Yes, the early church was communist

    ...and that probably doesn’t mean what you think it does. In my recent post on Christian anarchism, I said that the early church, at least in Jerusalem, practiced “libertarian communism,” and that there’s a lot of evidence that this was widespread and long-lasting within the church. But I anticipate some confusion (‘libertarian communism’? isn’t that a contradiction in terms?) and pushback on this point. Here I will clarify my claim and provide further evidence in its support.

“Communism” defined

    Most people, at least in the West, think of states like the U.S.S.R., Maoist China, and modern-day Cuba when they hear “communism.” Strictly speaking, this is incorrect. As an economic system, communism is an economy which is conducted on the principle “from each according to their ability, to each according to their needs.” Within the Marxist framework, a fully communist society would be classless and therefore stateless; although I’m not a Marxist, I would agree that communism implies a horizontal, and therefore stateless, society. None of the authoritarian leftist, Marxist-Leninist regimes listed above have ever reached full communism, nor did they ever claim to have done so, although they are said to be “Communist” in ideology because they claimed to be working toward such a society.

    Socialism, on the other hand, refers to a system of property rights in which workplaces (or “means of production” to use the outdated leftist phrase) are owned by the workers themselves. This definition presupposes development from a modern economy with a worker/owner distinction, so it can’t really be applied to pre-modern economies (which were primarily feudal or slave-based). However, we can apply the term “communist” to pre-modern economic relationships. As anthropologist David Graeber points out, in every society there is always some amount of “baseline communism” — that is, economic relationships conducted on the communist principle — even if this is just sharing between family and friends. [1]

    In addition to communism, Graeber identifies two other types of economic relationships which are found (to varying degrees) in nearly every human society: exchange and hierarchy. “Exchange” refers to relationships where some kind of equivalence is expected between traded items; this tends to predominate in societies where most relationships are impersonal and/or violence is widespread, so long-term relationships based on trust between parties are not expected. [2] “Hierarchy” refers to relationships where there is formal inequality between parties, and so there is no reciprocity; one party (the ‘superior’ one) comes out ahead by design. [3] This is usually based in violence which becomes systematized over time.

    We can make a distinction between “formal” and “informal” communism, following Roman Montero. [4] Formal communism refers to economic relationships in which the principle “from each according to their ability, to each according to their needs” is regulated by formal rules, whereas informal communism refers to communist relationships that are not formally regulated. In modern society, communism is usually encountered informally (e.g., between family, friends, and coworkers). We can also make a distinction between “authoritarian” and “libertarian” communism, where the former is regulated by some centralized (human) authority and the latter is regulated, if at all, by decentralized relationships between people.

    With these definitions in mind, we can consider which economic relationships predominated in the early church. If communist relationships predominated over exchange and hierarchy among early believers, and their beliefs and practices actively cultivated communism, then we can truly say that the early church was “communist” in their economic structure. If the early church was communist, then we can also look into how formal or informal, and how authoritarian or libertarian, this economic structure was.

Internal evidence from the early church

    We can begin with the paradigmatic case of communism in the early church: the first community of believers in Jerusalem as described by the book of Acts.

Now all the believers were together and had all things in common; they were selling their possessions and goods and distributing the proceeds to all, as each had need. Every day, as they continued together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. (Ac 2:44–47)

Now the whole group of believers were of one heart and soul, and no one said that anything he possessed was his own, but all things were in common for them... There was no one in need among them, for as many as owned lands or houses were selling them and bringing the proceeds of what was sold. They were laying it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as anyone had need. (Ac 4:32, 34–35)

    It’s fair to say that this is an idealized depiction of the early Jerusalem church, but it does present this community of believers as fully communistic. In fact, the slogan “to each according to their need” plausibly originated from this very passage. [5] As depicted by Luke, this was an informal communism, because each person’s property remained formally under their authority (Ac 5:4) but “no one said that anything he possessed was his own” (4:32). It was also more libertarian than authoritarian, since the contributions were apparently voluntary (grounded in ethical obligations rather than any threat of force). Even so, there was also a formal aspect to the communism, whereby a centralized group of apostles received the proceeds and distributed them according to need (4:34–47; but cf. the plural verbs at 2:45).

    Some, in an attempt to avoid the radical implications, have suggested that this was an “unusual moment in the life of the early church” which “[f]or all we know... lasted six months”, which was certainly never normative or prescriptive for believers. [6] The problem with this assertion is that it’s simply false. In fact, communism is prescribed for believers in two other first-century Christian writings:

You shall not hesitate to give, nor shall you grumble when giving, for you should know who is the good paymaster of your wages. You shall not turn away from someone in need, but share all things with your sibling, and do not say that anything is your own. For if you are partners in what is immortal, how much more in what is mortal? (Didache 4:7–8)

You shall have all things in common with your neighbors, and do not say that anything is your own. For if you have the corruptible in common, how much more the incorruptible? (Epistle of Barnabas 19:8)

    Both of these documents were held in high regard in the early church, and were even considered to be Scripture by some. The Didache (also known as the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles) is thought to have been written in the mid-to-late first century, most likely from Syria. The Epistle of Barnabas was written some time between AD 70 and the mid-second century from Alexandria in Egypt. This shows that communist economic practices were considered normative among early believers for at least several decades after the beginning of the church, and over a widespread area.

    The commandments in the Didache and Epistle of Barnabas share some phrases with Acts, specifically that “all things” are held in common and that believers “do not say that anything is [their] own” (Ac 4:32). However, they also have a common rationale for this practice — that believers share an immortal and incorruptible hope, so they should also share mortal and corruptible things — which isn’t found in Acts. This points to a shared tradition (whether written or oral) independent of Acts which goes back to the very early church, that believers should share all things with their brethren in need and not regard anything to be their own. [7]

    These practices continued to be widespread among Christians well into the second century. The mid-second-century Christian apologist Justin Martyr states,

[We] follow the only unbegotten God through his Son... we who formerly delighted in fornication, but now embrace chastity alone; we who formerly used magical arts, dedicate ourselves to the good and unbegotten god; we who valued above all things the acquisition of wealth and possessions, now bring what we have into a common stock, and communicate to everyone in need (First Apology 14)

In an apologetic context, this could just be an idealized depiction of the church. But Justin later describes in detail the ceremony that took place in the churches on every Sunday, where (recalling Acts 4:34–37) those who are present deposit their belongings before the deacons, who distribute them to “all who are in need” (First Apology 67).

    Similarly, the early church father Tertullian wrote in AD 197 from Carthage: “One in mind and soul, we do not hesitate to share our earthly goods with one another. All things are common among us but our wives” (Apology 39). The extent to which this informal communism was practiced is evident from the fact that Tertullian is careful to distinguish it from pagan cults which shared even their wives. Like Justin, he gives a detailed description of the formal communism practiced on each Sunday, where a voluntary donation would be made to support any brethren in need, prompting even the pagans to remark, “See how they love one another!” (Apology 39)

    If Paul’s writings are any indication, communism was practiced not only within each church, but between churches as well — at least, that was the ideal. Throughout much of his ministry, he took up a collection from the gentile churches for the relatively poorer Judean churches (Rom 15:25–27; 1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 8–9; Gal 2:10). This was following a decision by the apostles that “according to their ability, each would send relief to the brethren in Judea” (Ac 11:29). Paul gives his rationale for the collection as follows:

For you know the generosity of our Lord Jesus the Messiah, that being rich, for your sake he became poor, so that you may be made rich through his poverty... Not that there should be relief for others and hardship for you, but equality. Your present abundance will be for their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, so that there may be equality. As it is written, “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little.” (2 Cor 8:9, 13–15)

    For Paul, the early Christian communism follows the paradigmatic case of Jesus’ own sacrifice, the perfect expression of agapē (cf. especially 1 John 3:16–18, which makes the exact same point). He also quotes Exodus 16:18 about the gathering of manna in the wilderness, which shows that his vision of economic equality extends back to Israel’s very origins. Paul is careful to emphasize that the collection for the Judean churches is voluntary, not based in a commandment (2 Cor 8:8; 9:6ff), which means that this communism was informal and libertarian. For me, this is reminiscent of the libertarian communism that was implemented by the Catalonian anarchists during the Spanish Civil War, in which different villages created regional federations to share resources with one another. [8]

    Our clear, direct evidence for early Christian communism dries up around the end of the second century. However, there are tantalizing hints in the later church fathers that this continued into the fourth century. Basil of Caesarea in his Sermon to the Rich says that the rich unjustly seize goods which are rightly “for the benefit of all in common”; in an ideal society,

if we all took only what was necessary to satisfy our own needs, giving the rest to those who lack, no one would be rich, no one would be poor, and no one would be in need.

    John Chrysostom, the late fourth century archbishop of Constantinople, makes a similar point: “the rich... possess things which belong to the poor, even if their property be gained by inheritance; in fact, from whatever source their substance is derived” (Discourse on Lazarus II.4). He held that the rich are parasitic on society, and a society of all poor people would end up far more successful than a society of all rich people (Homily 34 on 1 Cor 13:8). St. Ambrose held the same view: the rich “are usurping what was given in common for the use of all. The earth belongs to everyone, not to the rich” (On Naboth). Sadly, this traditional Christian view dwindled as the church became entangled in the politics of empire.

External evidence from the pagan world

    If all we had were testimonies from within the church, it might be rightly objected that this is just an idealized picture which wasn’t actually practiced. Fortunately, we have hostile witnesses from the outside pagan world who confirm that early believers did practice communism, and this was ridiculed by outsiders! The second-century Syrian satirist Lucian wrote an entire satire, called “The Death of Peregrinus,” about a traveling huckster who takes advantage of Christian communism to live affluently without working. Here’s an excerpt:

...their first lawgiver [i.e., Jesus] persuaded them that they are all brothers of one another after they have transgressed once for all by denying the Greek gods and by worshiping that crucified sophist himself and living under his laws. Therefore they despise all things indiscriminately and consider them common property, receiving such doctrines traditionally without any definite evidence. So if any charlatan and trickster, able to profit by occasions, comes among them, he quickly acquires sudden wealth by imposing upon simple folk. (Peregrinus 13)

For Lucian, communism is not only a practice of Christianity, but the defining practice, which to him is ridiculous; they’re “despising all things” and inviting charlatans to take advantage of them! Thanks to their generosity, Peregrinus was able to “live in unalloyed prosperity” (16), what simpletons!

    Whether or not this is a true tale, it’s clear that the early Christians did have to be on guard against those who would take advantage of their communism. Paul himself faced this problem with the Thessalonian church, where some believers were living in idleness off of the church proceeds; the solution was that “anyone unwilling to work should not eat” (2 Thess 3:6–15). Likewise, the Didache says that churches should receive and care for any travelers who come in the name of the Lord, but “beware” of those who stay for long periods of time without being willing to work (12:1–5). The fact that this was even a danger shows the extent to which informal communism was practiced.

    Well into the fourth century, hostile witnesses still confirm that at least some Christian communities were practicing communism. The pagan emperor Julian “the Apostate” writes in a letter that the Christians “are bidden to sell all they have and give to the poor,” and orders that the collective funds of the church of Edessa should be confiscated so that “poverty may teach them to behave properly” (Letter 40). In another letter he takes this matter more seriously:

For it is disgraceful that, when no Jew ever has to beg, and the impious Galileans [i.e., Christians] support not only their own poor but ours as well, all men see that our people lack aid from us. (Letter 22)

The generosity of the Christians, both for their fellow believers and apparently others, made the Roman Empire look bad by comparison, which caused a PR problem for Julian. As a result, he orders the high priest of Galatia to teach the pagan temples to also contribute to the poor “by teaching them that this was our practice of old,” so as to “not... allow others to outdo us in good works” (Letter 22). This is an example of how radical movements like early Christianity can effect change in the wider system without becoming ingrained in that system (in other words, being in the world without being a part of the world).

