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Gregory Palamas on the Relationship Between
Philosophy and Theology
Nick Trakakis
Department of Philosophy
Monash University
The relationship between philosophy and theology has rarely
been a harmonious and fruitful one. The two disciplines are often segmented
into mutually exclusive compartments. On the one hand, philosophers,
particularly contemporary philosophers working within the Anglo-American
analytic tradition, widely agree that the claims made by theologians – such as
the claim that there is a God and that God is a trinity of persons – are
meaningless, or false, or irrational, or unsupported by evidence, or in some
other way epistemically below par. On the other hand, it is not unusual to find
theologians following in the footsteps of writers such as Tertullian,
Kierkegaard and Barth in arguing that, when it comes to theology, faith
suffices and reason merely perverts.
The
philosophy-theology dispute was no stranger to fourteenth-century Byzantium,
particularly in the writings of the most prominent spiritual and intellectual
figure of this period, viz., Gregory Palamas (c.1296-1359). In his debates with
Barlaam of Calabria (c.1290-1348), Gregory Akindynos (c.1300-1348) and
Nikephoros Gregoras (c.1290-c.1358), the issue of the appropriateness of
employing philosophical terms and modes of reasoning in theology occupied a
central place.[1] But before
looking at how Palamas tackled this issue, it will be helpful, firstly, to
briefly outline how the Christian world (especially in the East) prior to
Palamas tended to see the relationship between secular learning (including
philosophy) and theology; and secondly, to ascertain what exactly was Palamas’
conception of philosophy.
I. Historical Prelude
By the fourteenth century, Christian theologians had
experienced two important encounters with a philosophical methodology, each
occasion giving them the option of either disavowing that methodology
altogether or, alternatively, finding some way to reconcile it with their faith.[2]
The first encounter was with Greek philosophy and took place in the early years
of Christian theological formation.[3]
Early Christian writers expressed many and varied views on the relationship
between their faith and their philosophical heritage. Some tended to disparage
Greek philosophy, seeing it as dangerous as well as useless for the faithful.
This attitude was most famously expressed by Tertullian (c.160-c.230), who
wrote:
What indeed has Athens to do with Jerusalem? What
concord is there between the Academy and the Church? what between heretics and
Christians? Our instruction comes from “the porch of Solomon,” who had himself
taught that “the Lord should be sought in simplicity of heart.” Away with all
attempts to produce a mottled Christianity of Stoic, Platonic, and dialectic
composition! We want no curious disputation after possessing Christ Jesus, no
inquisition after enjoying the gospel! With our faith, we desire no further
belief. For this is our palmary faith, that there is nothing which we ought to
believe besides.[4]
Others, however, took a more nuanced and conciliatory line.
Justin Martyr (c.110-c.165), for example, was struck by the similarities
between Greek philosophy and the Christian worldview.[5]
He attempted to explain these similarities through (i) his spermatikos logos
theory, which states that philosophers acquired religious and ethical knowledge
by living in accordance with the logos, the spermata or ‘seeds’
of which are implanted in all humans[6],
and (ii) his dependence theory, according to which the Greeks acquired much of
their wisdom by reading the Scriptures.[7]
An even more exalted view of Greek philosophy is found in the writings of
Clement of Alexandria (c.150-c.215). In his Stromateis, for example,
Clement emphasizes the role of philosophy as a preparatory science for
Christianity:
God is responsible for all good things: of some,
like the blessings of the Old and New Covenants, directly; of others, like the
riches of philosophy, indirectly. Perhaps philosophy too was a direct gift of
God to the Greeks before the Lord extended his appeal to the Greeks. For
philosophy was to the Greek world what the Law was to the Hebrews, a tutor
escorting them to Christ. So philosophy is a preparatory process; it opens the
road for the person whom Christ brings to his final goal.[8]
The Cappadocian
Fathers of the fourth century continued this tradition of seeking a
reconciliation between the classical world and Christian faith. Gregory of
Nyssa (c.335-c.394), in particular, is renowned for his willingness to dip into
the treasures of philosophy, even at the risk of being taken in by them. Well
versed in classical literature, especially in the writings of Plato (whom he
greatly admired), Gregory does not refrain from regularly employing philosophical
modes of argumentation in order to explicate and defend the doctrines of
Christianity.[9] Although
somewhat more reserved towards the literary culture of the ancient world, the
other Cappadocians – Basil of Caesarea (c.330-379) and his close friend Gregory
of Nazianzus (c.330-c.389) – also made great use of the resources of antiquity.
