Introduction

They came at night, torches ablaze. Emperor Septimius Severus (193211) sought to
suppress Christianity with lethal force, and Leonides, an Alexandrian Christian and father
of seven boys, found himself in the crosshairs.1When Origen, his eldest son, learned of his
imprisonment and imminent execution, he immediately resolved to join him in
martyrdom.2 Impervious to the desperate pleas of his mother and burning with a zeal for
martyrdom, he would have rushed to his death if not for her clever intervention. According
to Eusebius, the ancient biographer of Origen, his mother hid his clothes, knowing that her
modest son would never present himself for martyrdom in his undergarments.3 Finding
himself outmaneuvered by his mother, Origen wrote an earnest letter to his father in which
he, a young man of 17, exhorted him not to falter out of a sense of familial responsibility
but to hold unwaveringly to his confession of Christ: Take care not to change your mind
on our account.4 Leonides took the words of his precocious son to heart. He was beheaded
in 202 C.E. At the end of his life, Origen would meet a similar fate, refusing to recant under
torture and ultimately dying as a confessor of the faith. Origen's adult life was punctuated
by profound experiences of persecution.
Hence, on the threshold of maturity, Origen found himself in dire straits. After the
execution of his father, the family's property was confiscated by the imperial treasury.
Bereavement was thus compounded by impoverishment. As the eldest son, the
responsibility to provide for the family fell on his shoulders. Eventually, with the help of a
patron, he would complete his education and supply their needs by becoming a teacher.
But these personal experiences of persecution, loss, and hardship during his formative
years would leave an indelible impression on him. For the rest of his days, he would live in
the shadow of his father's martyrdom. It would set him on an intellectual and spiritual
journey to make sense of and ultimately overcome the evil and suffering of the world.
(p.2) Origen delineated the first systematic Christian theodicy.5 This study analyzes his
creative and controversial approach to the problem of evil and reevaluates the salient
themes of his theodicy.6 While the modern term theodicy has valences foreign to Origen's
intellectual milieu, it nevertheless aptly signifies an intellectual enterprise that extends
back to antiquity.7 As the first chapter argues, theodicy, at bottom, merely denotes the
attempt to ascribe meaning to suffering, particularly through religious, often theological,
symbolism. So reference to Origen's theodicy does not insinuate an anachronistic
importation of a contemporary category into an ancient context, but rather simply signifies
his theological and cosmological strategies for explaining the reality of evil.
Similarly, formulations of the problem of evil vary, depending on the historical,
philosophical, and theological context. Origen construes the problem of evil as the problem
of failed providence: on the surface, it seems that God does not govern creation equitably.
Appearances, however, are often deceiving in Origen's theological landscape. As he
searches for meanings worthy of God beneath the problematic surface narratives of the
Bible, so he searches for meanings worthy of God beneath the inequities of the world.8 In
an effort to preserve cosmic coherence, he unveils a striking vision of creation and
restoration that explains evil and orients the soul in its journey back to God. His theodicy,
then, functions both as a defense of providence and as a map for the questing soul in its
journey from sin and suffering to purification and, ultimately, eternal beatitude.
My analysis of Origen's theodicy unites two strands of thought often kept distinct in Origen
scholarship: the speculative theology of his philosophical treatises and the pastoral
theology of his homilies and commentaries.9 Whereas for Leibniz theodicy entails the
syllogistic resolution of a logical problem, for Origen it encompasses both the rational and
spiritual dimensions of the problem.10 Origen does not dissociate the logical problem of

evil from the moral problem of evil: in his view, they are inextricably interconnected. He
situates the theological and philosophical themes of his theodicy within his overarching
narrative of the fall and return of the soul.11 By uniting the speculative and exegetical facets
of his thought, I will accentuate the soteriological undercurrent of his cosmic
theodicy.12 Furthermore, I will trace the interlacing theological threads that underwrite
his theodicy. Origen's disquisitions on the origins of evil and its eventual destruction when
God's goodness permeates all creation hinge on a series of interlocking theological
metaphors that carefully calibrate with his cosmology. He characterizes God as a Father,
Teacher, and Physician who providentially designs the universe to arrest the fall of
the (p.3) soul and facilitate its ascent toward God. Even the apparent evils of the world,
then, serve unforeseen providential ends, in his view.
My study repositions Origen in contemporary debates about the nature of his thought and,
ultimately, his identity. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Origen scholarship,
influenced by Harnack's hellenization of Christianity thesis, emphasized Origen's
indebtedness to Platonism and thus portrayed him primarily as a Platonic philosopher. By
mid-century, with the rise of la nouvelle thologie, a new view emerged. Jean Danilou,
Henri de Lubac, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and others began to emphasize the Christian
tenor of his theology and thus portrayed him more as churchman than a Platonist.13 At
present, the debate continues between these two alternatives: Origen the Platonist or
Origen the Churchman.14 These shifts in emphasis implicitly or explicitly posit varying
degrees of tension or incompatibility between Platonism and Christianity. Since these
cannot coexist, according to the logic of the disjunction, we must choose between Origen
the philosopher, the proponent of heresy, or Origen the Christian, the paragon of
orthodoxy. I expose this false dichotomy as spurious, simplistic, and unproductive. First,
Origen perceives no antagonism between Christianity and Platonism, so long as they are
rightly related. Philosophy, he avers, serves theology, not vice versa. Second, Origen has a
complicated relationship to both Platonism and the church, so either pole of the dichotomy
fails to capture the nuance of his thought and identity. When addressing the philosophical
dimension of his reflections on evil, then, I caution against replicating this facile
disjunction. I problematize his relationship to both Platonism and Christianity, striking a
balance between these deeply entrenched alternatives in Origen scholarship. Origen, I will
argue, utilizes philosophy to illuminate theology and sees them as complementary, even as
others detect hidden dangers in his synthesis that might have escaped his notice or struck
him as unproblematic.15
Suspicions about Origen's orthodoxy continue to taint his legacy. We must, however,
carefully parse the heavily freighted term orthodoxy as it relates to Origen. It has, in
Origen scholarship, at least four distinct senses. First, it can denote the local debates on the
rule of faith in his historical-theological context. In the third century, the church was still
in the process of defining unresolved points of doctrine, as we see in Origen's dialogue with
Heraclides.16 Questions of church doctrine were discussed in smaller, local councils, rather
than in the larger ecumenical councils of the subsequent centuries. Before the institutional
ossification of orthodoxy in the fourth century, there was more room for theological
maneuverability and creativity. Thus, Origen could adjudicate a doctrinal dispute (p.4) in
one setting while his Bishop Demetrius could call his orthodoxy into question in another.
In the third century, then, orthodoxy still had a certain amount of pliability.
Second, it can denote the conciliar orthodoxy of the fourth century, when the Christian
faith became more a matter of written formulation than spiritual exegesis and practice, as
Rowan Williams rightly observes.17Origen views orthodoxy more as the internal
assimilation of doctrine than the external assent to propositions. For him, orthodoxy and
orthopraxy are inseparable. Third, we can view it from the perspective of the sixth-century
condemnation of Origen at the Fifth Ecumenical Council in 553, which is tied up with the
question of Origenism. Fourth, it can denote our current understanding of doctrinal truth.

While this study does not adjudicate the question of Origen's orthodoxy, it will not conflate
these disparate senses of orthodoxy. We must carefully distinguish between Origen's sense
of orthodoxy and that of later generations who judge him by the standard of Nicene
orthodoxy. Moreover, we must probe behind the Origenism that was condemned in the
sixth century to reconstruct the real Origen, who has been misunderstood by both his
enemies and allies. Many of these misapprehensions have been uncritically appropriated
and perpetuated by contemporary Origen scholarship.
Interestingly, Pope Benedict XVI, in a sermon in Saint Peter's Square on April 25, 2007,
affirms Origen's place in Christian history, calling him a true maestro and one of the
most remarkable figures of the early church: Origen of Alexandria truly was a figure
crucial to the whole development of Christian thought.18 After reviewing his life and work,
he enthusiastically recommends his writings: I invite youand so I concludeto welcome
into your hearts the teaching of this great master of the faith.19 Perhaps these comments
by the pope signal a renewed appreciation of Origen as a deeply spiritual and pious
theologian. In any case, Origen's brilliance, centrality to the history of theology, and
enormous influence on later theologians have never been in dispute.
Origen remains a polarizing figure, however, partly because of his willingness to venture
into unexplored theological territory and partly because of his ability to keep seemingly
opposite positions in productive tension.20 Many of the common misapprehensions about
him dissolve once we correctly perceive his theological method. He is, as Crouzel suggests,
a speculative, experimental theologian.21 Although firmly rooted in scripture and tradition,
he freely speculates on questions that were undecided or unexplored at his time. His
speculations never stray from the principles of Christian theology as he understands them,
and while they strike many as philosophical, Origen sees no incompatibility between the
two.22 In the (p.5) spirit of an apologist, Origen equips Christians with intellectual
resources to counter the cosmologies and philosophies of pagans and heretics.23 Rather
than striving for dogmatic certitude in these theologically open areas, he explores
theological possibilities in creative interaction with his philosophical milieu. He would
incur the wrath of lesser minds both in his day and in later generations for his speculative
approach to theology.24 His detractors failed to see the experimental and exploratory
nature of his theology and were unable to grasp his synthetic genius and the apologetic
motivation behind his integration of philosophy and theology.
On complex theological issues, Origen refuses to succumb to false dichotomies. Are our
lives governed by providence or free will? Origen affirms the reality of both and explains
their interrelation. Do we contribute to our salvation or is it entirely in the hands of God?
Both are true, in certain senses. Does God destroy sinners, or do all fallen souls ultimately
enter into the divine bliss? Again, both convey aspects of the truth. Moreover, we can apply
his integrative approach to the question of identity. Is Origen a man of the church or a
Platonist?25While he has an uneasy relationship with both the church and the
philosophical schools of his day, he can nevertheless be seen as both. Origen resists
disjunctive thinking even as he resists easy categorization. Instead of eliminating one side
of a theological paradox, he seeks to reconcile classic systematic binaries. As only great
minds can, he finds harmony where others see only antitheses. Part of his genius, then, is
his ability to find truth in paradoxes.26
Much of the confusion about Origen stems from the fact that few actually read his writings.
Most read secondary accounts of his theology, often by hostile and uninformed sources,
rather than his own words. Henri de Lubac reflects on this problem:
To see him at work: this, we must repeat, is what has been most lacking. Many of the
allegations we have recalled would have fallen away on their own after reading him. But

