Chapter 19 - Early Christian Philosophers on Concepts

Summary

‘Early Christian Philosophers on Concepts’ by George Karamanolis integrates some of the themes encountered in previous chapters into the broad theological perspective of the early Christian thinkers, according to which explorations in every area of philosophy are ultimately intended to reveal aspects of God’s relation to His creation. It is argued that the position of the early Christian philosophers on concepts is part of their perceptual realism and their stance against scepticism. Karamanolis examines three case studies: the theories of Clement of Alexandria, Origen, and Gregory of Nyssa. In all three cases, he maintains, concepts are treated both as mental representations and semantic/linguistic items through which we grasp reality. Clement develops his view on concepts in the context of an anti-sceptical elaboration of his thesis that knowledge of the world is propositional and attainable by humans, while Origen and Gregory of Nyssa defend more sophisticated theories of concepts in connection with their respective epistemologies. In every case a theological question motivates the Christian author’s stance with regard to the nature and formation of concepts.

1 Introduction

Early Christian thinkers are still rarely regarded as philosophers, which explains why very little work has been done on their epistemology and logic, the field of ancient logikē. They are still mainly or primarily seen as theologians who were engaged with philosophical questions only insofar as these had a bearing on contemporary theological debates.¹ This, however, is only partly true and needs to be qualified. Early Christian thinkers developed sophisticated views on the nature and creation of the world, the status of matter, human agency, the question of what constitutes the good life, and the relation between soul and body, as these topics were of theological significance in a variety of ways, shedding light primarily on how God and man relate to each other. There is no reason to think, though, that this broad theological perspective would diminish the philosophical nature of the engagement of early Christians with such traditional philosophical issues. Indeed, quite the opposite is the case. Their theological perspective would require early Christians to connect these topics to one other, since, as already stated, in their view they all converge on clarifying the relationship between God and man or God and the world. This is also what ultimately motivates the Christian engagement with epistemological and logical issues, such as the nature and role of concepts, as we will hopefully see below.

In the following I will investigate the rather uncharted area of early Christian views on concepts. I will argue that early Christians on the whole assume a certain position on concepts that becomes part of both their perceptual realism and of an anti-sceptical strategy. Roughly speaking, for them concepts are both mental and linguistic items, that is, mental representations on the one hand and meanings of words on the other; additionally, they maintain that we apprehend reality by means of concepts in both the above senses. The first interesting view on concepts among early Christians is found in an anti-sceptical context in the work of Clement of Alexandria, who, as we shall see, set out to defend the view that humans can attain secure knowledge of the external world and that this knowledge is propositional and conceptual. More sophisticated views on concepts emerge later in the works of Origen, Basil, and Gregory of Nyssa, but remain in much the same vein. Gregory, I shall suggest, defends a theory of knowledge according to which our knowledge is propositional and involves concepts. In his view, as I will explain, concepts are not only constituents of thought, that is, mental objects, but also and quite importantly constituents of propositions. Gregory defends the view that humans have the distinct capacity of producing concepts by means of which we perceive and think. Once again it is a theological issue that triggers the development of such views, namely the debate concerning the nature of names and especially divine names, a debate which was part of the trinitarian controversy. Both Basil and Gregory of Nyssa were involved in these debates. Yet Gregory’s view on concepts is particularly sophisticated, and it deserves to be appreciated independently of the theological framework in which it was created. This does not of course mean that I plan to take it out of its context, but rather that I will try to assess it as a philosophical theory of concepts on its own merit.

Before I move on to consider the philosophers of early Christianity who merit close study in this field, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Basil, and Gregory of Nyssa, a note on terminology is in order. All of them speak of concepts of either the human or the divine mind, and like earlier Greek thinkers, they denote concepts using a variety of terms, such as ennoia, dianoiai, noēmata, hupolēpseis, and epinoiai. All these terms can signify ‘concept’, ‘conception’, or ‘conceptualisation’, that which the mind grasps and holds, a kind of mental object. Gregory of Nyssa, for instance, uses the terms noēma, ennoia and epinoia to denote both concepts and conceptions, but he differentiates, as we shall see, especially between noēma and epinoia, reserving the latter also for the faculty that generates concepts. His terminological pluralism and his consistency indicate that he had a well-developed theory of concepts, which, as will be discussed, he partly takes over from his brother, Basil. I shall argue that Gregory is the first Christian thinker who emphasised both the role of concepts in human mental life as well as the particular human capacity to form concepts of various kinds.

2 Clement of Alexandria

Clement is the first Christian philosopher whose consideration of concepts is of quite some interest. He speaks of concepts twice in the eighth book of his Stromata or Miscellanies; first, when speaking of definitions and divisions and second when presenting Aristotle’s theory of categories.² The first instance foreshadows the second and the two are consistent with each other, although, as usual in his work and especially in book eight of his Stromata, the two instances are loosely connected. The first instance occurs in the section on division and definition (Strom. 8.17–21.6). Clement examines division and definition because he sees them as methods of figuring out what an object under investigation essentially is, that is, his motivation is primarily epistemological. As he says, definitions supply the knowledge of a being (8.19.1). In this context Clement argues that universal concepts (katholikai dianoiai) are involved in the definitions of things. Let us take a close look at the relevant passage:

οὔτ᾽ αὐτῶν τῶν πραγμάτων οὔτε τῶν ἰδεῶν οἱ ὅροι, ἀλλὰ γὰρ ὧν πραγμάτων ἔχομεν καθολικὰς διανοίας, τούτων τῶν διανοιῶν τοὺς ἑρμηνευτικοὺς λόγους <ὅρους>³ εἶναί φαμεν. τούτων γὰρ τῶν διανοιῶν καὶ αἱ διαιρέσεις γίνονται.

Definitions are neither of things themselves, nor of [their] forms, but regarding those things of which we have universal concepts, we say that <definitions> are accounts expressing these concepts. For divisions too are divisions of these concepts.