Both Gregory of Nazianzus and Basil studied at the pagan university of Athens;
and both, but most of all Gregory, were outraged by the edict issued by the
emperor Julian in 362 excluding Christians from the teaching profession,
viewing this as an attack on their attempted synthesis of Hellenism and
Christianity. Gregory, in addition, was noted for his skills as a rhetorician
and poet, skills which he had developed during his education in classical
culture.[10]
Also significant in this context is Basil’s remarkable address To Young
People, subtitled On the Benefits to be Derived from the Writings of the
Greeks, where he encourages the young to study, albeit with discernment, the
classics of Greek literature.[11]
In spite of the
conciliatory tone of the Cappadocians, there remained throughout the history of
the Byzantine Empire two opposing intellectual factions, one conservative and
staunchly opposed to secular learning (often represented by monks), the other
liberal and in support of a synthesis between ancient Greek thought and
Christianity (often represented by the higher secular clergy).[12]
This opposition reached a crescendo in the ninth-century conflict between
Photius (c.820-c.891) and Ignatius (c.799-877), both patriarchs of
Constantinople at different times. Ignatius, together with Theodore the Studite
(759-826), formed the nucleus of a rigorist monastic party which opposed not
only compromises with the State but also the rise of a secular humanism. By
contrast, Photius – the leading intellectual, religious and political figure of
his time – devoted himself to secular learning, was deeply interested in
philosophy (he had a particular interest in logic and dialectics, and favoured
Aristotle over Plato), while at the same time remaining faithful to the
positions and problematics of the patristic and conciliar tradition.
This
polarization is also evident when Eastern Christendom experienced its second
major encounter with a philosophical methodology, this time with western
scholasticism. During the fourteenth century, a small but significant group of
Byzantine intellectuals discovered in the Latin West, particularly in the works
of Thomas Aquinas (c.1224-1274), the last refuge of true Hellenism. Demetrios
Kydones (c.1324-c.1398) translated into Greek the theological works of
Augustine, Anselm of Canterbury, and (with the help of his brother Prochoros)
Aquinas. His Thomist sympathies were so strong that in 1357 he converted to
Roman Catholicism, and in this he was followed by a number of younger Greeks,
many of whom became Dominicans.
On the other
hand, Palamas and his hesychast followers firmly opposed (what they took to be)
the legalistic and rationalistic outlook of the West. An eastern representative
at the Council of Ferrara-Florence (1438-39) concisely expressed the views of
the Palamite party when, in response to the Latins’ tendency to quote Aristotle
as an authority, he exclaimed, “What about Aristotle, Aristotle? A fig for your
fine Aristotle.” When asked whose authority he accepted, he replied, “St Peter,
St Paul, St Basil, Gregory the Theologian; a fig for your Aristotle,
Aristotle.”[13] Gregory
Palamas, then, can be seen as belonging to that strong tradition at all times
alive in Byzantium which was quite reserved and critical towards the use of
philosophy in theology. Let us now look in more detail at what exactly Palamas
had in mind when he was referring to philosophy.
II. Palamas’ Conception of Philosophy
Does philosophy, according to Palamas, have a peculiar
subject-matter and methodology? What,
precisely, was philosophy all about for Palamas? Unfortunately, answers to such
questions are not easy to come by, especially due to Palamas’ style of writing,
in which key terms such as ‘philosophy’ are not clearly defined.