The basis for early Christian communism

    The historical evidence clearly shows that the early Christians practiced informal and formal communism on a large scale, over a widespread area, for over a century after the beginning of the church. But to what extent was this a deliberate result of their theological beliefs vs. a mere historical accident? Let’s look at the influences that led the early church to practice communism on an unprecedented scale.

    The Essenes were another second-Temple Jewish sect that intentionally practiced full communism, although not as successfully as the Christians. Josephus describes their communism in detail, saying that those who joined them gave up their possessions to be “common to the whole order,” whence they were distributed by the “stewards” of the community “for the uses of them all”; this was a formal process regulated by rules (Wars 2.8.3, 6). There was also an informal communism whereby “every one of them gives what he has to him who wants it, and receives from him again... what may be convenient for himself” (Wars 2.8.4). Philo says that their communism extended to food and clothing (Apology for the Jews).

    This is confirmed in the writings of the Essenes at Qumran. Their Community Rule describes the same strictly regulated, formal communism depicted by Josephus; participation was contingent on a rigorous entry process into the community, and goods were distributed by the community leaders (1QS 5–6). The Damascus Document provides a different perspective: there was an aspect of formal communism (a tax levied for the needy members of the community), but also informal communism, where members were expected to provide for each other without holding back (CD 6–7; 18–19). The same combination of formal and informal communism was practiced in the early church, but there it was more libertarian, as the leaders of the church played a lesser role than the leaders of the Essenes.

    Some Greek philosophers also envisioned communism, but only between fellow virtuous philosophers, whom they considered to be the only people capable of real friendship. [9] A common saying was that “what friends have is common property” (koina ta tōn philōn), and for Aristotle, “brothers and comrades have all things in common” (Nicomachean Ethics 8.9). But freely sharing between social classes was considered a vice, not a virtue (e.g., Plautus, Trinummus 2.2). Between social classes, the proper economic relationship was patronage, which was a form of hierarchy (to use Graeber’s terminology), where wealth was transferred down in exchange for honor and subservience from the lower classes. [10]

    Based on this, the most likely origin of Christian communism (which crossed social and cultural boundaries) is from its Jewish roots and not from outside Greek culture. Indeed, Acts 4:34 (“there was no one in need among them”) is likely an allusion to Deut 15:4 LXX (“there shall be no one in need among you”), which was a prophecy of the Sabbatical year when all debts would be forgiven (Deut 15:1–4). Jesus viewed his own arrival as the coming of the eschatological Sabbath (e.g., Mk 2:23–3:6; Lk 4:16–21; 13:10–17; John 5:1–18; cf. Heb 4:1–11). [11] This meant the permanent forgiveness of debts, and an end to relationships of exchange and hierarchy (which are fundamentally based in debt).

    The Lukan Jesus makes this rejection of exchange and hierarchy explicit:

“If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive payment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. Instead, love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.” (Lk 6:34–35)

“The kings of the gentiles lord it over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather, the greatest among you must become like the youngest and the leader like one who serves.” (Lk 22:25–26)

David Graeber notes that communism (as opposed to exchange) is found precisely where giving isn’t associated with any expectation of return. [12] Jesus also rejects the hierarchical patronage relationships found in the pagan world (i.e., “benefactors”), where wealth was given in exchange for subservience. In the Lord’s prayer and elsewhere in the gospels, Jesus associates the Sabbatical practice of forgiving debts with God’s own forgiveness of our sins (Matt 6:12; 18:23–35; Lk 7:42–43; 11:4; cf. Didache 1:5–6). It’s clear that early Christian communism goes all the way back to the teachings of the historical Jesus.

    In addition to Jesus’ explicit teachings, we shouldn’t lose sight of his actions. Love (agapē) was central to the ethic of the early Christians, and for them it was exemplified in Jesus’ ultimate self-sacrifice for our sins (John 15:13; Rom 5:8; 1 Jn 3:16). The two most prolific writers of the New Testament, Paul and John, explicitly connect Jesus’ self-sacrifice to the informal communism that they practiced (2 Cor 8:8–15; 1 Jn 3:16–18). It’s not hard to see how “love your neighbor as yourself” translates practically to “from each according to their ability, to each according to their needs.” If we desire to love others as we love ourselves, then we shouldn’t withhold from them what we have that they need.

A few common objections

    There are a few common critiques of the view that the early church was communist (for example: Sean McDowell; Kevin DeYoung; Jay W. Richards). For the most part, I think these critiques result from a failure to properly understand the concepts being discussed. It’s not a question of whether the early church was socialist (it wasn’t), or Marxist (of course not), or whether non-Christians were thrown into gulags (LOL). Rather, it’s a question of the extent to which the early church actively practiced and cultivated economic relationships according to the principle “from each according to their ability, to each according to their need.”

    For one, many of these critiques confuse communism with socialism, or assume that communism is just the most extreme version of communism. (“Socialism is when the government does stuff, communism is when the government does all the stuff.”) This is not how these terms are used by political theorists. It would be utterly anachronistic to attribute socialism (i.e., worker ownership of workplaces) to the early church, since there was no widespread working class at that time. Socialism and communism may go hand-in-hand in a modern economy, but in pre-modern feudal and slave economies, communism could be (and was) implemented on a large scale without socialism.

    These critiques also often assume that “communism” and “socialism” refer only to the statist, authoritarian socialism associated with Marxist-Leninist regimes. As such, they think that it’s a slam-dunk rebuttal to point out that the early church’s economic relationships were voluntary. But this only shows that the early church practiced libertarian (rather than authoritarian) communism, not that they didn’t practice communism at all. Rather than the U.S.S.R., a better modern parallel to the early church would be rural Catalonia during the Spanish Civil War, where anarchist revolutionaries established full (libertarian) communism on a large scale. [13]

    Another critique, made by Jay W. Richards, is that the practice of communism was an unusual and very short-lived stage in church history (possibly as little as six months in Jerusalem only!). This is simply an ignorance of historical reality. As I have shown, both formal and informal communism were normative and widespread within Christianity until at least the end of the second century.

    Finally, a more nuanced critique points to Acts 5:4, which says that the proceeds of Ananias’ sale of land were still at his authority. If his proceeds weren’t immediately owned by the community, it is argued, then the church wasn’t practicing communism. But this ignores the distinction between formal and informal communism. Ananias wasn’t legally obligated to provide all his proceeds to the church, but he clearly had a social and moral obligation to do so. (He’s obviously not portrayed in a good light in the rest of the passage, Acts 5:1–11). In our modern world, where there’s thought to be such a stark distinction between the personal realm and the political realm, this may be hard to grasp; but in the ancient world, the political was considered an extension of the moral, personal realm.

    In summary, the critiques of early Christian communism either result from a failure to understand the terminology, an ignorance of the historical evidence, or a failure to recognize the distinctions between formal vs. informal and authoritarian vs. libertarian communism. I haven’t yet found a critique which doesn’t fall into one of these errors. There are very good historical and theological grounds for thinking that the early church practiced and actively cultivated libertarian communism on a large scale, and so it can be truly said to be “communist.”

What are the implications?

    I think there are two big implications of this, one for modern-day Christians and the other one for modern-day leftists (of all stripes, not just Christian). First, Christians who uphold and support the capitalist structure of the modern world are compromising with the world, and to that extent are not leading ideal Christian lives. I’m a bit loathe to say this, since the majority of Christians aren’t economic leftists, but I don’t see any way around it. To be clear, I’m not saying that non-leftists aren’t Christian, but to the extent that they support capitalism they aren’t ideal Christians (as no one but Christ truly is). If we are Christian, we should be economically leftist.

    Another implication is for modern-day leftists. State socialists and anarchists often disagree about who has been more ‘successful’ in the past at implementing communism. (In my opinion, the anarchists win the debate hands down; no Marxist-Leninist state has ever achieved full communism, whereas anarchists have done so, for example in the Spanish Civil War). But by this metric, the most successful one is Jesus, who initiated and guided the early church in their successful practice of full communism for more than a century. For this reason, if they're really concerned with the viability and successfulness of a movement, every socialist should not just be an anarchist, but a Christian anarchist.

______________________________

[1] David Graeber, Debt: The First 5,000 Years (Melville House, 2011), 97–102.

[2] David Graeber, Debt, 103–108.

[3] David Graeber, Debt, 109–113.

[4] Roman Montero, All Things in Common: The Economic Practices of the Early Christians (Wipf and Stock, 2017), 25–26.

[5] Luc Bovens and Adrien Lutz, “’From Each according to Ability; To Each according to Needs’: Origin, Meaning, and Development of Socialist Slogans,” History of Political Economy 51, no. 2 (Apr 2019): 237–257.

[6] Jay W. Richards, Money, Greed, and God: Why Capitalism Is the Solution and Not the Problem (HarperOne, 2009), 22–24; “After Pentecost, was the Church Communist?,” The Stream (5 June 2017).

[7] Roman Montero, All Things in Common, 62–64.

[8] Sam Dolgoff, The anarchist collectives: workers’ self-management in the Spanish revolution 1936-1939 (Black Rose Books, 1990), 121–128.

[9] Roman Montero, All Things in Common, 35–42.

[10] Ibid., 42–45.

[11] N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Fortress Press, 1996), 294–296, 390–396.

[12] David Graeber, Debt, 99.

[13] Sam Dolgoff, The anarchist collectives.

The Bible and the State (part 2 of 2)

Part 1: https://thechristianuniversalist.blogspot.com/2025/07/the-bible-and-state-part-1-of-2.html

The early church and anarchy

    We might have a better idea of how to act out agapē if we look at how the early church did so. There are a few interesting passages in the book of Acts which relate how the church in Jerusalem was structured during its earliest days:

Now all the believers were together and had all things in common; they were selling their possessions and goods and distributing the proceeds to all, as each had need. Every day, as they continued together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. (Ac 2:44–47)

Now the whole group of believers were of one heart and soul, and no one said that anything he possessed was his own, but all things were in common for them... There was no one in need among them, for as many as owned lands or houses were selling them and bringing the proceeds of what was sold. They were laying it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to each as anyone had need. (Ac 4:32, 34–35)

    These texts show that the early church was communist in its economic structure; that is, in the technical sense of “from each according to their ability, to each according to their need,” not in the popular sense of totalitarianism. In fact, the socialist slogans, “from each according to his ability,” “to each according to his need,” and “to each according to his work,” all find their origin in Scripture (Bovens and Lutz 2019). It seems that this structure was harshly enforced in the Jerusalem church, not by human authority but by God, since Ananias and Sapphira were struck dead for lying and failing to contribute their whole wealth (Acts 5:1–11).

    There’s considerable evidence that the early Christian practice of libertarian communism was widespread and continued well into the second century (Montero 2017). Moreover, the first churches across the Mediterranean provided economic support to each other when they were in need. During a famine, the disciples decided that “according to their ability, each would send relief to the brethren in Judea” (Ac 11:29). Paul relates the same event in one of his letters, saying that the other apostles asked him “to remember the poor, which was actually what I was eager to do” (Gal 2:10). This collection took up much of Paul’s ministry, and he mentions it in three other letters (Rom 15:25–27; 1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 8–9). Paul is concerned that there should be economic parity between churches, and he sees this as following Jesus’ own self-sacrifice in which he became “poor” so that we could be “rich” (2 Cor 8:9–16).

