For more than twenty years I have been fascinated by various similarities between aspects of ancient Greek philosophy and that of ancient India. As one reads of Pythagoras, Plato, some of the pre-Socratics, and the Orphic tradition, one cannot help but notice the striking parallels within the philosophical strains flowing from the Subcontinent. The explanations for this are many but often lacking.
In attempting to address the origins of ancient Western esotericism and the appearance of notions such as metempsychosis, some will appeal to Greek contacts with Egypt, though upon further examination this proves unsatisfying - as does a simple appeal to cultural interactions with Achaemenid Persia as the cosmologies and strands of thought are quite different. Others will argue that Indian thought was simply affected by Alexander and that Subcontinental philosophy cannot said to have matured until the Hellenistic epoch. This line of thought is also completely unsatisfactory and cannot account for the long nastika tradition as seen in Buddhism, Jainism, and other heterodox (from the admittedly broad standpoint of Hindu-Brahmanist orthodoxy) schools. Nor can the Sumerian angle sufficiently explain this - an argument that posits ancient Mesopotamia as the ideological font which dispersed to the pre-Vedic Indus Valley in the East and to Persia, Egypt, and ultimately Greece in the West.
So then how to account for the similarities? Did they arise independently? Is it coincidental (humanly speaking) or perhaps there's a theological/anthropological explanation for such patterns in man's thought after the Fall and the Flood. Under such a view the ideas might arise independently. Along similar lines of thought, one is reminded of the remarkable similarities between Christian monasticism and that of Tibet. Though based on completely different religious concepts, there is nevertheless a great deal of structure and practice that exhibits a remarkable similarity. How does this happen?
My path to these questions was through study of philosophy but also my own historical interests which have at times focused on Asia and its intellectual currents. I have long found myself drawn to the Greek colonies of the Dark Age - especially those in the region of the Black Sea. It's a region that has long captivated me - a world of wonder out of a Robert E Howard story. It's a realm of legendary tales, of Greek colonies and civilisation on the edges of the known world. It was there that Greeks met Scythians and the people of Colchis, and heard tales from the wilds of wolfman-tribes, cannibals, sorcerers, warrior women, and ancient conflicts between griffins and the one-eyed Arimaspi. Jordanes tells of ancient battles between Goths and Egyptians, of ancient kingdoms and history forgotten and unknown by all but a few. And always hovering in the background are the legends of the Argonauts and the ghosts of the Trojan War - if they are in fact legends. I have no doubt that Tolkien's Rhun, the Iron Hills, and likely Dale were inspired by such history and geography.
But there are also intriguing stories of Indian colonies and other pilgrims from the East and far off Hyperborea. The story of Anacharsis (sometimes reckoned among the Seven Sages) has long fascinated me but is eclipsed by the wandering tales of Aristeas and Abaris, and the sorcery and other wonders associated with them.
Aside from all the tantalizing possibilities of adventure and the quest, it was a place where ideas would come into contact. The story of Zalmoxis and the mysterious connections between some Thracian groups and the ancient Cimmerians continues to intrigue me - as does the idea that Orphics, Mysians, and others in the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the Black Sea region embraced vegetarianism, nonviolence, and taught reincarnation. The Black Sea (the northern and eastern shores in particular) were the launch-pad for great adventures into Wilderland and at the same time represented the Western terminus of the East. Even today the land is Eurasian, defying categories and difficult to place.
I thought it too much of a coincidence that some of the original philosophers emerged from Miletus - the Ionian city that sponsored colonies all along the Euxine littoral. As such it was Miletus that would have had the greatest potential for such contacts - it was the fertile ground for new and exotic harvests.
With Thales we suddenly find the rise of Monism and the utilisation of logic and new forms of mathematics. With Anaximander we find a revolution in cosmology, an early attempt at scientific method, and abstract concepts like the infinity of apeiron. He was also said to be a teacher of Pythagoras and his mysticism which later spread to Southern Italy (Magna Graecia). And let us not forget Anaximenes and his attempts at expanding on his Milesian forebears in the realms of natural philosophy, cosmology, and the nature of reason.
This was something new, a break with the mythological tradition and the rise of Western philosophy. But how fascinating that this Milesian-led turn seems to echo categories and parallel concepts found in Ancient Indian thought. This would continue with other pre-Socratics such as Pherecydes and Pythagoras and then of course everything would change with Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle.