(Strom. 8.19.1–2; trans. Havrda modified)

Since my argument here rests heavily on the understanding of διάνοια as concept, I would first like to comment briefly on the use of the term in this context. Matyáš Havrda in his recent translation and commentary of Stromata 8 translates dianoia as ‘thought’.⁴ I think that this is incorrect for a number of reasons. Let me start with the fact that the whole chapter as well as the specific section of the text cited above speaks of definitions (horoi). A definition involves a subject and an account explaining it (hermēneutikos logos). This is what the cited text of Clement says: definitions (horoi) are explanatory accounts (hermēneutikoi logoi) about certain subjects. We are further told in the text that the dianoiai are subject to division, but these cannot possibly be divisions of thoughts but only of concepts of things, as we learn from Plato in the Sophist and the Statesman. What Plato divides there, are not thoughts or propositions but concepts of things, such as political skill (politikē) or animal, doing so in order to define something. A concept such as ‘animal’, ‘plant’, or ‘political skill’ can be divided in more than one way, depending on the criterion we would introduce, and this division reveals the extension of a concept. The extension of a concept, such as ‘animal’, is important if we want to know what an animal is. Finally, the adjective katholikos is generally applied to terms or concepts, not to thoughts; what is universal is the idea or concept of a book or a tree, not thoughts such as ‘this book is boring’ or ‘plants are living beings’. It is difficult to see in what sense such a thought could qualify as universal, while it is easy to see how the concept of book or tree is a universal – we operate with such concepts in our mental life (in our use of definitions, for instance, as we will see below) but not necessarily with thoughts such as those mentioned above. But the crucial question is what is the role of concepts in this context and, more especially, what is their function in a definition.

The idea that Clement puts forth here is apparently the following: when we define X, we account for it in a certain way or we predicate y on it, that is, we say X is Y. The question now is what the concepts (dianoiai) stand on this scheme. Clement apparently suggests that the concepts are what we define, the definiendum. Clement addresses the question of what the definitions are definitions of, and he suggests that they are neither of particulars nor of their forms but of universal concepts such as man or animal. Clement addresses the same question as Alexander in Quaestiones I.3, and the background text for both is Aristotle’s Metaphysics Ζ.15, 1039b27–1040a29, where Aristotle argues that neither particulars (kath’ hekasta) nor ideas (ideai) can be defined.⁵ Clement follows Aristotle in thinking that a universal concept (animal) can be defined, that is, we can give an explanatory account of it. Such a concept can also be divided; the concept ‘animal’, for instance, can be divided into ‘rational’ and ‘irrational’, or alternatively into ‘domestic’ and ‘wild’, ‘terrestrial’ and ‘winged’, and so on (as suggested in the Politicus). As I have said earlier, such a division can lead again to definition.

There are two interesting points for us here: first, that Clement regards concepts primarily as subjects of definitions; and second, concepts in his view form a hierarchy, that is, more general concepts can be divided into more specific ones – as I have said, ‘animal’ can be further divided into ‘rational’ and ‘irrational’, ‘terrestrial’ and ‘winged’, ‘domestic’ and ‘wild’ and so on. When we define a universal concept, we arrange and articulate our concepts in an orderly way, connecting the concept we want to define (the definiendum) to more and less general concepts (the definiens). This of course is not only a linguistic but primarily a cognitive process; we obtain knowledge of our world through the application of concepts to other concepts. This view is in accordance with the general tone of Stromata 8. Although the book as we have it today looks unfinished or like a mere summary of material that has not been properly edited by its author, its first chapter strongly suggests that the author’s main concern is epistemological. In this chapter Clement sets out to show that secure knowledge is possible and goes on to establish guidelines for its demonstration, arguing against the Pyrrhonian sceptics who cast doubt on the attainability of knowledge (Strom. 8.4). Clement’s point about the role of concepts further supports his general epistemological view that secure knowledge of our world is possible precisely because we are in a position to obtain and clarify universal concepts. His next step is to show that we are also in a position to classify things under universal concepts.

Clement does this in the section on the Aristotelian theory of categories, albeit without naming Aristotle (Strom. 8.24.1). It is not at all clear why Clement introduces this particular philosophical theory in this part of his work, being the first Christian to do so, as far as we know.⁶ Nonetheless the section on the categories is part of the chapter on the principles of knowledge directed against the Pyrrhonians and is a continuation of the section on division and definition referred to above. Apparently, the doctrine of the categories is also regarded from an epistemological point of view: Aristotle is viewed as someone who gives us a clue as to how we conceive and understand the world. Clement starts by focusing on speech (phōnē), distinguishing three of its aspects on the basis of Aristotle’s De interpretatione 1, 16a4–9: (a) names that are symbols of meanings or concepts (noēmata; which I will explain below) and symbols of things; (b) meanings or concepts (noēmata), which are, as he says, likenesses (homoiōmata) and imprints (ektupōmata) of things; and (c) the underlying things (ta hupokeimena pragmata, 8.23.1). Clement then draws an analogy: just as all names are reducible to the finite, twenty-four, elements (stoikheia) of language, the letters of the alphabet, all beings (onta) are similarly reducible to universals (katholou).⁷ From this point Clement moves on to the Categories, arguing that philosophers have discovered some elements (stoikheia), the categories as it will turn out, under which everything in the world can be classified and this is how we manage to obtain knowledge, by relying on universals (8.23.3–4). He explicitly states what these universal classes are: the Aristotelian categories that he subsequently lists (8.23.5–6). Clement concludes by stating that the categories are ‘elements of beings in matter’ (8.23.6).⁸

Clement does not explain what he means by ‘elements of beings in matter’. It is important to notice, though, that in this context he speaks of beings in matter or material beings, which means that he takes Aristotle’s theory of categories to apply only, or at least primarily, to sensible, material, beings. Apparently for Clement, material beings are subject to predication and predication is understood to be any of the Aristotelian categories, namely substance, quality, quantity, relation, and so on. Presumably it is precisely these predicates that are elements of beings in matter in the sense that they constitute what material beings actually are, such as ‘animal’, ‘red’, ‘one-meter-long’, ‘in the marketplace’, etc. Such predicates make something what it is, and in this sense they are elements of it.