    Both the internal economic structure of the Jerusalem church and the collection among the gentile churches reflect a concern for economic equality, which can be seen in other New Testament writings. As noted already, Jesus himself blesses the poor and curses the rich (Lk 6:20, 24); he also says that one cannot serve both God and money (Matt 6:19–24) and promises rewards for those who serve the poor (Matt 19:20–26; Lk 14:12–14; etc.). James condemns those who show any partiality to the rich (Jas 2:1–7) and even condemns the rich for exploiting their laborers (5:1–5). John says that if a person sees someone else in need and doesn’t help them, “how does God’s love abide in [them]?” (1 Jn 3:17–18). It’s clear that concern for the poor was an important part of early Christianity and reflects God’s character.

    What about the political structure of the early church? As Jesus taught: “You know that the rulers of the gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones have authority over them. It will not be so among you, but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant” (Mk 10:42–45; Matt 20:25–28; Lk 22:24–27). He contrasts the very hierarchical structure of the Roman Empire to the ideal structure of the church, in which leaders must be servants. Jesus modeled this type of leadership to his disciples by washing their feet (John 13:1–17). This is very similar to the anarchist view, which doesn’t reject leadership altogether, but decouples it from the notions of hierarchy and ‘power-over’.

    A few leadership positions are mentioned in the letters of the New Testament: “apostles,” “bishops / overseers,” and “deacons / helpers” (cf. Phil 1:1). These people should have modeled servant leadership within the early church (in fact, “deacon” literally means “servant”). Furthermore, these positions were delegated “with the consent of the whole church” (Didache 15.1; 1 Clem 44.2). Based on our limited view into the earliest churches, they seem to have been very horizontal, with every person allowed to speak up and teach in an ordered manner (1 Cor 14:26–33). Each believer was to be treated as an equal and indispensable member of the body of Christ, and leadership positions were for the purpose of strengthening the other members of the body (Rom 12:3–5; 1 Cor 12:12–26; Eph 4:11–16).

    The earliest Christians also approached the social issues of their day in an anti-hierarchical way. This is clearest in Paul’s statements about our status in Christ:

There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male and female, for you are all one in the Messiah Jesus. (Gal 3:28)

Here there is neither Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but the Messiah is all and in all. (Col 3:11)

For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free, and we were all given one Spirit to drink. (1 Cor 12:13)

For there is no difference between Jew and Greek, for the same Lord of all is rich toward all who call on him. (Rom 10:12)

One of the biggest social issues plaguing the earliest church was the status of gentile believers. Paul is clear that their status is no different than Jewish believers, because they all are one in Christ, and he wasn’t afraid to condemn other apostles for discriminating against gentiles (Gal 2:11–14). He applies this same ethic to the distinction between enslaved and free people (cf. 1 Cor 7:21–23; Philem 10–18 says that a slave is to be treated like an apostle!), and between men and women.

    Like parts of the Hebrew Bible, there are parts of the New Testament that appear to accommodate and even uphold (for example) slavery and gender hierarchies (1 Cor 14:34–46?; Eph 6:5–6; Col 3:22; 1 Tim 2:11–15; 6:1–2; Tit 2:9–10; 1 Pet 2:18). I won’t try to defend or rationalize away these passages here, but the important thing to note is that if they are upholding such hierarchies, they run contrary to the overall ethic of the New Testament which is about horizontal agapē between persons. Treating each other as we would treat ourselves is, ultimately, not compatible with enslaving other persons or treating women as subservient.

    It’s also worth looking at the post-apostolic church. Although historians disagree on just how widespread pacifism was in early Christianity, it’s clear that many of the early church fathers held that any killing was unjust, and so advised against Christians serving in the military (e.g., Justin Martyr, 1 Apol 39; Athenagoras, Plea 1; Tertullian, Apol 36–37; De Idol 19; Hippolytus, Apostol Trad 16.9–11; Lactantius, Divine Inst 16.20). Canon 12 of the Council of Nicaea (AD 325) condemns those who leave the military to become Christians and later rejoin the military, even applying Proverbs 26:11 to them. The pagan writer Celsus criticized Christianity for ‘betraying their nation’ in this way (Origen, Against Celsus 8.68). While this is, of course, not the modern ideology of anarchism, it naturally lends itself to anarchism by undermining the state’s monopoly on violence.

The kingdom of God

    Most of the New Testament’s social teachings deal with the day-to-day life of the earliest believers. Because the early Christians were in no position to reform wider society, they didn’t really talk about their view of an ideal society. However, they did look forward to a time when God would bring about such an ideal society, the ‘Kingdom of God’. Very few passages in the New Testament deal directly with God’s consummated kingdom, but Paul does talk about it in the middle of an argument about the future resurrection:

...then comes the consummation, when [Jesus] will hand over the kingdom to God the Father, when he will abolish all rule and authority and power. For he must reign until [God] has “put all his enemies under his feet.” The last enemy to be abolished is death. For [God] has “put all things in subjection under his feet”; but when it may be said that all things have been subjected, it is clear that the One who subjected all things to him is excepted. When all things have been subjected to him, then the Son himself will be subjected to the One who subjected all things to him, so that God may be all in all. (1 Cor 15:24–28)

    For Paul, human hierarchies are portrayed as “enemies” on par with death itself, and the fulfillment of God’s kingdom will involve the abolition of “all [human] rule and authority and power.” This certainly looks like the anarchist vision of society without hierarchy. Paul quotes Psalms 8:6 and 109:1 (LXX) to show that all things, including Jesus’ enemies, will be subjected to him and ultimately to God; as several ancient commentators noticed, this must be a voluntary submission, because Christ is subjected in the same way. Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and other early church fathers marshaled this passage in support of a powerful argument for the eventual salvation of all people in and through Christ (see especially Gregory’s In illud).

    Paul’s brief treatise in 1 Cor 15 is the only New Testament passage that deals explicitly with the structure of God’s consummated kingdom. Still, as I noted earlier, Jesus rejects the association between leadership and hierarchy, instead teaching (and demonstrating) that leaders should be servants; this is explicitly connected to the theme of the Kingdom of God (Matt 20:20–28; Lk 22:24–30). The book of Revelation contrasts God’s kingdom with a supremely evil government represented by “the beast,” whose number “666” is likely an intertextual allusion to Solomon’s kingdom (1 Kgs 10:14; Rev 13:18) — a point which is unfortunately missed by most commentators (Bodner and Strawn 2020). God’s kingdom will not be like the ancient Israelite kingdom, which turned out to be tyrannical.

    Some of my fellow anarchists are likely concerned that the Kingdom of God, as presented by the New Testament, is highly exclusive, which seems contrary to anti-hierarchical ideals. However, I think it’s false that exclusivism is contrary to anarchism. Many people are indeed excluded from God’s kingdom (1 Cor 6:9–10; Gal 5:19–21; Eph 5:5; Rev 21:7–8, 27; 22:14–15), and this is because they oppose agapē by their actions. When faced with the harsh reality of human sinfulness, it becomes necessary to do something about those who actively oppose love; the most humane option, and the one most in line with anarchist ideals, is simply exclusion. The flip side of the anarchist slogan of “free association” is free disassociation.

    Moreover, the writers of the New Testament emphasize that exclusion need not be a permanent state, and those who are now excluded can freely join God’s kingdom through faith in Christ (1 Cor 6:11; Eph 5:7–9; Rev 21:24–27; 22:14–17). If those who were opposed to the Kingdom of God were nonetheless subjected to it, then God’s kingdom would be much more like a tyrannical state. The fact that such people are excluded from God’s kingdom, yet can still join it freely, actually makes it more like the ideal society that anarchism postulates.

The hard one: Romans 13 (and 1 Peter 2)

    Inevitably, a passage that is brought up against every Christian anarchist is Romans 13:1–7, where Paul tells the congregation at Rome to “be subject to the higher authorities”. A similar passage that isn’t as well known is 1 Peter 2:13–17, which says to “be subject to every human institution”! Here are the relevant passages in full:

Let everyone be subject to the higher authorities, for there is no authority except from God, and those that exist are appointed by God. Therefore whoever resists the authority opposes God’s ordinance, and those who oppose it bring judgment on themselves. For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to evil. Do you wish to have no fear of the authority? Then do good, and you will receive its praise, for it is God’s servant for your good. But if you do evil, be afraid, for it does not bear the sword in vain. It is God’s servant to execute wrath on the evildoer. Therefore one must be subject, not only because of wrath but also because of conscience. You pay taxes for the same reason, for they are God’s ministers devoted to this very thing. Render to everyone their dues: taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, and honor to whom honor is due. (Rom 13:1–7)

Be subject to every human institution for the Lord’s sake, whether to the emperor as supreme or to the governors sent by him to punish evildoers and praise good-doers. For it is God’s will that by doing good you should silence the ignorance of foolish people. Live as free people, and do not use freedom as a pretext for evil, but live as God’s servants. Honor everyone: love the brethren, fear God, and honor the emperor. (1 Pet 2:13–17)

These passages are often read as saying that Christians shouldn’t oppose authority, because authorities are put in place by God to reward good people and punish evildoers. That’s certainly the most straightforward interpretation if these passages are read in isolation. But it should give us pause to remember that both Paul and Peter were murdered by the Roman authorities for doing good, not evil. Moreover, as N. T. Wright and other NT scholars argue strongly, Paul’s message was itself subversive (in a nonviolent way) of the Roman Empire (e.g., Wright 1998).

    Thus, the hyper-statist view of Romans 13 — that it legitimates all authorities in all their activities — must be wrong. Every Christian should agree that the apostles wouldn’t advise submission to the state in extreme cases where it would involve denying Christ. This leaves some ambiguity as to which authorities, and which of their activities, are in line with God’s will. Although every authority is subject to God’s sovereignty in an absolute sense (cf. Dan 4:17), there is a very real sense in which authorities may be set up against God’s will (cf. Hos 8:4), and Paul warned the Roman authorities that they too were subject to God’s judgment (e.g., Acts 24:24–25).

    The context of both Romans 13:1–7 and 1 Peter 2:13–17 is important. Crucially, both passages are flanked by injunctions to love one’s enemy, not to take vengeance on one’s enemy, and to be willing to submit to persecution rather than return evil for evil (Rom 12:14–21; 1 Pet 2:18–21). It’s in this context that we should understand Paul’s and Peter’s command to “be subject to” (Gk: hypotassō) — not to “obey” (Gk: hypakouō) — the state. The state is arguably being presented as an enemy, at the least an entity which could be an enemy, and Christians should treat it like any other enemy: by not taking vengeance, even being willing to suffer persecution, and subverting it with love (Rom 12:14–21).

    Furthermore, both Paul and Peter only legitimate a limited range of activities for the state, specifically punishing evildoers and praising good-doers (Rom 13:3–4; 1 Pet 2:14). This provides no justification for any activities outside of this range. It only legitimates the state insofar as its activities are legitimate, which includes bearing “the sword” against “the evildoer”. Evidently this doesn’t even include retributive punishment, which Paul rejects wholesale in the immediate context, on the grounds that evil should be overcome with good and not further evil (Rom 12:17–21; cf. 3:8). As anarchists have long maintained, it’s possible for non-state entities to maintain justice, so this provides no justification for the necessity of the state, only a legitimation of some of its activities.