It's a question I have long pondered - as have many others, but I have never been satisfied with the explanations. Then I encountered the work of Thomas McEvilley (1939-2013) and specifically his 2001 work - The Shape of Ancient Thought. When I saw in the contents and index that he was drawing connections between Orphics and Jains and discussing Black Sea shamans, and channels of diffusion, let's just say my interest was piqued. And I was not disappointed. The book is sweeping, almost epic in scope. It's easily one of the more challenging books that I have ever read and it took me a long time to get through its roughly seven-hundred rather dense pages. It was an on-again/off-again experience and to this day I still pick it up, review my notes and re-read portions of it. Thankfully it is really a series of near-independent essays and thus it can be read in stages.
It's not for everyone and is admittedly something of a side-show, a diversion, or even distraction from the topics I normally focus on in terms of the Church, history, and doctrine. And yet I began to understand why McEvilley became so controversial and this interested me from the standpoint of theology. He argues that India gave as much to the Greeks as they did in return. And that in many respects Indian philosophy flowered before the Greeks and did much to spark and shape its development. The evidence is largely circumstantial but pretty compelling at times. At the very least the Greeks seem less 'unique' as they were not alone nor independent in their thinking.
Realizing this notion would be upsetting to the advocates of Christendom - especially those that move beyond the inane 'Judeo-Christian' narrative and instead recognize the more historically accurate Greco-Roman roots (and the later Teutonic synthesis), I was all the more inspired to pursue these questions and meditate on their meaning. This thesis would be viewed as very damaging to the unique claims of Christianity - or should I say Christendom, for I do not view them as even remotely the same.
I was reminded of the attempts by some Right-wing and Christian historians to dispute the influence of Islam on Medieval Christendom or the notion that during the late Dark Ages (800-1000) Islamic civilisation was far advanced of the West and/or Christendom. Historians point to things like mathematics, architecture, philosophy, and medicine and how the West benefitted from Islam in the contact zones - places like Iberia and Sicily. This seems to upset some and yet it cannot be disputed. For my part since I place little stock in the 'Christian' aspects of medieval culture or Scholastic theology, I remain little troubled by the debate and suffer no attacks of inferiority or feelings of contempt. But that's just the Middle Ages, the real debate is over the Greeks and the influence they had on the Romans - and thus on the Church, particularly in the Constantinian era and that of the Ecumenical Councils.
McEvilley's thesis (if true) would be akin to a nuclear bomb exploding the common narratives regarding philosophy and the rise of Christian theology. The common argument is that Greek culture and philosophy were a vehicle for the Church - for the diffusion of Scripture and the expansion of the theological lexicon. The idea is that the Greeks were different, unique - in some ways almost but not quite Christian. Some of the early apologists argued this way and throughout Church history the ancient Greek philosophers have been esteemed by figures as diverse as the Scholastics, Dante, and Zwingli - sometimes even finding a place in heaven. The Church would come to appropriate a great of this philosophy as it fleshed out a comprehensive theological encyclopedia. Slowly but surely the West (even the pre-Christian West) became something special - sanctified. McEvilley's narrative (whether intending to or not) fires a shot across the bow and represents an existential threat to this now largely assumed framing of intellectual history.
What if the Greeks were not unique but had incorporated significant elements and aspects of not just pagan thought (which should be obvious) but even that of the East? Eastern thought with its monisms and dualisms, it's ambiguities, strange esoteric categories, and mysticism has long been suspect in the West and yet as McEvilley rightly argues - it's all there in the Greek tradition. Many have just chosen to ignore it or only focus on the bits they happen to like or find useful.
If Greek philosophy was in fact a synthesis with Eastern thought - where does that leave the Christian theological tradition?
Again, for someone like me who tries to argue for a Biblicism divorced from scholastic assumption and common sense realism - this is not a problem. In fact I would contend it simply strengthens the argument that we as Christians should not seek to appropriate philosophy but remain sceptical toward it and understand its real limitations and even dangers. Rather than celebrate the great philosophical theologians which emerged in the time of Constantine, Theodosius, and the early Ecumenical Councils, we ought to revisit these chapters of Church history and possibly re-think the very nature of the theology as it developed.
The Catholic mindset recoils at such an 'Eastern thesis' as it is under the assumption that doctrine (or should we say the Magisterial Doctrinal Tradition) was (and is) guided by the Holy Spirit and thus the appropriation of Greek philosophy was sanctified. As stated, the narrative becomes uncomfortable if Greek philosophy is rooted in not just fallen natural philosophy but outright Eastern syncretism. Even Thomism with all its affirmations regarding natural law would (I think) struggle to justify such a scenario. I suppose a post-Vatican II Catholicism would be able to embrace this, but how to do this without making shipwreck of all that came before - I cannot say.
