‘The problem of fate, one which underlies any discussion of original sin, is one which existed long before the birth of the Church. In classical Greek thought, fate was balanced by the chance, albeit slim, that action both direct and heroic could allow a person to tip the scales. We see this in the work of Homer, where amid the machinations of gods and the workings of inevitable fortune, the presence of men of extraordinary bravery and intelligence could provide surprises. Such occasions, however, were deemed to be exceedingly rare. For most people, the inevitability of fate and the burden of responsibility was a common theme in Greek and Roman thought. This was not universal — certainly the followers of Socrates and the Stoics taught that man could overcome sin — but it was a persistent backdrop to belief in the Mediterranean basin.
Once the Church began to grow, the issue of fate appeared not within the context of any issue of original sin as we think of it, but as part of the Church’s battle against gnosticism. While we refer to gnosticism as if it were a unified school of thought, it was actually composed of any number of variations on “baptized” mystery religions, baptized in the sense that Jesus joined the cast of characters. Typically, however, they included a belief that the vast majority of men were doomed, and that only those who possessed special and particular knowledge had any hope of salvation. This special knowledge often included the learning of certain passwords, by means of which the ascending soul could proceed to heaven. Secure in their possession of the required knowledge, members of the sects were quick to point out that the hoi polloi might just as well roll over and die. Teaching a sort of proto-predestination, they divided humans into three classes: those very few who were enlightened, a slightly larger number who had some hope of becoming enlightened, and the great bulk of mankind, who were too dense and non-spiritual to ever even imagine that the truth existed. So rigid was the gnostic system that God Himself was powerless in the face of overwhelming necessity dictated by their beliefs.
Since the desire to be special and unique is a common human desire, gnosticism was a strong and attractive influence in the first few centuries of Christianity. As such, it was apparent to the early Church Fathers that the notion of inevitability must be addressed so that Christians would not fall into such destructive beliefs. Thus, in the middle part of the second century, St. Justin Martyr insisted that the only unavoidable fate was the rule that we were responsible for our individual actions, be they good or ill. (1 Apol. 43). A few years later, St. Irenaeus related that the gnostics taught that
“…everything passes by necessity into that state out of which it was created. And they make God himself the slave of this necessity, so that he cannot add immortality to that which is mortal.”
(Against Heresies, 2.14.4). The idea horrified Irenaeus. He insisted that
…all men are of the same nature, able both to hold fast and to do what is good, and, on the other hand, having also the power to cast it from them, and not to do it. (4.37.2).
Thus, from the beginning, the Church taught that fate, as seemingly powerful a force as it may appear in day to day life, was no master of men. Any man or woman could delve into his or her heart and strive for goodness. At the same time, however, it was also apparent, as St. Paul cried, that we “do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” (Romans 7:10). The early church was well aware of the problem, and equally as aware of the fact that only through Christ was an answer to be found to the problem of indwelling sin. At the same time, however, other than the philosophies of the gnostics, the actual question of the anthropology of sin, as it were, was not something which had to be considered by the Church.
That changed in about 316, when a young deacon in Alexandria named Athanasius wrote a short book which today remains one of the most insightful and persuasive theological works ever written, On the Incarnation. Athanasius was a spiritual child of the great St. Antony, the founder of desert monasticism in Egypt. In the desert, Athanasius had witnessed and participated in the enormous holiness of men and women struggling to work out their salvation.
St. Athanasius explained that the problem of sin was not one of inherited guilt, but instead was the result of the ever increasing sway upon men held by death and corruption. He quoted from the Book of Wisdom that “God created man for incorruption and as an image of His own eternity; but by the envy of the devil death entered into the world.” (Wisdom 6:18). It is not that our ancestors after Adam and Eve were guilty of the sin that led to the Fall. Nor, on the other hand, were they thus not responsible for their own sins. Despite the desperate condition of the world, there remained a knowledge of good and a desire to refrain from sin. The answer to the dilemma posed by St. Paul and explored by St. Athanasius, was found in Christ, and His destruction of death. Not a juridical transaction, not a case of appeasing an angry Father, but a rescue of men from death and corruption.
Then came St. Augustine.
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