Acts 20: 28 Corruption in the NWT

by Sea Breeze 65 Replies latest watchtower bible

  • aqwsed12345
    aqwsed12345

    The Arian argument rests on three main claims: (1) that the personification of Wisdom in Proverbs 8 is irrelevant or can only support an Arian reading; (2) that the terms “created” (ktizō) and “begotten” (gennaō) are interchangeable in both biblical and early patristic sources, rendering the Nicene distinction artificial; (3) that the patristic and New Testament use of titles such as “firstborn” support a partitive and not a relational reading, placing Christ within the order of creation. Each of these points is based on selective evidence and a misapprehension of both the original languages and the theological context in which these terms developed.

    The attempt to read Proverbs 8:22–25 as a straightforward proof that the Son is a created being rests on a series of linguistic confusions and historical misrepresentations that collapse once the text is examined in its original languages, in its literary genre, and within the exegetical tradition that culminated in the Nicene settlement. Proverbs 8 is a poem that personifies Wisdom so as to celebrate the rational order embedded in creation; the device is pedagogical, not ontological. Second-Temple Jewish texts such as Sirach 24, Wisdom of Solomon 7–9 and Philo’s discussions of the Logos already deploy this personification to speak of an eternal attribute or hypostasis of God that stands over against the finite world. When early Christian writers identified Christ with this Wisdom, they did so to underscore his pre-existent activity as mediator of creation—not to insinuate that he belongs among created beings.

    The suggestion that the personification of Wisdom in Proverbs 8 is irrelevant to Christology is both historically and theologically naïve. The use of poetic personification in Proverbs 8—where Wisdom is depicted as an agent alongside God in creation—is not intended as a literal ontological statement about a created being. Rather, as both Jewish and Christian exegetes have long recognized, this figure serves a dual purpose: first, to extol the order, beauty, and intelligibility of creation as founded in God’s own Wisdom; and second, to foreshadow, in typological and analogical terms, the divine Logos through whom all things were made (John 1:3; Col 1:16-17). In Second Temple Judaism and the intertestamental Wisdom literature (e.g., Wisdom of Solomon 7:25-26; Sirach 24), Wisdom is described as an emanation of God’s glory and an agent in creation, but never as a mere creature. Early Christians, such as Paul (1 Cor 1:24) and John, appropriated this language to articulate the unique pre-existence and creative agency of the Son, distinguishing him from all created things. The Fathers, especially Athanasius and the Cappadocians, were explicit that any identification of Christ with Wisdom in Proverbs is to be understood in a typological or economic sense, not as a statement of created origin. This is why Athanasius, in his Orations Against the Arians, repeatedly affirms that the Son’s “generation” is eternal, immaterial, and of the same essence as the Father, and not to be confused with the creation of temporal beings.

    The core of the Arian argument is the claim that the Septuagint’s use of “created” (ktizō, κτισεν) in Proverbs 8:22 and “begets” (gennaō, γενν) in v.25 indicates their equivalence, which undermines the Nicene distinction. This is based on a misunderstanding of both the translation history and the original languages.

    The Hebrew of Proverbs 8:22 employs קָנָה, whose primary sense is “to acquire” or “to possess,” and only in exceptional contexts “to create.” Ancient Jewish translators aware of that range rendered it by κτήσατο (“acquired”) rather than κτισεν (“created”). The Septuagint’s singular choice of κτισεν broadens the semantic field to include “appointed” or “established,” yet never obliges a reading in which Wisdom is made ex nihilo. Verse 25 then shifts in Hebrew to חוֹלָלְתִּי, a childbirth verb that the LXX correspondingly translates with the masculine active “he begot me” (γέννα με). Far from conflating the two verbs, the Greek text itself keeps their semantic difference intact: κτίζω may denote producing something that did not exist; γεννάω describes derivation, generation, or birth. The poem places both verbs side-by-side precisely to evoke Wisdom’s primordial dignity without equating her with the products of the six-day creation.

    The Hebrew verb in v.22 is qanah (קָנָה), with a semantic range that includes “to acquire,” “to possess,” “to beget,” but rarely “to create.” Most authoritative Jewish sources, as well as major Greek translators like Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion, rendered it as “possess” or “acquire” (ektēsato), not “create.” The LXX’s use of ktizō is an outlier and was heavily criticized by orthodox Fathers because it gave Arians linguistic ammunition to claim that the Son was a creature. Athanasius, Basil, and Gregory of Nyssa, among others, responded by noting that even in the LXX, ktizō is not always equivalent to “create ex nihilo” but can mean “establish” or “appoint” (cf. LXX Psalm 50:12, “create in me a clean heart,” meaning to renew or reconstitute, not create from nothing). More importantly, the language of v.25 in both the Hebrew (cholalti, “I was brought forth,” with birth/labor connotations) and the Greek (gennaō, “he begets me”) is qualitatively different from creation. In Hebrew anthropological and familial contexts, begetting denotes derivation of essence, a sharing of substance (as in human parenthood); in theological usage, it points to the mysterious and eternal generation of the Son by the Father (see John 1:18, monogenēs; Heb 1:3, the “radiance of [God’s] glory and exact imprint of his nature”). The claim that Proverbs 8:22-25 uses “created” and “beget” interchangeably ignores this semantic and contextual difference, as well as the clear distinction drawn in later Christian dogmatic reflection.