    Finally, let’s look at Paul’s statement about taxes (Rom 13:6–7). He says that taxes should be paid “to whom taxes are due,” but like Jesus’ very similar statement (Matt 22:15–22), this leaves ambiguity about to whom they are owed, and what exactly is owed. N. T. Wright (1992, 502–7) makes a compelling case that Jesus’ statement is actually a reference to 1 Macc 2:67–68 and a coded subversive message. Paul goes on to say, “Owe [Gk: opheilete] no one anything except to love one another” (Rom 13:8), which bears on his earlier statement to “render to everyone their dues [Gk: opheilas]” (13:7). I would submit that for Paul, taxes aren’t properly owed to the state (the only thing owed to anyone is agapē), but because Christians are supposed to “be subject to” the state (as to an enemy), they must be willing to pay taxes or face the consequences.

    It must be admitted that if this is the correct reading of Rom 13 and 1 Pet 2, it’s a pretty odd way for Paul and Peter to convey this message. But that may be expected, considering that Romans was written to the believing community in Rome, and 1 Peter is traditionally considered to have been written from Rome (“Babylon” at 1 Pet 5:13 is likely a code for Rome). If Paul and Peter were trying to convey a nonviolent yet subversive message, they would have to do so in a way that wasn’t immediately obvious to the Roman authorities. For this reason, it would actually be expected on an anarchist reading of these passages for the true message to be conveyed in a somewhat coded manner.

Conclusion

    In this article, I presented the Scriptural case for Christian anarchism. Beginning with the Hebrew Bible, I showed that the polity form prescribed in the Mosaic Law (specifically, Deut 16–18) is much more horizontal than a typical ancient Near Eastern kingdom, with nearly all political power belonging to the whole community. The Deuteronomistic History presents the establishment of the Israelite monarchy as a terrible mistake which set Israel down the path to her exile. In his sermon on the mount, Jesus went even further and rejected retribution and hierarchy altogether in favor of horizontal relationships between persons (i.e., treating all people as you would want to be treated). The logic of agapē, which is central to the Christian ethic of the New Testament, is inherently horizontal and is most compatible with a left-wing anarchism within the modern political landscape.

    The horizontal logic of agapē can be clearly seen in the structure and actions of the earliest church. Economically, the early believers were concerned with maintaining parity of wealth, and in at least one case (the Jerusalem church) actually instituted a form of libertarian communism (Ac 2:44–47; 4:32–35). Politically, the earliest church rejected hierarchical leadership in favor of the servant leadership that Jesus advocated. Socially, the early believers opposed slavery, racial, and gender hierarchies, and refused to participate in the state’s monopoly on violence. Eschatologically, the earliest church looked forward to the ultimate consummation of God’s kingdom when human hierarchy would be abolished.

    In conclusion, Christians who wish to consistently apply agapē across their lives, including their political views, should be anarchists. The church should not be focused on upholding or strengthening human hierarchies, but on subverting those very hierarchies using the logic of love. To be sure, believers shouldn’t be involved in violent revolution against the state, because the law of agapē forbids us from returning evil for evil. Fortunately, the “revolution” which is envisioned by most anarchists is not a violent one, but a transformation of society by creating new, horizontal institutions of mutual aid. This is a worthwhile revolution, which a consistent reading of the New Testament favors, which the earliest believers were involved in, and which Christians today should also support.

The Bible and the State (part 1 of 2)

    There are a wide variety of views about the relationship between Christianity and the state. Some Christians strongly support a nationalistic partnership with the state, while others hold to a strict separation between church and state and deny that believers should have anything to do with the state at all. Most Christians exist somewhere on a continuum between these two views. But what if the correct view doesn’t lie on this spectrum at all – what if Christians should actually be opposed to the state as an institution? This is the view of Christian anarchism.

    Admittedly, Christian anarchism seems very counterintuitive. The early anarchist theorist Mikhail Bakunin was avowedly anti-theistic and saw religion and the state as twin unjustified hierarchies that propped each other up. Most anarchists aren’t Christians, and anarchism is underrepresented within Christianity. Even so, people like Leo Tolstoy, Jacques Ellul, and Gary Chartier have argued that anarchism is not only compatible with Christianity, but is actually the fullest political expression of Christian values (especially love). I too am a Christian anarchist, and in this post, I’ll present the Scriptural case for anarchism.

The state in the story of Israel

    First, let’s look at the role that the state plays in the story of the Hebrew Bible (HB). From a Christian perspective, the HB tells the story of God’s people, Israel, which will culminate in the arrival of Israel’s Messiah Jesus. For the most part, this story is a story of failure, which is the perspective that the HB itself takes, along with most second-Temple period Jews. Israel is sent into exile for her sins, and the exile is seen as continuing even after many Judeans return to their homeland. (For a summary of the second-Temple literature on this topic, see N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God, chap. 2.)

    Let’s go back to the high point of Israel’s history, according to the HB: the exodus from Egypt. This was the point at which the people of Israel were rescued from slavery by their God YHWH and given the law that defined them as a polity. The Mosaic Law was certainly not anarchistic, since it upheld social hierarchies (for example, foreigners were allowed to be enslaved for life; Lev 25:39–46) and promoted the genocide of Canaanite peoples. Even so, the extent to which the role of the state is reduced in the Mosaic Law is remarkable.

    The key section of the Mosaic Law which describes the roles of governing officials is Deuteronomy 16–18. This legal code makes no provision for any legislative role, which is unsurprising, since the Law had already been set down. As for judicial roles, the community as a whole was expected to “appoint judges and officials” in each of their towns to “justly govern the people” (Deut 16:18–20); if they couldn’t reach a decision in their town, they could appeal to the priests, who were the final authority (17:8–13). The executive role was given to the people of the community themselves, who would carry out a punishment of summary execution if necessary (17:2–7). The role of king is only given as a concession to the people, since they desire to be like other nations; but the king isn’t allowed to acquire excessive sexual or economic power for himself, and isn’t regarded as above the law, “so that his heart isn’t exalted above his brethren” (17:14–20). The most important role is that of “the prophet”, who is to be regarded as Moses’ successor and recognized by the truth of his statements (18:15–22).

    This model of the Israelite polity isn’t an anarchist one, to be sure, but it’s far less hierarchical than the typical ancient Near Eastern polity. The people as a whole are given the role of appointing judicial positions, the people as a whole take on the executive function, and the people are the ones expected to recognize the prophet. The king isn’t even prescribed a role by the Law, and if the people do choose to have a king anyway, there are numerous brakes on his power. The only office that has unambiguous authority over the entire land is the Levitical priesthood, and this is only a judicial role that follows from a voluntary appeals process; everything else belongs to the communities of the individual towns.

    Moreover, there is no compulsory taxation prescribed by the Mosaic Law, unlike in other ancient Near Eastern polities. There is instead a voluntary “tithe”, ten percent of each household’s produce which provides a social safety net for Levites (who aren’t involved in agricultural work), migrants, the poor, widows, and orphans (Lev 27:30–33; Num 18:20–32; Deut 14:22–29; 26:12–15). There’s no punishment given for those who fail to provide a tithe, but there’s clearly social and religious pressure to do so. The later prophets consistently rebuke Israel for failing to provide for these at-risk groups, even after they’re exiled (cf. Mal 3:8–12).

    According to the HB, this model seems to have been followed for the most part during the period of the judges, and at least two prophets, Deborah and Samuel, are said to have led Israel (Judg 4:4; 1 Sam 7:15–17). But because of corruption in the priestly and prophetic offices (1 Sam 2:12–26; 8:1–3; which may indicate the dangers of even these limited hereditary positions), the “elders” of Israel ask for a king to govern them “like other nations” (1 Sam 8:4–5). Samuel’s response is worth quoting in full:

“These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you: he will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots, and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties and some to plow his ground and to reap his harvest and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his courtiers. He will take one-tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and his courtiers. He will take your male and female slaves and the best of your cattle and donkeys and put them to his work. He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves. And on that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves, but YHWH will not answer you on that day.”

Clearly Samuel (and the author of this history) takes a low view of the king, which is remarkable for the ancient Near East where kings were regularly divinized. Choosing a human king was even viewed as abandoning YHWH as king (1 Sam 8:7). There are no possible upsides to the monarchy; it’s an entirely parasitic office which will only enrich itself through conscription and taxation. The author of the Deuteronomistic History goes on to make it very clear that Samuel’s speech is much more than an empty warning.

    Only two years after the monarchy is established, the king Saul already begins to unlawfully aggregate power to himself by taking over some of the responsibilities of the prophetic office, which causes him to be rejected by YHWH (1 Sam 13:8–14). His successor David uses his position of power to rape Bathsheba and murder her husband (2 Sam 11), and finishes out his reign by calling a census for war contrary to the will of YHWH (2 Sam 24) — although the historian takes a more positive overall view of David’s reign. His son Solomon, however, used forced labor to build his cities, and aggregated massive amounts of sexual, political, and economic power, all contrary to the law (1 Kgs 9:15–21; 10:14–11:8; cf. Deut 17:14–20). The harsh slavery under which Solomon and his son placed Israel caused the northern tribes to secede and choose their own king (1 Kgs 12), but their kings also turned out to be evil. In retrospect, it was primarily the kings (of both north and south) who led Israel into sin and caused her exile (2 Kgs 17:7–23; 23:26–27; 24:1–4).

    It’s not an exaggeration to say that, from the perspective of the Deuteronomistic historian, the turning point for Israel was when the people chose a monarchy. He explicitly refers to this decision as “sin” and an “evil” (1 Sam 12:19). By rejecting the (much more horizontal) structure of the Israelite polity prescribed by YHWH in favor of a typical ancient Near Eastern monarchy, Israel set the stage for her own downfall. As soon as he was given power, the king began to aggregate more and more power and lead the people into sin. (Within the second-Temple period, the monarchy began to be viewed in a more favorable light, but that’s not the perspective taken in the HB itself.)

The sermon on the mount

    The HB isn’t univocal in its perspective on the state. While the Deuteronomistic History clearly takes a low view of the monarchy, other parts of the HB seem to have a more favorable view, and much of the HB takes a pretty nationalistic tone (with the exception of some prophets, esp. Isaiah 40–66). Fortunately, as Christians, we don’t just have the HB but also the New Testament to guide our beliefs. Where the HB accommodated, upheld, and even supported some human hierarchies, many of Jesus’ teachings repudiate these hierarchies and point in an implicitly anarchist direction.

    Jesus’ sermon on the mount (Matt 5–7; Lk 6) has been a primary focus for many Christian anarchists, such as Leo Tolstoy and Alexandre Christoyannopoulos. It’s easy to see why: in this sermon, Jesus reinterprets much of the Mosaic Law in a direction that looks very anarchistic. He didn’t regard himself as having overturned any of the Law, but instead having brought it to fulfillment (Matt 5:17–20). Let’s briefly look at some of his teachings in this sermon.

    First, he reinterprets the commandment not to murder as a command not to be angry at one’s brethren (Matt 5:21–24). But this applies not only to one’s siblings; it even applies to one’s “legal adversary” (Gk: antidikos; 5:25–26). You should reconcile with your adversary before bringing them to be judged in court, lest you be judged — by God. This ties into Jesus’ later teaching, “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged” (7:1–5). He rebukes his audience for judging a “speck” in someone else’s eye while they have a “log” in their own, directing them away from petty moralism and toward their own improvement.