Origen is rarely read except by fragments and without making an effort sufficient to
understand him. Or else he is approached with prejudices.27
As a corrective, then, I will carefully read Origen rather than rely on accounts about
Origen, either ancient or modern. Both hostile and sympathetic interpreters tend to distort
the real picture. I do not seek to incriminate or domesticate him, but to bring him into
sharper focus by analyzing him on his own terms and in his own words, as much as
possible. Moreover, I will correct the selective reading of Origen, particularly the nearly
exclusive focus on De Principiis.28 Scholars have depended too much on this text (p.6) to
reconstruct his theology, ignoring the other important works in his vast corpus. Thus, in
my examination of Origen's theodicy, I will draw from his entire corpus, incorporating his
homilies, commentaries, and apologetic work in addition to De Principiis.
My study complements existing treatments of the problem of evil in patristic authors such
as Irenaeus, Clement, and Augustine.29 It makes several important contributions. First, in
chapter 1, I develop a methodological approach to theodicy called theodicy as navigation,
which provides a theoretical framework for understanding the task of theodicy in religion,
particularly its effort to create and sustain meaning in the face of evil. In chapter2, I
subvert the disjunctive portrayals of Origen as either a Platonist or a Christian and
complicate his relationship to both. Next, in chapter 3, I rethink Origen's theory of preexistence by interpreting it Christologically rather than Platonically, without denying its
Platonic inspiration. In chapter 4, I show that Origen conceives of creation and materiality
positively as a soteriological response to the fall. In chapter 5, I demonstrate the
correlation between Origen's intellectual and spiritual approach to theodicy. I also note
that after the soul's divinization, it will cast off its material body and never again lapse into
sin. Last, in chapter 6, I argue that the logic of Origen's theology necessarily entails the
salvation of all fallen souls, including the Devil. Origen employs a dual pedagogy: one for
the simple multitude and another for the more advanced. He withholds the deeper
mysteries of the faith, such as universal salvation, from the multitude to avoid scandal and
inadvertently sanctioning moral laxity. With the more advanced, however, he
circumspectly speculates on hidden truths.30
Since Origen's approach to the problem of evil encompasses virtually every major facet of
his theology, it serves as a fruitful entry point into his thought as a whole. By engaging
broader questions about the shape of his theology, we unavoidably enter into classic and
contemporary debates about Origen's status and place in Christian history. Some adopt
Harnack's view that he compromised Christianity by fusing it with Middle-Platonic
philosophy.31 Others follow Crouzel's view, championed by la nouvelle thologie, that he
admirably defended Christianity using the philosophical categories of his day. Is he a
traitor who infiltrated the church or a loyal churchman who upheld its orthodoxy? We
must accept, I think, Origen's self-identification as a man of the church, but we must also
recognize that his appropriation of Platonic modes of thinking did not always comport with
the competing conceptions of orthodoxy in his day and in later generations.32 We should
neither mistake his speculations for dogmatic assertions nor judge him by the standard of
Nicene orthodoxy.33 (p.7)Nevertheless, we should also not domesticate the problematic
and controversial aspects of his thought. By balancing these considerations, we will better
appreciate his legacy. My task, then, is not rehabilitation, but retrival: I do not seek to
defend his orthodoxy but to recover his neglected theological legacy, a legacy found more
in his probing questions than his daring answers.
Beneath the sands of time and the layers of invective and misrepresentation lies a vast
reservoir of profound theological insight: The wells once dug by Origen have long been
covered over with sand. But the same deep layer of water is still there, which he can help us
find once again in order to quench the same thirst.34 While some of Origen's wells no
longer access this deep layer of water, many still do, if we know how to find them. His
theodicy, though idiosyncratic and fraught with cosmological difficulties, provides valuable

resources for thinking about the problem of evil. Origen calls God the great lover of
humanity, and his theodicy explores divine love at work in the cosmos.35
To gain a purchase on how theodicy operates in Origen's theology, we must begin with a
theoretical orientation. How does theodicy function in religion? What are its inner
dynamics? How does it manifest itself in different religious contexts? After defining my
conception of theodicy and developing my theoretical paradigm, we will then be ready to
hone in on Origen's theodicy. We begin, then, by asking: what is theodicy?

Toward a Theoretical Paradigm

At the outset of a long trip, the judicious traveler will map out the optimal route for the
journey. By charting a direct pathway, one reduces the risk of mishaps and meanderings.
Likewise, prior to a long intellectual journey, the prudent scholar will plot a theoretical
pathway to avoid discursiveness, logical missteps, and conceptual cul-de-sacs. A clearly
defined methodology enhances analysis by giving it focus and direction. We begin, then, by
finding our theoretical footing, as it were, which will set the stage for our study of the
problem of evil in Origen. As a first step, we must ask about the task of theodicy itself: how
does theodicy function in religion?
In step with several prominent theorists in the study of religion, I will argue that theodicy,
at its core, consists of the production and protection of meaning in the face of evil.
Religion, J. Z. Smith avers, constructs worlds of meaning where we choose to dwell by
negotiating meaningful spaces that affirm the relevance and coherence of our
existence.1 Theodicy, as we will see, underwrites this entire enterprise. After delineating
the theoretical basis for my view, I will enrich and refine the conception of theodicy as
meaning-making by developing an analogy: theodicy as navigation.2 By deploying the
term navigation, we reposition theodicy as a deeply existential exercise, not simply an
abstract intellectual experprise. As we will discover in the subsequent chapters, Origen's
theodicy attempts to restore the rationality of the cosmos by ascribing meaning to those
aspects of the universe that seem to defy logical explication: cosmic inequity, infant
disabilities and disadvantages, and all manner of cruelty and senseless suffering.
(p.9) Theodicy as Meaning-Making
Max Weber: Theodicy and the Problem of Meaning
Max Weber's discussion of the problem of meaning (das Problem der Bedeutung) serves
as the foundation for the view of theodicy as meaning-making. According to Weber,
religion posits that the world order in its totality is, could, and should somehow be a
meaningful cosmos. 3 With varying degrees of sophistication, religion explains reality
within its own distinctive interpretive frameworks. As religious worldviews become
increasingly rational, the need to explain the meaning of the distribution of fortunes
assumes greater urgency.4 Weber formulates the problem of evil, then, around the unequal
and unfair allotment of prosperity and suffering. At a basic ethical level, we expect the
good to prosper and the wicked to suffer. The world, however, does not evince a
symmetrical correlation between goodness and prosperity on the one hand and wickedness
and suffering on the other. The rise of rationalism, Weber argues, brings the inequities of
the world into sharper relief: Individually undeserved woe was all too frequent; not
good but bad men succeeded.5 In other words, as religion evolves from primitive to
rational, the problem of injustice confronts religion more acutely, thereby activating
various theodicies. In their distinctive ways, which we will enumerate later, the religions of
the world address this incongruity by enfolding it into a larger meaningful matrix.
An inner need impels religious intellectuals to overlay their experience with meaningful
paradigms, according to Weber.6 He attributes this impulse to the search for salvation
from the vicissitudes of life. This inner need or impulse, then, consists of the need for
meaning, which provides a sense of personal and cosmic unity and intelligibility: The
intellectual seeks in various ways, the casuistry of which extends into infinity, to endow his
life with a pervasive meaning, and thus to find unity with himself, with his fellow man, and
with the cosmos.7For the intellectual, the chaotic state of the cosmos creates a crisis: It is
the intellectual who transforms the concept of the world into the problem of