    The Arian polemic appeals to early Fathers such as Origen, Tatian, and Justin Martyr, suggesting that they treated “begotten” as functionally equivalent to “created.” This is a misrepresentation both of their intent and of the development of doctrine. Origen, writing before the technical terminology of Nicaea was settled, sometimes employed “subordinationist” language, yet he also affirms in On First Principles that the Son is “generated from the Father’s own substance,” and therefore not a creature among creatures. Tatian and Justin occasionally use “beget” with reference to the world or souls, reflecting the fluidity of pre-Nicene vocabulary. However, both are careful, in their best moments, to maintain the unique status of the Son as the eternal Logos. The distinction between “begotten” and “made” did not arise ex nihilo at Nicaea but was the result of careful exegetical and theological clarification in response to Arian equivocation.

    Athanasius, in Contra Arianos II.20–22, argues that κτίζει in v. 22 must refer either to the Son’s incarnate mission or, more plausibly, to a divine “establishing” of his mediatorial office, for otherwise verse 25 would contradict itself by first calling Wisdom created and then begotten. Basil of Caesarea (Contra Eunomium II.20) and Gregory of Nyssa (Ad Ablabium) press the same point: if Scripture had wished to call the Son “first-created,” it possessed the unambiguous adjective πρωτόκτιστος but instead chooses πρωτότοκος, a title of primacy and inheritance. They therefore reject the Arian syllogism that equates generation with manufacture.

    Appeals to Origen, Justin Martyr, or Tatian prove equally inadequate once context is restored. Origen indeed speaks of the Son as δεύτερος θεός and subordinate in role, yet he is equally clear that the Son is begotten “before every aeon” and is therefore eternal (Princ. I.2.2–4). Whatever terminological fluidity marks pre-Nicene writers, none envisages the Son as a creature in the Arian sense; rather they grope for ways to articulate an eternal relation within the Godhead. Justin’s description of souls or the cosmos as “begotten” borrows the Platonic idiom of generated realities but carefully distinguishes the Logos as the one through whom those generated realities come to be.

    The Nicene Creed’s begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father” (gennēthenta ou poiēthenta, homoousion tō patri) is thus not a theological contrivance, but the crystallization of a distinction already present in the apostolic witness (cf. John 1:3; Col 1:15-17; Heb 1:2-3) and made explicit by the theological controversies of the fourth century. The Creed does not invent a distinction; it articulates, in the face of confusion, what was always implicit: that the Son is of the same essence as the Father, and therefore eternally God, not a creature.

    The rhetorical move that treats πρωτότοκος πάσης κτίσεως in Colossians 1:15 as though it meant “first created among creatures” ignores the immediately following causal clause: “for in him all things were created.” The Son is prior to and the source of the totality of created reality; grammar and syntax allow no partitive reading that smuggles him back inside the class of things his own agency calls forth. The Septuagint’s idioms—“firstborn of the poor,” “firstborn of death”—are admittedly genitives of relation, but they strengthen rather than weaken the Nicene reading: “firstborn” names status and supremacy, not temporal origination.

    The Arian reading of Colossians 1:15 as “firstborn of creation” (partitive genitive: included within creation) is grammatically and contextually unsound. The Greek prōtotokos pasēs ktiseōs is best understood as a genitive of subordination or supremacy, not membership. This is confirmed by the immediate context: “For in him all things were created… all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things…” (Col 1:16-17). The “firstborn” is not part of the set of created things, but rather stands over it, as its source and ruler. Patristic interpretation, as in Hilary and Athanasius, always understood “firstborn” as an assertion of Christ’s sovereignty and preeminence, not of his ontological inclusion in the created order. The appeal to “firstborn of death” or “firstborn of the poor” in the LXX is contextually irrelevant, as these are idioms and poetic expressions, not technical terms for ontology. In biblical usage, “firstborn” often denotes preeminence or heirship (cf. Psalm 89:27: “I will make him the firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth”), and in the case of Christ, indicates his unique role as the source, ruler, and redeemer of creation—not as the first among equals.

    The Nicene confession “begotten, not made” is therefore not a late theological artifice but the crystallization of a distinction already embedded in Scripture. Generation designates an eternal intra-divine relation in which the Father communicates the whole divine essence to the Son; creation designates the divine act that brings the universe into being out of nothing. By confusing these two registers, the Arian interpretation erases the very logic that the biblical canon uses to safeguard both the Son’s full deity and the monotheistic integrity of Christian worship. When the Creed insists on homoousios, it simply renders explicit what John had said at the outset: “the Word was with God, and the Word was God,” and what John reiterated in the strictest possible terms, “without him was not anything made that was made.” To assign the Word himself to the category of made things is to invert the sentence, emptying the gospel of its own confession.

