heythrop Journal 50, no. 4 (2009), 573-580.

Past interpretations of John's prologue (part 1 of 3)

    “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. This one was in the beginning with God.” (John 1:1-2) Today, these verses are considered by many Christians to be the proof-text par excellence for the deity of Christ. After all, the author goes on to say that “the Word became flesh” in Jesus (1:14). This is supposed to prove not only that Jesus pre-existed his birth as a divine being, but that this divine being was both a different person and the same god as the Father, demonstrating the existence of at least two persons (the Father and the Son) in the one God.

    I’ve challenged this interpretation elsewhere on exegetical grounds. [1] But has this binitarian view of John’s prologue always been the interpretation of most Christians? If so, this would greatly boost the credibility of the modern binitarian and trinitarian interpretation of John 1. In this short series of posts, we’ll be looking back through church history to find out how the earliest Christians, closest in time and culture to the milieu of John’s gospel, interpreted this passage.

    Interpretation #1: Wisdom Christology

The earliest surviving interpretation of John’s prologue can be found in the early Christian Odes of Solomon. These odes are widely recognized to have a very close relationship with the gospel of John; in the early 20th century, when the Odes were wrongly believed to be pre-Christian, it was thought that they had influenced John’s gospel. Charlesworth, one of the foremost authorities on the Odes, argues that they were written by members of the same community that produced John’s gospel and epistles. [2] For an overview of scholarly views of the relationship between the Odes and John, see footnote 3. [3] Whatever their exact relationship, even if there’s no direct literary dependence between the Odes and John, they’re still very closely related and are an invaluable resource for determining what John meant. The Odes of Solomon date to the late 1st or early 2nd century AD. [4]

    Charlesworth identifies at least four odes which parallel John’s prologue. [5] The first one is Ode 7, which clearly has the incarnation in view, as it states,

the Lord... became like me, that I might receive Him. In form He was considered like me, that I might put Him on... Like my nature He became, that I might understand Him. And like my form, that I might not turn away from Him. (7:3-6)

The author immediately goes on to identify the Word with God, but not with a separate person in the one God. He says, “The Father of knowledge is the Word [logos] of knowledge. He who created wisdom is wiser than his works” (7:7-8). Thus, the logos is God the Father, namely his attribute of word/wisdom. The Father “appear[ed] to them that are His own” (7:11-12; cf. John 1:11). The author states that “He was resting in the Son” (7:17), which indicates that the logos became like us by being embodied in Jesus; ultimately, “the Most High shall be known in His Saints” as well (7:18).

    The next ode that Charlesworth identifies as related to John 1 is Ode 12, which repeatedly mentions the logos. However, the Word here isn’t a separate person from the Father, but is the literal word from the mouth of God which brings knowledge to humans (12:3-4, 11-12). The Word is personified as a swiftly moving being, but in context is clearly the literal word/wisdom of God (12:5; cf. Wisdom of Solomon 18:14-16). Humans “were stimulated by the Word, and knew Him who made them” (12:10; cf. John 1:9-10). Ultimately, “the dwelling-place of the Word is man” (12:12; cf. John 1:14).

    The third ode which parallels John’s prologue is Ode 16. Once again, the logos in this ode doesn’t refer to a personal being, but to God’s literal word. The author says, “the worlds are by His Word, and by the thought of His heart” (16:19; cf. John 1:3), equating the logos with God’s thoughts by parallelism. The logos reveals God’s inner thoughts to humankind (16:8). All things continue to stand in existence by his word (16:12-14).

    The final ode that Charlesworth identifies as paralleling John’s prologue is Ode 41, an explicitly Christological hymn. This ode refers to the Messiah as “His Word [which] is with us in all our way, the Savior who gives life and does not reject ourselves... light dawned from the Word that was before time in Him” (41:11-14; cf. John 1:1-2, 4-5, 9). However, the author also refers to the Messiah as “the man who humbled himself, but was exalted because of his own righteousness” (41:12), suggesting a human Christology. The author says that the Messiah “was known before the foundations of the world” (41:15; cf. John 17:5), but also says of himself that the Father “possessed me from the beginning” (41:9). This reflects the author’s belief that God set all things in order from the beginning (4:14-15).