Nevertheless, it
seems that Palamas tended to equate philosophy with ancient Greek philosophy (hê exôthen philosophia – ‘the wisdom from without’),
particularly Aristotelianism. This is no surprise given that the secular
education of the time drew heavily on Aristotle’s writings on logic and
physics. Interestingly, as a student at the University of Constantinople,
Palamas is said to have excelled in the study of Aristotle’s work. According to
one source, when Palamas was seventeen years old (c.1313), he gave at the
request of emperor Andronicus II a public display of his expertise in
Aristotelian logic, this meriting him high praise from his principle instructor
in secular learning, the Megas Logothetes, Theodore Metochites.[14]
It is also
worthy to note that in many places in his works, Palamas betrays his debt and
dependence on Aristotle’s philosophy. For instance, in the early chapters of
the Capita 150 Palamas draws upon Aristotle’s De Caelo and De
Anima in an attempt to refute the position, said to be promulgated by Plato
and the Neoplatonists, that the celestial bodies are moved by the nature of a
World-Soul. Palamas then goes on to offer an Aristotelian account of celestial
motion that he deems more acceptable.[15]
That Palamas took
Aristotle’s philosophy as a model of the nature of philosophy in general is
further highlighted in his disputes with Barlaam and Akindynos. In these
debates, Palamas tended to conceive of the question as to whether philosophy
may be used in theology in terms of the issue of whether apodictic and
dialectic arguments are fitting in the realm of theology.[16]
Both sorts of argument were systematically analyzed for the first time by
Aristotle. Apodictic arguments, as understood by Aristotle, are arguments in
which the conclusion necessarily follows from premises that are, in some sense,
obviously or self-evidently true.[17]
Dialectic arguments, on the other hand, are based not on premises that are
unquestionably true, but on premises that are merely accepted by one’s
interlocutor or opponent as true.[18]
With respect to philosophical methodology, Palamas took the Aristotelian line
of viewing apodictic and dialectic argumentation as the proper way of settling
philosophical disputes. The question, however, over which Palamas laboured was
whether such a method of settling disputes ought to be employed in theology.
But there is
also evidence to suggest that Palamas thought of philosophy as not so much a
field governed by certain forms of reasoning, but more generally as a
discipline based solely on knowledge that can be acquired through natural means
alone (e.g., via reason, or sensory experience, or intuition), without the aid
of any divine revelation. This would be consistent with his repeated insistence
that the knowledge acquired through philosophy is fallible and seriously
limited. As an indication of the limitations of the knowledge acquired through
ordinary human faculties, Palamas in the Capita 150 sets out the account
of the world’s creation as revealed in Scripture and then emphasizes that these
Scriptural truths are not accessible to natural gnosis:
Here and in such things lie the true wisdom and the
saving knowledge which procure blessedness on high. What Euclid, what Marinos,
what Ptolemy could understand? What Empedocleans, Socratics, Aristotelians or
Platonists with their logical methods and mathematical proofs? Or rather, what
sort of sense perception has grasped such things? What mind apprehended them?[19]
Before proceeding further, something briefly may be said about
the Palamite conception of philosophy, and in particular whether it is unduly
restrictive. Many contemporary Christian philosophers, following the lead of
Alvin Plantinga, have come to reject the commonly held view that philosophy
must, by its very nature, exclude any kind of divinely revealed truths.[20]
On this view, it is perfectly legitimate for one who is both a Christian and a
philosopher to include in, say, a discussion on the so-called ‘problem of evil’
(that is, the problem of reconciling the existence of a loving God with the
existence of evil and suffering in our world) arguments with premises that can
only be known through divine revelation.[21]
Indeed, this is how many scholastics, most notably Thomas Aquinas, pursued
philosophy. This, of course, does not imply that philosophy is limited to
theology, for the subject-matter of philosophy is much broader (covering such
diverse areas as mathematics and aesthetics); nor does this entail that
theology can only be expressed in a philosophical manner, rather than in, say,
a poetic, mystical, or liturgical manner – different approaches to one and the
same subject-area need not be mutually exclusive.