    Thus every strand of evidence—philological, literary, inter-testamental, patristic, and canonical—converges on a single conclusion. The verbs of Proverbs 8 point toward, rather than away from, the eternal generation of the Son. The early Fathers’ occasional ambiguities find their resolution, not their contradiction, in the Nicene articulation. And Colossians 1 joins Proverbs 8 in exalting the Wisdom of God precisely because he stands on the Creator’s side of the ontological divide, the eternally begotten Word through whom all that is not God has come to be. The Arian construction collapses under the weight of these texts; the Trinitarian reading alone does justice to their grammar, their theology, and the church’s unbroken confession of the Son’s full and uncreated divinity.

    In sum, the Arian conflation of “begotten” and “created” is based on (a) a tendentious reading of Proverbs 8 that ignores the poetic and typological function of Wisdom; (b) a misunderstanding of both Hebrew and Greek linguistic nuance; (c) a selective and often anachronistic use of patristic sources; and (d) a grammatical misreading of key New Testament texts. The development of Trinitarian doctrine, and the clarification made at Nicaea, was not a break with Scripture but a defense of its deepest logic: the Son is not a creature, however exalted, but “Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father.” This is the consistent teaching of the apostolic and patristic witness, from the earliest hymns to the mature theology of the fourth century.

    To conclude: the distinction between “begotten” and “created” is neither arbitrary nor the product of post-biblical speculation. It arises from the very structure of biblical revelation, is supported by careful linguistic and contextual analysis, and was defended by the entire mainstream of Christian tradition against Arian reductionism. The Son, as the Wisdom and Logos of God, is eternally generated and fully divine, and this is the only reading that does justice to the biblical, theological, and historical data.

  • Earnest
    Earnest

    Excellent, but not human. Try better next time and people will be more willing to engage in discussion.

  • Blotty
    Blotty

    you'll have to do better than that AQ to convince me... need more evidence? I have loads more where that came from.. you seem to be doing the old dictator tactic atm, repeat the same things over and over until it sinks into other peoples heads... too bad for you the original scrolls still exist huh..

    Even your appeal to psalms 89:27 does not work - for one big reason: David was still a king! part of the group he was "Firstborn" of
    The Firstborn of the kings of the earth or in other words the "highest"!
    So no my examples are not "irrelevant" as though David does have pre-eminence over the kings of the earth - he is still a king!


    "The appeal to “firstborn of death” or “firstborn of the poor” in the LXX is contextually irrelevant, as these are idioms and poetic expressions, not technical terms for ontology." - don't need to be technical terms for ontology - Just proves my point that ALL called "Firstborn" are part of the group they are firstborn of.

    "Justin’s description of souls or the cosmos as “begotten” borrows the Platonic idiom of generated realities but carefully distinguishes the Logos as the one through whom those generated realities come to be."

    - however Justin uses "begotten" in the sense of coming into existence.. something you deny had that meaning at that time... really, you sure about that.

    " yet he is equally clear that the Son is begotten “before every aeon” and is therefore eternal" - eternity works two ways AQ, which direction did he mean?

    "if Scripture had wished to call the Son “first-created,” it possessed the unambiguous adjective πρωτόκτιστος but instead chooses πρωτότοκος, a title of primacy and inheritance. " - if they had wished to call the Son "God" explicitly they could have done this also.. unambiguously..
    If they wished to define 3 persons in God, they could have done this also.. Paul does similar with "members" of the "body" - it wasnt out of Pauls linguistical range & Paul was well smart enough to describe God in this way if he wanted too..
    & Clement does explicitly call Wisdom (Who he identifies as Christ) "First-created"
    + the distinction between "Firstborn" and "First-created" did not exist in the time of the apostles and came about later.. So why would they honor a distinction later invented to support the trinity? that they had no knowledge of. Better question: How could they honor a distinction they had no knowledge of?
    When the earliest recorded usage of "First-created" was in the time of Clement.. after the apostle died out..
    If no such distinction exists between 2 words, one will always become more dominantly used... that is a harsh fact, we have many parallels in the English language.
    Gay & Happy is just one example - Gay took on a new meaning yes, but even when Gay was used for such a meaning it had priority over happy to a large extent.
    [from memory: older books from when I was a kid almost exclusively use it as such, along with other terms that are not "happy".]

    limiting the scopes of evidence to the NT and Nicea is a self-serving purpose, please cite one other credible source that does this.. your methods are not scientific or for open & honest research, they are to fulfil a fantasy of yours

  • Blotty
    Blotty

    Psalm 51:10


    "It is used "here" evidently in the sense of causing that to exist which did not exist before (Yes, something that DID NOT exist before - ignoring the source of where it came from, as JW and I DO NOT claim Christ was created from nothing); and there is clearly a recognition of the divine "power," or a feeling on the part of David that this could be done by God alone. The idea is, however, not that a new "substance" might be brought into being to which the name "a clean heart" might be given [nullifying Gen 1:1 usage], but that he might "have" a clean heart; that his heart might be made pure; that his affections and feelings might be made right; that he might have what he was conscious that he did "not" now possess - a clean or a pure heart. This, he felt, could be produced only by the power of God; and the passage, therefore, proves that it is a doctrine of the Old Testament, as it is of the New, that the human heart is changed only by a divine agency." - Barnes Notes

    not that you listen to Barnes regarding anything I have cited to you before,, but ill through this in.

