A fascinating story is making the rounds this morning. It originated with The New York Times a few days ago, and concerns a house in Valparaiso, Indiana. Two years ago, the owners bought the house for $109,000. They gutted the bathroom, refinished the hardwood floors, painted, wallpapered, and did some landscaping. Such modifications have really paid off. The house is now valued by the county at $400 million. Officials explain that someone in the appraisal office hit a wrong key. Do you think?

In case you're wondering, the owners are amused by all this hoopla. And willing to discount their house to even half its appraised value. So far, no takers.

In theory, the owners made a 4,000% profit on their investment. But reality is what we're forced to live with. So far in our Friday series we've watched speculative philosophers take the stage and offer their views of the world and life. All the while we're wondering when someone is going to get practical. This week we're in luck--sort of.

With the demise of Alexander the Great, everything Greek came into question and turmoil. His expansionist administration had created global interaction between Greeks and other worldviews. The old systems came increasingly into question, as new ideas became popular. And his death led to a long period of decline for the Greeks and their way of life, creating unrest and even rejection of many principles held dear for centuries.

The result was a move away from speculation to practice. Theories which could explain the origins of life were not nearly as needed as those which could explain its purpose today. How we should live became much more interesting than why. And so Greek philosophy moved into what we now call the "ethical period."

The first practical reaction to speculative philosophy came with Antisthenes, a companion of Socrates. His followers began to advocate a way of life more than a philosophy. Their chief doctrine was virtue, which they defined as life according to nature. Because they were willing to go to any extreme to make their point in public, they became known as the "Cynics" (meaning "dog" in Greek). Not a popular group, these.

And for more reasons than just their name. The Cynics want you to cut all necessities to bare minimums. Many lived their lives as wandering beggars, going barefoot and wearing a single rough garment. The staff and beggar's wallet became their symbol. Their food was lentils, and their beverage cold water. One of their leaders chose to live inside a barrel, which he carried around himself as his clothing. Their goal was to achieve utter tranquility against all changes of fortune.

They attacked all forms of convention and the lax moral standards of their day, and were sure they were on a divine mission to reform their culture. And so they have given their name to anyone who criticizes the establishment. Whether they live in a barrel or not.

A second ethical response to speculative philosophy was the movement known as Stoicism. Founded by Zeno, this is first and foremost a rule of life. Stoicism is named for the columns ("stoa") where its followers met, but it has given its name to an attitude of resignation to the fates. And appropriately so.

The Stoics believed that Divine Reason or Fate rules the universe, and that we are all forced to obey its dictates. You can choose to go along, like a dog running beside the cart to which he is tied; or you can be dragged along by the cart; but you're going with the cart.

Our duty consists in joyful assent to the decrees of Fate. And so apathy--freedom from all passion and emotion--is the highest emotional goal. Utter indifference to external things is the key to a life lived well, if you're a Stoic. Epictetus (A.D. 50) had it down: "If you caress your wife or child, say to yourself that it is not different than if you were caressing any person. Then, if he dies, you will be unaffected." A lovely way of life, isn't it?

The Stoics believed that the universe is perfectly rational. The active principle is fire. God, or Divine Providence, is a universal, cosmic principle who forms, orders, and rules the universe. His highest manifestation is Reason, the ruling principle in mankind. The Stoics saw the universe as eternally cycling from destruction to rebirth (cf. 2 Peter 3:7, a passage often cited erroneously as having Stoic influence). All is ordered in the Stoic world.

And so logic becomes especially important for the Stoics. It is not just a tool, as with Aristotle, but a significant part of philosophy itself. Grammar and learning occur only through the bodily senses; they are tested by reason, and if stable and ordered, they are valuable.

The Stoics strongly influenced later politics and thought, especially the doctrine of natural law as expressing the universal decrees of Divine Reason. Universal and classical Roman Law was based more on Stoicism than any other single source.