The complication, however, is that Clement understands the Aristotelian categories (substance, quality, etc.) not only as elements of material beings but also as elements of noēmata (Strom. 8.23.1, 3). It is striking that he speaks of beings (onta) that are infinite and not just of things, meaning both material things and noēmata.⁹ One question that arises here is how the categories relate to material beings on the one hand and to noēmata on the other and further how noēmata relate to universal elements (ta katholou, Strom. 8.23.3), to the categories.

Clement does not offer an explicit answer. Several hints, however, help us reconstruct his underlying view. Clement follows the tendency of a certain branch of Aristotelianism that frames the understanding of the categories with the distinctions made in De Interpretatione.¹⁰ As I have stated above, he establishes an analogy between things and elements such as the categories on the one hand and names and letters on the other – just as the infinite number of names is reducible to the twenty-four elements of language, the letters, so is an infinite amount of things reducible to certain finite elements, to the ten categories. Clement describes a thing as subordinate (hupotassomenon; Strom. 8.24.1) to a certain class, such as substance, quality, relation, to one of the Aristotelian categories. But Clement had earlier suggested that not only things (hupokeimena pragmata) but also noēmata are reducible to universal classes, the categories (8.23.3). The fact that noēmata are on the one hand symbols of names and on the other likenesses (homoiōmata) and imprints (ektupōmata) of things suggests that noēmata are both meanings and concepts. And if this is the case, then Clement seems to suggest that the categories are universals classifying both things (pragmata) and concepts (noēmata), and in this sense they constitute elementary kinds of beings (onta), which include both things and noēmata. When we wish to obtain knowledge either of a thing or of what someone has in mind, a concept, we can proceed in a similar fashion by asking under which of these general elementary classes the thing or the concept falls – that is, whether it is a substance, a quality, a quantity, a relation, etc. In this sense the Aristotelian categories function as elementary concepts by means of which we classify both things in the world and concepts in our minds and thus define and also apprehend them. And in this sense the Aristotelian categories are elements of both beings in matter and of concepts according to Clement; they are classes of both material beings and of concepts.

If this is the case, then Clement distinguishes two classes of concepts, namely (a) concepts of things, such as ‘tree’ or ‘color’, and (b) concepts of general entities, such as ‘substance’ and ‘quality’. And he further suggests a hierarchy of these two kinds of concepts such that the concepts of particulars of the first class (noēmata), fall under those of general entities of the second class (katholou).

If my reading is correct so far, then according to Clement, Aristotle’s theory of categories aims to show what the universal kinds under which we classify particular things in the world are. In this sense Clement’s presentation of the theory of categories continues and complements his chapter on definition, where concepts and not particulars are presented as subjects of definitions. Here we learn how universal concepts classify particulars. Clement’s reference to Aristotle’s theory of categories indicates that, on his view, human beings are in a position to form universal concepts under which we classify particulars, both particular, material, things and also concepts of them. Such knowledge of universals enables us to ultimately achieve scientific knowledge, that is, to know the causes of things in general, which means that we are able to know why things are what they are. And by showing how this is possible, Aristotle’s theory of categories allegedly disarms the sceptical arguments against the possibility of achieving secure knowledge, or at least this is what Clement claims.

In the chapter on the categories Clement appears to suggest that concepts are both mental items and linguistic significations and that they make up a hierarchy, namely they are structured into more and less general ones, or into concepts of high and lower-order generality. With this claim Clement comes close to Porphyry’s interpretation of the categories to the extent that he implies that concepts are abstractions of material things and that they mediate between names and things.¹¹ We name something X or Y because we have the concept of X or Y, which we can then communicate to others by means of names. Both Clement and Porphyry find this point in Aristotle’s Categories. Clement’s three-tier theory of names, things and concepts mediating between the two is also reminiscent of, and perhaps influenced by Stoic semantics. Yet in my view Clement is closer to Porphyry in taking the view that the categories are not only significant expressions but also mental items, which have a linguistic expression as well; that is, categories amount to concepts, which Clement specifies as high-order concepts, that is, concepts of high-order generality, through which we come to know the world as it is.

At this point we can hopefully understand in what sense Clement’s appeal to the doctrine of the categories forms part of his effort to outline an anti-sceptical epistemology: Aristotle’s categories are important elements for human cognition insofar as they constitute classes under which we classify things in the world and think or conceive of them in everyday life.

3 Origen

Origen agrees with Clement in considering concepts to be both mental and linguistic items. He speaks both of concepts in the divine mind, especially in the mind of the Son, and of human concepts, in particular our concepts (epinoiai) of God. Origen appeals to concepts while addressing two major philosophical questions: (a) how God created the world, and (b) how God is simple despite the fact that we conceive of him in many different ways. Let me begin by considering the first question.

The issue of cosmogony including the creation of man is central to all early Christian thinkers and Origen is no exception. What distinguishes Origen is that he undertakes to address a number of questions relevant to cosmology that previous Christian thinkers left without a satisfactory answer. One such question was how we should understand the coming into being and formation of matter by an immaterial principle, God. Origen sets out to specify what it means to say that God created the material world. He first eliminates the possibility that God created it from pre-existing matter on the grounds that such a possibility would suggest that God’s beneficent activity depends on an external factor, namely matter (Origen in Eusebius, Praep. evang. 7.20.2–3). Such an external, independent factor or principle, however, would diminish God’s potency and freedom of will as well as God’s goodness and beneficence (ibid. 7.20.3). Origen further points out that the view that the world has been created from preexisting matter is absurd in other regards as well; for, he says, it is not the case that the world is created out of matter simpliciter; rather, the world is created out of a certain kind of matter, namely informed matter, and there is no inert, remaining matter, as is usually the case with human craftsmen.¹² In this manner Origen stresses that God is also the creator of matter used in the creation of the world and that this matter is of a certain origin and nature.¹³ Origen argues that the matter used in creation was not only of a certain quantity (Princ. 2.1.4) but also of a certain kind (tosautēn kai toiautēn, in Eusebius, Praep. evang. 7.20.5, 8). He suggests that matter was flexible enough to take on (dektikē, eiktikē) the properties bestowed upon it by its origin, the creator (Praep. evang. 7.20.5, 9). If matter was already by its nature equipped with such features by its nature, then, continues Origen, that would mean that the world was created by itself in a kind of spontaneous generation. But this is absurd, Origen says, because the ability of matter to assume different forms and allow for different shapes suggests that it is a product of wisdom (sophia) and providence (pronoia); otherwise, matter would not transform itself in ways that contribute to the beauty and order of the world (Princ. 2.1.4).¹⁴ The fact that matter does so, suggests that it has a nature such that it contributes to the orderly arrangement of the world (Eusebius, Praep. evang. 7.20.4) as food does when it is taken into the human body.