I do not see any problem, in principle, with allowing
philosophers to make appeals to divine revelation – or more precisely, appeals
to texts such as the Scriptures and the Creeds of the Ecumenical Councils that
are considered to contain divinely revealed truths. However, such appeals are legitimate
only if there is good reason for thinking that the relevant texts are divinely
inspired. If there is no rational support for the divine authorship of some
text, then that text cannot be relied upon to settle a philosophical dispute
(one could not, for example, use passages from that text as premises in an
argument that attempts to establish the truth of some philosophical position).
In short, divine revelation has a place within philosophy, but only when there
is good reason to believe that the revelation in question is genuine.
III. Palamas on the Use of Philosophy in Theology
Given Palamas’ conception of philosophy as a purely human
science, it is only to be expected that he would be quite reserved towards the
use of philosophy in theology. Palamas’ stance on this issue is often thought
to contrast sharply with that of his rival, Barlaam. Indeed, the debate between
Palamas and Barlaam is often characterized by scholars as a dispute between a
mystical, experiential theologian and a rationalistic, ‘Latinophrone’
philosopher.[22] Barlaam,
however, seems to have strictly prohibited the use of philosophy in theology,
even though his doctrine of the knowledge of God, as it is developed in his
later writings, appears to have an intellectualist bent.[23]
In his fifth Antilatin
Treatise, for example, Barlaam attempted to show that the syllogisms of the
Latin scholastics could not be applied at all to truths concerning God. He did this by outlining the conditions that
any successful apodictic or dialectic syllogism must fulfill (following, in
part, the first section of Aristotle’s Posterior Analytics), before
going on to show that such conditions could not possibly be met in any matters
of a theological nature. He remarked, for instance, that the principles from
which apodictic demonstrations are derived must refer to the same genus as the
proposition to be proved; but there is no common genus shared by beings and
created realities on the one hand, and by supernatural and divine realities on
the other.[24] Robert
Sinkewicz sums up Barlaam’s position as follows:
Barlaam saw the source of Christian doctrine to lie
in the Scriptures and the Fathers who interpreted them. The doctrines of faith
are not determined or defined aristotelikôs. Indeed, it is the utmost impiety to submit divine truths to the
exigencies of human science. The procession of the Holy Spirit, which the
Fathers always held in apophatic reverence, could never be treated in the same
manner as a mathematical theorem or a phenomenon of natural science. Thus did
Barlaam express his disagreement with the Latin theologians.[25]
Palamas, by contrast, had no such
wish to make any absolute prohibitions on the use of philosophy in theology. In
his first letter to Akindynos, for example, we find Palamas questioning
Barlaam’s refusal to allow any apodictic demonstrations in theological
discourse. The Athonite based himself on the authority of the Fathers, who did
not refrain from using the term apodeixis
or even sullogistikê apodeixis.[26]
Furthermore, in his Triads in Defence of the Holy Hesychasts, Palamas
makes a significant concession:
But if one says that philosophy, insofar as it is
natural, is a gift of God, then one says true, without contradiction, and
without incurring the accusation that falls on those who abuse philosophy and
pervert it to an unnatural end.[27]
The gift of reason, although capable of perversion (as in
the case of demons, some pagan philosophers, and heretics), is in itself wholly
good. Palamas, therefore, exhorts Christians to use their God-given intellects,
without however making inflated claims for the scope of the human mind. And so,
for Palamas, “there is something of benefit to be had even from the profane
philosophers – but somewhat as in a mixture of honey and hemlock.”[28]
Although
Palamas’ position vis-à-vis the use of philosophy in theology appears to be
more liberal than that of Barlaam, in reality both are equally stringent.