A third ethical response to the speculations of Plato and Aristotle was led by Epicurus (341-270 B.C.). No ancient philosophy has been as generally and completely misunderstood as his Epicureanism. The common view is that Epicureans want a comfortable, sensual hedonism, combined with a crude atheism. This reputation arose largely because so many prostitutes came to join the Epicurean movement.

The actual situation was quite different: a small, exclusive group of refined quietists, of the highest moral character, with an extraordinary devotion to their founder, a most attractive theory and practice, and strong and loyal friendship. Epicurus himself was an amicable and cheerful man of extreme modestly ("Send me a cheese," he once wrote to a friend, "that I may fare sumptuously"). But his movement was extremely unpopular in the ancient world, since its teachings countered the Stoics, Platonists, and Aristotelians. It's tough to swim upstream, especially when the big fish are moving the other way.

The Epicurean aim of life was simple: happiness as the absence of pain and the presence of tranquility. They denied the Stoic approach to fatalism, since it was disturbing to the mind and prevented tranquility. They rejected Cynicism for its similar denials of tranquil pleasures. And they had little interest in the speculations of Plato and Aristotle, since they could bring few pleasures to life.

Epicurus developed an epistemology, theology, and psychology. His theory of learning was quite creative: the physical world is made of atoms (agreeing with the Atomists); the atoms on the outer layer of things are given off as the "images" of their material subjects. These "images" float through the air until they contact a perceiving subject. Then they make an actual physical impression on the sense-organ, penetrating through the pore directly to the mind and producing mind-pictures. Since images are sometimes mixed (as with a centaur, combining the images of a man and a horse), concepts come from the images as they are creatively assimilated and understood. Not a bad guess, and closer to modern theory than any other in ancient Greek speculation.

His theology was less creative. The gods must exist, he said, or else we could not have their image in our minds. Yet they form no part of the physical universe, living in perfect tranquility and representing the ideal of human life. Epicurean religion was simply the contemplation of the divine life.

And his psychology was similar to his epistemology. The soul is composed of atoms, themselves material in nature. Soul-atoms are diffused all over the body, causing every sensation we feel. The directing, rational part of the soul is located in the breast. And the soul is mortal, dissolving into its material elements when the body dies. Death ends all consciousness. And so we should have no fear of death and the beyond, leaving us free for present happiness.

The last of these ethical responses to Plato and Aristotle was the movement known as the Skeptics. Pyrrho of Elea, a contemporary of Zeo and Epicurus (ca. 365-275 B.C.) was the first leader of the Skeptics. He sought imperturbable tranquility, but not in the dogmatic theories of his day. Rather, he found happiness in absolute agnosticism and suspension of judgment.

Since we cannot know whether our sense perceptions agree with reality, we can never get beyond our senses. And so when our thoughts and our senses conflict, we have no criteria for distinguishing the true from the false. The result: when we suspend all judgment, tranquility will follow. We cannot grasp God or the eternals, and so we should give up our attempts to know them. And peace will come.

A second group of Skeptics descended from some of Plato's students at the Academy. Following Socrates' motto, "I know only that I do not know," they decided that we do not know even that we do not know. We know nothing, and we're sure of it.

Skepticism leads eventually to Eclecticism, a philosophy which combines truths from various sources without seeking a unified system of absolute knowledge. And nothing is more popular today than that.

It's fascinating to see the ways these four movements have helped mold the Western worldview as it is typically practiced today. With the Cynics, some have chosen to retreat from our rampant materialism and seek truth and life in nature or asceticism. This approach is especially popular with some of so-called Generation X, young people soured on the materialism of their parents.

Others are more Stoic in their fatalistic approach to life--many in my parents' generation demonstrate enormous resignation to hard times and resilience in the midst of them. Still others are Epicurean in their pursuit of pleasure and happiness, often to extremes which Epicurus condemned--I think of some of my contemporaries and their definitions of success and purpose. And the post-modern relativism and rejection of absolutes can be traced to the ancient Skeptics. Truth is only what I say it is. And you should believe me.