Clearly, Origen sharply distinguishes between matter and bodies on the one hand and between matter and qualities on the other. Bodies, he claims, consist of matter and qualities, but even matter, he suggests, is never found without qualities.¹⁵ But what is the source of these qualities that inhere in matter and qualify it? Origen answers that God is the source, that is the source of wisdom and providence. It is the wisdom of God, he suggests, that is responsible for the formation of everything, as the following passage shows.

In hac ipsa ergo sapientiae substistentia quia omnis virtus ac deformatio futurae inerat creaturae, vel eorum quae principaliter exsistunt vel eorum quae accident consequenter, virtute praescientiae praeformata atque disposita: pro his ipsis, quae in ipsa sapientia velut descriptae ac praefiguratae fuerant creaturis, se ipsam per Salomonem dicit ‘creatam esse’ sapientia ‘initium viarum dei’, continens scilicet in semet ipsa universae creaturae vel initia vel rationes vel species.

(Princ. 1.2.2)

It is in this wisdom that there exists every capacity and form of the future creation, both of the primary beings as well as of the secondary ones, which were fashioned and arranged by the power of foreknowledge. For in this wisdom are hosted and prefigured all created things, and this wisdom, speaking through Solomon, says that ‘she was created’ as ‘a beginning of the ways of God’ [Prov. 8:22], which means that she contains in herself the principles, the reasons, and the forms of the entire creation.

Origen claims here that God’s wisdom is the formative cause of all created entities, of both primary and secondary beings, that is, of both substances and qualities.¹⁶ Further and quite importantly, he identifies divine wisdom with God’s Son, Christ (Princ. 1.2.1; In Joh. 1.19.111).¹⁷ Origen argues that divine wisdom operates as a principle in the world’s coming into being in the sense that ‘everything comes to be in accordance with wisdom’ (ibid.). This wisdom must then have a certain content in accordance with which everything that comes about is formed. In the passage cited above, Origen specifies the content of divine wisdom: the principles, reasons or patterns, and forms (initia, rationes, species), in accordance with which everything in the world is created.¹⁸ All three of them make up, as he says, ‘a system of objects of contemplation’, that is, the objects of God’s contemplation or thought.¹⁹ Origen sets out to explain in what sense God as logos is a principle and how he hosts in himself the reasons and forms of everything. He does this in the following passage:

ἐπίστησον δε, εἰ οἷόν τέ ἐστι καὶ κατὰ τὸ σημαινόμενον τοῦτο ἐκδέχεσθαι ἡμᾶς τὸ ‘‘Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ logos’, ἵνα κατὰ τὴν σοφίαν καὶ τοὺς τύπους τοῦ συστήματος τῶν ἐν αὐτῷ νοημάτων τὰ πάντα γίνηται. Οἶμαι γὰρ, ὤσπερ κατὰ τοὺς ἀρχιτεκτονικοὺς τύπους οἰκοδομεῖται ἢ τεκταίνεται οἰκία καὶ ναῦς, ἀρχὴν τῆς οἰκίας καὶ τῆς νεὼς ἐχόντων τοὺς ἐν τῷ τεχνίτῃ τύπους καὶ λόγους, οὕτω τὰ σύμπαντα γεγονέναι κατὰ τοὺς ἐν τῇ σοφίᾳ προτρανωθέντας ὑπὸ θεοῦ τῶν ἐσομένων λόγους. ‘Πάντα γὰρ ἐν σοφίᾳ ἐποίησε.’ Καὶ λεκτέον ὅτι κτίσας, ἵν᾽ οὕτως εἴπω, ἔμψυχον σοφίαν ὁ θεός, αὐτῇ ἐπέτρεψεν ἀπὸ τῶν ἐν αὐτῇ τύπων τοῖς οὖσι καὶ τῇ ὕλῃ <παρασχεῖν καὶ> τὴν πλάσιν καὶ τὰ εἴδη, ἐγὼ δὲ ἐφίστημι εὶ καὶ τὰς οὐσίας.

Consider, however, if we can take this meaning of archē for the text ‘In the beginning was the Word’ [John 1:1], so as to obtain the meaning that all things came into being according to wisdom and according to the patterns (tupous) of the system which are present in his thoughts. For I consider that as a house or a ship is built and constructed in accordance with the patterns (tupous) of the craftsman, that is, the house or the ship has as principle (archē) the patterns (tupous) and reasons (logous) in the craftsman, similarly all things have come into being in accordance with the reasons of what was to be, which are laid down by God in wisdom. ‘For he created everything according to wisdom.’ [Ps. 103:24] And we should also say that having created, so to speak, God, the ensouled wisdom, he allowed the coming into being from imposition of the patterns that were in her in beings and matter the emergence of their moulding and their forms and, I would say, also of substances.

(In Joh. 1.19.113–115)

