Cyprian died in 258, seven years after Antony’s birth in 251. Antony, one of the first of the Desert Fathers, was one day in church he heard these words of Christ:
“If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell all that thou hast, and give to the poor, an thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me.”
So, when he was about twenty years old, he followed this injunction to the letter, sold all his possessions, donated the money to the poor, and joined himself to a group of ascetics living nearby. After about fifteen years he left this community for an old Roman fort, which he found at Pispir, and there spent the next twenty years living in complete solitude. Over the years he gradually acquired a group of disciples, who lived in nearby caves and who regularly begged him to come out from his hermitage so that he could guide them. When eventually he yielded to their pleas, and emerged from solitude, far from being shrivelled an emaciated, as everybody had expected, he was found to be hearty both in body and mind.
After spending five years instructing his disciples in the ways of the spiritual life he once again retreated into solitude. He emeged from hir retreat once, in 311 when he went to Alexandria to encourage Christians who were suffering in the persecution of Maximinus., and again in 355, when he emerged at the instigation of Athanasius to preach against the Arian heresy; still a force thirty years after the Council of Nicea. The following year he died whilst still living in solitude.
Between them the lives of Paul, Polycarp and Irenaeus, which were considered in previous posts, cover the period 30-200AD. Around 200AD, Cyprianus Thascius Cecilius was born in Carthage, North Africa. Up until his conversion ca 245 Cyprian held a position as a teacher of rhetoric, he was well known as a writer, and also for his skill as an orator. The latter he could put to good effect when employed as an advocate in a court of law.
After his conversion Cyprian seems to have abandoned the study of anything other than Scripture and the second century Christian writers. He was especially influenced by Tertullian, whom he regarded as his master. Not long after his conversion he was ordained a priest, and soon after that he was elected Bishop of Carthage. The generosity he had shown in giving away a large part of his personal wealth to help the poor, probably helped to secure his election. He had the support of neighbouring bishops, but not all the clergy in Carthage felt happy with his election.
In 249 Decius became the Roman Emperor, and issued a decree requiring all his subjects to sacrifice to pagan gods, obtaining a certificate to prove that they had done so. Cyprian fled into exile, and in doing so handed ammunition to those of his clergy who had been less than enthusiastic about his election. Whilst in exile he ruled his congregation through letters which were carried for him by a loyal deacon.
During the persecution many Christians in Carthage fell away; either sacrificing to the pagan gods in order to obtain the necessary certificate, or , if they had the money, buying one from a corrupt Roman official. When they subsequently sought readmission into the Church a split opened up, between, on the one hand, those who were happy to readmit them with the minimum of formalities, those, on the other hand who, like Cyprian, first wanted to see some acts of repentance, and, on the third hand, the ultra rigourists who thought they could not be readmitted under any circumstances, except if they were on the point of death. Cyprian’s view was the one affirmed when, in 251, the Council of Carthage was summoned to settle the dispute.
A related dispute broke out in 255 over the validity of baptism when it is carried out by heretics or schismatics. In Cyprian’s view, anybody baptised by an apostate or heretic could not be admitted into the Church unless they were first rebaptised. On the other hand, the Pope’s view was that baptism was always valid, provided only that a valid baptismal formula had been used when it was carried out. An acrimonious correspondence between Cyprian and the Pope followed, but then the persecution initiated by the emperor Valerian broke out, and both parties had their minds turned to matters of more immediate concern. This time Cyprian did not flee into exile, but stood his ground, and refused to perform the required sacrifices to pagan gods. As a result, in he was banished from Carthage in 257. A year later he was brought back to Carthage, and in September he was beheaded on the orders of the new proconsul.
How often is it heard that religion is the cause of all wars? Even for people as semi-educated as some new atheists seem to be, that is a statement which can only be made if it is accompanied by a complete and wilful ignorance of historical fact. Was the First World War caused by religion, or the Second World War, or the Russian Revolution, or the American War of Independence, or….. The list goes on, and it is difficult to see how any rational person could make such a statement in the first place.
But make it they do, and if Sam Harris and his crew were to be believed, it would only be necessary to remove religion from the planet for peace and benevolence to reign for evermore. Considering the extent to which they like to think of themselves as “enlightened”, their psychological naivete is breath taking.
Wars happen because homo-sapiens are perhaps the most violent species on the planet, and the new atheists can write as many worthless books as they like without thereby changing human nature one iota. One day, possibly in the not too distant future, that fact is going to dawn upon them. Then, like every fanatical and illiberal idealogue who has gone before them, they will decide that if persuasion can’t be made to usher in their version of Utopia, more strong arm tactics might be called for.