Palamas, for example, allows apodictic demonstrations in theology, but his
conception of an apodictic demonstration reveals that, in allowing such
demonstrations, he is making very little concession to philosophical modes of
argumentation. According to Palamas, apodictic demonstrations regarding God
must be based solely on scriptural or patristic statements which are per se
true and axiomatic. Therefore, when Palamas produces an apodictic syllogism
against the filioque, his starting-point is not some principle that is
rationally compelling or self-evident, but two quotations from Pseudo-Dionysios’
The Divine Names.[29]
Such a notion of demonstration, however, has little in common with that
advocated by Barlaam and ultimately by Aristotle, who conceived of apodictic
arguments as based upon principles that any rational person would accept.[30]
Palamas, again like Barlaam[31],
ruled out the possibility of dialectic demonstrations within theology. What
concerned Palamas most about the use of dialectic was that it seemed to amount
to no more than a form of persuasive argumentation (pithanologia) whose principles are merely probable or plausible.
This, in Palamas’ view, did not accord well with Christian theology, which
demands nothing less than certainty, given that its doctrines are thought to be
revealed by God. Also, Palamas argued, the Fathers had explicitly forbidden the
use of dialectic in statements regarding God.[32]
In the Triads,
Palamas repeatedly points out the dangers of philosophy and, by extension, the
very limited role it can play in theology.[33]
Philosophy, in the view of Palamas, can breed pride and arrogance, as well as
false doctrines concerning both divine and created things.[34]
Furthermore, it is not the study of philosophy which brings salvation and which
purifies the soul, conforming it to the divine Archetype.[35]
Palamas, then, may allow philosophy to be of some use and value – but its value
is analogous to the therapeutic value in substances obtained from the flesh of
serpents. Philosophy is a dangerous mixture of truth and falsity, and it is
most needful that those who wish to separate the two should beware that they do
not take the deadly residue by mistake.[36]
Palamas, in short, regarded any alliance between philosophy
and theology as dubious and dangerous, but not totally lacking in value. He was
led to this position primarily due to his unduly restrictive conception of
philosophy, which in effect reduces philosophy to a purely academic endeavour
with curiosity, not faith or prayer, as its driving force. Thus an entire chasm
is opened up between the two fields, echoing the Pascalian distinction between
the false god of the philosophers and scholars, and the living God of Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob.[37] Palamas,
perhaps, can be excused, for philosophy in his time tended to be closely
associated with the thought of the pagan Greek philosophers. But the
perpetuation of this misleading dichotomy – with philosophy, logic, and reason
on one side, and theology, religion, and faith on the other – by many
contemporary theologians, Orthodox and non-Orthodox, is to be deeply regretted.[38]
Notes:
[1] In this paper, I must stress, I am only
concerned with that aspect of the dispute between Palamas and his foes that
concerns the value and the use of logical and philosophical forms of reasoning
in theology. Other aspects of the dispute – in particular, the Hesychast
debate, concerning the method of prayer and contemplation employed by some
monks at the time – will not be dealt with here.
[2] I am indebted in this section to John
Chryssavgis, “Patristic Theology, Hellenistic Philosophy, and Scholastic
Thought,” Phronema 9 (1994):
37-48, which provides an excellent and more thorough account of the historical
background sketched above.
[3] Not unexpectedly, the literature on the
encounter between Greek philosophy and the early Christian church is
voluminous. Some important studies of this subject include: A.H. Armstrong and
R.A. Markus, Christian Faith and Greek Philosophy (London: Darton,
Longman & Todd, 1960); Werner Jaeger, Early
Christianity and Greek Paideia (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
1961); and Henry Chadwick, Early Christian Thought and the Classical
Tradition: Studies in Justin, Clement, and Origen (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1966).
[4] Tertullian, The Prescription
Against Heretics, trans. Peter Holmes, ch. 7, in Alexander Roberts and
James Donaldson (eds), The Ante-Nicene Fathers: The Writings of the Fathers
Down to A.D.
325 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1980), vol. 3, p.246.
[5] Some of the similarities that Justin found
between Greek philosophy and Christianity are discussed by A.J. Droge, “Justin
Martyr and the Restoration of Philosophy,” Church History 56 (1987):
306, and Henry Chadwick, “Justin Martyr’s Defence of Christianity” in his History
and Thought of the Early Church (London: Variorum Reprints, 1982),
pp.293-94.