As we watch the early Christians deal with these competitors for the soul, we find ways to take Christ to our culture today. For no generation since the post-Socratics is more like them than we are. We'll see how, next.

As you may have noticed, this "ethical" response to Plato and Aristotle left some ethics to be desired. Specifically, any reference to a personal God. And so religious mystics attempted to build a bridge between the mind and the soul. The result--no surprise here--was a philosopher God. These thinkers wanted a theosophy--a religious world view. Let's see what that view looked like.

In the last two centuries before Christ, Stoicism underwent a significant process of modification. They dropped their doctrine of "conflagration" (the end of the world by fire), and accepted the eternity of the cosmos (I'm sure the cosmos was grateful). And they began using their Divine Providence doctrine to supply order in that eternal cosmos, making Stoicism more suitable for the Romans who adopted their philosophy.

Three men would be upset if we didn't mention them here. Posidorus of Apamea (130-46 B.C.) developed important doctrines about God and mankind. He saw man as the "bridge-being" or intermediate between higher and lower life, and viewed the cosmos as a single organism ruled by a divine or "higher" power. Sounds a bit like Shirley MacLaine.

Epictetus was one of the greatest later Stoics. The son of a woman slave, he was born between 50 and 60 A.D. at Hieropolis in Phrygia. He came to Rome as a slave of one of Nero's men, became a secretary, and took courses with Musonius Rufus, the fashionable Stoic philosopher. After obtaining his freedom, he taught philosophy on street corners, and later established a school in Nicopolis. He was mainly a moral and religious teacher, and his philosophy can be summed up in two words: "bear" and "forebear." Joyful resignation to the Divine Will is the highest good for Epictetus.

The greatest of the later Stoics was Marcus Aurelius (121-180 A.D.). He succeeded Antonius Pius to the Roman throne in 161 A.D., and was a brilliant ruler and even more brilliant philosopher. He based much of his teachings on Epicurus, but also derived much from Plato. Marcus' Meditations is a masterpiece of Stoic thought.

Marcus' son Commodus began the decline of the Empire. With Aurelius the end of an epoch was reached--he was the last great Stoic, and the last great product of classical culture as well.

The next movement of significance before Christian philosophy is known as Neo-Platonism. Philo of Parissa returned Plato's Academy to positive, dogmatic teaching, and away from the skepticism of the day. Most of all, his school taught a theological and religious way of life.

The primary object of the Neo-Platonics was knowledge of truth about the divine world, leading to the "greatest possible likeness to God." They placed a supreme Mind or God at the head of a hierarchy of being, as the first principle of reality. This Supreme Mind is too far above the material world to be accessible to us except through occasional flashes of illumination. Intermediary beings such as lesser gods, stars, and demons rule and order the visible universe. Evil comes from matter itself, which is opposed to the intentions of the Good.

In this system, God is known primarily through the "via negative" (the "way of negation"). By stating what God is not, we get a better understanding of what he is. Religion is remote intellectual devotion to the remote Supreme Mind, whose vision we can only hope to attain fully in the next life. Pagan piety towards the inferior gods, the star-gods and other deities of mythology or popular religion is combined with ascetic philosophical reflection. By harmonizing Plato's Good and Aristotle's Mind, this school created a view of God which was followed by many for hundreds of years.

One last philosopher before Christianity must be mentioned: Philo Judaeus of Alexandrinus (30 B.C. to A.D. 50). This Alexandrian Jew of a priestly family wrote historical, philosophical, political, and ethical works. He was the leading figure of his intellectual community. And his efforts to combine Neo-Platonism and the Old Testament would influence theologians for centuries to come.

Philo's great ambition is to bring Plato and the Hebrew Bible together, as a means of encouraging philosophers to worship the Jewish God. His method is known as "allegory," a hermeneutical approach whereby the literal or intended meaning of the text is obliterated in favor of a more "spiritual" reading.

