Part 4
Stoicism and Christianity
SERIES
Part 2 - Stoicism and Judaism <--- added: processual view
Chronology and Theology of Stoicism
by Mike Anderson
June 11, 2012
I
In the previous post we briefly discussed Stoic philosophy and hinted at a kinship with Christian philosophy. Now we will describe Stoicism in more detail and explain its standing in Eastern Europe and Asia during the time of Jesus.
The above chronology provides a snapshot of Stoic history. Of course the word Stoic comes from the meeting place of Zeno and his followers – the Stoa (covered porch) in the center of Athens. But Zeno was not from Athens. He was born in Citium, a town in southwest Cyprus. Immersed in philosophy from a young age, Zeno migrated to Athens in 311 B.C. at the age of 22. There he studied with the Cynic Crates, Polemo, head of the Academy, and the Megaric philosopher Stilpo. Finally rejecting Platonic metaphysics, Zeno launched his own school around 300 B.C.
There were three components to Zeno’s philosophy: ethics, physics, and logic. His ethics came from Cynic morality, physics from Plato’s Timaeus, and his logic was a self-developed view of argument and theory of knowledge. Zeno believed that impressions could lead human beings to the external truths that help them understand the world.
By the time of Zeno’s death in 262 B.C. Stoicism had become the dominant Hellenistic philosophy. But with his death came a period of uncertainty among his followers, who did not know what direction to take. Because their mentor was more of an inspiration than systematic thinker, they began to distill Zeno’s teachings into dogma in an effort to create a formal structure for the philosophy. They called themselves “Socratics” and admired the life of their great predecessor.
But then a new leader arose, Chrysippus, a man who may have been greater than Zeno. He was inspirational but at the same time thoroughly analytical. At first Chrysippus was unhappy with the direction of the Stoic school based on doctrinal arguments with the school’s leader Cleanthes, but when the latter died in 230 B.C, Chrysippus became the leader. He helped create structure for Zeno’s beliefs and defended them without reservation. When Chrysippus died in 206 B.C. another leaderless period began (refer to diagram above).
By the middle 2nd century, the school was led by Antipater, who pushed for recognition of the relationship between Stoicism and Platonism. The common ground identified with the Academy would influence Stoic thinking for all of the future.
At this point in the chronology, I note an event that took place in the middle of the second century – I label it Stoic ambassadors to Rome. On this occasion, representatives of the Stoic school and the Academy traveled to Rome to protest a fine imposed on Athens for its sack of Oropus. During their visit, the Greeks lectured in sold out pavilions and overwhelmed the Romans with their intellectual power. This ignited a permanent interest in Greek philosophy in general and Stoicism in particular which lasted until the end of the empire.
By the late second century, Athens’s role as the center of Stoicism began to wane. The last Athenian leader, Panaetius, died in 110 B.C. without a successor. Posidonius, his pupil, opened a new school in Rhodes.
As the influence of Athens dimmed, the Stoic schools in Rhodes and Rome grew to replace it. By the end time of the Roman republic we see Stoics exerting great influence over Cicero and Brutus. Later Augustus hired Athenodorus to act as his philosophical advisor.
The peak for Roman Stoic thought was reached when Seneca, advisor to Nero, became the leader of the Roman Stoics. Seneca’s death removed the champion, but the belief system carried on through the time of Marcus Aurelius.
II
Our best sources for Stoic theology are Cicero and Sextus who wrote extensively in the first century B.C. What was this theology? Fundamentally, the Stoics sought to address three issues:
1) proving that the gods exist,2) explaining the nature of the gods,3) showing that the world is governed by the gods.
Proving the gods exist
Many proofs are offered for the existence of god – most notably the ordered universe proving the existence of a creator with a guiding hand. Stoics also believed that atheism must be false because, if it were true, that would mean that man, with all his faults, is the highest being in the universe -- an illogical conclusion.
With respect to the nature of the gods, the Stoics provide a definition:
God is an immortal living being, rational, perfect and thinking in happiness, unreceptive of anything bad and provident with regard to the cosmos and the things therein. But he is not of human form. He is the demiurge of the whole and as it were the father of all things, both in general and insofar as the part of him is concerned which pervades all things, and which is called by many names, corresponding to its powers.
Both Zeno and Chrysippus claimed that the cosmos is the substance of god.