    [italics and bracketed comments added by me, see hyperlink "Barnes Notes" for original statement]

  • aqwsed12345
    aqwsed12345
    @Blotty

    Your latest objections do not arise from new linguistic data or fresh patristic research but from reiterating the same mis-readings of Scripture and the Fathers that the Church has answered since the fourth century. They can be met only by returning, once more, to the primary texts—Hebrew, Greek, and Latin—and to the consistent theological logic that binds them. This reply therefore traces, step by step, why the terms “firstborn,” “begotten,” and “created” remain irreducibly distinct in the biblical witness, why Justin and the other pre-Nicenes never taught a creature-Christ, and why the NT’s reticence to frame the Trinity in scholastic propositions is no evidence against the doctrine but precisely the soil in which it germinated.

    The semantic range of πρτότοκος is not intrinsically “partitive.” When Psalm 89 (88 LXX) calls David “firstborn, higher than the kings of the earth,” the intuition is not that he is merely the chronological eldest within a royal breeding-line but that he has been exalted to a rank none of his peers possesses. That David remains one king among kings is irrelevant to Colossians 1:15 because Paul’s context is categorically different. Immediately after naming Christ “firstborn of all creation” he explains why:for in him were created all things … whether thrones or dominions or rulers.” An artisan cannot belong to the set of artefacts whose existence is owing to his own agency; the causal clause excludes partitivity. Grammarians catalogue this genitive not as partitive but as one of subordination or relation: creation is the sphere over which, not within which, the Son exercises primacy. If Paul had meant “first-created,” πρωτόκτιστος lay ready to hand (it appears in Philo and later Greek); he deliberately chose a word whose biblical freight is heirship and supremacy (Ex 4:22; Ps 89:27; Jer 31:9), a usage the Cappadocians would later exploit to dismantle Eunomius’ thesis.

    The Arian claim is that every “firstborn” (πρωτότοκος) is, by necessity, a member of the group from which they are “firstborn,” as in Psalm 89:27, where David, called the “firstborn,” is still a king among kings. This, however, rests on a conflation of the genitive construction’s contextual use and its inherent meaning. While in familial contexts, “firstborn of” can indicate group membership, in biblical idiom it is also a well-attested title of supremacy and unique status. In Psalm 89:27, David is designated “firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth”—not to stress that he is one king among others, but that he possesses preeminence and authority over all other kings. This metaphorical extension of “firstborn” is a familiar biblical trope, denoting status, privilege, and inheritance, not simply order of birth or inclusion in a class. In Exodus 4:22, Israel is called God’s “firstborn son,” a title of privilege among nations, not the first in temporal or natural order. The usage in Colossians 1:15 follows precisely this logic: Christ is “firstborn of all creation” not as one creature among many, but as the preeminent Lord and source of creation itself, as confirmed by the immediate context—“for by him all things were created... all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Col 1:16-17). To make “firstborn” a marker of Christ’s createdness is to wrench the term from its context and to ignore the consistent NT witness that Christ is the Creator, not a creature.

    Appeals to “firstborn of death” (Job 18:13) or “firstborn of the poor” (Is 14:30) do not help the Arian case. Both phrases are prophetic hyperboles. “Firstborn of death” personifies the most virulent disease; “firstborn of the poor” denotes the extremity of destitution. The expression signals intensity, not membership: Job’s disease is not itself one dying son among many; it is death’s most potent offspring. Likewise, Christ’s title in Colossians marks him as creation’s principle and lord, not its most senior denizen.

    Your insistence that all “firstborn” language entails partitivity ignores the difference between a partitive genitive (membership) and a genitive of subordination or superiority (rulership). The grammatical point, well attested in advanced Greek grammars (cf. D.B. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics), is that the construction πρτότοκος πάσης κτίσεως does not, in this context, function as a partitive but rather as a genitive of subordination: Christ stands over creation as its Lord. The same logic applies to the use of “firstborn” in LXX idioms such as “firstborn of death” or “firstborn of the poor”: these are poetic metaphors for that which is most prominent or supreme among its category (the “firstborn of death” is the most deadly, not simply the first to die). The analogy actually supports the Trinitarian reading, not the Arian one, by emphasizing the concept of preeminence rather than mere inclusion.