meaning.8 Whereas in the past, the belief in magic would explain the world's processes,
in the present, with the jettisoning of archaic beliefs, these world processes no longer
signify anything.9 The absence of inherent cosmic significance, then, gives rise to the
impulse to superimpose meaning: As a consequence, there is a growing demand that the
world and the total pattern of life be subject to an order that is significant and
meaningful.10 We can call this order a theodicy, which he treats explicitly in an essay on
Theodicy, Salvation, and Rebirth.
(p.10) Weber defines the problem of theodicy as reconciling the world's imperfections
with the prevailing god-concept of a particular religion.11 While he acknowledges that the
problem of theodicy confronts both polytheistic and monotheistic religions alike, he argues
that it assails monotheistic religions more directly: But the more the development tends
toward the conception of a transcendental unitary god who is universal, the more there
arises the problem of how the extraordinary power of such a god may be reconciled with
the imperfection of the world that he has created and rules over.12 Thus, despite his
monotheistic bias, he affirms the pervasiveness and plurality of the problem of theodicy:
The resultant problem of theodicy is found in ancient Egyptian literature as well as in Job
and in Aeschylus, but in very different forms.13 The entire spectrum of religious belief
must confront the problem of evil to preserve its credibility.14 In Weber's view, then, the
problem of theodicy, in all its diversity, jeopardizes the viability of religion and all
meaningful constructions of reality. The difficulty of harmonizing the existence of God
(conceived of as providentially active) with the reality of evil generates the problem that
theodicy seeks to remedy in diverse ways.
Weber famously outlines three theoretically pure types of theodicy:
providence/predestination, dualism, and karma.15 In reality, these ideal-types are often
combined and adapted to different situations. While it does not serve our purposes to
rehearse them here, it is interesting to note that Origen's theodicy engages all three types,
although obviously not in exactly the ways Weber conceives of them. Two essential aspects
of his theodicynamely, God's providential arrangement of the universe, which reflects the
precosmic fall of souls, and the ultimate salvation of all fallen soulsresemble the first and
third types, albeit with his particular theological and philosophical slant. Moreover,
Origen's theodicy directly refutes the dualism of Marcion and Valentinus, which relates to
Weber's second type. While his types help us locate patterns or trends in Origen's theodicy,
they do not advance our understanding of his approach, so they need not detain us any
further.
Weber does, however, identify the inner need for meaning that underlies theodicy and
serves as a starting point for our theoretical paradigm. Peter Berger and Clifford Geertz
begin their reflections on theodicy with similar anthropological starting points: the need
for meaning and the quest for lucidity, as we will examine later.16 The problem of
meaning, grounded in the insatiable desire for cosmic orientation and significance,
transmutes into the problem of theodicy when focused through the lens of suffering. When
the imperfections of the world collide with our (p.11) god-concept, to use Weber's
categories, the problem of theodicy emerges as a species of the problem of meaning.
Theodicy, for Weber, seeks to reinscribe meaning into the world.
Peter Berger: Theodicy and the Need for Meaning
In his book The Sacred Canopy, Peter Berger characterizes religion as the human activity
of world-construction and world-maintenance, that is, as the attempt to build a
meaningful world to stem the tide of chaos.17 He defines religion as a cosmological
framework that meaningfully integrates and interprets our experiences, especially our
anomic experiences of evil: Religion is the human enterprise by which a sacred cosmos
is established. Put differently, religion is cosmization in a sacred mode.18 Before beginning

his chapter on the problem of theodicy, Berger develops his definition of religion by
highlighting its relationship to the ubiquitous reality of chaos: It is well at this point of the
argument to recall the definition of religion used a little earlierthe establishment,
through human activity, of an all-embracing sacred order, that is, of a sacred cosmos that
will be capable of maintaining itself in the ever-present face of chaos.19 For Berger, then,
religion orients us in a world that defies rationality. It creates a nomos that protects our
sacred worldviews from the relentless onslaught of chaos: [E]very nomos is an area of
meaning carved out of a vast mass of meaninglessness, a small clearing of lucidity in a
formless, dark, always ominous jungle.20 The task of religion inherently involves theodicy
because the threat of chaos (a universal metaphor for evil) constantly impinges on our
sacred canopies, that is, our meaningful constructions of reality. So religion and its
socially established nomos serves as a shield against terror.21 In fact, religion, at its
core, reflects the human need for orientation in a world where suffering threatens to
dismantle our deeply embedded theological worldviews and plunge us into a state of
meaninglessness.
Berger defines theodicy as the affirmation of the sacred order of the cosmos in the face of
the anomic forces endemic to the human condition: An explanation of these phenomena
in terms of religious legitimations, of whatever degree of theoretical sophistication, may be
called a theodicy.22 These anomic phenomena, including suffering, evil, and death, must
be explained, he argues, within meaningful conceptual matrixes that range in intellectual
complexity. Berger stresses that we cannot restrict theodicy to subtle theological
approaches to the problem (p.12) of evil. Rather, when we broaden our vision of theodicy,
we see that all strata of society engage in it:
The illiterate peasant who comments upon the death of a child by referring to the will of
God is engaging in theodicy as much as the learned theologian who writes a treatise to
demonstrate that the suffering of the innocent does not negate the conception of God as
both all-good and all powerful.23
Thus for Berger, theodicy consists of affirming cosmic meaning despite experiences that
potentially undermine the sacred canopy that religion establishes to ward off terror:
Theodicy proper [is] the religious legitimation of anomic phenomena.24 It is an effort at
world-maintenance that seeks to uphold the legitimacy and cogency of religion.
As with Weber, Berger grounds his theodicy in our innate need for meaning.25 He says
that we can endure self-denial, illness, exploitation, and death, but we cannot accept
meaninglessness because it erodes the foundation of our identity.26 It is not happiness
that theodicy primarily provides, Berger insists, but meaning.27 This is not to say that
those who suffer do not seek happiness and reprieve from suffering. Rather, it underscores
the human drive to give meaning to suffering, that is, to explain why we suffer. The
purpose of theodicy, in his view, is to supply meaning in the face of seemingly meaningless
experiences: If a theodicy answers, in whatever manner, this question of meaning, it
serves a most important purpose for the suffering individual, even if it does not involve a
promise that the eventual outcome of his suffering is happiness in this world or the
next.28 At the heart of theodicy, according to Berger, is the dual impulse to create
meaningful frameworks and to restore them when they have been damaged.
Berger focuses on the social function of theodicy. If religion strives to construct a plausible
sacred canopy, then theodicy becomes absolutely critical to the viability of religion: Our
purpose has been accomplished if we have indicated the centrality of the problem of
theodicy for any religious effort at world maintenance.29Moreover, it follows that theodicy
becomes foundational to theology, which provides the intellectual infrastructure for
religious systems. Hence, in our analysis of Origen, we should attend to the ways in which
his theodicy reinforces his theological orientation, specifically his doctrine of providence.
As we will see, Origen recognizes that social inequalities and anomic events potentially

confute his view of providence (that is, his theological nomos, in Bergerian terms). In
response, he fashions a theodicy that situates these realities within a coherent theological
cosmology.
(p.13) Clifford Geertz: Theodicy as the Quest for Lucidity
We can further enrich our concept of theodicy as meaning-making by examining another
classic theorist in the study of religion: Clifford Geertz. In his influential essay Religion as
a Cultural System, Geertz explores the cultural dimension of religious analysis, defining
culture as an historically transmitted pattern of meanings embodied in symbols, in this
case, religious symbols.30 We will focus our analysis on Geertz's conception of meaning and
how religion produces and protects meaningful symbolic networks. Like Weber, Geertz
recognizes the innate human desire for meaning, especially amid suffering. Moreover, like
Berger, he sees that religion seeks to establish a plausible and authoritative cosmic order
that orients human existence: The notion that religion tunes human actions to an
envisioned cosmic order and projects images of cosmic order onto the plane of human
experience is hardly novel. But it is hardly investigated either. 31 Religion generates
cosmic schemes that enable believers to make sense of the world and their experiences.
As long as the conceptual, moral, and existential integrity of the cosmic order remains
intact, religion accomplishes its aims. When disaster strikes, however, it strains the
symbolic networks of religion, often to a breaking point. Theodicy strives to diffuse the
potentially cosmos-destroying force of these events and restore cosmic meaning through
theodicy. Origen, as we alluded to earlier, identifies where the cosmic order of
Christianity seems to break down (that is, in cosmic inequity) and then reestablishes this
order by reimagining the cosmos.
Before we outline Geertz's understanding of the problem of evil, we must briefly discuss his
famous (or, according to some, infamous) definition of religion. Geertz defines religion
(with the important caveat that definitions establish nothing) as:
A system of symbols which acts to establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods
and motivations in men by formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and
clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that the moods and motivations
seem uniquely realistic.32
In this landmark definition, Geertz accents what I call the cosmic hermeneutics of
religion, which seeks to read meaning into the world. Religious symbols provide a sense
of orientation, to use Charles Long's helpful definition of religion as orientation in the
ultimate sense, that is, how one comes to terms with the ultimate significance of one's
place in the world.33 Geertz's and Berger's definitions of religion focus on (p.14) the
construction of order. Religion creates the space for a sacred mode of existence by
transposing the unintelligible to the intelligible and the meaningless to the meaningful. In
short, religion supplies an interpretive space that filters experience through an allencompassing conception of the divine order of the cosmosan order that eclipses the
disorder of the world. Put simply, the theological foundation of religion, Geertz suggests,
rests on the relatively modest dogma that God is not mad and, thus, that the world must
admit of some overriding coherence.34 Origen's system of symbols centers on the
fundamental theological affirmation of the justice and benevolence of divine providence, a
belief he defends against empirical disconfirmations.
Geertz locates the problem of evil35 in the gap between things as they are and as they
ought to be.36 The gap or distance between the world as it is and the world as it ought
to be leads to bafflement that demands explication. It raises, Geertz says, the dim, backof-the-mind suspicions that one may be adrift in an absurd world, suspicions that prompt
us to search for ways to reestablish meaning.37 Theodicy closes this gap by formulating a
symbolic account of the world that will account for, and even celebrate, the perceived

ambiguities, puzzles, and paradoxes in human experience.38 Following Weber, he glosses