This 'Catholic-philosophical mindset' would include many if not most Protestants of the Confessional tradition. But for those who embrace the narratives surrounding the Constantinian Shift and the Great Apostasy - this takes on a somewhat different hue.
At that point the appropriation of Greek philosophy by Ante-Nicene Church leaders represents a further and more emphatic example of unfaithfulness and corrupt thinking already creeping in. And then in the Constantinian epoch (as these notions and terms become orthodoxy and eventually state-enforced orthodoxy), they represent a facet within the larger complex of apostasy - the period in which the Church not only embraced Greek thought, it was imposed on Scripture. And with the Constantinian Shift, the Church embraced a wholly new set of values related to questions of power, violence, and mammon. The philosophical angle not only signifies this new method for constructing theology, but became the means for the development of an intellectual framework in defense of this existential shift in identity and values - a tight coherent circle to be sure, but contrived and unfaithful to the apostolic writings.
So
what then of the Trinitarian and Christological doctrines associated
with the Ecumenical Councils?
First of all, as I have previously
noted in other essays, this narrative is problematic. If the theology
of the councils is inspired, semi-inspired, canonical, or otherwise
binding, then why are all the other rulings of these councils
ignored? Apparently they only have bearing when it comes to
Trinitarian and Christological questions? What argument could be made
for that? The councils themselves declare they speak with the voice
of the Holy Spirit. As such, how can one embrace them (even just the
first four) and yet reject the proclamations regarding episcopacy,
the Theotokos, re-enlistment in the military, penance, usury,
monasticism, and the like?
I'm reminded of my recent interactions with an Anglo-Catholic priest and his approach to doctrine and Church authority. He can incorporate all of this in some kind of coherent manner, even if stretched at times, but the Magisterial Protestant tradition cannot. The other alternative is to reject it in toto and embrace the sectarian/underground/remnant view of the First Reformation which I have long advocated.
Am I therefore suggesting these primary Trinitarian and Christological doctrines be abandoned? God forbid. However, I am arguing that the formulations and the reliance on Hellenistic terms and concepts are problematic. Historical Theology reveals this as the Greek and Latin realms weren't always speaking the same language (no pun intended) when it came to these concepts and a great deal of confusion and even chaos ensued. Whether we are speaking of substance, essence, person-hood, nature, or even the concept of subordination - there are sometimes sharp differences. Latin Trinitarianism is different from the East and I am unwilling (Magisterial Protestant fashion) to simply side with the Latin West and argue the East lost its way - on these points. In some (if not most) respects, both West and East lost their way. We can reject the framework without rejecting all the content - but we are not bound by adherence to contrived narratives.
The concept of the Theanthropos antedates Nicaea and the later philosophically nuanced hypostatic union. This is not to affirm or deny the philosophically laden language of the Alexandrian School and in no way do the problems surrounding it legitimize or vindicate the Antiochan tradition which spawned not only Paul of Samosata but some would draw a further connection to Lucian and ultimately to Arius. Regardless of whether this succession is acknowledged, the school certainly gave rise to Nestorianism. Both Alexandria and Antioch were subject to strong philosophical influence and both (when elaborated) would lose their way.
The doctrine of the Incarnation is Scriptural and testified to in the Early Church and yet the concept is at least in part unelaborated and limited - a revealed mystery. Biblically the doctrine is disclosed in a series of dynamics or unresolved (and perhaps unresolvable) tensions. The same is true of the Trinity which as many will know appears (by name) in Tertullian - again without the full elaboration that would emerge in the ecumenical symbols.
Some believe the Ante-Nicene theology deficient or would argue that due to the succession of errors and heresies it was requisite that theology would become more complex. Such thinkers find the theology of the ante-Nicene period to be quaint and yet primitive and lacking. Few seem willing to entertain the notion that the ever-growing technical nature of theological response to error represented a wrong turn in itself - even a capitulation to the assumptions and methods of philosophical-theology. In so many cases the nature of error is not found in an issue yet to be fully elaborated by an ever-expanding and more exacting orthodoxy, but a fundamental flaw or error in method - a wrong turn made in terms of prolegomena - the very nature of how we understand doctrine and the pursuit of theology. This can be addressed and the error quashed without having to answer the error on its own terms, let alone rely on the development of a new categories and an ever more precise lexicon.