    Modern lexical semantics rejects the idea that any single word, isolated from its syntactic and pragmatic environment, “carries” a permanently fixed relation such as partitivity. Meanings are not static parcels lodged inside lexemes; they are networks of potential which a speaker activates in context. Consequently, the claim that πρωτότοκος is an “inherently partitive word” whose semantics compel inclusion in whatever genitive follows is methodologically indefensible and exegetically hazardous.

    The semantic core of πρωτότοκος is straightforward: it denotes the child who holds “firstborn” status. That notion of priority can be deployed in multiple conceptual frames—temporal sequence (“first to be born”), legal privilege (“heir”), or symbolic supremacy (“highest”). Nothing in the lexeme itself encodes the further proposition “and therefore belongs to the class expressed by the genitive.” Whether such a relation is inferred in any given clause depends on how speaker and audience construe the wider situation. Linguistically, “firstborn of X” is a composite construction: the noun signals status; the genitive specifies the domain over which that status is exercised. To treat the domain as an obligatory set-membership marker ignores the polyfunctionality of Greek genitives (possessive, subjective, objective, relational, subordination, comparison, et cetera) and collapses syntax, semantics, and pragmatics into a single mechanical rule.

    The LXX data routinely cited to prove intrinsic partitivity are in fact heterogeneous. In narratives that list literal siblings (e.g., Genesis 25:13), the genitive is certainly partitive because the discourse itself evokes a family set and places the firstborn within it. Yet the very same lexeme appears in non-partitive settings. Psalm 88(89):27, “I will make him firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth,” employs a comparative (heightened) genitive: David is “of” the kings only in the sense that his royalty is exercised over them. No Israelite reader would infer that David must share generic ontological identity with every pagan monarch in order to bear that title; the turn of phrase marks elevation, not inclusion. The same non-partitive force dominates Jeremiah 38(31):9, Micah 6:7, and especially Exodus 4:22, “Israel is my firstborn son,” where the nation is singled out from, not merged into, the total set of peoples.

    NT writers exploit precisely this superlative nuance. Colossians 1:16-17 unfolds the meaning of πρωτότοκος πάσης κτίσεως by glossing it with three causal clauses: because in him all things were created,” because he is before all things,” and “because all things subsist in him.” Every clause structurally excludes the Son from the category of created entities: he is the agent, the antecedent, and the sustainer of τ πάντα. If πρωτότοκος were partitive by lexical necessity, the author’s elaboration would be incoherent, for it would force Christ simultaneously to belong to and to precede the same ontological set. The epistle avoids that contradiction precisely by using the genitive in a subordination (or relational) sense: he is the pre-eminent heir who stands over creation.

    Early Christian exegesis recognizes this polyvalence. Athanasius argues that the Father could have called the Son πρωτόκτιστος had Paul wished to mark creaturehood, but instead chose πρωτότοκος to proclaim dignity and heirship. Basil of Caesarea, in Contra Eunomium II, explicitly distinguishes between partitive and comparative genitives, locating Colossians 1:15 in the latter category. Their argument does not impose alien philosophy upon the text; it formalizes the pragmatic inference that the syntax and context already suggest.

    The burden of proof lies with those who posit an intrinsic partitive feature. Demonstrating recurring set-membership readings in narrative contexts does not establish that the lexeme itself encodes that relation; it merely shows how often authors happened to use the construction in a literal family frame. A genuine intrinsic feature would manifest across all contexts, including metaphorical, regal, and cosmological ones—yet the non-partitive examples cited above show otherwise. Without independent diagnostic tests—minimal-pair contrasts or native speaker judgements—no purely lexical, invariant “partitive value” can be verified.

    In sum, πρτότοκος does not contain a built-in grammatical switch that forces every following genitive into a partitive mold. Greek genitive relations are determined by the conceptual structure of the clause, not by secret semantic properties of individual nouns. Colossians 1:15 therefore remains free to articulate, as its context in vv. 16-17 declares, the supremacy of the eternally begotten Son over the whole created order—a reading fully consistent with Trinitarian confession and with sound linguistic method alike.

    The next argument, concerning Justin Martyr’s use of “begotten” (γεννητός), is equally misconstrued. While it is true that early Christian writers sometimes used “begotten” language in ways that reflect the flexible metaphysics of their day, it is anachronistic to read this as an assertion that Christ was brought into existence in time. In Dialogue with Trypho 61, Justin explicitly affirms that the Logos is “begotten of the Father before all created things” and “prior to all ages.” The phrase “before every aeon” (πρ πάντων τν αώνων) is a technical term in early Christian literature for eternal pre-existence, not simply priority within a sequence of temporal epochs. The overwhelming patristic consensus, from Justin through Athanasius to the Cappadocians, is that the Son’s generation is supra-temporal, transcending all created time, and that the Father has never existed without the Son.