the problem of evil as The Problem of Meaning39 (note the emphatic use of the
uppercase) that arises from the strange opacity of the evil and suffering of the
world.40 All religions, with their diverse symbol systems, domesticate the opaque features
of the world by integrating them within an authoritative conception of the overall shape of
reality that enables us to both understand suffering and endure it.41
If the proposition God is not mad constitutes the theological basis for religion in general
and theodicy in particular, then the quest for lucidity constitutes its anthropological
ground, according to Geertz. Theodicy, in this view, is an intellectual quest for meaning
against the meaning-defying forces of chaos. Geertz appeals to Langer to express our deep
need to comprehend the world: [Man] can adapt himself somehow to anything his
imagination can cope with; but he cannot deal with Chaos.42 Chaos, in both ancient and
modern discourse, symbolizes the destructive forces of evil. For Geertz, chaos impinges on
human existence on three fronts: At the limits of his analytic capacities, at the limits of his
powers of endurance, and at the limits of his moral insight.43 These limits mark the
frontiers that outstrip our cognitive and emotional abilities and challenge our (often tacit)
belief that life is comprehensible and that we can, by taking thought, orient ourselves
effectively within it.44
(p.15) The deep disquiet that issues from the three fronts of chaos occurs because evil
and suffering, at least prima facie, lack not just interpretations but interpretability; that
is, they confound our explanatory resources.45 To remedy this disquietude, we must adjust
our symbolic frameworks of meaning. The quest for lucidity, which originates from the
rush of metaphysical anxiety that occurs when empirical phenomena threaten to remain
intransigently opaque, underwrites the project of theodicy.46 We defiantly affirm divine
sanity despite all evidence to the contrary. Religious symbols provide a cosmic guarantee
of the coherence of the world, Geertz maintains, despite the complexities and
disconfirmations of our lived reality.47 As meaning-centered beings, we are not content to
dismiss suffering as a surd aspect of existence. We are unsettled by the unexplained:
But it does appear to be a fact that at least some menin all probability, most menare
unable to leave unclarified problems of analysis merely unclarified, just to look at the
stranger features of the world's landscape in dumb astonishment. Any chronic failure of
one's explanatory apparatus, the complex of received culture patterns (common sense,
science, philosophical speculation, myth) one has for mapping the empirical world, to
explain things which cry out for explanation tends to lead to a deep disquiet.48
Paul Tillich's notion of the anxiety of meaninglessness aptly illustrates the deep
disquiet that Geertz links to inexplicable experiences.49 Tillich's account of this anxiety
illuminates both Berger's need for meaning and Geertz's quest for lucidity:
The anxiety of meaninglessness is anxiety about the loss of an ultimate concern, of a
meaning which gives meaning to all meanings. This anxiety is aroused by the loss of a
spiritual center, of an answer, however symbolic and indirect, to the question of the
meaning of existence.50
The experience of unjust sufferingwhich engenders what Tillich calls the threat of
nonbeingundermines our spheres of meaning by calling into question the cogency of
these meanings, leaving us existentially suspended.51 When the answer that formerly
satisfied the question of the meaning of our existence fails to account for experiences of
suffering, the anxiety of meaninglessness takes hold and arouses the deep disquiet we
noted before. Without these meaningful moorings, we are cast adrift and, in fact, in danger
of losing our humanity: Man's being includes his relation to meanings. He is human only
by understanding and shaping(p.16) reality, both his world and himself, according to
meanings and values.52 Theodicy, then, is the endeavor to restore the meaningful

moorings of our humanity. It is, in Tillich's philosophy, the attempt to restore the meaning
of our existence in the wake of the loss of our spiritual center, which triggers the anxiety
of meaninglessness and drives us toward theodicy.
My aim thus far has been to develop a theoretical paradigm for understanding the task of
theodicy. Three central concepts supply us with the conceptual infrastructure for our
paradigm: cosmic order, orientation, and meaning. Weber highlights the meaningmaking activity of humanity when he says that man is an animal suspended in webs of
significance he himself has spun.53 Theodicy, for him, reflects our innate impulse to create
and sustain meaning. Berger reveals how theodicy preserves cosmic order against the
threat of chaos, that is, against the destabilizing experiences of life that press against our
religious constructions of reality. Finally, Geertz shows how theodicy endeavors to
reestablish the system of symbols that enables us to interpret our existence. Hence, the
inner need for meaning (Weber, Berger) engenders the quest for lucidity (Geertz), which
is fueled by the deep disquiet (Geertz) or anxiety of meaninglessness (Tillich) that
emerges when evil punctures our sacred canopies, destroys our system of symbols, and
confounds our spheres of meaning, resulting in the loss of our ultimate orientation
(Long/Tillich). Theodicy thus functions to give us a sense of meaning, orientation, and
hope amid despair, thereby reinforcing rather than dismantling our religious worldviews.
Methodologically, then, the study of theodicy involves, first, an examination of the precise
nature of the problem of evil within a particular context and, second, an analysis of the
strategies the person or group employs to enfold the problematic features of reality into a
meaningful interpretive context.
Theodicy as Navigation
What do these seminal theorists contribute to the study of Origen's theodicy? They equip
us, I suggest, with helpful conceptual tools for analyzing the task of theodicy. With these
tools, we have constructed a methodological framework for understanding theodicy as
meaning-making. Now, as a final step in establishing our theoretical orientation, I will
articulate the essential features of my new category, theodicy as navigation. My model
takes the three controlling concepts of the initial paradigm, namely, cosmic law,
orientation, and meaning, and combines them with a fourth key concept: journey. My
analogy ofnavigation synthesizes and (p.17) illustrates these four concepts and captures
the inner dynamic of theodicy's attempt to ascribe meaning to suffering. It systematically
links the what of theodicy (i.e., meaning-making) to the how (i.e., navigation).
Moreover, it strategically shifts focus from the macro to the mirco level of analysis, thereby
proposing new, constructive directions for research in theodicy in theology and religious
studies.54Last, it is suggestive for theorizing the ritual dimension of theodicy, which has
been largely neglected by scholarship on the problem of evil. These refinements create a
robust and versatile model for theodicy that will sharpen the study of theodicy generally
and my study of Origen in particular. Moreover, I hope that my theoretical
paradigm theodicy as navigation will have broader constructive and heuristic value for the
study of theodicy in other religious contexts.55
What, then, do I mean by theodicy as navigation? Imagine a ship caught in a violent storm
at sea. Tossed by the winds, buffeted by waves, and taking on water, the ship finds itself in
utter perilon the brink of total destruction. To salvage the ship, the crew must find its
bearings and sail for calm waters. But the ferocity of the storm has left the crew disoriented
and taken the ship off course, leaving it adrift at sea, teetering on the edge of doom. Since
they cannot navigate by the stars, they must use the resources they have on board to travel
to safety. With a variety of nautical instruments in hand, they begin to traverse the perilous
waters, a journey that will strain the nerves of the crew and the sturdiness of the ship. At
stake in the journey is the integrity of their ship and, consequently, their lives. The crisis of
the storm, the impulse to salvage the ship, and the journey toward safety constitute the
core elements of the analogy.

This imaginative scenario provides a compelling analogy for the project of theodicy. David
Tracy argues that analogies locate similarities-in-difference that enable the theologian to
illuminate difficult theological concepts.56 Let us begin, therefore, by explicating the major
analogues between the imperiled crew on the ship beset by the storm and the disillusioned
believer confronted by evil. First, let us examine the meaning of the storm. The storm that
besieges the ship represents evil and suffering. In the terms of our theorists, it represents
the anomic experiences (Berger) that challenge the system of symbols (Geertz) of
religion, engendering the problem of meaning (Weber). The storm represents the chaos
(a ubiquitous metaphor for evil) that threatens an ultimate sense of order (Berger/Geertz)
and orientation (Long), thereby engendering the anxiety of meaninglessness (Tillich).
Chaos was routinely symbolized as turbulent waters in the ancient Near East, for example,
in the creation story in Genesis 1:12:3, the Babylonian Enuma elish (Tiamat), and the
Ugaritic god Yamm (literally: sea) in the Baal cycle.57 Moreover, (p.18) a storm
metaphorically expresses suffering in our everyday parlance, as when we say we are going
through a storm or drowning in a crisis. Thus, the stormwith its turbulent waters
symbolizes the chaos or evil that threatens to undermine the plausibility of religion with its
symbolic constructions of reality.
Next, the imperiled ship in our analogy represents religious worldviews or theological
presuppositions, described variously by our theorists as sacred canopies (Berger), webs
of significance (Geertz/Weber), ultimate orientation (Long), and spheres of meaning
(Tillich). These worldviews or presuppositions reinforce the cosmic order that overlays
life with various patterns of meaning. When events occur that defy integration within these
patterns of meaning, the viability of religious belief comes into question. As the turbulent
waters of the storm threaten the integrity of the ship, so suffering jeopardizes the tenability
of religious worldviews and theological presuppositions. More broadly, then, the ship
represents the core, orienting worldviews of believers, which they strive to secure in the
face of the problem of evil.
The crew of the beleaguered ship represents believers who struggle to salvage their beliefs
(the ship) in the face of evil (the turbulent waters of the storm). They must utilize their
distinctive nautical resources, namely, their compass (sacred texts), maps (worldviews),
knowledge of the sea (tradition), sail (inspiration/vision), and rudder (religious leaders) to
direct their vessel to safe waters. Rather than abandoning the ship, they must pull together
to rescue it from destruction. Likewise, believers engaged in theodicy refuse to abandon
their religious worldviews and theological presuppositions because they provide them with
existential orientation and meaning. Since each ship traverses different waters (because
there are many different problems of evil)58 and carries different crew members, we should
not be surprised to find that they employ different resources to sail to calm waters, as we
will discuss momentarily.
The calm or safe waters represent the successful integration of these anomic (in
Bergerian terms) or meaning-defying experiences into our religious worldviews. Put
differently, they symbolize the believer's successful restoration of meaning in the aftermath
of his or her encounter with unjust suffering. In our analogy, the ship journeys through the
storm to calm waters where the wind and waves (evil and suffering) no longer threaten to
capsize it (i.e., to shipwreck his or her beliefs). The calm or safe waters do not represent
the absence of further storms or confrontations with evil and suffering; rather, they
represent the believer's ability to integrate these experiences within a broader horizon of
meaning. The problem of evil does not lose its existential and intellectual force (p.19) once
believers successfully integrate misfortune into their belief system. It retains its intellectual
urgency, but it loses its ability to disillusion them. While they may not have solved the
problem of evil, philosophically speaking, they have nonetheless resolved it by situating
it within a meaningful religious framework.