The impact of the Timaeus is more than obvious here.²⁰ Like Plato, Origen claims that the divine creator creates the world as any other craftsman does, namely according (kata) to the reasons and patterns in his mind. And this implies on the one hand that the creation of everything was modeled on such patterns and reasons and on the other that these patterns were imposed on artefacts and make up the forms in them. Origen’s view is similar to that of Plotinus in this regard. The logoi/rationes must be equivalent to Plotinus’ logoi and must correspond to platonic Forms as presented in the Timaeus. For both Origen and Plotinus these logoi do not exist independently but only in God, possibly as thoughts of God. Origen and Plotinus represent a tendency of contemporary Platonists to consider Forms as either thoughts of God or as contents of God’s Wisdom.²¹ The only possible difference here is whether God actively thinks them, or God merely contains them, and this makes up his wisdom. But whatever the case is, there is the same reason why Platonists such as Plotinus and Origen resolutely advocated that doctrine, namely because thus understood Forms are not simply objects for the divine mind or wisdom, as is the case with the objects of human perception, but parts of it. God cannot possibly be mistaken about the Forms. As Plotinus puts it, how could God recognise justice or beauty if they were outside of him (Enn. 5.5.1.28–33); he would need a criterion for their identification, but then the question of what this criterion could possibly be arises. When the Forms are thoughts or contents of the divine mind, then they are immediately known to it. For Origen and Plotinus the creation of the world is the instantiation of these Forms in matter; for them the world then is a system of logoi that have their origin in the divine mind and organise the material reality in which we live, especially the material objects around us, in such a way that the world is orderly, coherent, intelligible, and knowable.²² Material reality is also a world of thoughts, namely the thoughts of the divine mind, as Plotinus shows in Ennead 3.8 and as Origen similarly suggests in the passage cited above and elsewhere in De Principiis.²³

That the Wisdom of the Son contains concepts brings with it a significant unwanted consequence, namely that the divine person becomes complex. Since Clement early Christians have debated the issue of God’s simplicity. The issue has two aspects that can be formulated as follows: (a) how can God be the source of everything, of plurality, while being simple; (b) how can we call God simple, given his many activities and properties which we conceive of, by calling him by a multitude of names?

Origen is the first Christian to address this issue. He argues that the various names attributed to God are only human epinoiai, human concepts. Origen agrees with Clement here²⁴ in distinguishing between the utter simplicity of God the Father and the relative simplicity of God the Son. While the Father is indescribable, the Son can be described in many ways, but he, while being a unity, also is a kind of plurality,²⁵ since he holds in thought the rationes (logoi) of everything out of which all things in the world come into being. Since the Son is a kind of plurality, it is also more natural that he is conceived of in many ways, that is, we can have various epinoiai, conceptions, of him. We can conceive of him, for instance, as the wisdom of God, the power of God, the justice of God, the providence of God, etc. All these descriptions are, however, conceptions that we, humans, have of God the Son, that is, we predicate X or Z of him, depending on how we at the time conceive of God, although the subject of our predications remains one and the same.²⁶

Origen is the first Christian thinker to speak of epinoiai. The term is probably of Stoic origin;²⁷ it had already been attributed to Antisthenes, but our source most probably uses Stoic terminology here, which had by then become commonplace.²⁸ The term epinoia is often used by later ancient authors, such as Alexander and Porphyry, to denote what exists only in the mind and not in sensible reality. Alexander, for instance, argues that mathematical entities exist only in epinoia, in thought.²⁹ Origen draws on this tradition and introduces the term epinoia into Christian discourse when he discusses the various ways of conceiving of God, that is, God the Son, the wisdom of the Father and creator.

Origen presents his theory of epinoiai in his commentary on the Gospel of John. Origen insists that the different epinoiai of God the Son we have, are only conceptually distinct, since God the Son is essentially a unity.³⁰ And God the Son is a unity, because he is an intelligible entity and as such is indivisible and invisible, the wisdom of God the Father (Princ. 4.4.1). The epinoiai are only human conceptualisations of God the Son and of his contribution to the creation of the world.³¹ For Origen, however, epinoiai are not only mental items of the human mind, but also linguistic items by means of which we predicate something. We think of God as good or just (or as truth and wisdom), and thus we have the epinoia of God’s goodness, justice, wisdom and so on, which we accordingly predicate of God. In this sense we gain knowledge of the world around us and also of God, through epinoiai. God, however, transcends the world, yet we conceive of God relying only on the manifestations of God in the world. Our conceptions of the world would ultimately correspond to the divine thoughts or concepts, the logoi or rationes, in accordance with which the world has been created. This means that we conceive of the world in a way similar to that of God. This is what ultimately makes the world intelligible to us. The ability that we have to conceive the world in a way similar to God, accounts at least partly for our likeness to God: we are like God, namely intellects; and we cognise through concepts, which are similar to the divine logoi.

4 Gregory of Nyssa

A mere glance through the Lexicon Gregorianum makes it immediately clear that the terms ennoia and epinoia occur very frequently in Gregory’s work. The question of course is how Gregory uses them. Gregory, I suggest, uses the term ennoia in the sense of ‘concept’ or ‘conception’. He speaks, for instance, of ennoia tou theou (C. Eun. 1.196.6), ennoia tou patros (C. Eun. 223.28), ennoia tēs agathotētos (ibid. 1.77.16), ennoia tou aidiou (ibid. 1.218.11, 219.20), ennoia tou apeirou (ibid. 1.129.11), ennoia tēs haplotētos (ibid. 1.97.5), ennoia tēs aphtharsias (ibid. 1.389.13, 1.379.23), ennoia tēs theotētos (2.172.5). It is certainly no accident that almost all these passages and many other relevant ones occur in Gregory’s Against Eunomius (C. Eun.).³² In the same work, however, the term epinoia also occurs very frequently. The question of why this is the case and also how the two terms differ from each other arises. The answer requires an investigation of the nature of this work.

Gregory alongside his brother, Basil, writes a long work against the position taken by Eunomius. Basil wrote his Against Eunomius around 363/4, targeting Eunomius’ Apology, to which Eunomius replied. About twenty years later Gregory writes a detailed reply to Eunomius’ Apology for the Apology.³³ Eunomius (c. 320–394) belongs to the second generation of Arian theologians and in his writings he probably set out to systematically defend Arian theology. Arius famously maintained that God the Father and God the Son are of similar but not the same substance (ousia); for, he argued, God the Father is uncreated while God the Son is a creation of the Father and for that reason the created Son is ontologically different from the uncreated Father. Arianism was condemned at the Council of Nicaea but it did not cease to exist. Eunomius represented a revival of Arianism; he belonged to the group known as the Anomoeans, who took their name from the claim that God the Father and God the Son are dissimilar, rather than similar, as Arius originally suggested. The Anomoeans supported their view of the ontologically distinct nature of the two entities particularly focusing on how names were applied to God the Father and God the Son.³⁴