    Justin Martyr’s vocabulary is pressed into Arian service only by wrenching it from Justin’s own argument. When he calls the Logos “a second God” and “begotten before all creatures,” he is not ascribing a temporal birthday to the Son but contrasting eternal generation with the finite coming-to-be of the cosmos. Trypho demands how Christians worship one born in recent times; Justin replies that the Logos existed “πρ γενέσεως τν λων” (“before the genesis of all things,” Dial. 61). The verb γεννάω certainly can denote a creature’s entry into time, but Justin precisely distinguishes the Son’s begetting precisely by locating it outside all temporal measure; he even invokes Proverbs 8:25 to show that “He brought me forth before the mountains were established,” a line whose force depends on Wisdom’s priority to any physical event. Origen goes further: the Father “is always Father, the Son always Son” (§ Princ. I.2.13), for the act of generation is eternal, proceeding from the divine will that itself is timeless. Talk of “before every aeon” is therefore unidirectional—backward, not forward—because the aeons themselves mark the boundaries of creaturely history. Nothing in Origen suggests the Son ever did not exist.

    The attempt to relativize this by asking “which direction did he mean?” with reference to “eternity working two ways” is simply a rhetorical evasion. The context in Justin and the Fathers makes it clear: “before all ages” means before time itself, which is the very definition of eternity in the Christian theological tradition. As the Fourth Lateran Council would later summarize: “the Father begets, the Son is begotten, the Holy Spirit proceeds—none is before or after, greater or less than the other, but all three are coeternal and coequal.”

    The claim that if Scripture wanted to call the Son “first-created” (πρωτόκτιστος), it could have done so, but instead chooses “firstborn” (πρωτότοκος), is dismissed by the Arian argument as special pleading, suggesting that if the biblical writers intended the Trinitarian doctrine they would have used unambiguous language for “God” and the “Trinity.” This line of argument betrays a misunderstanding of the development of biblical theology and the nature of divine revelation. The term “firstborn” was chosen precisely for its rich theological resonance: it denotes not only priority but also heirship, supremacy, and unique relationship to the Father (cf. Hebrews 1:2–3). The NT does, in fact, call Christ God explicitly in multiple places (John 1:1; John 20:28; Romans 9:5; Titus 2:13; Hebrews 1:8–10), and as the only-begotten God (μονογενς θεός, John 1:18). The doctrine of the Trinity emerges not from a single proof text but from the total scriptural witness, read in light of the rule of faith and the Church’s liturgical and confessional life (cf. Matthew 28:19, 2 Corinthians 13:14).

    Your rhetorical question—“If the apostles wished to say the Son is God, why not say so plainly?”—ignores that they do so repeatedly. John opens his Gospel with “the Word was God”; Thomas confesses “my Lord and my God” (Jn 20:28); Paul acclaims Christ as “the God who is over all” (Rom 9:5) and looks for “the appearing of our great God and Saviour, Jesus Christ” (Tit 2:13); Peter greets the faithful from “our God and Saviour Jesus Christ” (2 Pet 1:1). What Scripture does not supply is a metaphysical treatise—nor could it, for the canon arose in the milieu of Second Temple monotheism where theological compression, not systematic exposition, was the idiom. The Church’s conciliar language is the fruit of contemplating that compressed witness, not a betrayal of it.

    The objection that if the NT authors had wished to define three persons in one God they would have done so as explicitly as Paul describes the “members” of the body is a category error. Trinitarian dogma is the product of scriptural synthesis and theological reflection, not the mere collation of isolated proof-texts. The NT abounds in “triadic” formulas that link the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in shared divine prerogatives (see Matthew 28:19; 2 Corinthians 13:14; Ephesians 4:4-6). The gradual unfolding of doctrinal clarity in the post-apostolic period is the normal pattern of Christian revelation and theological maturation.

    Your jibe that “original scrolls still exist” cuts the other way. No extant Hebrew manuscript of Proverbs 8 renders קָנָה as “he created me”; every one supports “acquired/possessed.” It was the Alexandrian translators who ventured κτισεν, and it was precisely that lone rendering—already suspect to the Jewish revisers Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion—that the Fathers re-interpreted in light of the whole canon: κτίζει can mean to ordain or establish (Ps 50:12 LXX), so the verse announces Wisdom’s installation as archetype of the cosmos, whereas verse 25 (“he begets me”) unveils her eternal derivation. Two verbs, two dimensions: economic mission and ontological origin.

    The appeal to Psalm 51:10—“Create in me a clean heart, O God” (Hebrew בְּרָא־לִי לֵב טָהוֹר)—to bolster the claim that κτίζω in Proverbs 8:22 “must” denote the production of a being who previously did not exist is philologically and theologically misplaced. In the Psalter verse the verb bārāʾ does not speak of ontological origination out of nothing, still less of the manufacture of a new “substance.” David already possesses a heart; his petition is for its moral renewal. Throughout the Hebrew Bible bārāʾ can signify transformative re-creation within an existing entity (cf. Isaiah 57:19; 65:18). When the Septuagint renders Psalm 51:10 with κτίσον, it therefore mirrors that idiom of renewal, not the absolute beginning posited in Genesis 1:1. Consequently one cannot extrapolate from Psalm 51 to Proverbs 8 a semantic rule that κτίζω invariably means bringing a concrete object into first existence.