[6] For an in-depth study of this renowned
theory, see Ragnar Holte, “Logos Spermatikos: Christianity and Ancient
Philosophy According to St. Justin’s Apologies,” Studia Theologica 12
(1958): 109-68.
[7] On the theme, found in much early Christian
literature, that the best ideas in Greek philosophy were sourced from the
Hebrew Scriptures, see Daniel Ridings, The Attic Moses: The Dependency Theme
in Some Early Christian Writers, Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia,
vol. LIX (Göteborg, Sweden: Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis, 1995). This
theme finds its most famous expression in the rhetorical question of the
second-century neopythagorean philosopher, Numenius of Apamea: “What is Plato,
other than Moses speaking Attic?”
Unlike Justin, Tatian (who considered
himself to be Justin’s disciple) had nothing but contempt for Greek culture in
general and Greek philosophy in particular, as is clear from his only extant
work, Discourse to the Greeks. It should be noted, however, that even
Justin’s stance towards philosophy was not entirely favourable. In his Dialogue
with the Jew Trypho, for example, Justin offers a detailed critique of
Greek philosophy. His critique, however, consists not in a repudiation of
philosophy as such, but in objections to certain beliefs or practices of
several philosophical schools – e.g., he offers arguments against the Platonic
idea of the transmigration of the soul ( Dial. 4:2-7); the Stoics are
criticized for their rejection of freedom and moral responsibility ( Dial. 1:5);
and Pythagoreanism is criticized for demanding preparatory study of subjects
(such as music and astronomy), knowledge of which is not necessary for the
philosopher ( Dial. 2:4-5).
[8] Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis, Books
1-3, trans. John Ferguson (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of
America Press, 1991), book 1, ch.5, p.42. Clement’s positive outlook on
philosophy is also evident in his appropriation of Philo’s conception of
philosophy as the ‘handmaid of theology’. Clement’s views on the value of Greek
philosophy are discussed in Salvatore R.C. Lilla, Clement of Alexandria: A
Study in Christian Platonism and Gnosticism (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1971), ch. I.
One of
Clement’s most famous pupils was the great theologian, Origen (c.185-c.254),
who was “completely at home in the arguments of the Greek philosophical
schools, and could move with the familiarity of a master among the different
positions of Stoic, Epicurean, Platonist, and Aristotelian, using whatever he
needed to make his point, but never identifying himself with any one school”
(Henry Chadwick, The Early Church, Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1967,
p.101). The importance of philosophy for Origen is expressed best in his
controversial claim, as quoted by Gregory Thaumaturgus, that it is not possible
to be truly pious without having done philosophy (see Gregory Thaumaturgus, Oration
and Panegyric Addressed to Origen, trans. S.D.F. Salmond, in Alexander
Roberts and James Donaldson (eds), Ante-Nicene Fathers: The Writings of the
Fathers Down to A.D.
325, Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1995, vol. 6, p.27).
[9] See, for example, the Prologue in Gregory’s Great
Catechetical Oration, where he offers, in response to the Greek pagan who
believes in a plurality of gods, a complex demonstration as to why there can be
only one God (see P. Schaff and H. Wace (eds), Nicene and Post-Nicene
Fathers, 2nd series, Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1994, vol. 5, p.474).
Similarly, in his work On Infants’ Early Deaths, Gregory is not content
with merely quoting Rom 11:33-34 and leaving the matter as another ‘mystery’,
but attempts – partly through the use of philosophical argumentation – to
arrive at some explanation (see Schaff and Wace (eds), Nicene and
Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd series, vol. 5, pp.372-81, esp. pp.374-75). Again,
in his brief treatise To Ablabius: On Not Three Gods, Gregory models
trinitarian theology on Plato’s teachings of the One and the Many. Examples
like these abound in Gregory’s writings. On the influence of philosophy on
early Christian thought, see Christopher Stead, Philosophy in Christian
Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994).
[10] For further on Gregory of Nazianzus’
indebtedness as well as reservations towards classical culture, see Rosemary
Radford Ruether, Gregory of Nazianzus: Rhetor and Philosopher (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1969).