Theology eventually became very much like philosophy - one cannot study it without studying its history. Those that do so (and they are numerous in our day) are foolish and often end up falling into the same traps and errors that others did centuries before. Nothing is learned. And by wedding itself to philosophy, theology cannot escape the endless dynamism and thus (as history shows) it must keep re-casting itself. The attempts by Confessionalism to arrest this process are also tenuous at best and though its adherents are unwilling to see it, it is subject to the same forces.
At this point I would argue theology (and its development) should be learned and understood, but the task of the New Testament Christian is not to find your favourite figures, strains, or traditions but to see the tale as one both instructive and tragic, edifying and futile - and finally both enlightening and yet a cause for some despair. The only hope and comfort is found not in a tradition or the discourses of the theologians but in the text of Scripture - read with wisdom, discernment, and in a spirit of submission.
Given all that has been said here, one might ask - why even venture down the corridors of philosophical history? Why read something like McEvilley's Shape of Ancient Thought?
It's a fascinating road to explore as is historical theology and yet the lessons or the takeaway value as some might put it are in recognizing the folly and the futility of man's endeavours in this present evil age. This is not to say these projects aren't at times a kind of expression or even art which can certainly stir wonder and transcendence. But they must be taken with a grain of salt and one should be careful in how much authority is granted to them. Man is finite and fallen and this shapes (and even dominates) epistemology. This is all the more true when we touch on the true spiritual nature of reality.
And I don't mean to equate a study of Hellenism and Indian thought with historical theology or the larger body of Western thought. They are not the same and yet not altogether different as some would imagine. As The Shape of Ancient Thought makes clear there are remarkable similarities between the Pasupatas and the Cynics, Madhyamika and the Pyrrhonism, with other parallels found among the Vaisesikas, and in the Upanishads. Early Greek philosophy was also marked at times by a nascent materialism and something approaching a scientific method in terms of epistemology. Ancient India also had its materialist schools and they still exhibit influence within Hinduism today.
McEvilley's chapters on The One and the Many, Early Pluralisms in Greece and India, Skepticism, Empiricism, and Naturalism are actually quite interesting to the Christian reader, as are his treatments of dialectic, and the syllogism. Plato hovers in the background of all discussions - and in the background of much Christian thought as well. It must also be noted that his extensive treatment of Plotinus alongside Hindu and Buddhist thought is very interesting and while Neo-Platonism emerged after Christianity, its rendering of Plato's thought certainly resonated with many Christians in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages. Reviewing my notes, they are filled with countless little comments and asides in which discussions and debates brought to mind parallels and similarities within the spectrum of Christian thought and at times Biblical concepts. That said, they always go off track and result in dead ends and outright error. Philosophy is truly a dead end road.
There is admittedly a degree of value in studying these things, learning from errors, spotting the limitations, and even marvelling at the certainty born of coherence. And yet coherence is no guarantee of truth. It can build impressive castles which are later revealed to be made of paper or even air. As Christians we understand the need for divine revelation and yet run the risk of subordinating it and secularizing it when we force into the categories limited by our fallen senses and finite conceptions.
The insights of the ancients are brilliant at times and even a source of awe but the assumptions of Christendom which all too often posit a greater continuity are erroneous. McEvilley also spends some time discoursing on Western perceptions of India during the period of British domination. Racial bias clouded investigations and assessments of Indian thought and produced a twisted and less than honest narrative about their history and development - one that lives with us today. Even then (perhaps more than now) there was a sense of what was at stake in terms of the greater narrative regarding the West - and a dread of the alternative.
But even this narrative comes under strain when one acknowledges the influence of the Egyptians on the Greeks, and certainly the ways in which Mesopotamia influenced both. These are hardly 'Western' influences and yet for some reason these are accepted in a way the 'East' is not - in this case the East referring to the lands beyond the Fertile Crescent - Persia, India, and China. The larger Semitic (or perceived Semitic) strain is tolerated and yet the lines of civilisational continuity so relied on by both the Whig histories of yesteryear and contemporary narratives as well do not stand up to scrutiny.
I suppose if there's one strain of philosophy I resonate with it would be Scepticism - and as such I particularly resonate with thinkers like Montaigne, Bayle, Pascal, and Kierkegaard - I am not as keen on the two ancient Greek schools, though they are obviously of some interest to me. McEvilley also covers considerable ground regarding Pyrrho and his Indian parallels - of which there are many.
Like Tertullian I think the question regarding Athens and Jerusalem is not only legitimate but a live question that needs to be revisited and this remains so whether or not much that we call Christian Theology rests on a corrupt foundation of philosophy and syncretism, and whether or not the West and Christendom are in fact valid concepts at all.