    Of course, if no sinful person can judge others, they can’t delegate the ability to judge others to other sinful people. This means that Christians should reconcile with their adversaries outside of the government judicial system. In fact, Paul says this explicitly in his letter to the Corinthian church! “To have lawsuits at all with one another is already a defeat for you. Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be defrauded? But you yourselves wrong and defraud” (1 Cor 6:1–8). This mentality of non-judgment overturns the basis for a government judiciary in the first place.

    Christian anarchists have also emphasized Jesus’ repudiation of the lex talionis, the law of retribution. “You have heard it said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer” (Matt 5:38–39). In context, Jesus isn’t renouncing all opposition to evil, but his instructions are paradoxical. Instead of resisting evil by fighting back, his disciples are supposed to resist evil by giving further to the evildoer, and thereby breaking the cycle of violence (5:39–42). Jesus isn’t concerned with whether retribution is ‘just’ in some abstract sense, but whether it reflects the character that we should be cultivating in the world, and he’s clear that it does not. He perfectly lived out this teaching by giving up his very life to evildoers, and in doing so, he paradoxically defeated evil once and for all.

    Jesus goes on to interpret Lev 19:18 (“You shall love your neighbor as yourself”) to include even one’s enemies: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt 5:43–44). Once again, he isn’t concerned with the abstract ‘justice’ of it all, but whether it reflects God’s character; since God loves his enemies, we should too (5:45–48).

    Another teaching which is anarchistic in its implications is the golden rule: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you, for this is the Law and the Prophets” (7:12). This teaching, which Jesus makes central to the (reinterpreted) law, explicitly places each person on an equal footing and thereby repudiates human hierarchy. Robert Ellsberg, a member of the anarchistic Catholic Worker movement, says that the golden rule is at “the root of anarchist morality... If you would not be exploited, then you must not exploit others. If you would not be ruled, then you must refuse to rule others.”

    This repudiation of hierarchy can be seen in the ‘beatitudes’ at the beginning of Jesus’ sermon. He blesses those at the bottom of social hierarchies — the poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted for righteousness — thereby bringing them up to a higher status in God’s eyes (Matt 5:3–10). Luke’s account goes even further, as Jesus blesses the poor, hungry, and mourners, and condemns the rich, the full, and the mockers (Lk 6:20–26). Although this isn’t as explicit as the golden rule, it clearly relates Jesus’ desire to flatten human economic and spiritual hierarchies.

    Finally, a common concern about anarchy is whether and how a non-hierarchical society would function. We could give many examples which show that anarchy can and does work even better than hierarchy. But Jesus rejects the logic of this concern altogether; instead, he says, as long as people “seek first God’s kingdom and his righteousness,” they shouldn’t worry about the future (Matt 6:33–34). Just as God takes care of the grass and flowers of the field, he will also take care of us (6:25–32). Rather than worrying about the future of society, we should simply seek righteousness in the present.

    Taken together, Jesus’ teachings in the sermon on the mount repudiate the whole logic of hierarchy and the state. If retribution is wrong, if we are supposed to love our enemies and treat everyone as we would treat ourselves, then there’s no justification for asymmetric, hierarchical relationships between people. None of this means that, as some Christian leftists have suggested, Jesus was the “first socialist” or “first anarchist.” It would be anachronistic to attribute to him any modern political ideology, right- or left-wing. But if we consistently apply Jesus’ teachings within the modern political landscape, it ends up looking a whole lot like anarchism, with its refusal of human hierarchies and retribution (Meggitt 2017).

The political significance of agape

    A concept central to the New Testament is love, agapē in Greek. In Matthew and Mark, when Jesus is asked about the most important commandments, he responds that the Law is summed up in the two commands, “You shall love [agapēseis] the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, and all your mind,” and “You shall love [agapēseis] your neighbor as yourself” (Matt 22:34–40; Mk 12:28–34). In Luke’s account, he asks someone else to sum up the Law, they respond with these two commands, and he says, “You have given the right answer” (Lk 10:25–28).

    In John’s gospel, Jesus gives his disciples a “new command,” to “love [agapate] one another as I have loved you,” and says that this is how they will be known as his disciples (13:34–35). He goes on to tell them that if they keep his commandments, they will “abide in my love [agapē],” and that he gives them these commands “so that you may love [agapate] one another” (15:10–17). In his letters, John actually makes this — love for one another — the test of whether someone is a true child of God (1 Jn 2:8–11; 3:10–24; 4:7–5:2; 2 Jn 5–6). John even asserts that “God is love [agapē], and those who abide in God abide in love, and God abides in them” (1 Jn 4:16).

    Paul tells the believers in the Roman church to “owe no one anything, except to love [agapan] one another, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law” (Rom 13:8–10). No spiritual gift is worth anything if it isn’t accompanied by agapē (1 Cor 13:1–3). Love binds together every other virtue (Col 3:14). To the Galatian church, he writes, “in Messiah Jesus... the only thing that matters is faith working through love... For the whole law is summed up in a single command: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (Gal 5:6, 13–14). Likewise, the author of 1 Timothy says that “the aim of [the law] is love [agapē] which comes from a pure heart, a good conscience, and a sincere faith,” but he warns that “some people have deviated from this and turned to meaningless talk, desiring to be teachers of the law without understanding what they are saying or the things they confidently assert” (1:5–7).

    In his letter to the diaspora, the apostle James writes, “If you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself,’ you are doing well” (Jas 2:8). The apostle Peter, in his own letter to the diaspora, agrees: “Above all, maintain constant love [agapēn] for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins” (1 Pet 4:8).

    This brief summary makes it clear that agapē was central to the Christian ethic of the New Testament authors. Nearly all of them, with the exception of Jude, the Hebraist, and the authors of 2 Peter (?) and Revelation (?), explicitly say that love is the greatest commandment and even sums up the whole law. But what exactly does agapē look like? Paul and John paint a clear picture:

• “agapē does not do evil to a neighbor” (Rom 13:10)
• “Through agapē serve one another... bear one another’s burdens, and you will fulfill the law of Messiah” (Gal 5:13; 6:2)
• “agapē is patient and kind; agapē is not envious; agapē is not boastful or arrogant or rude; it does not seek its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no account of wrongs; it does not delight in injustice but rejoices in truth” (1 Cor 13:4–6)
• “No one has greater agapē than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (Jn 15:13)
• “God demonstrates his agapē to us, in that while we were still sinners, the Messiah died for us... while we were enemies” (Rom 5:8)
• “We know agapē by this, that he laid down his life for us” (1 Jn 3:16)

We can see that agapē involves a notion of self-giving, which at its greatest extent is the self-gift of one’s very life to another, whether a friend or an enemy. Moreover, agapē between humans is a fundamentally horizontal relationship; after all, the commandment is to “love your neighbor as yourself.”

    By reflecting on agapē, we can see what kinds of politics are most compatible with Christianity. A politically conservative view, which accepts certain hierarchies because they are traditional, seems to be least compatible; we shouldn’t accept institutions based on their conventionality, but whether they are conducive to agapē. The logic of agapē calls us to be in the world without being a part of it, which is contrary to political conservatism. But neither is agapē a wishy-washy, ‘do as thou wilt’ kind of love that’s conducive to political liberalism and/or right-wing libertarianism. It provides us with the real social obligation to serve one another. Thus, in the context of modern politics, agapē is most conducive to a social, left-wing libertarianism.

The early church and anarchy

    We might have a better idea of how to act out agapē if we look at how the early church did so. There are a few interesting passages in the book of Acts which relate how the church in Jerusalem was structured during its earliest days:

Now all the believers were together and had all things in common; they were selling their possessions and goods and distributing the proceeds to all, as each had need. Every day, as they continued together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. (Ac 2:44–47)

Now the whole group of believers were of one heart and soul, and no one said that anything he possessed was his own, but all things were in common for them... There was no one in need among them, for as many as owned lands or houses were selling them and bringing the proceeds of what was sold. They were laying it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to each as anyone had need. (Ac 4:32, 34–35)

    These texts show that the early church was communist in its economic structure; that is, in the technical sense of “from each according to their ability, to each according to their need,” not in the popular sense of totalitarianism. In fact, the socialist slogans, “from each according to his ability,” “to each according to his need,” and “to each according to his work,” all find their origin in Scripture (Bovens and Lutz 2019). It seems that this structure was harshly enforced in the Jerusalem church, not by human authority but by God, since Ananias and Sapphira were struck dead for lying and failing to contribute their whole wealth (Acts 5:1–11).

    There’s considerable evidence that the early Christian practice of libertarian communism was widespread and continued well into the second century (Montero 2017). Moreover, the first churches across the Mediterranean provided economic support to each other when they were in need. During a famine, the disciples decided that “according to their ability, each would send relief to the brethren in Judea” (Ac 11:29). Paul relates the same event in one of his letters, saying that the other apostles asked him “to remember the poor, which was actually what I was eager to do” (Gal 2:10). This collection took up much of Paul’s ministry, and he mentions it in three other letters (Rom 15:25–27; 1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 8–9). Paul is concerned that there should be economic parity between churches, and he sees this as following Jesus’ own self-sacrifice in which he became “poor” so that we could be “rich” (2 Cor 8:9–16).

    Both the internal economic structure of the Jerusalem church and the collection among the gentile churches reflect a concern for economic equality, which can be seen in other New Testament writings. As noted already, Jesus himself blesses the poor and curses the rich (Lk 6:20, 24); he also says that one cannot serve both God and money (Matt 6:19–24) and promises rewards for those who serve the poor (Matt 19:20–26; Lk 14:12–14; etc.). James condemns those who show any partiality to the rich (Jas 2:1–7) and even condemns the rich for exploiting their laborers (5:1–5). John says that if a person sees someone else in need and doesn’t help them, “how does God’s love abide in [them]?” (1 Jn 3:17–18). It’s clear that concern for the poor was an important part of early Christianity and reflects God’s character.

    What about the political structure of the early church? As Jesus taught: “You know that the rulers of the gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones have authority over them. It will not be so among you, but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant” (Mk 10:42–45; Matt 20:25–28; Lk 22:24–27). He contrasts the very hierarchical structure of the Roman Empire to the ideal structure of the church, in which leaders must be servants. Jesus modeled this type of leadership to his disciples by washing their feet (John 13:1–17). This is very similar to the anarchist view, which doesn’t reject leadership altogether, but decouples it from the notions of hierarchy and ‘power-over’.

    A few leadership positions are mentioned in the letters of the New Testament: “apostles,” “bishops / overseers,” and “deacons / helpers” (cf. Phil 1:1). These people should have modeled servant leadership within the early church (in fact, “deacon” literally means “servant”). Furthermore, these positions were delegated “with the consent of the whole church” (Didache 15.1; 1 Clem 44.2). Based on our limited view into the earliest churches, they seem to have been very horizontal, with every person allowed to speak up and teach in an ordered manner (1 Cor 14:26–33). Each believer was to be treated as an equal and indispensable member of the body of Christ, and leadership positions were for the purpose of strengthening the other members of the body (Rom 12:3–5; 1 Cor 12:12–26; Eph 4:11–16).

    The earliest Christians also approached the social issues of their day in an anti-hierarchical way. This is clearest in Paul’s statements about our status in Christ:

There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male and female, for you are all one in the Messiah Jesus. (Gal 3:28)

Here there is neither Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but the Messiah is all and in all. (Col 3:11)

For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free, and we were all given one Spirit to drink. (1 Cor 12:13)

For there is no difference between Jew and Greek, for the same Lord of all is rich toward all who call on him. (Rom 10:12)

One of the biggest social issues plaguing the earliest church was the status of gentile believers. Paul is clear that their status is no different than Jewish believers, because they all are one in Christ, and he wasn’t afraid to condemn other apostles for discriminating against gentiles (Gal 2:11–14). He applies this same ethic to the distinction between enslaved and free people (cf. 1 Cor 7:21–23; Philem 10–18 says that a slave is to be treated like an apostle!), and between men and women.