By this approach, Genesis is not a record of historical fact but a kind of Platonic myth. Adam symbolizes "spirit" or "mind," Eve sensuality, and Jacob asceticism. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob stand for the learned, natural, and exercised virtues. When the three wanderers ask about Sarah's whereabouts and Abraham answers, "She is in the hut" (Genesis 18.9), he is really saying that virtue is in the soul. Who needs seminary when you can interpret the Bible like this!

Philo's theology was quite interesting and influential. He saw God as the absolute, transcendent Being who is the ground of all existence. The "logos" is the instrument by which God works to make the world of visible things. The "pneuma" is the Divine Substance which God breathes into humans, and becomes our intelligence and the "image of God" in us. Salvation comes as we deliver ourselves from our bodies (our evil principle), eradicate our passions by asceticism, and seek God through mysticism.

Philo matters to us not because of his theological results, but because of his method. He was among the first to attempt to bring Platonic thought and biblical revelation together. And his allegorical method is still (unfortunately) in common use today.

Now we step over the bridge from the pre-Christian world to the Christian era. Remarkably, both banks of the river look very much alike, especially at first.

Alexandria (founded by its namesake Alexander the Great in 333 B.C.) had become the leading commercial and intellectual city of the world by this time. Its library of 700,000 volumes attracted scholars from all over the world. The Septuagint (the Hebrew Bible into Greek) was translated here. And "Christian Wisdom" got its start here as well.

The first Christian philosophers wanted to do three important things: (1) explain their faith to the Greek world; (2) bring pagans to Christ; and (3) encourage Christians to think well about their beliefs. They are known to us as "apologists," from the Greek word for "defense" (see 1 Peter 3:15: "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have"). The first apologists defended Christianity against philosophical attacks, and made their faith systematic for the sake of the Church. They did us all an enormous service.

The most important of these early apologists was Justin Martyr. Justin (his last name derives from his death for Christ) based his doctrine on divine revelation, and denied that we can know God apart from that revelation. However, he also believed that God has planted "seeds" of knowledge of himself in all people. This is the "seminal Logos," a Stoic term used by Justin in a very un-Stoic sense.

In this view the great philosophers have all lived and taught to some degree according to the Logos, and everything true in their teaching comes from God. But Christians have not merely seeds or fragmentary portions of the truth, but the Logos himself, the Lord Jesus. Therefore, the Christian revelation transcends the teaching of the philosophical schools.

This was a brilliant attempt to bring Christianity and Greek philosophy together, and has much to commend itself to us. However, Justin's own use of his method sometimes went astray. For instance, he developed a subordinationist theology regarding the Trinity (ranking the Father above the Son, who is above the Spirit), so as to make his theology more consistent with Neo-Platonism. But while we can fault some of his method, we cannot question the piety of his faith or the passion of his love for Jesus.

We will meet with those who undertake this apologetic task across the rest of our survey.

Finally we come to the Patristic era (from the Latin for "fathers"). This is a subject worthy of an entire course of study. We'll do great violence to it by wresting from its treasures only a few people, and just a few of their insights. May they forgive us.

Tertullian (AD 160-230) radically rejected philosophy, but used philosophy to do so. He was Stoic in his view that God as "spirit" is fine and subtle matter, that souls must be physical in nature, and that the Father is the "God of the philosophers." And yet he thought he rejected philosophy with his method. His famous cry was, "What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?" A great deal, apparently.

Clement of Alexandria (AD 150-225) combined Christian orthodoxy with a much greater respect for Greek philosophy. He insisted on the transcendent unity of God, the divinity of Christ, the unity of the Church, and the superiority of revealed doctrine. But he also believed that Greek philosophy is a valuable preparation and assistant in attaining the final truth of the Christian revelation.