The amazing thing about them is the extent to which they display the very intollerance they affect to detest.
After Paul and Polycarp, the next saint I want to write a post on is Polycarp’s pupil, Irenaeus. Irenaeus is probably best known for his opposition to Gnosticism, and also for being the author of the earliest surviving list of canonical New Testament books (circa 180AD). It can be surprising to realise the extent to which texts, so recently written, already had unquestionable scriptural authority in the mind of somebody living circa 130-200.
Irenaeus was born in or around 130, most likely in Smyrna. By the time he had reached adulthood, in mid-second century, something ressembling the institutional Church of later centuries had already begun to emerge, with its claim to apostolic authority. Unlike the Church of later centuries, however, it was still close enough in time to the origins of Christianity for the claim to carry some weight. It was a theme Irenaeus was to make extensive use of in his battles with Gnosticism. For him it was a relatively simple matter to trace the line of apostolic succession back two or three generations, and argue that the bishops were therefore the legitimate teachers of Orthodox doctrine, inherited from none other than Jesus’ twelve closest disciples. The Gnostics may claim to possess secret knowledge which had been imparted by Jesus, but, as Irenaeus argued, it was not a claim they showed any sign of being able to validate.
Not much is known of Irenaeus’ early life. After studying in Rome he was ordained to the priesthood, and then, at the invitation of the bishop of Lyons, he became one of that city’s pastors. Gnosticism wasn’t the only heresy Irenaeus came into contact with, and, some time after arriving in Lyons, he was dispatched to Rome with a letter urging the Pope to be lenient on the Dontanists (an ascetic group expecting the imminent return of Christ). Upon his return from this trip Irenaeus was to discover that the Bishop of Lyons had died during his absence, and the search was on for a new bishop. Irenaeus was the favoured candidate, and he became Bishop of Lyons in 178.
This gave him the time he needed to compose his works refuting Gnosticism, but in 190 he again found himself travelling to Rome in the role of peace maker, this time after a spat broke out over the date on which Easter was to be celebrated. By the end of the second century a convention had become generally accepted whereby Easter was celebrated on the Sunday following the date of the Jewish Passover. However the church in Asia Minor was celebrating it on the same day as the Jewish Passover, and the Pope had tried to rule this practice heretical. When the Quartodecimans (as they were called) refused to conform they were excommunicated. Irenaeus was instrumental in persuading the Pope to back down, and restore cordial relations.
Irenaeus died in 200, and although the tradition later grew up that he had been martyred, the circumstances are unclear.
I have just seen the following question on a forum:
“Are Jessus’ ethics livable?”
The short answer to that is no, they are not. Our inability to live them is the meaning of original sin. But that last sentence could be misunderstood. It does not mean that we are not under an obligation to aspire to the standard Jesus sets before us; it only means that we can be sure we will fail.
Of course, in theory Protestants believe in justification by faith, and not works, so our guaranteed failure to live up to Jesus’ ethical standards ought not to be understood as (necessarily) having eternal consequences. But in reality Protestants regularly betray the fact that in practice they believe in justification by works. – Whatever their theoretical position, their good (or at least reasonable) life is going to get them into heaven.
My impression is that there is something ressembling Pelagianism in present day Christianity; especially on the other side of the Atlantic. Remarks such as, “if we could all be jolly nice to one another, wouldn’t things be wonderful?” are often to be found on the internet. They are left by professed Christians, who have presumably heard of original sin, but I paraphrase only slightly. If that sort of pious exhortation was all that Christianity had to offer us it would probably be surplus to requirements. We could get the same platitudes from any lifestyle guru, and they would be about as much help to us.
An trophied sense of human sinfulness can have only one result, and that is to allow people to entertain the fantasy of an ideal society. Looking around they will realise that the current set up definitely is not an ideal society, and then somebody will set about the job of trying to create one, according to their favoured blueprint). Of course they fail, precisely because of human sinfulness. But then they resort to violence, because it seems to them that no other method is going to be effective in ushering in Utopia. The homeless and destitue (say) might obtain kinder treatment if the part their own sin had played in bringing about such a society were to be more keenly felt.
Of course the above paragraph is not meant to excuse us from trying to alleviate human suffering, but, given the fact of original sin, we should be in no doubt that it is always going to be here, and high ideals are not going to make it go away.