How the gods exist and govern the world
Next we turn to the problem of the world governed by gods and the implications of fate. This is the age old problem – if the gods have created a world that is pre-determined, then man has no control over things that happen to him, is life still worth living?
To the Stoics, God as fate determines everything including setting the example for what is morally good. There is no separation between the divine and practical world. Both are operated by the same principles. Man can develop an understanding of God and the cosmos through divination – the subtle communication of God to man, but divination results from contemplation.
God operates through man via the Pneuma or divine essence. For an inanimate object, Pneuma is its physical properties, but in man Pneuma is the essence of reason which allows him to operate autonomously and interact with his environment. So the Stoics attempt a balance between the predetermined world created by God and the flexibility man can create through his individual personality.
Stoicism at the time of Jesus
Now that we have looked at some basic theology, how do we view Stoicism at the time of Jesus?
The Romans have been criticized for adding nothing to Stoic philosophy and this criticism is largely valid. Even in the case of Ethics where they spent most of their energy, the Romans concentrated more on the interpretation of Zeno and Chrysippus than they did on any new ideas.
Stoicism in the first century A.D. was not a refined or reinterpreted version of the original, but a continuation of its founder’s ideals. The impact on Christianity, then, was mainly due to its penetration of Hellenistic culture over three centuries prior to its time. For those who embraced Stoicism at the time of Jesus, Christian philosophy appeared as a kindred belief system once it had gained the form of dogma.
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Here's a subtle but profound difference between Stoicism and Christianity. The two worldviews clashed in ancient times. Thank God the Christian approach prevailed! Letting yourself feel the joy/grief of others (com+passion) is exactly what our minds need to jolt us into action. - John Dickson |
The Stoic-Christian Connection
by Mike Anderson
June 15, 2012
We have been discussing the development of Stoicism as the leading Hellenistic philosophy so that we might look at its relationship to Christianity -- the theory being that Christianity has some Stoic ideas in it.
Think of the way early Christian leaders (circa 100 A.D. and beyond) viewed their situation. They believed in Jesus as the Messiah, based on the Gospels and the teaching of Paul, but those beliefs were missing a substantive philosophical framework, or more correctly a theology, that could be taught and defended. The only way to overcome this lack of structure was to create it.
But there is a problem with creating this framework -- objectivity. How do men living in a Hellenistic world permeated by Stoicism develop a Christian theology without being influenced by Stoicism? Only with difficulty it turns out.
As discussed in a previous post, the Christian apologists had two adversaries: splinter religious groups like the Arians and Gnostics and more seriously the classic Greek philosophers who enjoyed centuries of wide acceptance. The reputation of the Greeks was too strong to dismiss out of hand, so many Christian thinkers made peace with the Greeks, either my attributing Christian beliefs to them or finding Christianity in their philosophy.
My source book for this discussion is The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition by Jaroslav Pelikan. Professor Pelikan was an eminent scholar in the history of the Catholic Church and Professor of Ecclesiastical History at Yale from 1972-1996. He wrote a five volume set on the Catholic tradition including the work cited above which serves as volume one.
Pelikan cites the closing of the Greek philosophical school by Justinian in 529 A.D. as the triumph of the church over pagan philosophy. Or as Gibbon put it,
“this was a time when Christian theologians superseded the exercise of reason, resolved every question by an article of faith, and condemned the infidel or skeptic to eternal flames.”
We start by highlighting the most famous work of Boethius (executed 522 A.D.) called Consolidation of Philosophy. This paradoxical work attempts to reconcile Greek philosophy and the Christian religion. The paradox derives from the fact that the book reads like its writer is a secular philosopher and not a devout Christian. Pelikan accuses Boethius of pressing reason to the boundaries of faith.
Pelikan also suggests that the triumph of Christianity over Greek philosophy was “Pyrrhic” because the victory by the former included the absorption of some of the tenets of the latter.
Let’s look at the example of transubstantiation. The fourth Lateran council of 1215 A.D. decreed that the sacrament of the altar .. the bread is substantiated into the body of Christ. Substance in this case is no more than the metaphysics of Aristotle as laid out in his fifth book on that subject. As Aristotle says, “A substance is not predicated of a subject but everything else is predicated of it. That which, being present in all such things as are not predicated of a subject, is the cause of its being, as the soul is of the being of an animal.” It follows then that if you are using Aristotle’s definitions, then you are embracing Aristotle. It’s not surprising that this issue has been cited as an example of the problem of “Hellenization of Christianity.”