The final part of the analogy incorporates the concept of journey.59 Theodicy involves an
interpretive movement from the crisis of evil to intellectual and existential resolution. Just
as seafarers must navigate through the storm, so believers must embark on an intellectual
voyage from disillusionment to integration. The journey through the storm signifies
explorations in theodicy. Sailors unwilling to succumb to the waves must make the
harrowing journey through the turbulent waters using the navigational instruments
available to them. Likewise, those unwilling to abandon their beliefs must find ways to
reconcile evil and suffering with their religious worldviews using their instruments:
scripture, theology, and tradition. The intellectual journeythat is, the believer's attempt
to give meaning to sufferingtakes center stage in this approach to theodicy. While all
theodicy aims at the vindication of God and/or the preservation of religious worldviews,
the means to this end vary significantly. Each religious tradition encounters the problem of
evil differently and employs theodicies that reflect their distinctive beliefs.60 For all,
however, the encounter with suffering, either personally or intellectually, moves believers
to confront evil and integrate it into their belief system.
Last, the concept of journey accents the narrative aspect of theodicy. Narrative here has
two levels. At one level, it signifies the subjectivity of the person doing theodicy. To grasp a
particular theodicy, we must first grasp its author. Theodicy does not occur in a
hermetically sealed ivory tower by objective, disinterested scholars but by historically,
socially, and theologically situated believers.61 A sound study of theodicy will identify the
salient factors that contributed to its development, both personal and intellectual. By
discovering these factors, that is, by discovering their story, we gain a fuller appreciation
of their theodicy. A study of Origen's theodicy, for instance, must take account of his
personal experiences as the son and companion of martyrs, as well as his theological and
philosophical context.
At bottom, theodicy is a deeply personal struggle to make sense of suffering. Hence, to see
it clearly, we must view the people navigating through the problem of evil in all their
complexity as emotional, spiritual, and intellectual agents. This holistic approach reflects
the confluence of forces that shape a person and the ways in which he or she makes sense
of suffering. The theoretical paradigm theodicy as navigation, therefore, attends
to (p.20) the narrative aspects of theodicy through the concept of journey, specifically the
journey of the theodicist. In this way, it recommends a shift away from macro approaches
to theodicy, which trace broad themes across various theodicies, to micro approaches,
where we study individual theodicies within their broader contexts. Moreover, it
recommends that we situate theodicy within the distinctive historical, social, and personal
context of the theodicist.
Narrative, at one level, refers to the person doing theodicy and alerts us to the complex
internal and external factors that inform the construction of theodicy. At another level,
however, narrative points to the power of story to imbue suffering with meaning. The Book
of Job, the locus classicus for biblical reflection on the problem of evil, demonstrates the
power of narrative to interpret suffering, despite the fact that it does not explicitly answer
the question of cosmic injustice or of the meaning of Job's suffering.62 Archetypal and
authoritative stories, like the story of Job, often serve as vital frameworks for reflection on
theodicy. Hence, two parallel narratives underwrite the journey of theodicy: the personal
narrative of the theodicist and a metanarrative or archetypal story. The former highlights
the relationship between the theodicist's historical, intellectual, and existential context and
his or her theodicy. The latter highlights the paradigmatic stories or metanarratives that
give shape to theodicy.
Finally, the analogy of theodicy as navigation opens new vistas for theorizing the ritual
dimension of theodicy. Coming to terms with the incongruity between the world as it is and
the world as it ought to be is not simply an intellectual exercise. On the contrary, it involves

the whole person in their embodied engagement with the reality of suffering.63 Ritual,
conceived not as reflecting or reinforcing social cohesion, but as a dynamic response to the
fractured, broken, and fragmented state of lived experience, creates an illusory world for us
to live.64 In ritual, we find ways to endure the tragedies of life, not through dispassionate
and detached intellectual resolution, but through ritual activity.65 Robert Orsi gestures in
this direction when he proposes replacing the meaning-making subject with a more tragic
figure66 who strives to find meaning within and through wounding: Meaning making
begins in wounding, and the process of meaning making is wounding.67 Ritual does not
shelter us from the storms of life as much as they help us navigate through them.
According to Seligman and colleagues, ritual helps us live with and within suffering by
superimposing an as if or illusory world over the as is or real world.68 Theodicy,
then, has a cognitive and ritual dimension. Research on the ritual aspects of theodicy has
been sparse and undertheorized.69 While my study focuses on the cognitive and spiritual
aspects of Origen's (p.21) theodicy, I recognize the possibilities of the analogy of
navigation for exploring theodicy through the lens of ritual theory.
Thinking about theodicy as navigation sets a methodological agenda for our study of
Origen's theodicy. First, we must situate his thought within his historical and theological
context. Second, we must examine, so far as we are able, the experiential underpinnings of
his theodicy. Third, we must discover the theological narrative that underwrites his
theodicy. Rowan Greer hints at the narrative aspect of Origen's theodicy: His theological
story is a kind of theodicy and has the function of explaining why evil has arisen.70 As we
will see, Origen frames his theodicy through the narrative of the fall and return of the soul.
In the beginning, the soul existed in perfect harmony with God and other souls, but sin
disrupted this pre-existent state of bliss. As a result of its fall, and in direct proportion to
the degree of its decline, the soul entered into corporeal existence. The material world
functions as a springboarda cosmic trampolinefor the soul's return to God, and
suffering functions remedially to purge the soul of sin. After the progressive purification
and illumination of the soul, it becomes divinized. When God has drawn all souls back into
the divine embrace, evil will be destroyed, and God will be all in all, thereby restoring
cosmic harmony. Each aspect of his argument involves many theological complexities and
subtleties, but at its core, his theodicy simply tells the story of cosmic restoration, whereby
the lost soul finds its way back to God.
Origen's theological cosmology reflects the soteriological thrust of his theodicy. Theodicy
functions not simply apologetically or intellectually: it aims at the progressive
transformation of the soul. Rather than simply explaining evil and suffering, it charts a way
through it and beyond it by creating a cosmic narrative that becomes a map for the soul's
ascent. In explicating his conception of salvation, Origen employs the analogy of
navigation. Our paradigm theodicy of navigation conceives of the project of theodicy in
broad theoretical terms and then applies it to specific theodicies. Navigation, for Origen,
refers to the navigation of the soul from sin to salvation through providential guidance. He
expresses this dynamic with nautical imagery:
In the same way when a ship has escaped from the dangers of the sea, although the result
is achieved by the exercise of much labour on the part of the sailors and by the complete
use of the navigator's art, together with the diligence and industry of the pilot, the direction
of the winds and the position of the stars being also carefully noted, nevertheless when at
last after being tossed by the waves and strained by the billows the ship reaches the
harbour in safety, no one (p.22) in his sober senses would attribute its safe return to
anything but the mercy of God.71
We see, then, the utility of our analogy theodicy as navigation for studying Origen's
theodicy. It gives us unique access into its soteriological undercurrent.
Conclusion

We have now established the theoretical direction of our study. Theodicy seeks to preserve
cosmic coherence in the face of inexplicable suffering and evil. Put in the terms of our
theorists: it constructs meaningful symbolic worlds that create and sustain meaning
against the affront of anomic events. When we further see theodicy as navigation, that is,
as the creative process whereby we utilize the distinctive tools of our religious tradition to
move from disorientation to orientation and from confusion to resolution, we begin to
appreciate the dynamic, multifaceted, and variegated nature of theodicy. Patterns exist
between theodicies, but no two travelers in theodicy sail in exactly the same direction. We
must attend, therefore, to the distinctive features of each theodicy by situating theodicists
in their historical and intellectual context and identifying their existential and spiritual
motivations. Origen, as we will see, frames the problem not as an Enlightenment
philosopher but as a Christian in the third century deeply indebted to Greek philosophy.
His formulation of and response to the problem of evil reflect his philosophical and
theological milieu, as well as his own personal encounters with suffering. As Origen
navigates through these intellectual and spiritual quandaries, he never loses sight of his
ultimate goal: the salvation of the soul through its journey back to God.