Eunomius accepted a conception of phusei significance for the divine names (C. Eun. 2.344). He apparently claimed that the difference in substance between the divine persons is suggested and manifested by the different names applied to them, such as Father, Son, Spirit (Basil, C. Eun. 2.1.5–9). According to Eunomius, the name ‘Son’ already manifests the kind of substance that God the Son is, namely a created one (ibid.). Apparently Eunomius went as far as to propose a theory of language according in which names in general reveal the essences of things, since, as he suggests, names were created by God before man’s creation and fit the nature of things (Gregory, C. Eun. 2.196–198).³⁵

Gregory argues strongly against this view of language. He argues that names are human creations and appeals to Scripture (Genesis 2:19–20), according to which it was Adam who gave names to things (C. Eun. 2.402) and not God. As Gregory says, Eunomius presents God as a teacher or a grammarian who teaches the first human beings the names of things (C. Eun. 2.397–398). Gregory argues that such a view makes no sense. He appeals to the evidence presented by the different languages, which makes it perfectly clear that names are neither unique nor universal but differ from language to language (2.406–408, 546–547). Gregory’s point is twofold: first, he suggests that things have an ontological priority over names; God created the things not their names, as the evidence of Scripture suggests;³⁶ second, he claims that God left it to man to impose names on things in the world, once again in accordance with the best evidence of Scripture.³⁷ Names are then human creations, while things in the world are divine creations.

Gregory substantiates this claim further. He argues that man has the cognitive ability to perceive things as they are and to label them with names (C. Eun. 2.283, 401) and by doing so he is maintaining the rational nature that God granted human beings (ibid. 2.197). Gregory elaborates further on this last point arguing against Eunomius, who contends that names exist by nature and that they fit the nature of things and reveal its substance, by insisting that names are human inventions (C. Eun. 2.148, 401–402, 438). He nonetheless agrees with Basil that this does not mean that names are arbitrary; Gregory rather suggests that names reflect our conception (epinoia) of things (C. Eun. 2.125).³⁸ He claims that we, humans, have invented all kinds of things in order to live well, including the arts and sciences, because we are able to conceive things, which is a gift from God (2.178–186). A special human ability is involved here, he argues, namely the ability to invent and to abstract things. Gregory names this ability or faculty epinoia as well. This is crucial for us here. He argues that the epinoia is the origin of all branches of learning, such as geometry, physics and logic, of philosophy, but also of practical crafts such as agriculture, the skill of navigation, and that of taming animals. All these benefits, he says, have been achieved by epinoia. And here is how he defines it.

ἔστι γὰρ κατά γε τὸν ἐμὸν λόγον ἡ ἐπίνοια ἔφοδος εὑρετικὴ τῶν ἀγνοουμένων, διὰ τῶν προσεχῶν τε καὶ ἀκολούθων τῇ πρώτῃ περὶ τὸ σπουδαζόμενον νοήσει τὸ ἐφεξῆς ἐξευρίσκουσα. νοήσαντες γάρ τι περὶ τοῦ ζητουμένου τῇ ἀρχῇ τοῦ ληφθέντος διὰ τῶν ἐφευρισκομένων νοημάτων συναρμόζοντες τὸ ἀκόλουθον εἰς τὸ πέρας τῶν σπουδαζομένων τὴν ἐγχείρησιν ἄγομεν.

(C. Eun. 2.182)

According to my definition epinoia is a way of finding things what we ignore using what is connected and consequent upon our first idea about an object of an inquiry in order to discover what lies beyond. For after understanding something about the object of our inquiry, we attach to the first idea the thing that comes next thanks to the notions [noēmata] that we discover in the course of time, and thus we bring our inquiry to conclusion.

This is a cryptic passage, but the main point is clear. Gregory takes an important step here; he distinguishes between epinoia and notions (noēmata). He claims that we discover noēmata, notions or concepts, by means of epinoia, which is described as a way or method (ephodos) of finding about what we ignore (euretikē tōn agnooumenōn). Gregory develops Origen’s doctrine of epinoiai and more specifically Basil’s view on epinoia,³⁹ who also distinguishes between epinoia and noēma. The following two passages are important in this regard. They come from a context where Basil sets out to explain what epinoia is and he distinguishes it from fantasies, fictions, false thoughts.

Ὁρῶμεν τοίνυν ὅτι ἐν μὲν τῇ κοινῇ χρήσει τὰ ταῖς ἀθρόαις ἐπιβολαῖς τοῦ νοῦ ἁπλὰ δοκοῦντα εἶναι καὶ μοναχά, ταῖς δὲ κατὰ λεπτὸν ἐξετάσεσι ποικίλα φαινόμενα καὶ πολλὰ ταῦτα τῷ νῷ διαιρούμενα ἐπινοίᾳ μόνῃ διαιρετὰ λέγεται.

(Basil, C. Eun. 1.6, 21–25)

We see then that what seems simple and singular to the direct application of the intellect in common usage but appears complex and plural upon detailed scrutiny, being divided by the intellect, this kind of thing is said to be divided only by epinoia.

Καίτοι τοσοῦτον ἀπέχει τοῦ κατὰ ματαίων μόνον καὶ ἀνυποστάτων φαντασιῶν τὸ ὄνομα τοῦτο τῆς ἐπινοίας κεῖσθαι, ὥστε μετὰ τὸ πρῶτον ἡμῖν ἀπὸ τῆς αἰσθήσεως ἐγγινόμενον νόημα τὴν λεπτοτέραν καὶ ἀκριβεστέραν τοῦ νοηθέντος ἐπενθύμησιν, ἐπίνοιαν ὀνομάζεσθαι.

(Basil, C. Eun. 1.6, 39–44).

The name of epinoia then does not apply only to false and inexistent fantasies, but is the name given to the more subtle and precise reflection of an object after a first conception has been made from sense perception.