    Like parts of the Hebrew Bible, there are parts of the New Testament that appear to accommodate and even uphold (for example) slavery and gender hierarchies (1 Cor 14:34–46?; Eph 6:5–6; Col 3:22; 1 Tim 2:11–15; 6:1–2; Tit 2:9–10; 1 Pet 2:18). I won’t try to defend or rationalize away these passages here, but the important thing to note is that if they are upholding such hierarchies, they run contrary to the overall ethic of the New Testament which is about horizontal agapē between persons. Treating each other as we would treat ourselves is, ultimately, not compatible with enslaving other persons or treating women as subservient.

    It’s also worth looking at the post-apostolic church. Although historians disagree on just how widespread pacifism was in early Christianity, it’s clear that many of the early church fathers held that any killing was unjust, and so advised against Christians serving in the military (e.g., Justin Martyr, 1 Apol 39; Athenagoras, Plea 1; Tertullian, Apol 36–37; De Idol 19; Hippolytus, Apostol Trad 16.9–11; Lactantius, Divine Inst 16.20). Canon 12 of the Council of Nicaea (AD 325) condemns those who leave the military to become Christians and later rejoin the military, even applying Proverbs 26:11 to them. The pagan writer Celsus criticized Christianity for ‘betraying their nation’ in this way (Origen, Against Celsus 8.68). While this is, of course, not the modern ideology of anarchism, it naturally lends itself to anarchism by undermining the state’s monopoly on violence.

The kingdom of God

    Most of the New Testament’s social teachings deal with the day-to-day life of the earliest believers. Because the early Christians were in no position to reform wider society, they didn’t really talk about their view of an ideal society. However, they did look forward to a time when God would bring about such an ideal society, the ‘Kingdom of God’. Very few passages in the New Testament deal directly with God’s consummated kingdom, but Paul does talk about it in the middle of an argument about the future resurrection:

...then comes the consummation, when [Jesus] will hand over the kingdom to God the Father, when he will abolish all rule and authority and power. For he must reign until [God] has “put all his enemies under his feet.” The last enemy to be abolished is death. For [God] has “put all things in subjection under his feet”; but when it may be said that all things have been subjected, it is clear that the One who subjected all things to him is excepted. When all things have been subjected to him, then the Son himself will be subjected to the One who subjected all things to him, so that God may be all in all. (1 Cor 15:24–28)

    For Paul, human hierarchies are portrayed as “enemies” on par with death itself, and the fulfillment of God’s kingdom will involve the abolition of “all [human] rule and authority and power.” This certainly looks like the anarchist vision of society without hierarchy. Paul quotes Psalms 8:6 and 109:1 (LXX) to show that all things, including Jesus’ enemies, will be subjected to him and ultimately to God; as several ancient commentators noticed, this must be a voluntary submission, because Christ is subjected in the same way. Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and other early church fathers marshaled this passage in support of a powerful argument for the eventual salvation of all people in and through Christ (see especially Gregory’s In illud).

    Paul’s brief treatise in 1 Cor 15 is the only New Testament passage that deals explicitly with the structure of God’s consummated kingdom. Still, as I noted earlier, Jesus rejects the association between leadership and hierarchy, instead teaching (and demonstrating) that leaders should be servants; this is explicitly connected to the theme of the Kingdom of God (Matt 20:20–28; Lk 22:24–30). The book of Revelation contrasts God’s kingdom with a supremely evil government represented by “the beast,” whose number “666” is likely an intertextual allusion to Solomon’s kingdom (1 Kgs 10:14; Rev 13:18) — a point which is unfortunately missed by most commentators (Bodner and Strawn 2020). God’s kingdom will not be like the ancient Israelite kingdom, which turned out to be tyrannical.

    Some of my fellow anarchists are likely concerned that the Kingdom of God, as presented by the New Testament, is highly exclusive, which seems contrary to anti-hierarchical ideals. However, I think it’s false that exclusivism is contrary to anarchism. Many people are indeed excluded from God’s kingdom (1 Cor 6:9–10; Gal 5:19–21; Eph 5:5; Rev 21:7–8, 27; 22:14–15), and this is because they oppose agapē by their actions. When faced with the harsh reality of human sinfulness, it becomes necessary to do something about those who actively oppose love; the most humane option, and the one most in line with anarchist ideals, is simply exclusion. The flip side of the anarchist slogan of “free association” is free disassociation.

    Moreover, the writers of the New Testament emphasize that exclusion need not be a permanent state, and those who are now excluded can freely join God’s kingdom through faith in Christ (1 Cor 6:11; Eph 5:7–9; Rev 21:24–27; 22:14–17). If those who were opposed to the Kingdom of God were nonetheless subjected to it, then God’s kingdom would be much more like a tyrannical state. The fact that such people are excluded from God’s kingdom, yet can still join it freely, actually makes it more like the ideal society that anarchism postulates.

The hard one: Romans 13 (and 1 Peter 2)

    Inevitably, a passage that is brought up against every Christian anarchist is Romans 13:1–7, where Paul tells the congregation at Rome to “be subject to the higher authorities”. A similar passage that isn’t as well known is 1 Peter 2:13–17, which says to “be subject to every human institution”! Here are the relevant passages in full:

Let everyone be subject to the higher authorities, for there is no authority except from God, and those that exist are appointed by God. Therefore whoever resists the authority opposes God’s ordinance, and those who oppose it bring judgment on themselves. For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to evil. Do you wish to have no fear of the authority? Then do good, and you will receive its praise, for it is God’s servant for your good. But if you do evil, be afraid, for it does not bear the sword in vain. It is God’s servant to execute wrath on the evildoer. Therefore one must be subject, not only because of wrath but also because of conscience. You pay taxes for the same reason, for they are God’s ministers devoted to this very thing. Render to everyone their dues: taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, and honor to whom honor is due. (Rom 13:1–7)

Be subject to every human institution for the Lord’s sake, whether to the emperor as supreme or to the governors sent by him to punish evildoers and praise good-doers. For it is God’s will that by doing good you should silence the ignorance of foolish people. Live as free people, and do not use freedom as a pretext for evil, but live as God’s servants. Honor everyone: love the brethren, fear God, and honor the emperor. (1 Pet 2:13–17)

These passages are often read as saying that Christians shouldn’t oppose authority, because authorities are put in place by God to reward good people and punish evildoers. That’s certainly the most straightforward interpretation if these passages are read in isolation. But it should give us pause to remember that both Paul and Peter were murdered by the Roman authorities for doing good, not evil. Moreover, as N. T. Wright and other NT scholars argue strongly, Paul’s message was itself subversive (in a nonviolent way) of the Roman Empire (e.g., Wright 1998).

    Thus, the hyper-statist view of Romans 13 — that it legitimates all authorities in all their activities — must be wrong. Every Christian should agree that the apostles wouldn’t advise submission to the state in extreme cases where it would involve denying Christ. This leaves some ambiguity as to which authorities, and which of their activities, are in line with God’s will. Although every authority is subject to God’s sovereignty in an absolute sense (cf. Dan 4:17), there is a very real sense in which authorities may be set up against God’s will (cf. Hos 8:4), and Paul warned the Roman authorities that they too were subject to God’s judgment (e.g., Acts 24:24–25).

    The context of both Romans 13:1–7 and 1 Peter 2:13–17 is important. Crucially, both passages are flanked by injunctions to love one’s enemy, not to take vengeance on one’s enemy, and to be willing to submit to persecution rather than return evil for evil (Rom 12:14–21; 1 Pet 2:18–21). It’s in this context that we should understand Paul’s and Peter’s command to “be subject to” (Gk: hypotassō) — not to “obey” (Gk: hypakouō) — the state. The state is arguably being presented as an enemy, at the least an entity which could be an enemy, and Christians should treat it like any other enemy: by not taking vengeance, even being willing to suffer persecution, and subverting it with love (Rom 12:14–21).

    Furthermore, both Paul and Peter only legitimate a limited range of activities for the state, specifically punishing evildoers and praising good-doers (Rom 13:3–4; 1 Pet 2:14). This provides no justification for any activities outside of this range. It only legitimates the state insofar as its activities are legitimate, which includes bearing “the sword” against “the evildoer”. Evidently this doesn’t even include retributive punishment, which Paul rejects wholesale in the immediate context, on the grounds that evil should be overcome with good and not further evil (Rom 12:17–21; cf. 3:8). As anarchists have long maintained, it’s possible for non-state entities to maintain justice, so this provides no justification for the necessity of the state, only a legitimation of some of its activities.

    Finally, let’s look at Paul’s statement about taxes (Rom 13:6–7). He says that taxes should be paid “to whom taxes are due,” but like Jesus’ very similar statement (Matt 22:15–22), this leaves ambiguity about to whom they are owed, and what exactly is owed. N. T. Wright (1992, 502–7) makes a compelling case that Jesus’ statement is actually a reference to 1 Macc 2:67–68 and a coded subversive message. Paul goes on to say, “Owe [Gk: opheilete] no one anything except to love one another” (Rom 13:8), which bears on his earlier statement to “render to everyone their dues [Gk: opheilas]” (13:7). I would submit that for Paul, taxes aren’t properly owed to the state (the only thing owed to anyone is agapē), but because Christians are supposed to “be subject to” the state (as to an enemy), they must be willing to pay taxes or face the consequences.

    It must be admitted that if this is the correct reading of Rom 13 and 1 Pet 2, it’s a pretty odd way for Paul and Peter to convey this message. But that may be expected, considering that Romans was written to the believing community in Rome, and 1 Peter is traditionally considered to have been written from Rome (“Babylon” at 1 Pet 5:13 is likely a code for Rome). If Paul and Peter were trying to convey a nonviolent yet subversive message, they would have to do so in a way that wasn’t immediately obvious to the Roman authorities. For this reason, it would actually be expected on an anarchist reading of these passages for the true message to be conveyed in a somewhat coded manner.

Conclusion

    In this article, I presented the Scriptural case for Christian anarchism. Beginning with the Hebrew Bible, I showed that the polity form prescribed in the Mosaic Law (specifically, Deut 16–18) is much more horizontal than a typical ancient Near Eastern kingdom, with nearly all political power belonging to the whole community. The Deuteronomistic History presents the establishment of the Israelite monarchy as a terrible mistake which set Israel down the path to her exile. In his sermon on the mount, Jesus went even further and rejected retribution and hierarchy altogether in favor of horizontal relationships between persons (i.e., treating all people as you would want to be treated). The logic of agapē, which is central to the Christian ethic of the New Testament, is inherently horizontal and is most compatible with a left-wing anarchism within the modern political landscape.

    The horizontal logic of agapē can be clearly seen in the structure and actions of the earliest church. Economically, the early believers were concerned with maintaining parity of wealth, and in at least one case (the Jerusalem church) actually instituted a form of libertarian communism (Ac 2:44–47; 4:32–35). Politically, the earliest church rejected hierarchical leadership in favor of the servant leadership that Jesus advocated. Socially, the early believers opposed slavery, racial, and gender hierarchies, and refused to participate in the state’s monopoly on violence. Eschatologically, the earliest church looked forward to the ultimate consummation of God’s kingdom when human hierarchy would be abolished.