    Odes 7, 12, 16, and 41 together imply that the Word (logos) refers to the literal word/wisdom of the Father, rather than a separate personal being. The word was both in the beginning with God and was God the Father (cf. John 1:1-2); all things were created and stand in existence by God’s word (cf. John 1:3); light and life come to humans via God’s word (cf. John 1:4-5, 9); this word came to those that were God’s own (cf. John 1:10-11); it was embodied in God’s Messiah (cf. John 1:14); ultimately, it will be possessed by all God’s people (cf. John 5:37-38; 14:23-24; 15:7; 17:8, 14). The other odes share this non-personal conception of the Word. For example, “the Word of truth” is equated with “the knowledge of the Most High” (Ode 8:8). In another ode, “the Word of the Lord” is equated with “the holy thought which He has thought concerning His Messiah” (Ode 9:3).

    What about the Christology of the Odes? The author makes some statements which appear modalistic, such as, “I believed in the Lord’s Messiah, and considered that He is the Lord” (29:6). However, he also makes a distinction between the Son and the Father (Ode 19). This apparent contradiction makes more sense in light of Ode 36:

I rested on the Spirit of the Lord, and She lifted me up to heaven; and caused me to stand on my feet in the Lord’s high place, before His perfection and His glory, where I continued glorifying Him by the composition of His Odes. The Spirit brought me forth before the Lord’s face, and because I was the Son of Man, I was named the Light, the Son of God; because I was the most glorified among the glorious ones, and the greatest among the great ones. For according to the greatness of the Most High, so She made me; and according to His newness He renewed me. And He anointed me with His perfection; and I became one of those who are near Him. (36:1-6)

This ode is Christological, even though it’s written from a first-person perspective. It’s also explicitly adoptionist, stating that Jesus was named “the Son of God” when he rested on the Spirit and was brought before God. Jesus was remade “according to the greatness of the Most High... according to His newness... with His perfection” (36:5-6). This explains how the author of the Odes can say that “the Lord’s Messiah... is the Lord” (29:6) and yet also distinguish him from the Lord. It also squares well with John’s gospel, which says that John testified about the Word becoming flesh, and yet a few verses later tells us that what John testified about was Jesus’ baptism, when the Spirit rested upon him (John 1:14-15, 32-34).

    In conclusion, the Odes of Solomon strongly imply a Wisdom Christology reading of John’s prologue, in which “the Word” refers to the literal word/wisdom of the Father. These odes also have an adoptionist or exaltational Christology, in which Jesus is a man who embodies God’s word, and was exalted because of his humility and obedience to God, being remade according to God’s perfection (cf. Phil. 2:6-11). Unlike some other adoptionist groups in early Christianity (e.g., the Ebionites), the author of the Odes of Solomon believed in the virgin birth (Ode 19:6-10). As the earliest commentary on John’s prologue, written in the same temporal and cultural milieu as John’s gospel (perhaps even the same community), the Odes strongly support an exaltational, Wisdom Christology reading of John 1 itself.

    In the next post, we’ll consider another early interpretation of John’s prologue, which is first attested in the second century AD.

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[1] See my blog post “The low Christology of John (part 1 of 2).”

[2] J. H. Charlesworth and R. A. Culpepper, “The Odes of Solomon and the Gospel of John,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 35, no. 3 (1973), 298-322; J. H. Charlesworth, Critical Reflections on the Odes of Solomon (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 232-259.

[3] Jacob J. Prahlow, “Odes and John: Perspectives on Relationship,” Pursuing Veritas (blog), 17 December 2019, https://pursuingveritas.com/2019/12/17/odes-and-john-perspectives-on-relationship/.

[4] Michael Lattke, “Dating the Odes of Solomon,” Antichthon 27 (1993), 45-59.

[5] J. H. Charlesworth and R. A. Culpepper, “The Odes of Solomon and the Gospel of John,” 303-311.