[11] On the relationship between the Cappadocians
and Hellenism, see also Anthony Meredith, The Cappadocians (London:
Geoffrey Chapman, 1995), pp.114-24. Mention should also be made of two other
central figures in the complex encounter between Christian and Greek thought.
Firstly, there is the towering figure of Augustine (354-430), whose work set
the standard, particularly in the West, for all others who wished to put into
practice his ideal of fides quaerens intellectum (‘faith seeking
understanding’). A second important, albeit less influential, figure is John of
Damascus (c.660-c.750), who prized logic and philosophy highly enough to begin
his trilogy, Fount of Knowledge, with an in-depth study (known as the Dialectica
or ‘philosophical chapters’) of the basic logical and philosophical
concepts described in Porphyry’s Isagoge and Aristotle’s Categories.
See Andrew Louth, St John Damascene: Tradition and Originality in Byzantine
Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), ch.4.
[12] For a good introductory account of these two
factions, see John Meyendorff, Byzantine Theology: Historical Trends and
Doctrinal Themes (New York: Fordham University Press, 1974), ch.4.
[13] See Joseph Gill, The Council of Florence
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1961), p.227.
[14] The story is recounted in the Encomium
of Palamas composed by patriarch Philotheos Kokkinos – see PG 151:
559D-560A. Palamas, however, does not seem to have continued his studies beyond
the ‘general education’ program followed by most cultivated Byzantines, a
program which did not include the study of Platonic metaphysics. On Palamas’
early years, see John Meyendorff, A Study of Gregory Palamas, trans.
George Lawrence (London: The Faith Press, 1964), pp.28-41.
[15] See Palamas, The One Hundred and Fifty
Chapters, trans. Robert E. Sinkewicz (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of
Mediaeval Studies, 1988), chs 3-7, pp.85-91.
[16] See Sinkewicz, “The Doctrine of the
Knowledge of God in the Early Writings of Barlaam the Calabrian,” Mediaeval
Studies 44 (1982): 198.
[17] See section A2 of Aristotle’s Posterior
Analytics.
[18] See section A1 of Aristotle’s Topics.
[19] Palamas, The One Hundred and Fifty
Chapters, ch. 25, p.109.
[20] See Alvin Plantinga, “Advice to Christian
Philosophers,” Faith and Philosophy 1 (1984): 253-71.
[21] Plantinga adopts such a strategy in his
recent paper, “Supralapsarianism, or ‘O Felix Culpa’,” in Peter van Inwagen (ed.),
Christian Faith and the Problem of Evil (Grand Rapids, MI: William B.
Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2004), pp.1-25.
[22] This view is evident, for example, in John
Meyendorff’s A Study of Gregory Palamas, pp.116-33.
[23] See Sinkewicz, “The Doctrine of the
Knowledge of God in the Early Writings of Barlaam the Calabrian,” pp.241-42.
Nikephoros Gregoras took an even more prohibitive stance towards the use of
ancient logic – see Katerina Ierodiakonou, “The Anti-Logical Movement in the
Fourteenth Century,” in Ierodiakonou (ed.), Byzantine Philosophy and Its
Ancient Sources (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002), pp.221-24.
[24] Barlaam, Antilatin Treatise 5.77,
vv17-22; quoted in Sinkewicz, “The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God in the
Early Writings of Barlaam the Calabrian,” p.190, fn.35. Cf. Aristotle, Posterior
Analytics A2 71b22-23.
[25] Sinkewicz, “The Doctrine of the Knowledge of
God in the Early Writings of Barlaam the Calabrian,” p.196.
[26] See Sinkewicz, “The Doctrine of the
Knowledge of God in the Early Writings of Barlaam the Calabrian,” pp.196-97. In
line with this usage, Palamas’ gave one of his own works the following title:
Logoi apodeiktikoi
duo peri tês ekporeuseôs tou Hagiou Pneumatos (Two Apodeictic
Treatises on the Procession of the Holy Spirit), probably written during the
second half of 1335.
[27] Gregory Palamas, The Triads, trans.