Framing Questions
God and Evil in Paradox
Theodicy begins with a basic theological problem: reconciling evil with God. While the
precise formulation of the problem varies, depending on the context, its core structure
remains constant across the variations. The final shape of a particular theodicy depends on
the way it was framed at the outset: it sets the conceptual agenda for the theodicy and thus
partially determines its direction. Consequently, to grasp fully the dynamics of Origen's
theodicy, we must first delineate his formulation of the problem of evil, especially in its
theological and philosophical context.
For Origen, the problem of evil consists of the problem of failed providence. The unjust
disparity of the cosmos seems to discredit the justice of divine providence, at least prima
facie. Correspondingly, his theodicy operates at a cosmic level, explaining the inequity of
the universe, its soteriological function, and its ultimate resolution, as we will discover in
the subsequent chapters. We will take three preliminary steps in this chapter to situate
Origen's theodicy. First, we will outline his ontology of evil and demonstrate its biblical
and theological foundations.1 Second, we will explicate his distinctive formulation of the
problem of evil. Third, we will enter into the complex and controversial debate about
Origen's relationship to philosophy, which these metaphysical questions naturally surface.
Was Origen a Christian or Platonist? We will problematize these typical disjunctive
approaches to his identity and recommend a new way forward.
(p.24) The Ontology of Evil
Evil as the Privation of the Good
What is evil and what is the problem of evil in Origen's theology?2 His response to
these questions provides the necessary conceptual backdrop to his theodicy. Origen, in
keeping with his third-century philosophical milieu, defines evil as the privation of the
good. Interestingly, however, Origen's privative conception of evil receives its fullest
treatment not in his highly philosophical treatise De Principiis but in his Commentary on
John.3 In Book 2, Origen comments on a curious redundancy in John 1:3: All things were
created by him, and without him nothing was made. Upon first glace, the second clause
seems superfluous: it merely restates the first clause in negative terms. Origen, however,
discerns a deeper meaning. He argues that the second clause clarifies potential theological
confusions that could arise from the first part of the verse: For it is possible, if both
expressions have not been made clear, to take it to mean that if all things were made
through the Word, and evil and all the profusion of sin and wickedness belong to the all
things, that these too, were made through the Word.4 The second clause underscores the
point that God did not create evil. Rather, God creates beings with the capacity for acts of
bravery and all virtuous actions or actions of sin and falling away.5While the former
depend on God, the source of goodness, the latter stem from our misuse of
freedom.6 Origen begins by denying the divine origin of evil.
Continuing with his exegesis, Origen identifies evil with the nothing () alluded to in
John 1:3: Evil is unsubstantial (for it neither was from the beginning nor will it be
forever).7 God's original creation did not include evil, and at the restoration, evil will cease
to exist when God will be all in all (1 Corinthians 15:28).8Origen sees evil as an intrusion
upon and corruption of the goodness of creation. On its own, evil has no positive
ontological value or features. It consists of everything which has received its apparent
constitution neither from God nor through the Word.9 Nothing (), as the
antithesis of the God who is (Exodus 3:14), defies ontological classification because it has

no secure footing in creation.10 Origen's identification of evil with nothing in these

passages reveals his complicated relationship with Platonism. On the one hand, he clearly
draws his conception of evil from Plato, even quoting from him.11 On the other hand, he
expounds on evil through his theological exegesis of John 1:3, not in explicit dialogue with
Platonic philosophy. Furthermore, while he appropriates the Platonic definition of evil, he
seeks to prove its validity from the scriptures.12 As we will discuss later, Origen
employs (p.25) philosophy to illuminate theology, and its utility depends on its
correspondence with the truths of the faith, to which it is always subservient.
Origen, contra Marcion, does not distinguish between the God of the Old Testament and
the God of the New Testament. Hence, the God who is (Exodus 3:14) and the Father
who alone is good (Mark 10:18) are one and the same.13 Following this theological
principle, Origen identifies God's being and goodness, which precludes the possibility of
tracing the creation of evil to God. If God's existence is goodness, then God cannot create
the opposite of goodness. Evil does not, strictly speaking, exist, since all existence comes
from God. On a metaphysical continuum, evil/nonbeing occupies the opposite pole to
goodness/being: But evil or wickedness is opposite to the good, and not being [ ] is
opposite to being []. It follows that wickedness and evil are not being [
].14 Metaphysically, then, evil is the deficiency of goodness that arises when
we move away from God, the supreme good, as he remarks in De Principiis: Now to
withdraw from the good is nothing else than to be immersed in evil; for it is certain that to
be evil means to be lacking in good.15 Origen clearly bases his privative notion of evil in
scripture, especially John 1:3 and Exodus 3:14.
Hence, evil exists paradoxically: it does not exist per se, but it does subsist parasitically in
creation. Origen adduces two paragons of evil to illustrate the paradox. God did not create
the Devil insofar as he is the devil, but God created the sinless being who became the
Devil.16 Similarly, God created humanity but did not create murderers: For when we
assume that qua man he has received his being from God, we do not also assume
thatqua murderer he has received this from God.17 In a sense, then, the Devil and the
murderer forfeit their original created goodness once they turn away from God and
become shadows of themselves. These examples illustrate that the nothing in John 1:3
signifies the privative, uncreated nature of evil: All evil is nothing [] since it too is
not being [ ]. And evil, which is called nothing has been made without the Word,
not being included in the all things [].18 Origen emphasizes the negative ontological
status of evil to reinforce the theological point that God, as the source of all being and
goodness, cannot create evil, which enables him to circumvent the charge of divine
injustice.
Evil as the Spiral Shavings and Sawdust of the Divine Carpenter
So Origen grounds his philosophical conception of evil as privation in scripture.
Furthermore, he expounds on it not in a treatise on Platonic (p.26) metaphysics or even
in De Principiis, but in a biblical commentary. He discusses the negative ontological status
of evil further in the apologetic work Contra Celsum, which was designed to refute On True
Doctrine (c. 178 C.E.), a famous treatise written by the pagan philosopher Celsus.19In Book
6 of Contra Celsum, Origen employs the analogy of a carpenter at his workbench to
illustrate God's relation to evil.20 In contrast to Plato, who says that good things are fewer
than bad ones in our lives,21Origen argues that the evils of the world are few in
comparison with the orderly arrangement of the universe.22 He compares God's
beneficent providence to the carpenter whose primary work incidentally produces spiral
shavings and sawdust ( ) and to a builder whose
creative activity generates disorder. God does not create evil, strictly speaking, Origen
consistently maintains. Rather, God creates the world, which is good, and in the process
permits evil as a necessary by-product:

God, then, has not made evils if one understands the word to be used here in a strict sense.
But evils which are few in comparison with the orderly arrangement of the universe have
been the consequence of the works which were His primary intention, just as spiral
shavings and sawdust are a consequence of the primary works of a carpenter, and as
builders may seem to cause the mess that lies beside buildings such as the dirt that falls off
the stones and the plaster.23
So while God has not made evil directly, God's providential work in creating and sustaining
the universe has indirectly engendered evil. But when weighed in the balance, Origen
thinks that just as the spiral shavings and sawdust are outweighed by the value of the
primary work of the carpenter, so evil in the world is outweighed by the value of the
universe, which, as we will see in chapter 4, serves God's providential purpose.
Origen's Philosophical Milieu: Plotinus on the Ontology of Evil
Scholars situate Origen in the waning years of Middle Platonism, a philosophical time
period extending from 80 B.C.E. to 220 C.E.24 John Dillon demarcates the three main
philosophical concerns of Middle Platonism: ethics, physics, and logic. Ethics explores the
nature of happiness by searching into the purpose of life, or as it was termed the end of
goods (telos agathn).25 It was keenly interested in the relationship between free will and
necessity.26 Physics, in this period, includes metaphysics and concerns the nature and
activity of the supreme principle, or God and (p.27) the mediating entity between this
God and the world, known variously as the World Soul, Logos, Sophia, Demiurge, and so
on.27 This distinction between the first and second God, which was a major
preoccupation of the time, seeks to distance the supreme God from involvement with the
mundane world, particularly materiality and flux: The distinction is between a completely
transcendent, self-intelligizing figure, and an active demiurgic one.28 Last, logic was a
dominant theme in Middle Platonism, and its combination of Aristotelian logic with
Stoic logic exemplifies its tendency to synthesis and syncretism.29 Each was accorded
its own place and ultimately attributed to Plato: Certainly the Middle Platonists saw no
incompatibility between the two logics, and were happy to view Plato as the father of
both.30Origen, as we will see, divides knowledge in the same way as his Middle Platonic
contemporaries. His theodicy in particular focuses on providence and free will (ethics), the
nature of God (physics), and the compatibility between God and evil (logic), and it borrows
from many different philosophical sources.
Consistent with his Middle Platonic heritage, which drew heavily from Stoicism, especially
on the problem of evil, Origen categorically denies the positive metaphysical status of
evil.31 But he grounds his ontology of evil in his doctrine of God and creation, not in
Platonic philosophy. On this issue, however, theology and philosophy cohere, in his view.
In Book II of Plato's Republic, Socrates rejects the divine origin of evil:
Therefore, since God is good [ ], he is notas most people claimthe cause of
everything that happens to human beings but of only a few things, for good things are
fewer than bad ones in our lives. He alone is responsible for the good things, but we must
find some other cause for the bad ones, not God.32
Here Plato affirms the divine origin of goodness while denying the divine origin of evil.
Similarly, in theTimaeus, Plato links goodness and being with the beneficent Demiurge in
Timaeus likely tale33 of the creation of the universe: He was good. And so, being free
from jealousy, he wanted everything to become as much like himself as possible. The god
wanted everything to be good and nothing to be bad so far as that was
possible.34 Furthermore, in the Theaetetus, Plato also affirms the goodness and justice of
God: In God there is no sort of wrong whatsoever; he is supremely just.35 The Platonic
affirmation of the goodness and justice of God and the equation of goodness and being

