Eschatological issues

I've been making my way through Jaroslav Pelikan's book The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition. The early church apparently used much eschatological language in their liturgies and worship.  The saints in the early church were so convinced that Christ was going to return imminently that it was a process for them to come to terms with the possibility that the parousia may actually not happen in their lifetime. Still, eschatological things were on their minds.

Indeed, the evidence even suggests that the apolcalyptic vision was not eclipsed as quickly or as completely in the church of the second and third centuries as the statements of a few theologians would indicate. One indication of the vision's survival is the tenacity of the millenarian hope, based upon Revelation 20:1-10. Probably the first indication that the prophecy in this chapter was being interpreted to mean an earthly reign of a thousand years following the return of Christ is that associated with the name of Papias.

Iraeneus picked up on the writings of Papias, who claimed to have arrived at this through "unwritten tradition:"

Iraeneus, with his reverence for "apostolic tradition," described in glowing terms the transformation of the cosmos and the animals during the millennium; as his authority he cited Papias.

Similar to us today, it seems as if this view was seen as one among a variety of scenarios:

It would seem that very early in the post-apostolic era millenarianism was regarded as as mark of neither orthodoxy nor of heresy, but as one permissible opinions among others within the range of permissible opinions.

It was also not just 21st century Christians who have an overdone fascination with identifying who the Anti-christ might be.  

The continuing precoccupation with the figure of Antichrist also indicates the persistence of certain apocalyptic themes.  Not only did the figure appear frequently in Tertullian, as might perhaps be expected, but patristic literature dealt with Antichrist enough to warrant the supposition that piety and preaching continued to make much of this apocalyptic sign.  Nor was the Antichrist simply a religious way of expressing the polticial conflict with Rome.  It would be this, as when Commandianus prophesied that Nero would rise from hell and proclaim, "I am Christ, to whom you always pray."  But Iraeneus saw in Antichrist the recapitulation of every error and idolatry since the deluge.

I remember hearing somewhere that premillenialism was a recent contribution to the various views on eschatological matters.  In light of that claim, I found this section interesting.

The early saints, just as we ought to, lived in light of Jesus' return.  They, like us, knew not when that might be, but still lived with an expectant, confident hope.  Church history is a continual reminder to me that people really don't change much over time. We do have a common bond with these people who live so long ago, and that bond begins with Christ.

What I love about history

.... is that it reminds me that there is nothing new under the sun.

In reading Jaroslav Pelikan's book The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition, he discusses contrary teaching and heresies in the ancient church:

As a departure from the truth of sound doctrine, heresy was a "doctrine of demons."  It was, Justin [Martyr] insisted, the devils who "put forward Marcion of Pontus" and who continued to produce heresies.  Although the demons were the ultimate source of heresy, Tertullian maintained that "heresies are themselves instigated by philosophy," and Hippolytus attacked the heretics because "they seek not for what the Sacred Scriptures declare, but laboriously set themselves to find a form of syllogism which may support their godlessness." (emphasis mine)

False teaching begins with an element of truth, but it eventually becomes twisted because the motive of the one twisting is not God's glory.  

That new-fangled religion

In the years following the death and resurrection of Christ, as Christians began to come to grips with what had happened, and as the Scriptures were being recorded and gathered, there was, naturally, a lot of conflict from those opposed to Christianity.  It was not just the Jews who objected to this new way; pagan religious forces also objected to what what appeared to be new and unproven.

Jaroslav Pelikan, in his book The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition, talks about the fact that one of the hurdles Christianity had to overcome was its newness:

It was also part of the campaign to prove the superiority of Christian doctrine on the grounds of its antiquity. Antiquity was widely regarded in pagan thought as lending authority to a system of thought or belief...

Because the Christian message was based not simply on some timeless truth, but on historical events of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus under Pontius Pilate, it appeared to be discredited as an innovation.

I could not help but see the irony in this compared to today.  Now, we consider that which is from antiquity as being outmoded our obsolete.  We tend to be suspicious of that which is old, and assume that the new is better.

Truly, there are those who wonder if there were any real Christians before Calvin and Luther, or worse, before Billy Graham or D.L. Moody.  We may turn our noses up at identifying with the historical church, but soak ourselves in pop culture, thinking it more enlightened.

Christianity was at one time suspect based on the very thing which we attribute as a vitrue: being innovative. Pelikan's observations certainly had me thinking.

He would be a blogger

I'm reading Henry Chadwick's The Early Church.  Right now, I'm reading about the Arian controversy in the years following the Council of Nicea.  In the context of discussing the various debates and players involved, Chadwick describes Apollinaris of Laodicea who was a supporter of Athanasius.  Chadwick describes him:

Apollinaris had a high sacramental theology, a sharp mind, and a pungent pen.

A pungent pen.  I think if he were alive today, he'd be a blogger. Apollinaris.com.

Reading the Church Fathers

Last year, I read the book Rediscovering the Church Fathers, by Michael Haykin.  At the end of the book, he recommended resources for anyone wanting to continue their study.  In addition to other books, he recommended reading the Fathers themselves.

Credo Magazine had a link to a site where you can do that.  The idea is that one can read seven pages a day for seven years and read everything.  Now, that's a long time commitment, but one must start somewhere. The site Read the Fathers has organized readings to help with that.  If you follow the site on Twitter, a link will be given to that day's reading at the Christian Classics Ethereal Library. One could purchase the hard copies, but it's fourteen volumes. Perhaps there is a way to buy each volume one at a time.  The readings CCEL are quite easy on the eyes, and I'm not always a lover of reading long things on my screen.

I began reading along on Sunday, and so far, I've really enjoyed it.  The first reading contained a letter to the Corinthians Church by Clement.  Some of the problems he addressed sounded very much like our own. Whether I continue with this remains to be seen, given time factors, but it doesn't take long to do each reading, and if I miss out on thirty minutes of social media or television, I don't think I'll suffer.