Nicholas Gendle, ed. John Meyendorff (New York: Paulist Press, 1983), p.27.
[28] Ibid., p.28. For a good summary of
the arguments offered by both Palamas and Barlaam on the question of the use of
demonstrative and dialectical arguments in theology, see Ierodiakonou, “The
Anti-Logical Movement,” pp.229-32.
[29] See Palamas, First Letter to Akindynos
11.215.3-12; quoted in Ierodiakonou, “The Anti-Logical Movement,” p.231, fn.41.
Palamas quotes from sections 2.5 and 2.7 of The Divine Names ( PG
3:641D and 645B).
[30] As this indicates, Palamas’ grasp of
Aristotelian logical theory does not appear to be as strong as Barlaam’s, a
point also emphasized by Ierodiakonou in “The Anti-Logical Movement,”
pp.233-34.
[31] Katerina Ierodiakonou, however, notes that
Barlaam did make some room for dialectical syllogisms, for he thought that they
could provide us with some knowledge of God’s attributes (but not his essence),
as long as they were based on the doctrines of Scripture and the divinely
inspired theories of the ancient philosophers (see Ieradiakonou, “The
Anti-Logical Movement,” p.228).
[32] See Sinkewicz, “The Doctrine of the
Knowledge of God in the Early Writings of Barlaam the Calabrian,” pp.197-98.
[33] A similar view of philosophy is expressed in
Palamas’ other major work, The One Hundred and Fifty Chapters (see, for
example, ch. 25).
[34] Palamas, The Triads, p.29.
[37] See Blaise Pascal, Pensées, trans.
A.J. Krailsheimer (London: Penguin, 1966), pp.309-10.
[38] Consider, for example, the following
statements by Archimandrite Vasileios:
In philosophy, in the field of
theories, systems and hypotheses, each person can say and maintain whatever he
likes. He can call his opinion whatever he likes. He can assign to it the most
astronomical nominal value, even to the point of saying that it has the value
of “the truth”. In theology, however, this cannot happen. Orthodox theology is
a different matter from beginning to end. It does not assert a proposition; it
bears witness. It is not contradiction, but confession.
( Hymn of Entry: Liturgy and
Life in the Orthodox Church, trans. Elizabeth Briere, Crestwood, NY: St.
Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984, p.32)
By contrast, scholastic
theology and intellectual constructions do not resemble the Body of the Lord,
the true food, nor His Blood, the true drink; rather they are like a stone one
finds in one’s food. This is how indigestible and inhumanly hard the mass of
scholasticism seems to the taste and the mouth of one accustomed to the liturgy
of the Church, and it is rejected as something foreign and unacceptable. ( Hymn
of Entry, p.36)
Vladimir Lossky, in a similar vein, writes:
Theology starts from a fact:
revelation. “God has spoken to us finally through His Son” (Heb. 1:2). The
philosophy which speculates on God starts, on the contrary, from an idea. For
the theologian, the point of departure is Christ, and it is also the point of
arrival. The philosopher raises himself to an idea from another idea or from a
group of generalized facts according to an idea. For certain philosophers, the
search for God corresponds to an inherent necessity in their thought: God must
exist so that their conception of the universe might be coherent. There follows
the search for arguments to demonstrate the existence of this necessary God –
whence these “proofs of the existence of God,” “proofs” which the theologian
can well do without.
( Orthodox Theology: An
Introduction, trans. Ian and Ihita Kesarcodi-Watson, Crestwood, NY: St.
Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1978, pp.18-19)
Such views on philosophy abound in Lossky’s writings
and can be found in the work of many recent Orthodox theologians, particularly
Christos Yannaras – see, for example, Yannaras’ Elements of Faith: An
Introduction to Orthodox Theology, trans. Keith Schram (Edinburgh: T &
T Clark, 1991), ch. 2. For a powerful critique of these anti-intellectualist
tendencies within Christianity, see Simon Tugwell, “Scholarship, Sanctity and
Spirituality,” Communio 11 (1984): 46-59.
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