    Patristic exegesis underscores the same point. Athanasius, commenting on Psalm 51, reads the verse as an invocation of sanctifying grace rather than material origination; his focus is the Holy Spirit’s cleansing action in the believer’s interior life. Augustine concurs in Enarrationes in Psalmos 50, explaining that the psalmist seeks “a heart refashioned by charity,” a moral re-creation continuous with, yet elevated above, the heart he already has. Neither Father treats the verb as proof that God must at that moment be producing a novel, hitherto non-existent substance. In short, Psalm 51:10 witnesses to divine renovation, not to creaturely genesis.

    The relevance for Christology is decisive. The semantic elasticity of bārāʾ/κτίζω demonstrates that creation language cannot, by itself, settle ontological status. To infer from Proverbs 8:22—where κτισεν translates קָנָה (“acquired/appointed”)—that Wisdom is a creature because Psalm 51:10 uses a cognate verb for moral renewal is a non sequitur. The writer of Proverbs selected a verb capable of multiple nuances, and the Fathers consistently interpreted it as an economic designation: the Son is “established” or “appointed” as the archetypal Wisdom through whom the cosmos is ordered, not manufactured as a member of the cosmos. The immediate sequel, “before the mountains He γενν me” (v. 25 LXX), already distinguishes generation from creation; patristic theology merely makes that distinction explicit.

    Barnes’ nineteenth-century comment that only God can bring about such an interior cleansing is perfectly congenial to Trinitarian doctrine: the Son and the Spirit, being consubstantial with the Father, share the singular divine power to re-create. Nothing in his gloss authorizes the leap from moral renewal in the redeemed to ontological origin of the Redeemer. Psalm 51 affirms divine agency in sanctification; it says nothing about the temporal genesis or creaturehood of the Logos.

    Therefore, the invocation of Psalm 51:10 neither proves that κτίζω is semantically restricted to the creation of previously non-existent beings nor supports the Arian contention that the Son belongs to the order of creatures. Proper lexical analysis, the broader canonical context, and the unanimous witness of the early Church converge to show that “create” in that psalm describes God’s transformative grace, while the Son, eternally begotten and consubstantial with the Father, stands on the Creator’s side of the Creator–creature divide.

    The Arian polemic depends throughout on the notion that the lack of explicit, technical, philosophical terminology in the NT somehow constitutes evidence against the Trinitarian reading. This is historically and methodologically baseless. All classical Christian doctrine arises from the Church’s careful contemplation of the entirety of revelation: the unity of God, the divinity of Christ, the personal distinction of Father, Son, and Spirit, and the narrative of salvation history. The “homoousios” of Nicaea and the “begotten, not made” formula were not novelties but clarifications—terms coined to rule out heretical interpretations like Arianism and to safeguard the mystery revealed in Scripture.

    The distinction between “begotten” and “made” therefore stands on texts older than Nicea and logic deeper than conciliar decree. Every creature is made ex nihilo; only the Son is begotten ex Deo. To merge the verbs is to collapse Creator and creation, to unwrite John 1:3, and to leave the Church without a Redeemer who is truly God yet truly from God. That is why the bishops of 325, guarding “the faith once delivered,” confessed nothing novel when they cried “γεννηθέντα, ο ποιηθέντα.” They simply gave dogmatic voice to what Scripture already requires and what Justin, Origen, Athanasius, and the whole catholic tradition had always—however variously phrased—believed: the Father is never without his Word, nor was there ever a time when the Son was not.

    In conclusion, every aspect of the Arian critique—regarding “firstborn,” the meaning of “begotten,” the biblical witness to Christ’s divinity, and the development of Trinitarian doctrine—fails under the weight of scriptural exegesis, linguistic evidence, and historical theology. The context of Colossians 1, the meaning of πρωτότοκος, and the witness of Justin and the early Fathers all converge on the reality that the Son is not part of creation but stands eternally as its source, Lord, and inheritor. The “firstborn of all creation” is the one through whom all things were made, and without whom nothing was made that has been made (John 1:3). He is eternally begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father—the confession of the universal Church from the beginning. Any other reading fragments the scriptural logic and empties the apostolic gospel of its heart: that in Christ, the fullness of deity dwells bodily (Col 2:9), and that our redemption rests on the uncreated, eternal Son’s work and person.

  • aqwsed12345
    aqwsed12345
    @Blotty

    The claim that Clement of Alexandria regarded the Son as “first-created” in the Arian sense of a temporal creature, and that the later Nicene contrast between “first-born” and “first-created” represents a post-apostolic invention, collapses once the philological evidence, Clement’s own theological vocabulary, and the wider second-century lexicon are placed in their proper literary and doctrinal settings.