Origen (A.D. 185-254) was the first great Christian Platonist. Born in Egypt, he succeeded Clement as head of the Catechetical School at Alexandria when he was eighteen years of age. He was imprisoned and tortured for his faith, and died as a result of his persecutions. His was a passionate commitment to the Christian faith.

His was a very original attempt to adapt Platonism to the requirements of Christian theology, beginning as a teacher with the data of revelation. However, he soon yields far too much ground to Plato. He is an extreme subordinationist, believing that God's power extends to all created things, the Son's only to rational beings, and the Spirit's only to a limited number of rational beings whom he sanctifies.

Origen believed that God's first creation was a community of rationally disembodied spirits, all equal and possessed of free will. These spirits sinned and fell in various degrees, according to the severity of their sin. Come became angels, others men, others demons. The material universe was created after this fall to provide penitential dwellings for these fallen spirits. Even the sun and other heavenly bodies are purgatorial vehicles in which are embodied spirits which have sinned.

Salvation for Origen comes through reincarnation, as fallen spirits move through a long series of lives, up and down the scale towards God according to their merits in the preceding stage. At last would come the apokatastasis, the restoration of all things. All spirits would be returned to their first purity and equality, even the devil included.

To achieve such a radical synthesis, Origen had to make full use of Philo's allegorical method. He shows us how far off track a brilliant person can go, unless the Bible guides both our method and our conclusions. If it could happen to Origen, it can happen to us.

We'll close today with some of the more interesting heresies of the period (as though Origen's ideas weren't heretical enough). The Gnostics were the first and most serious intellectual threat to early Christianity. They believed that knowledge (gnosis) rather than faith (pistis) is the means to God and salvation. We know much more about them than we once did, thanks to the 1945 discovery of the Nag-Hammadi Library in upper Egypt. This large jar contained a fifth-century Gnostic library with thirteen books, forty-eight writings, and 700 pages of material.

Gnostics saw matter as essentially evil, and the realm of the spirit as good. They were strongly anti-Semitic, though they believed in the supreme being of the Jews. They posited a female deity named "Sophia" (from "wisdom") as the mother goddess, and believed that "eons" separate good from evil. Their system proceeds downward from Depth/Silence to Mind/Truth, thirty "eons" (of whom Christ is the last), Word/Life, Men/Church, and twelve more "eons" (Sophia is the last). Sophia had a miscarriage, resulting in the Demiurgos, and the Demiurgos made the universe. Why hasn't some science fiction writer picked up on this stuff?

The Gnostics were just getting started as the New Testament era was drawing to its close. Their separation of spirit from material and God from mankind was manifested by some in the argument that the earthly Jesus took on the divine Christ spirit at his baptism, and lost him at his crucifixion. Paul apparently is fighting Gnosticism in Colossians 1.15-23, and John in 1 John 1.1-4.

was a second opponent of early Christianity. Arius, a presbyter of the church in Alexandria, denied that the Christian shares God's nature. He taught that Christ is the logos of God, but denied that divinity was incarnate in the body of Jesus of Nazareth. This attempt to preserve biblical monotheism at the expense of biblical Christology was rejected by the Council of Nicaea in A.D. 325.

(from Pelagius, a monk of British birth who lived in Rome, early 5th century A.D.) insisted on our total freedom of choice. This argument against total depravity was counted effectively by Augustine, as we'll see in the next chapter.

(from the sect of Mani) argued for a metaphysical dualism with God as good but finite, limited by the power of Satan. Satan created the material world, captured man's free spirit, and imprisoned it in the body, there to suffer for sins committed in a previous existence. We can be redeemed only by severely ascetic discipline.

Augustine was right--there is a "God-shaped emptiness" in each of us. The religious philosophers we've surveyed in this chapter have each attempted to fill it. But any jigsaw puzzle solver knows that the wrong piece won't fit into the right hole. Next week we'll find some pieces that still work for our souls today.

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