Indeed, Christian doctrine still bears the marks of pagan philosophy which is the price paid for the triumph over it. How high a price? We need to look no farther than the apologists to answer that question.
Extremists labeled many of the theologians of the early church hellenizers, a purposeful derogatory sobriquet. They said of Origen, “While his manner of life was a Christian, contrary to law he played a Greek, and introduced Greek ideas.” They were critical of his kinship with the Greek philosophers regarding the immortality of the soul.
The same can be said of Tertullian. Unsure of the characterization of the soul in the scriptures, he called upon the Stoics to help him explain it as a spiritual essence.
And Clement of Alexandria describes virtue as “a will in conformity to God and Christ in life, rightly adjusted to life everlasting.” This is basic Stoic metaphysics.
Now we can see how the Greek philosophers in general (Plato and Aristotle) and the Stoics in particular were able to influence Christian theology. This influence was undoubtedly caused by:
1. The longstanding assimilation of Stoicism into Hellenistic thought and its subliminal influence over those living at that time.2. The lack of a philosophical foundation in the Christian religion which was originally built solely on the facts of the life of Jesus of Nazareth.3. The thought processes of early Christian theologians whose intellects required examining all fundamental ideas, even those originating from the pagan enemy.
At the end of the day, our discussion becomes esoteric because the "Pyrrhic" character of the Christian victory over pagan philosophy was forgotten long ago. Those elements formerly Greek stand today as Christian dogma.
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Warning: Caring could hurt your soul
Justin Toh weighs up Stoicism and Christianity
by Justine Toh
February 14th, 2019
“Everything old is new again” may be a phrase of uncertain origin, but it’s a reliable formula for the return of trends thought long over – like bell-bottom jeans, making your own jam and the revival, in some quarters at least, of the ancient Greek and Roman wisdom of Stoicism.
It’s an unlikely resurrection. When we call someone “stoic,” at best we mean that they maintain a calm composure even in the grimmest of conditions. This is roughly continuous with the ancient Stoic belief that the good life was one of equanimity and tranquillity no matter the individual’s circumstances. But, at worst, we mean it far more pejoratively: the stoic is seen as stiff upper lipped, even emotionally flat – the kind of person who kills everyone’s buzz by having no buzz at all. It’s not exactly a compliment.
Still, there’s enough interest in Stoicism to have sustained annual gatherings of Stoic Week across the globe since 2013, for seven days of Stoic scholarship, inspiration and practice. There, thousands might find themselves exploring how the technique of negative visualisation – imagining the worst that can happen – counselled by Roman statesman Seneca – can help them master anger and frustration. Or discussing a key Stoic tenet by Epictetus, a slave turned philosopher, who wrote:
“Our thoughts are up to us, and our impulses, desires and aversions – in short, whatever is our doing … Of things that are outside your control, say they are nothing to you.”
In other words, the secret to a more satisfied existence is to care less about what you can’t control.
Plenty are drawn to the practical advice Stoicism offers for life in our turbulent world today. Among them are those looking to this ancient philosophy as a replacement for religion – such as philosopher Massimo Pigliucci.
In How to Be a Stoic: Ancient Wisdom for Modern Living, Pigliucci recounts his own journey to Stoicism, “not on my way to Damascus, but through a combination of cultural happenstance, life’s vicissitudes, and deliberate philosophical choice.”
Since abandoning Catholicism in his teenage years, Pigliucci found himself on his own – existentially speaking – in dealing with the meaning of life. The angry and belittling tone of the New Atheists repelled him; Buddhism was too mystical; and secular humanism too rational (“it comes across as cold and not the sort of thing you want to bring your kids to on a Sunday morning,” he writes).
But Stoicism ticked Pigliucci’s boxes: it was rational, science-friendly and agnostic enough on the question of God (more on this in a moment) to satisfy his scientific and philosophical bent. It was also eminently practical and promised to help him prepare for his inevitable death – a prospect increasingly on his mind after he turned 50.
For Pigliucci, Stoicism was a source of life guidance and ultimate meaning in the absence of religion. Or, more specifically, Christianity. Pigliucci’s passing comments about Damascus, where he alludes to the conversion of the Apostle Paul (who previously persecuted the church), as well as Pigliucci’s nods to church gatherings on Sunday, indicate that his reference points for his post-Christian life are Christian in nature.