Both passages converge in maintaining that epinoia is what we generate with our minds, elaborating on the mental image that our intellect first grasps. There is actually little difference between the first and the second passage; both assert that epinoia is a later product of our minds that comes about as a result of an elaboration on a mental image, an intellectual grasp (noēma), that we first have of something. To follow Basil’s example, we conceive something as grain, which we can afterwards consider and accordingly call ‘fruit’, ‘seed’, or ‘nourishment’; all these are aspects of the same thing made up conceptually (kat’ epinoian; C. Eun. 1.6, 44–53). Basil distinguishes here between epinoia and noēma, as Gregory later does.⁴⁰ The epinoia is responsible for the generation of further noēmata, notions; we can think of something, such as the grain, as X, Y, or Z, fruit, nourishment, or blessing. In this manner further notions are generated from a first one. Basil is quick to move to apply his theory of epinoia to the discussion of divine names and thereby articulate an answer to the challenge posed by Eunomius᾽ theory of names and his neo-Arian theology (C. Eun. 1.7).⁴¹ His suggestion is that our first notion of God can easily generate further notions upon reflection, but this process does not say anything about the divine properties, let alone about the divine nature, but only about the divine activities (energeiai) as we conceive them; the divine nature remains simple and one.

Eunomius maintained that the pluralism of features applied to divine nature do not do justice to it; for if there were a plurality of divine features, it would suggest that God is a composite entity, and this would be at odds with God’s substance being utterly simple. Therefore Eunomius coined a new term, aggenēsia (unbegotteness), in order to do justice to God’s simplicity and unbegotten nature.⁴² Basil and Gregory replied that the names we give to God form part of our concept of God, which cannot be grasped by any single name, as Eunomius thought, because the divine nature is a cluster concept, that is, a concept consisting of many properties (Gregory, C. Eun. 2.145). Following Basil (C. Eun. 1.7), Gregory argues that there are many ways of conceiving and naming God depending on the perspective we take at a given moment (C. Eun. 2.475–476).⁴³ This means that we can operate with many different conceptions of God and apply them to him through the use of different names, depending on which side or aspect of him we wish to emphasise. Both Basil and Gregory maintain that names are human inventions that we have created in accordance with our conceptions of things, our epinoiai, and that naming amounts to the application of a conception.

One first conclusion is possible from the above. Both Basil and Gregory distinguish between initial and secondary concepts, between first and second order concepts. In their texts they describe a process according to which we move from an initial mental grasp or first apprehension of the mind that happens through sense perception, as they say, to a more elaborate concept that we form later on upon reflection and more detailed scrutiny of a given object, and they call the latter epinoia. We find again a hierarchy of concepts, as with Clement. Yet Basil and Gregory do not distinguish like Clement between concepts of things such as ‘tree’ and ‘animal’ (noēmata) and concepts of general entities, such as ‘substance’ and ‘quality’ (katholou), but between initial concepts (noēmata) of things in the world and more refined concepts of the same things (epinoiai). And they suggest that the initial, first order concepts arise when our intellect comes to contact with the objects of the external world, while the second order concepts, the epinoiai, arise not through the contact of the intellect with the external world objects but through the activity of the intellect alone. Furthermore, whereas initial concepts are in a way determined from the contact of the intellect with the objects of the external world, and thus they are limited, there can be any number of epinoiai, since the intellect generates them from its own resources and upon reflection of the first order concepts the noēmata; the material of epinoiai so to speak are not external, material objects, but first order concepts.⁴⁴ And while first order concepts are limited, second order ones are not, reflecting the resourcefulness of our mind. God, for instance, is a first order concept, but God as omnipresent, as omnipotent, as light and so on are second order concepts.

A further conclusion is also possible, namely that epinoiai are not only mental items but they have a linguistic nature as well. When we conceive of something, we also name it, and we can give more names to it in accordance with the more elaborate second order concepts that arise in our minds. Basil’s earlier cited example of the grain that can be variously conceived and named is telling;⁴⁵ ‘Grain’ is the first order concept, while the second order concept is ‘fruit’, ‘nourishment’, a more general notion under which we classify ‘grain’ upon reflection. Both Basil and Gregory suggest that names are human constructions or inventions that often result from second order concepts, epinoiai, which we primarily invent with our minds. Names not only correspond to concepts but attain significance insofar as they correspond to either first or second order concepts. This means that names are neither mere sounds nor mere labels; rather, names are significant because they represent or at any rate capture a mental item, by means of which we apprehend things in the world. The fact that we use names in order to communicate a concept suggests that concepts have linguistic content or propositional nature. Basil and Gregory argue that God is an exception in this regard because he cannot be fully apprehended and conceived of by the human mind, despite the different names we apply to him that correspond to different conceptions of him since God is an infinite entity. We can and we do apply a plurality of names to God in accordance with our many conceptions of him. As with all other things, though, the divine names that we compose, reflect our conception of God, not the infinite essence of God – the latter, they suggest, remains, at least partly, a mystery to us.⁴⁶

Basil and Gregory follow up on the issue considered by Origen of whether a multiplicity of names speak against divine simplicity, but their answer is significantly more complex than his. In their view, God’s simplicity is not threatened by the plurality of names, because a thing itself does not acquire a component when described in yet another linguistic way; names are human ways of describing the divine substance, which correspond to our different conceptions of it.⁴⁷ We use them because no single name is comprehensive (perilēptikon) enough to fully describe God (Gregory, C. Eun. 2.145), who is an infinitely complex entity.

From what has been said so far, it becomes clear that both Basil and Gregory assume that we, humans, have the ability to think conceptually and to conceive things in different ways. It is this ability that explains why we are in a position to invent a multitude of names and apply them to God or to any other object. And the question is how and where they talk about this ability.

We need to remember here that Gregory defined epinoia as a way or method of finding things that we ignore (ephodos heuretikē tōn agnoumenōn). Basil also described epinoia as a kind of reflection of what we conceived (tou noēthentos epenthumēsin). These descriptions suggest that epinoia is not only a second order concept with linguistic content, as I said above, but also an ability or a faculty that we have. As Gregory says, it is a dunamis by means of which we find or invent things.⁴⁸ In this sense epinoia is a faculty that God has granted us analogous to the faculty of proairesis, which enables us to consider alternative courses of action and decide on what is best. According to Gregory, it is not God who gave us the art of medicine or the art of architecture and everything that comes along with them; God only granted us the mind necessary to invent them (C. Eun. 2.186–7). When we invent something such as a craft or a tool to be used for a craft, Gregory says, we also invent a name for it; the faculty epinoia has the ability to generate both concepts and names. For Gregory the two form a unity, since, as I said earlier, names reflect our conceptions of things. If both concepts and names are products of epinoia, then this should be a certain faculty that we have. The construction of names, their application to things around us and, more specifically, to God, is possible because we, humans, have the ability to generate concepts, and we can do that both from objects of sense perception but also from concepts. This is the case because human beings have an intellectual nature, that is, they are intellects equipped with the faculty of conceptual thinking.