    In conclusion, Christians who wish to consistently apply agapē across their lives, including their political views, should be anarchists. The church should not be focused on upholding or strengthening human hierarchies, but on subverting those very hierarchies using the logic of love. To be sure, believers shouldn’t be involved in violent revolution against the state, because the law of agapē forbids us from returning evil for evil. Fortunately, the “revolution” which is envisioned by most anarchists is not a violent one, but a transformation of society by creating new, horizontal institutions of mutual aid. This is a worthwhile revolution, which a consistent reading of the New Testament favors, which the earliest believers were involved in, and which Christians today should also support.

The Early Church, Genesis, and Evolution

    Recently, I’ve been exploring the writings of the early church fathers more deeply, and I’ve found many resources there that can help us reconcile Christianity with the findings of modern science. In particular, the Eastern tradition represented by theologians like Origen of Alexandria, St. Gregory of Nyssa, and St. Maximus the Confessor shows how Genesis 1–3 can be reconciled with an ancient universe and evolution. However, even Western theologians like St. Augustine of Hippo and Thomas Aquinas, who interpreted Genesis differently, didn’t share the same concerns as modern young earth creationists. In this post, I’ll flesh how their views may be valuable for us today.

The creation of reasons

    In the writings of Origen of Alexandria, he distinguishes between two distinct creations, “the constructional and providential,” both of which were created by God’s Wisdom (Exp Prov 8 [PG 17.185]). The “providential” creation refers to the reasons (logoi) for which God created everything, that is, his good purposes for the “constructional” (material) creation. It’s in this sense that Wisdom “was ‘created as the beginning of the ways of God’ [Prov 8:22], because she contained within herself the beginnings, or forms, or species of all creation” (De Princ I.2.2). [1] Later, he writes that “there have always existed in Wisdom, by a prefiguration and preformation, those things which afterward received substantial existence” (I.4.4–5). [2] The Son of God, as Wisdom, “willed to establish a creative relation to to the future creatures; this is the precise meaning of the saying that she ‘was created the beginning of God’s ways’” (Frag John 1).

    Just as humans have thoughts and plans before they build something, “all things have come to be according to the words/reasons [logous] pre-uttered by God that were in Wisdom, ‘for he made all things in Wisdom’ [Ps 104:24]” (Comm in John I.113–15; cf. I.243ff). The reference to God uttering (or “pre-uttering”) words in creation seems to allude to Genesis 1, and Origen makes this connection even clearer elsewhere:

For the declaration concerning each of the created things, “God saw that it was good,” means this: God perceived good in the logoi of each thing, and saw how each of the created things is good in relation to the logoi for which it had come to be. (Comm in John XIII.280–84)

He goes on to apply this specifically to the fifth and sixth days of creation (Gen 1:20–24; cf. Origen, Hom in Gen I.10). [3] In his homily on Genesis 1, he says that “in the beginning” refers to the fact that “all things which were made were made... in the Savior” (I.1). The ‘first day’ of creation was not, strictly speaking, a day, because “there was not yet time... But time begins to exist with the following days” (I.1).

    Basil of Caesarea, a fourth-century theologian who was influenced by Origen, interpreted the first day of Genesis 1 as a 24-hour period (Hexaemeron II.8). However, like Origen, he argued that “in the beginning” refers to “the instantaneous and timeless act of creation... the world came into existence instantaneously at the will of God,” with reference to the “invisible things” (I.6). Basil’s brother Gregory of Nyssa was clearer about the creation of logoi – “God brought forth, in an instant, the principles, causes, and powers of being, and the substance of every being concurred in the first act of his will” [PG 44.72B]. Patristic scholar Johannes Zachhuber, after discussing Gregory’s In Hexaemeron, concludes,

In summary then, God created, according to Gregory, “in the beginning” a pleroma of logoi, of intelligible being which, however, can actualise itself only under the conditions of space and time in order to reach the perfection which is only germinally provided in it. This temporal and spatial development of those forming principles constitutes sensible being in the first place. [4]

It’s unclear whether Gregory held the same opinion as his brother Basil about the days of Genesis 1 being 24-hour periods.

    Maximus the Confessor, a seventh-century theologian, further developed the theory of logoi in response to those who asserted the pre-existence of souls. What ‘pre-existed’ the material world weren’t individual souls, but the logoi of all creatures existed in the Logos of God the Father (Ambiguum 7 [PG 91.1077C–80B]). These logoi exist as potentialities – “in the Wisdom of the Creator, individual things were created at the appropriate moment of time, in a manner consistent with their logoi, and thus they received in themselves actual existence as beings” [91.1081AB]. They also exist as divine will-acts, by which God creates and knows his creation [91.1085AC]. Those who act in accordance with their logos (God’s good purpose for them) come to be “in God,” because that is where their logos exists [91.1080C–81A, 84AD].

    John Scotus Eriugena, a ninth-century Irish philosopher who tried to reconcile Eastern and Western Christian philosophy, developed an allegorical reading of Genesis 1 in accordance with Gregory and Maximus (Periphyseon III.690C–742B). It would be too much to go into the details of his interpretation here, but he takes the events of the six days to refer to the creation of natures, matter, forms, elements, and other metaphysical categories. Thus, Eriugena argues that Genesis 1 refers to the logical (not temporal) sequence in the creation of the material universe, which was actually instantaneous (III.708B–09B). He also insists that the “Causes” (Platonic forms) and “reasons” of all things exist eternally in God, and proceed into their effects in a semi-incarnational fashion (e.g., I.446BC; II.529AB; III.678AD), an idea which was developed by Maximus. [5]

    Although the Eastern readings of Genesis 1 weren’t as popular in the West, the Western interpretation of this passage wasn’t woodenly literal either. Augustine of Hippo, who was a hugely influential Latin theologian, wrote a Literal Commentary on Genesis intended to provide “the proper assessment of what actually happened [in creation]” (Retractiones 22.24). In this commentary, he argued at length that the days of Genesis 1 were “very, very different” from 24-hour days (IV.27.44), as they were instantaneous (e.g., V.5.12) and refer to the logical, not temporal, ordering of creation (IV.25.56). He developed this view on the basis of difficulties within the text itself. [6]

    In summary, the theologians of the early church (both East and West) didn’t confine themselves to a woodenly literal reading of Genesis 1. There were a wide range of views, including the view that the days of Genesis 1 were 24-hour periods (Basil the Great), that they were instantaneous (Augustine), and that they refer to the “providential creation” of logoi (Origen).

Adam and the Fall

    In his response to the pagan critic Celsus, Origen of Alexandria interprets Adam as a symbol of the entire human race:

In the Hebrew language, “adam” signifies man, and in those parts of the narrative which appear to refer to Adam as an individual, Moses is discoursing upon the nature of humanity in general. For “in Adam,” as the Scripture says, “all die” [1 Cor 15:22], and were condemned in the likeness of Adam’s transgression, the word of God asserting this not of one particular individual but of the whole human race. For in the connected series of statements which appears to apply to one particular individual [i.e., Gen 2–3], the curse pronounced upon Adam is regarded as common to all (the members of the race), and what was spoken in reference to the woman is spoken of every woman without exception. (Contra Celsum IV.40)

Later on, he again asserts that “Adam” means “man” in general, which was “driven out of paradise for sin” (VII.50). It’s interesting to note that Origen makes this claim on textual, not philosophical, grounds – namely, that adam in Hebrew means “human,” that “all” are said to be “in Adam” (1 Cor 15:22), and that the curse of Adam applies to every human. In On First Principles, he writes, “who is so ignorant as to suppose that” there was a physical garden of Eden with a tree of life and a tree of knowledge, and that God walked in the garden; these things are “related figuratively in Scripture, that some mystical meaning may be indicated by it” (IV.3.1).

    Origen is often accused of believing in a Platonist ‘Fall’ of pre-existent souls into material bodies, but he didn’t believe in pre-existent individual souls [2], and he insists that the Christian doctrine of the Fall “far transcends that of Plato” (Cels IV.40). In his summary of First Principles, he says that God created material bodies due to his “foreknowledge” that differences would arise in rational creatures from sin (IV.4.8). Origen makes much of the fact that Scripture refers to the creation of the world as a katabolē, that is, a “throwing down” or “downfall” (e.g., John 17:24; Eph. 1:4; Rev. 13:8; 17:8). From this, he concludes that the Fall is actually simultaneous with the creation of the material universe, which was a “throwing down” from the “logoi of all things” that exist in Christ (De Princ III.5.4; Comm in John XIX.146–50). This isn’t to say that the material creation is evil – Origen strenuously argued against that gnostic view – but that from the beginning, it fell short of God’s good purposes (logoi), as a result of sin.

    In the Philokalia, an anthology of Origen’s writings compiled by Basil the Great and Gregory of Nazianzus, they reproduce his insistence against a physical garden of Eden with trees of life and knowledge (I.17). The third Cappadocian, Gregory of Nyssa, followed this view: the tree of life refers to the contemplation of God, while the “tree of knowledge of good and evil” refers to lesser sensible pleasures, which appear good to sinners; the sin of Adam and Eve was to abandon the contemplation of God, who is the Good, for these lesser, apparent goods (De Hom Opif XIX–XX).

    Gregory of Nyssa appears to have believed that Adam was a historical individual. But for him, the creation of man in Genesis 1:26–27 refers to “all humanity,” the universal human nature (De Hom Opif XVI.16–18). This creation took place “when Adam was not yet, because the thing formed from the earth is called ‘Adam’” (XXII.3). [7] Furthermore, the division of humanity into “male and female” (Gen 1:27) was done by God in his foreknowledge of human sin (XVI.7–9; XXII.4–5; cf. John of Damascus, On the Orthodox Faith IV.24). Humanity wasn’t meant to be divided in this way – for “in Christ there is not ‘male and female’” (Gal 3:28) [8] – but this was a consequence of the human’s choice of sensible apparent goods over God, thereby assimilating them to the irrational beasts (XVI.18–XVII.5; XXII.4).

    Maximus the Confessor follows Gregory’s interpretation of the garden of Eden, and adds that the human chose sensible goods over God at the very moment of his creation (Ad Thal 59.12; 61.2; Amb 42 [PG 91.1321AB]). Therefore, he existed in “paradise” (the pure contemplation of God) for no length of time at all, because he chose sensible goods instead. Maximus likewise insists that the division of humanity into male and female is a result of sin (Amb 41 [PG 91.1305AD]), and that Christ annuls this division, so that “‘in Christ,’ as the divine apostle says, ‘there is not male and female’” [91.1309AB]. With regard to the fallenness of the creation, he offers two options:

This happened either because God, on account of the transgression, mixed the soul together with our body, and placed within it the capacity to undergo change, just as he gave the body the inherent capacity to suffer, undergo corruption, and be totally dissolved, which is made clear by the girding with dead skins [Gen 3:21], according to Scripture, which says that “creation itself was made subject to corruption, not willingly, but for the sake of him who subjected it in hope” [Rom 8:20] — or because God created matter in this way from the beginning, according to his foreknowledge, in view of the transgression he had already seen in advance. (Amb 8 [PG 91.1104AB])

    John Scotus Eriugena, who was deeply influenced by Maximus, also insists that the human sinned at the moment of his creation, so that he existed in paradise for no temporal interval, and that “male and female” were introduced because of sin (Periphyseon IV.800A–14A; 833C–38B). In support of this, Eriugena says that the devil “was a murderer from the beginning, and did not abide in the truth” (John 8:44), meaning that both the devil’s fall and human sin and death existed from the moment of creation (IV.838AB). In order to reconcile this with Augustine’s literal interpretation of the garden of Eden, however, he argues that the events of Genesis 2–3 took place historically after Adam’s sin: “all these things Holy Scripture records by anticipation and out of their proper sequence as having taken place in Paradise, whereas they are the consequences of sin” (IV.837C–38A).