    Clement employs the adjective πρωτόκτιστος only once, Stromateis 5.14. However the surrounding sentence, ignored by most Arian appropriations, situates the word inside an unmistakably anti-subordinationist context: the Logos is the Father’s “beloved and most ancient Word, always present with Him, whose energy shaped all things.” Clement’s point is not that the Logos is the first product of God’s will, but that He stands as the primal agent in whom the entire created order is articulated. In Alexandrian idiom πρωτό- compounds frequently mark logical or hierarchical precedence, not temporal origination. Philo, whom Clement knew intimately, calls the intelligible cosmos the “first-created” paradigm (πρωτόκτιστον) while simultaneously describing it as eternal in God’s mind; no Jew or Christian thought Philo thereby implied that the incorporeal archetype was a manufactured creature. Clement inherits the same rhetorical register: πρωτόκτιστος designates the Logos as archetypal relative to κτίσις, not as a member of it. The rest of Stromateis 5 underscores this logic by labeling the Son “eternal and uncreated” and “equal in substance with the Father.” A hermeneutic that seizes on a single adjective while silencing the author’s explicit confession of the Son’s uncreated deity violates every canon of historical exegesis.

    Nor is it true that the first-born / first-created distinction arose only after the apostles. The Septuagint itself differentiates πρωτότοκος, signaling primogeniture and rank (e.g., Ps 88[89]:28), from πρωτόκτιστος, a rarer adjective whose semantic field is less rigid and often metaphorical. The New Testament preserves that differentiation: πρωτότοκος describes Christ’s supremacy (Rom 8:29; Col 1:15; Heb 1:6), whereas no canonical or apostolic writing ever predicates πρωτόκτιστος of Him. The absence is striking if the allegedly “simple” partitive meaning were truly the Church’s earliest belief. Instead the apostolic authors consistently ascribe creative agency to the Son and reserve createdness for “all things” that come to be through Him (John 1:3; 1 Cor 8:6; Col 1:16). That conceptual bifurcation is precisely what Nicaea later captured in the antonymy γεννητός versus κτιστός. Far from inventing a novelty, the council formalised in dogmatic grammar what the apostolic corpus already implies: the Son’s derivation from the Father is generation, not manufacture.

    Early patristic evidence before Clement confirms this inherited nuance. Ignatius of Antioch calls Christ “God’s unbegotten Logos who came forth from silence,” thereby distinguishing temporal procession into the economy from ontological beginning. The Epistle to Diognetus speaks of the Father sending the “eternal Word,” contrasting that Word with “the things which He ordered.” Justin Martyr, though still groping for adequate terminology, argues that the Logos was “begotten before all creatures,” thus already assuming that generation and creation are not interchangeable. The accusation that the Church produced a brand-new semantic distinction only after Constantine is therefore historically unfounded.

    The appeal to natural language change in English (“gay” and “happy”) is a category error. Shifts in popular English semantics have no probative value for the technical layers of second-century theological Greek, where authors carefully flagged their metaphysical intentions. When Clement says the Son is “true God … equal to the Lord of the universe,” the semantic range of πρωτόκτιστος must be read compatibly with that affirmation; otherwise one forces a contradiction into the text. Ancient readers were perfectly capable of recognizing polysemy and narrowing a term’s sense by context—far more so than modern critics who isolate a lexeme from its argumentative environment.

    Methodologically, restricting primary evidence to the New Testament and the creedal decisions that claimed to codify its meaning is not self-serving; it is historiographically responsible. Those corpora constitute the earliest and most authoritative witnesses to Christian self-identification. When later sources—Gnostic, Jewish-Christian, or otherwise—employ overlapping vocabulary, they must be weighed against that normative baseline, not treated as coordinate canons. Clement himself, immersed in eclectic learning, sometimes borrows phrases from Hellenistic Judaism or speculative Christian circles, but he repeatedly reins them back under the rule of faith. Photios’ medieval worry that πρωτόκτιστος entails creaturehood overlooks Clement’s own corrective clauses and the prevalent Middle-Platonist usage in which “first-created” can denote timeless archetype.

    Even were one to grant, for argument’s sake, that a single second-century teacher momentarily blurred the lines, historical theology proceeds by the consensus of worshipping communities, not by “one witness” precedents. The liturgical and baptismal formulas of the great sees—Rome, Alexandria, Antioch—confessed the Son as “God of God, Light of Light” long before the Arian controversy, and it was those same churches that adjudicated Nicea. Arius’ reduction of the Logos to a creature was therefore a rupture, not a retrieval.

    In sum, Clement’s lone use of πρωτόκτιστος cannot be pressed into Arian service without suppressing the stronger testimony of his own writings, the lexical versatility of Greek, and the apostolic pattern that already separates what is begotten from what is made. The Son is eternally generated, uncreated, and consubstantial with the Father; His designation as “firstborn of all creation” proclaims His sovereign primacy, not His membership in the class of things that began to be.

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