In other words, the teenage faith that Pigliucci disavowed has nonetheless left its mark on his adult self. Maybe that’s a predictable mix: even leaving aside Pigliucci’s back story, there are undeniable similarities between Stoicism and Christianity.
But whether we are atheists, believers, or anything in between, all of us bear the stamp of Christianity – and not Stoicism – on our souls.
Stoicism and Christianity were closely associated in the ancient world: both counselled discipline and self-control in the face of pagan decadence, and a commitment to contentment despite hardship. For instance, the Apostle Paul’s declaration that he has “learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want” (Philippians 4:12) seems straight out of the Stoic playbook.
These convergences between Stoicism and Christianity even led to a cooked-up correspondence between Seneca and Paul, both prolific letter writers in their day – though never, in fact, to each other.
But Christianity and Stoicism are sharply opposed in one respect particularly – and it makes all the difference:
The Stoics’ goal was tranquillity, which sounds peaceful enough, but this tranquillity was the product of apathy – literally “without suffering” in the Latin. Apathy was how someone could preserve their peace of mind, and the route to that imperturbability lay in detachment.To involve yourself with others, then, was to risk the serenity of the soul.
Take the example of death: for the Stoics, not principally a personal tragedy or even an irreparable tear in the human fabric, but an occasion for self-mastery. Epictetus writes that we should discipline our fears of death:
“To this let all your reasonings, your lectures, and your trainings be directed; and then you will know that only so do men achieve their freedom.” And if you encounter anyone grieving the death of a loved one, he writes, remind yourself that death itself is not the problem – only the judgments they attach to it. “Certainly do not moan with him,” he sternly adds. “Do not moan inwardly either.”
Compare Epictetus’ words with the call of the Christian to “mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15) – to radically identify with the suffering of others, even to take it on.
Jesus certainly did – as much is suggested by the shortest, and perhaps the most poignant, entry in modern Bibles: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). And he did so at the tomb of Lazarus, the text says, moments before he was to call his friend out of it. It turns out that even the one whom the Scriptures said conquered death could also be undone by it.
But that was the nature of the Jesus whom Christians knew as God. He cared. Even if both Christianity and Stoicism agreed enough on God’s existence – both were convinced that an all-pervading logos or rationality governed the universe – Christianity proclaimed an involved, loving God since the logos or word became flesh in Jesus (John 1:14).
And all this has influenced us no matter what we believe about God.
1 - The Stoics, like other ancient Greek philosophers, believed that only spiritual things could be good. That God would become human – take on a body – was a reprehensible thought.
2 - It was even worse that this God was passionately involved with people, identifying with their sorrows and weaknesses, even to the point of dying upon a cross for them.
And all this has influenced us no matter what we believe about God. Detachment was prized by the ancients, but we are passionate about passionate engagement. Consider that very profane and very popular self-help book by Mark Manson. While it spends many pages arguing why you should care less, the book’s real thesis is that you should stop sweating the small stuff so you can devote yourself to what you really care about.
Manson channels [USA TV Personality] Oprah when he asks his readers: “What pain do you want in your life? What are you willing to struggle for?” It’s revealing that our word “passion” is the Latin word for “suffering” because, to us, how much we’re prepared to suffer for something we love is a measure of how much we care about it.
Similarly, we value compassion: active involvement to relieve the pain and struggle of others. As Edwin Judge, Emeritus Professor at Macquarie University and expert on early Christianity and the Greek and Roman world, explained to CPX,
“Care, for us, means actually bearing the cost, when you actually do something about the person you allegedly care for.”
The Stoics, on the other hand, practised “courtesy”: a distanced, polite awareness of others’ struggles but one that insulated the self from the other. “This is the real difference between the Stoic and the Christian bond between one person and other,” Judge said. “In the Christian case it is commitment to their problem. In the other case, it is recognition that there’s a difficulty. You offer politeness but that protects you from any grand involvement.”
Apparently, the ancient Stoics never actively sought converts, even if plenty can be found today. But since we believe that true care is costly, it turns out that Christian compassion did convert us. When it comes to that, we – even the sceptics among us – are all true believers.
*Justine Toh is Senior Research Fellow at the Centre for Public Christianity.
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