    Once again, these Eastern interpretations weren’t as common in the West, but premodern Western theologians still didn’t share the concerns of modern young earth creationists. For example, Augustine believed in a historical Fall that resulted in human death in temporal sequence; however, against the Manichaeans, he asserted that animal death is natural and was made by God, like the seasons, as part of his good creation (City of God XII.4). Basil the Great, an Eastern theologian who tended to interpret Genesis more historically, likewise asserted the goodness of animal death before the Fall (Hexaemeron IX.5). Thomas Aquinas claimed that it’s “unreasonable” to believe that “the nature of animals was... changed by man’s sin,” so there must have been carnivory before the Fall (Summa Theologiae I.96.1.2).

    To sum up, once again, there were a wide range of views in the early church about Adam and the Fall. Most church fathers believed in a historical Adam, while Origen notably did not, arguing that “Adam” refers to all humanity. The Eastern fathers, including Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and Maximus (along with Eriugena), believed that humanity was created in a fallen state due to God’s foreknowledge of their sin. This perspective wasn’t shared by Western theologians like Augustine and Aquinas, but these theologians agreed on the goodness of natural animal death before the Fall, unlike modern young earth creationists.

The Bible, history, and science

    Origen argues that Scripture, because it isn’t only the work of men but also of the Trinity, doesn’t merely have a “fleshly” (literal/historical) meaning, but also a “soulish” and “spiritual” meaning (De Principiis IV.2.4–9). It’s the heretics who limit Scripture to its literal meaning, and thereby fall into errors (IV.2.1–3). Furthermore, some passages have no “bodily” sense at all (IV.2.5); we know this because

the Word of God has arranged for certain stumbling blocks, as it were, and hindrances and impossibilities to be inserted in the midst of the law and the history, in order that we may not be completely drawn away by the sheer attractiveness of the language, and so either reject the true doctrines absolutely, on the ground that we learn from the scriptures nothing worthy of God, or else by never moving away from the letter, fail to learn anything of the more divine element. (IV.2.9)

Therefore, there are passages which “taken in a literal sense are not true, but actually absurd and impossible,” alongside passages in which “we are clearly aware that the historical fact is true” (IV.3.4). The reader of Scripture must discern what parts, taken historically, are impossible, and which are known to be historically true (IV.3.5). Origen provides many examples of things that he believes to be historically untrue, including the idea that there were three days before the sun existed and that there was a physical paradise in which God walked (IV.3.1–15). This doesn’t challenge the divine inspiration of the text, which Origen strenuously defends (IV.1); on the contrary, it’s because of divine inspiration that these passages have a spiritual, and not bodily, meaning.

    Gregory of Nyssa shares the concern that portions of Scripture are impossible if interpreted literally. For example, with regard to the death of the firstborn in Egypt, Gregory expresses doubt that this could be “worthy of God,” for the son to be punished for the sins of the father (Ezek 18:20) – “how can history so contradict reason?” (Life of Moses II.91) Therefore, “do not be surprised if... the death of the firstborn... did not happen to the Israelites,” but do not on that account reject the deeper, spiritual meaning of the text (II.100).

    Interestingly, in his discourse On the Soul and the Resurrection, Gregory says that “Scripture informs us that the Deity proceeded by a sort of graduated and ordered advance to the creation of man.” He began by creating inanimate matter, then vegetative life, then sensitive life, and finally rational life (humanity) which incorporates “every single form of life.” This references the idea that humanity is a microcosm, containing within itself every aspect of the material and immaterial worlds. It shouldn’t be taken to refer to human evolution as it’s now understood, but there are clear resonances between Gregory’s metaphysics and the modern theory of evolution.

    Maximus the Confessor agrees with Origen and Gregory that

something illogical has been mixed in with the literal account in order for us to search for the true meaning of what has been written. Accordingly, the corporeal understanding of Scripture... is completely removed... Thus, if we take this passage according to its literal sense, we will not find Scripture to be speaking truly. (Ad Thalassios 65.17–20)

This doesn’t degrade Scripture, but forces us to search for the deeper spiritual meaning of the text, which brings us closer to God than the “corporeal” meaning. Maximus also argues (although in a different context) that both creation and Scripture are valuable revelations of God, since Christ is both the Word and the Creator: “the two laws – the natural and the written – are of equal value and equal dignity, both of them reciprocally teach the same things, and neither is superior or inferior to the other” (Amb 10.17–18). Thus, if one seems to contradict the other, we shouldn’t reject either one wholesale, but seek out how the two can be reconciled.

    From the West, Augustine offers another interesting perspective:

Usually, even a non-Christian knows something about [the natural world]... and this knowledge he holds to as being certain from reason and experience. Now, it is a disgraceful and dangerous thing for an infidel to hear a Christian, presumably giving the meaning of Holy Scripture, talking nonsense on these topics; and we should take all means to prevent such an embarrassing situation, in which people show up vast ignorance in a Christian and laugh it to scorn. The shame is not so much that an ignorant individual is derided, but that people outside the household of faith think our sacred writers held such opinions, and, to the great loss of those for whose salvation we toil, the writers of our Scripture are criticized and rejected as unlearned men. (Confessions V.5)

He presents the same concern elsewhere – Christians shouldn’t claim that the Scriptures contradict well-established natural facts, because this will lead non-Christians to reject Scripture on those grounds (On the Literal Interpretation of Genesis I.19.39).

    Interestingly, like Gregory of Nyssa, Augustine presents a view of creation which resonates with the modern theory of evolution. Even though he believes that the creation event was instantaneous, living species were created in a seminal form which grew out of the elements of earth and water; this is why God told the land and sea to “bring forth” life (Literal Interpretation V.7.20, 22). Thus, he goes on to say, God “created all [creatures] together... whose visible forms he produces through the ages, working even until now” (V.23.44–46).

    In summary, the early church fathers didn’t share the same hangups as young earth creationists about Scripture and natural science. Some of them, including Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and Maximus, even believed that the literal meaning of Scripture could be false where it contradicted history and reason, and for them this only confirmed the divine inspiration of the spiritual meaning of Scripture. Augustine was especially concerned that Christians should take care when discussing natural science, lest they discredit Scripture in the eyes of non-believers. This suggests that, if they were around today, these church fathers would accept the modern findings of an ancient earth and evolution – especially Gregory of Nyssa and Augustine, whose views on creation already resonate with the theory of evolution.

Conclusion

    Using the resources provided by the early church fathers, we can reconcile the modern scientific understanding of evolution and an ancient earth with the young earth creationist concern for a faithful (albeit not woodenly literal) reading of Genesis. Here’s one possible interpretation of Genesis that draws upon the teachings of the Eastern fathers:

1. The creation account in Genesis 1 refers to the timeless “providential creation” of logoi within the Wisdom of God. This is similar to OT scholar John Walton’s proposal that Genesis 1 describes the functional creation of the cosmos and not material creation. [9] These logoi came to be instantiated in visible forms over time, as God’s providential plan unfolded.

2. The paradise of Genesis 2–3 may have existed historically, or it might only refer to the spiritual reality that the human chose sensible goods over God. Likewise, Adam may have been a historical individual, or he may represent the entire human race. (In my view, both the historical and spiritual interpretations have validity.) If Adam was a historical individual, he need not have been literally the first human, because –

3. The Fall was “meta-historical”, that is, it affected our entire created reality from the very beginning (even before Adam existed). In his foreknowledge, God knew that the human would choose sin, and created a world that partially departed from his good purposes (logoi) in order to accommodate the fallen humanity that he knew would exist. [10] This is why animal and human (?) death existed temporally before Adam.

    Alternatively, here’s another possible interpretation of Genesis that draws upon Augustine’s more Western view:

1. The creation account in Genesis 1 refers to the instantaneous creation of all things. The days of Genesis 1 refer to the logical (not temporal) order in which the creation event was revealed to the angels (this was Augustine’s view). Living beings were created in a seminal form, which developed into their modern forms over time, as God’s providential plan unfolded.

2. Adam and the paradise of Genesis 2–3 existed historically, and Adam was a historical individual who was truly the first human. We can’t identify the “first human” from a biological point of view, but because “human” is first and foremost a metaphysical category, there was a first member of the (metaphysical) species and this was Adam.

3. The Fall was not “meta-historical” but purely historical, that is, human death came in temporal sequence after Adam’s sin. However, natural animal death is a part of God’s good creation, and this existed long before Adam sinned.

    These are just two of many possible faithful readings of Genesis that are in line with the range of teachings of the early church fathers. This range of teachings is compatible with a young or ancient earth, special or evolutionary creation, a historical or ahistorical Adam, and a historical or meta-historical Fall. Although the early church fathers believed in a young earth, this was because they had no reason to believe otherwise (and they certainly didn’t agree with Aristotle about an eternal earth!), and for the reasons described above I think they would have no trouble accepting an ancient earth and evolution. This might help explain why modern young earth creationism is largely confined to American Evangelicals, and finds comparatively little purchase among Catholics and Orthodox who are more closely rooted in the teachings of the early church.

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[1] Origen argued that God can’t be comprehended apart from his Wisdom, and that God’s Wisdom is the uncreated second Person of the Trinity, so in herself Wisdom isn’t “created” in any sense (De Princ I.2). Instead, it’s in her relation to the providential creation that Solomon speaks of Wisdom as having been “created as the beginning of God’s way” (Prov. 8:22).

[2] It’s in this sense that Origen believed creatures were originally made incorporeal – not that they existed as disembodied souls (as later ‘Origenists’ believed), but that they existed as reasons within God’s mind. He argued that only the Trinity can exist without a body, and all creatures are essentially embodied (De Princ II.2.2; 3.2–3; IV.4.8), so contrary to popular belief he didn’t believe in the ‘pre-existence of souls.’

[3] For a further discussion of Origen’s “providential creation” and his reading of Genesis 1, see Panayiotis Tzamalikos, Origen: Cosmology and Ontology of Time (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 39–64.

[4] Johannes Zachhuber, Human Nature in Gregory of Nyssa (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 154.

[5] Jordan Daniel Wood, The Whole Mystery of Christ: Creation as Incarnation in Maximus Confessor (Notre Dame, 2022).

[6] Gavin Ortlund, “Did Augustine Read Genesis Literally?”

[7] For a lengthy discussion of Gregory’s understanding of the creation of humanity, see Johannes Zachhuber, Human Nature in Gregory of Nyssa, 154–86.

[8] Something that’s often missed about Galatians 3:28 is that Paul actually quotes Genesis 1:27c, and negates it. Whereas the first two pairs of opposities, he says “neither A nor B” (ouk eni A oude B), he goes on to say “not ‘male and female’” (ouk eni arsen kai thēlu), which is a direct quote from the Greek text of Gen 1:27c (LXX). This wasn’t lost on early commentators like Gregory of Nyssa and Maximus, who understood it to mean that the division of humanity into “male and female” is a distortion of our nature that resulted from sin.

[9] John Walton, The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate (IVP Academic, 2009).

[10] In the modern era, the concept of a meta-historical fall is supported by Christian theologians like Sergei Bulgakov (The Bride of the Lamb) and William Dembski (The End of Christianity).