This is a point that Gregory makes clear in his work On the Creation of Man (De hominis opificio), in which he devotes an entire section to the nature of human intellect (nous).⁴⁹ There Gregory claims that the human intellect is something that God granted us and something that God shares with humans, which means that we are of the same intellectual nature as God (De hom. opif. 149B). Gregory argues that man is an intellectual entity (noeros), yet our intellect, unlike God’s, operates by means of bodily organs (149BC). This happens in two ways (152B): first, the intellect expresses itself through speech and, second, acquires knowledge through the senses. Gregory likens the intellect’s connection to the senses to a city with many entrances; as with multiple gates leading into the same city, so too are the sense data provided by the various senses channeled to the intellect (152CD). Gregory, however, argues that it is not the senses but rather the intellect that knows through the senses (dia tōn aisthēseōn ho nous energei; ibid. 152A), a passage reminiscent of Theaetetus 184d–185b, a point that Gregory repeats in De anima et resurrectione (32A). Further, he goes on to argue that the intellect permeates the entire body through its activities (161b) and therefore the attempts to localise the intellect in the body make no sense (156CD), since every part of our body has been shaped by the intellect (161AB). This means that the intellect is not part of us but rather the element that permeates our entire nature and makes it intellectual and rational (177B). This element of ours is God’s gift, Gregory suggests (164CD). The intellectual nature of the human body that Gregory defends, may well mean that everything that we perceive has a conceptual nature, be it a sight, a taste, or touch of this or that part of the body. Gregory does not elaborate on the conceptual character of our experience, but he says enough to show that our body perceives by means of the intellect, meaning fundamentally in a conceptual manner.

This has both an epistemological and a theological consequence. The theological one is that humans are similar to God in being of intellectual nature, and being of such nature they are able to think conceptually. Gregory stresses this in many passages of De hominis opificio. The epistemological consequence is that we can grasp the logoi that God uses in the creation of the world, that is, the concepts in the divine intellect. And this is not an accident. Gregory substantiates this claim on the grounds that God has granted man the ability of epinoia, the ability to generate concepts by elaborating on first order concepts.

From the above it becomes clear that both Basil’s and Gregory’s contribution is not limited to articulating an objection to Eunomius’ theory of names, particularly divine names, and disarming the latter’s view that the plurality of names suggests ontological complexity; they rather set out to outline a theory of how human beings conceptualise, how we produce concepts by means of which we both cognise and engage with the world, in order to show that divine names are human creations. The creation of names is only one aspect of this human ability, which Eunomius either overlooked or seriously underestimated. In doing so, Eunomius apparently underestimated the intellectual abilities of God’s most significant creation, human beings.⁵⁰ While Eunomius belittles epinoia as something meaningless (asēmanton) and nonsensical (adianoēton) for life, apparently in comparison with God’s creation, and at any rate untrustworthy (C. Eun. 2.180),⁵¹ Gregory argues instead that epinoia is essential for humans; not only is epinoia the origin of all branches of learning, but it also is characteristic of the ability of human mind to think conceptually. And this more specifically means that the human mind both perceives external objects conceptually and also elaborates on these first concepts, generating concepts from concepts. This ability of humans also explains how we conceive of God; the human conceptualisations of God reflect not the divine nature but the human ability to form concepts.

Gregory’s reply to Eunomius apparently targeted Eunomius’ assumptions about the rational nature of human beings. Gregory set out to redeem human reason by showing that it operates by means of concepts, that this ability is a God-given gift. Thereby he aimed to defend the view that human beings are like God because they think in terms of concepts.⁵² Gregory’ theory of concepts, which is an elaboration of Basil’s theory, is part of his more general theory of human reason. Such a theory complements the theories of his Christian predecessors who were mainly concerned with scepticism about knowledge by adding a dimension pertaining the nature of the human mind. According to Gregory we not only have the ability to conceive of the external reality and attain knowledge of it, but we can also elaborate on our conceptions of that reality and come up with several new, more refined conceptions of it. This does not make our knowledge of the external world questionable, but it does show the creativity and independence of the human mind. And this was something that Gregory no doubt wanted to emphasise.

5 Conclusion

We have seen that from fairly early on Christian thinkers became interested in concepts because they were interested in the relation between God and man, and between God and the world, but their concern with these topics led them to explore the human ability to form concepts. Clement introduces concepts in order to defend the possibility of attaining secure knowledge and disarm the challenge of scepticism; for him concepts are both mental and linguistic items which constitute subjects of definitions and by means of which we classify things in the world and cognise them accordingly. Origen is the first Christian thinker to present a theory of epinoiai, a theory of how we produce different conceptions of the same thing. Origen seeks to articulate an answer to the question of how God’s many names do not impute complexity to God’s nature. His answer is that the various names we apply to God, to God the Son in particular, are different conceptions produced by the human mind and not features of the divine nature. Basil and Gregory of Nyssa adopted Origen’s theory of conceptions and developed it further. Gregory often speaks of the concepts that we have as well as of various conceptions not only of the things around us but, quite importantly, also of God. This, he suggests, characterises human beings in general and is indicative of our distinctive cognitive ability; we are able to think conceptually and apply our concepts to the things around us but also to our initial concepts and generate further concepts. We do this when we invent things, when we engage in science or practice a skill and also when we create names for things or classify things in different ways. Concepts bring us in contact with the world and through them we are able to reliably apprehend it through. Furthermore, concepts enable us to be creative in the world; they enable us to invent things but also to classify things in the world differently and in more elaborate and refined ways and thus to conceptualise things differently. For Gregory in particular this is indicative of the range of human conceptual thinking and of the resourcefulness of our minds.