form the philosophical backdrop to Origen's analysis of the origin of evil. From these
metaphysical assumptions follows the belief that evil cannot participate in being. We will
probe (p.28) more deeply into the philosophical context of Origen's ontology of evil
through an analysis of Plotinus ontology of evil, which parallels Origen's on several key
issues.
From an exposition of Origen's younger contemporary Plotinus (205270 C.E.), we see the
ways in which Origen's ontology of evil both corresponds to and departs from his
philosophical milieu. In his laudatory Life of Plotinus, Porphyry remarks that Plotinus
studied in Alexandria: In his twenty-eighth year he felt the impulse to study philosophy
and was recommended to the teachers in Alexandria who then had the highest
reputation.36 After his initial disappointment with his instructors, his friend sent him to
Ammonius and after listening to him, Plotinus declared: This is the man I was looking
for.37 He studied with Ammonius for 11 years, during which time he met an Origen.
Porphyry locates this Origen in the inner circle of Ammonius, a group of three who made a
pact to keep Ammonius teachings secret: Errennius, Origen, and Plotinus had made an
agreement not to disclose any of the doctrines of Ammonius which he had revealed to them
in his lectures.38 Was this Origen the famous Christian Origen of our study?
As Mark Edwards persuasively argues in his article Ammonius, Teacher of Origen,39 this
neoplatonist Origen cannot be the same as the Christian Origen, since Porphyry
mentions that the former wrote nothing except the treatise On the Spirits and, in the reign
of Gallienus, That the King Is the Only Maker.40 We know, however, that Origen wrote
voluminously. Moreover, these two works do not appear on any list of his corpus, so on
these two facts alone, we can establish their nonidentity. While we need not rehearse
Edwards's reasons for positing two Origens (the Neoplatonic and Christian Origen) and
two Ammoniuses (Ammonius Saccus, who tutored Plotinus, and the Peripatetic
Ammonius, who tutored Origen), it is sufficient to point out that they were not likely to be
part of the same Neoplatonic inner circle or in any direct contact with each other.41We
cannot argue, therefore, that Plotinus and Origen represent a philosophical school of
thought based on the teachings of Ammonius Saccus (fl. 200250) and on that basis
search for parallels between their metaphysics, particularly their ontology of evil.42
Although they were probably not associates, they were nonetheless part of the same
Alexandrian intellectual environment, drawing from the same Platonic heritage. So while
we cannot trace a direct link between Origen and Plotinus, Plotinus nevertheless illustrates
the philosophical currents in Alexandria that inform Origen's theodicy. We see this
particularly in Plotinus concept of evil as privation. First, like Origen, he seeks to ascertain
the metaphysical status of evil. He addresses the question what is evil and what is its
nature? ( (p.29) ).43 Like Origen, he begins by
affirming divine goodness and excluding evil from the divine realm, which then places evil
in an inverse relationship to God. Unlike Origen, however, Plotinus conceives of God as the
One from whom emanates the and , which constitute a cascading triad of
goodness: a First and the second and third goods.44 Despite their theological differences,
their fundamental strategy regarding the ontology of evil remains the same: denying the
divine origin of evil and thus its positive metaphysical status. Plotinus, following Plato,
affirms the life of the gods to be without sorrow and blessed; evil is nowhere
here.45 Plotinus expounds on the metaphysical status of evil through an examination of its
opposite: the nature of the good. Fuller, in his study The Problem of Evil in Plotinus, avers:
In the case of this discussion, Evil is excluded from the spheres of and ; it is
banished, as in Plato, from the whole realm of being.46 Only through knowledge of the
Good can we gain access to knowledge of evil, Plotinus argues.
Plotinus poses the question of whether evil really exists.47 It cannot be classified as a
Form, he says, but rather as the absence of every sort of good, and as such it cannot have
positive metaphysical status. Plotinus, then, defines evil as privation () and the

lack of the good ( ).48 Since existence, emanating from the One, is
fundamentally good, evil cannot really exist, since it does not participate in existence, but
rather vitiates being. Thus, it must be defined negatively as nonexistence ( ) and
nonbeing ( ): So it remains that if evil exists, it must be among non-existent things,
as a sort of form of non-existence, and pertain to one of the things that are mingled with
non-being or somehow share in non-being.49 This language, we see, matches Origen's
terminology in his Commentary on John.50 Plotinus provides a full description of the
privative nature of evil:
At this point one might be able to arrive at some conception of evil as a kind of
unmeasuredness in relation to measure, and unboundedness in relation to limit, and
formlessness in relation to formative principle, and perpetual neediness in relation to what
is self-sufficient; always undefined, nowhere stable, subject to every sort of influence,
insatiate, complete poverty: and all this is not accidental to it but in a sort of way its
essence; whatever part of it you see, it is all this; and everything which participates in it
and is made like it becomes evil, though not essential evil.51
As we will discuss in the next chapter, Plotinus, in contrast to Origen, posits matter to be
the ultimate source of evil. Here evil consists of the negation of Form.
(p.30) Hence, evil for Plotinus is not a substance ( ) but inheres accidentally
in things.52 As such, it does not really exist. Its existence, to use the term in a heavily
qualified sense, is only a shadow in comparison with real being.53 The tendency to both
affirm and deny the existence of evil characterizes Origen's ontology of evil as well.
Consequently, Fuller's explication of the ambiguous or paradoxical nature of Plotinus
ontology of evil could easily be applied to Origen's ontology of evil:
Not-being is not nothing and yet is not anything. In so far as it is anything, it is positive,
not negative, Being, not Not-being. Hence it stands for good, not evil. But if it is nothing,
then what it stands for and supports is nothing, and there is no such thing as Evil. Plotinus
[and we could insert Origen's name as well], in fine, could neither deny nor affirm the
existence of the basis of Evil without leaving Evil metaphysically baseless. The possibility
of holding a middle course was doubtless suggested by the analogy of darkness, which is
the absence of light and yet is seen. But the Matter in which such a string of paradoxes
could harmoniously inhere could not be otherwise than paradoxical.54
So Plotinus and Origen face the same metaphysical quandary. They both acknowledge the
existence of evil even as they deny its positive ontological status. They both define evil as
nonbeing, nonexistence, and privation, but in doing so they leave the question of
whether evil really exists unresolved or in paradoxical tension. As we will discuss in
chapter 3, both deny the divine origin of evil, but they give different accounts of the origin
of evil. While it is doubtful that they directly influenced each other, they nevertheless were,
at least for a time, part of the same geographical and intellectual milieu and as a result
evince important similarities and differences. Plotinus ontology of evil reveals the state of
philosophical reflection on evil in Origen's time.55Their remarkably similar approach to the
question of the ontological status of evil demonstrates Origen's indebtedness to the
Platonism au courant in Alexandria. It also highlights, however, Origen's distinctive
theological methodology, which freely borrows from philosophy to explicate truths
ultimately grounded in scripture and the rule of faith.
Thus Origen, in line with his philosophical milieu, but following the light of the divine
scriptures, rejects the notion that God causes evil, sin, and suffering in any way: We
affirm that God did not make evils [ ],
metaphysical evil and the actions which result from it.56 Although certain distracting
passages from the Bible seem to suggest that evil in fact derives from the hand of God
(namely, Job 2:10, Isaiah 45:7, Micah 1:1213), he argues that these are (p.31) merely
stumbling blocks for unlearned readers rather than compelling counterevidence.57 Since

evil does not derive from God, it cannot have positive ontological status. Jean Danilou
aptly summarizes the theological import of the doctrine of privation:
On the one hand, he rejects the gnostic theory, which makes evil an alien substance, not
created by God; on the other, he excludes the Stoic idea that evil is only apparent. In his
opinion, evil is certainly real, but it can be conducive to good and it will eventually cease to
exist. Hence the existence of evil is consistent with the goodness of God.58
These are Origen's fundamental theological and metaphysical assumptions.
In summary, Origen denies the positive ontological status of evil. Following scripture,
particularly John 1:3, Origen defines evil as nothing and nonbeing, that is, as the
privation of the good. In both his Commentary on John and Contra Celsum, he
categorically denies that God creates evil, strictly speaking, and, as we will see, attributes
the origin of evil to the misuse of freedom. Since God does not create evil, it does not really
exist. And yet, paradoxically, it exists as the impermanent, insubstantial perversion of
being. Furthermore, evil was not part of God's original creation and will not continue
indefinitely: it is destined for destruction when God will be all in all because God and evil
cannot ultimately coexist.59 Last, Origen thinks that in the overall balance of the universe
evil may be best characterized as the spiral shavings and sawdust that result from God's
creation of the universe, the good of which far outweighs the evil. While he readily
acknowledges the pervasive and devastating effects of evil, he does not think that it undoes
the value of creation, which refutes the common misapprehension that Origen devalues
materiality.60 As we will see in chapter 4, Origen promotes a positive cosmology where
embodiment functions as a necessary phase of the soul's return to God.
Two theological problems arise from Origen's ontology of evil. First, does his privative
conception of evil minimize or trivialize its problematic reality in the world? On the
surface, it seems that the abstract conception of evil as nothing and nonbeing
diminishes its concrete ruinous effects. Evil does not feel unreal to those who encounter it.
Moreover, if evil does not positively exist, and if it is no more than the sawdust and spiral
shavings of God's cosmic workbench, then it seems that for Origen evil does not even
constitute a real theological problem. The good of the universe far outweighs the bad, after
all. We will see momentarily, however, that Origen does not dismiss the devastating reality
of evil. Ontologically it is non-being and insubstantial, but it is not thereby insignificant
or (p.32) unproblematic, in his view. As his reflections on the suffering of children will
reveal, he perceives the depth of human suffering and sees evil as an important existential
and theological problem. For Origen, then, evil poses a real problem to the tenability of
divine providence, despite the fact that its does not properly exist.
Second, in his account of the metaphysics of evil, Origen repeatedly claims that God does
not create evil. God's perfection and goodness preclude the possibility of the divine origin
of evil. Origen's categorical denial of God's creation of evil constitutes a minitheodicy
that he develops throughout his writings. We will analyze his theodicy in the subsequent
chapters, but at this point it would be helpful to consider briefly the cogency of his
minitheodicy. Since God does not create evil, according to the basic logic of the argument,
God escapes culpability for its existence. While this argument has a prima facie
plausibility, it falters under critical scrutiny. Although God does not directly create evil per
se, God does create the beings that cause evil to enter creation. Hence, his argument does
not rigorously address the fact that God creates the conditions that engender evil, which
entails at least partial responsibility. So while Origen's minitheodicy has an intuitive
plausibility, it fails to convincingly shift the blame from God to humanity. Thus, it does not
alleviate the problem of evil on its own, but, as we will see, it forms an integral part of his
overall strategy, which does offer a compelling account of the existence of evil and its
eventual defeat in the eschaton.
The Problem of Evil

Thus far we have discussed the biblical, theological, and philosophical foundation of
Origen's ontology of evil. Now, with his metaphysics of evil clearly in view, we turn to his
formulation of the problem of evil. If evil does not actually exist and if God does not create
evil, then how does Origen frame the problem of evil? At the outset, we must avoid the
anachronistic importation of the contemporary philosophical trilemma,61 famously
expressed by David Hume (17111776): Is he willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he
is impotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing?
Whence then is evil?62Contemporary philosophical and theological formulations of the
problem of evil typically restate Hume's classic rendition, but that does not mean that it
also maps onto Origen, who comes from an entirely different historical, philosophical, and
theological context.63 This is not to say, however, that Origen's theodicy does not speak to
these perennial (p.33) questions. All three facets of the classic trilemma appear in his
discussion of the problem of evil, but, consistent with third-century thinkers, Origen
frames it in terms of the credibility of divine providence, not the logical incompatibility
between three premises.64
Cosmic Disparity and the Suffering of Children
In De Principiis, Origen situates the problem of evil within the broader problematic of the
unfair arrangement of the universe. He notes the injustice and inequity around him and
asks: why do some enjoy more favorable circumstances than others? He sharpens the
query further by asking why some people are born with every advantage while others are
born with insuperable disadvantages. If God were just, it would seem that everyone should
begin life with an equal chance at happiness. As it stands, cosmic disparity exists at every
level of existence (angels, humans, demons), which seems to undercut divine justice.
Origen poignantly refracts the cosmic problem of evil through the prism of infant
suffering: Why do we find some new-born babes to be born blind, when they have
committed no sin, while others are born with no defect at all?65 This concrete example
exemplifies the abstract problem of cosmic disparity. It is not readily apparent why God
would permit some children to enjoy perfect health while permitting others to suffer from
congenital diseases. For Origen, the inexplicable suffering of children calls divine
providence into question. He perceives the theological problem of the seemingly unfair
arrangement of the universe in general and the suffering of children in particular.
Origen's theodicy, as we will discuss in the following chapters, seeks to restore cosmic
coherence in the face of evil. At least prima facie, the suffering of children defies
theological rationalization. As Henry Chadwick notes, evil threatens to subvert the
meaningfulness of the universe: Origen saw that the problem of evil lies in its apparent
purposelessness.66 By pivoting the problem on infant and child suffering, Origen
anticipates Fyodor Dostoevsky, who, through Ivan Karamazov, repudiates divine justice
and goodness on the basis of the brutal suffering of children around the globe:
But then there are the children, and what am I to do about them? That is a question I
cannot answer. It is beyond all comprehension why they should suffer, and why they
should pay for the harmony. And if the sufferings of children go to swell the sum of
sufferings which was necessary to pay for truth, then(p.34) I protest that the truth is not
worth such a price. And so I hasten to give back my entrance ticket.67
Jrgen Moltmann echoes these sentiments in his expression of the stakes of theodicy: The
suffering of a single innocent child is an irrefutable rebuttal of the notion of the almighty
and kindly God in heaven. For a God who lets the innocent suffer and who permits
senseless death is not worthy to be called God at all.68 Hence, the Dostoevskian
formulation of the problem of evil, taken up in many modern theodicies, finds an ancient
precursor in Origen. The suffering of babies provides the example par excellence of unjust
suffering for Origen and his unwitting modern followers in theodicy. Any misfortune that

befalls children seems unfair because they do not, as yet, exercise moral agency: they do
not possess the capacity to actualize their freedom. For Origen, then, the ubiquitous reality
of innocent infant suffering poses a daunting theological problem.
The Tragic Tale of Human Miseries
Origen expounds on the problem of evil in more detail later in De Principiis. He remarks
that from the beginning our felicity depends on factors beyond our control. While some
enjoy health and security, others suffer ill health and misfortune. Nor does it seem that the
disparate fates assigned to humanity follow any logical pattern. The favorable or
unfavorable conditions people inherit do not appear to be guided by any discernible logic
or equitable criteria; on the contrary, they seem indiscriminate:
Some men are from the very moment of their birth in a humble position, brought up in
subjection and slavery, placed under lords and princes and tyrants; whereas others are
brought up with more freedom and under more rational influences. Some have healthy
bodies, others from their earliest years are invalids; some are defective in sight, others in
hearing and speech; some are born in such a condition, others lose the use of one faculty or
another soon after birth or else suffer a like misfortune when fully grown. But what
purpose is there in my unfolding and enumerating the tragic tale of human miseries (Et
quid refert euoluere me omnes atque enumerare humanarum clades miseriarum), from
which some are free while others are involved in them, when every man can weigh and
ponder over all these matters for himself?69
So Origen's theodicy acknowledges the reality of injustice at both the global and personal
level. At issue, for Origen, is the intelligibility of the (p.35) cosmos, as Rowan Williams
explains: The life of material beings in this world order does not transparently show forth
God's justice; but without a belief in God's justice the intelligibility of the cosmos
fails.70 Williams rightly notes Origen's preoccupation with the theological threat of cosmic
inequity: The existence of a not obviously rational multiplicity is one of Origen's most
basic worries, an aspect of the whole problem of theodicy.71 Origen's theodicy, then, seeks
to give theological meaning to multiplicity: The task he sets himself is to make unified
sense of a world of multiplicity: the paradox of this is that multiplicity itself must be
rationalised, thought through, or justified.72 On the face of it, the diversity of the world
seems utterly incoherent, but, as he articulates in his hermeneutical strategy, incoherence
is often a gateway to deeper meaning and truth.73
Origen's formulation of the problem of evil comes into sharper relief in his dialogue with
the heretics, particularly Marcion (d. c. 160). He rejects Marcion's bifurcation of the deity
into the just God of the Old Testament and the good God of the New Testament. Tertullian
disapprovingly notes Marcion's brooding interest in the origin of evil.74 Like Origen,
Marcion formulates the problem of evil in terms of the failure of divine providence, but he
arrives at a drastically different conclusion: divine dualism. Tertullian preserves Marcion's
theological bone of contention:
If god is good and knowledgeable of the future and able to prevent evil [Si deus bonus et
praescius futuri et avertendi mali poten], why did he allow man, who is his own image and
likenesseven his own substance through the origin of the soulto be deceived by the
devil and thus to fall into death from obedience to the law. For if he were good and
unwilling that such a thing should happen, and if he were knowledgeable of the future and
not ignorant of things to come, and if he were able and strong enough to prevent it, then
given these three conditions of divine majesty this thing (the fall) would never have
occurred. But since it did occur, the contrary must be true, namely, that god is neither
good, nor knowledgeable of the future, nor powerful [Quod si evenit, absolutum est e
contrario deum neque bonum credendum neque praescium neque potentem]. Inasmuch

as such a thing would not have occurred if god had been of such a nature, that is good,
knowledgeable of the future, and powerful, this (the fall) must have occurred because god
was not of such a nature [in tantum ideo evenit, quia non talis deus].75
Like Origen, Marcion perceives the theological dangers inherent to the problem of evil,
but, contra Origen, he opts for a dualistic solution. Origen refutes Marcion's solution and,
in the process, pointedly expresses their shared dilemma. With respect to divine justice,
Origen asks Marcion how (p.36) God can be just when we do not yet see every sinner
paying the just penalty of his deeds and when he exterminated innocent children and
babes at the breast along with monstrous and impious giants.76 With respect to divine
goodness and omnipotence, he asks him why God does not save all humanity: Why then
does he not save them [i.e., the damned]? If he is unwilling, then he will not be good; if he
is willing but cannot, he will not be almighty.77Interestingly, although their theodicies
move in different directions, Marcion and Origen formulate the problem in essentially the
same terms: evil threatens divine justice, goodness, and omnipotence.
Origen takes a multifaceted approach to these theological threats, as we will explore in our
study. To anticipate, however, he posits the unity of the divine attributes: God's justice and
goodness do not mutually exclude each other; rather, they mutually inhere in each other.
They cannot be separated and assigned to separate deities. Therefore, he rejects Marcion's
dualistic solution to the problem of evil, even while he appeals to similar texts and
observations to formulate the problem: It is plain that the just and good God of the law
and the gospels is one and the same, and that he does good with justice and punishes in
kindness, since neither goodness without justice, nor justice without goodness can describe
the dignity of the divine nature.78 Origen identifies the God of the law with the God of
the gospels, arguing that the divine attributes coexist in perfect harmony without any
tension or contradiction. His belief in the essential interconnection between the divine
attributes shapes his reflections on theodicy.
In his Homilies on Leviticus, Origen outlines the distinction between temporal and eternal
punishment and in the process articulates the problem of evil in vivid
detail.79 Commenting on Leviticus 24:15, Origen discusses the purification of sin in this life
and the next. All sin, he says, is punished by either temporal punishments or eternal
punishments.80 Those punished in this life will not have to face it in the next, while those
who seem to sin with immunity in this life will receive their just deserts in the next, as the
parable of Lazarus and the rich man reveals.81 But because this cosmic balancewhich
vindicates divine justiceremains hidden from our terrestrial eyes, we are prone to
disparage divine providence. The prosperity of the wicked and the suffering of the
righteous cause those ignorant of the larger designs of providence to question God:
And human beings, being ignorant of the judgments of God which are a great abyss (Ps.
35:7), are accustomed to complain against God and say, Why do unjust men and unjust
robbers, and impious and wicked ones suffer nothing adverse in this life but everything
yields prosperity to them, honor, riches,(p.37) power, health, and the health and strength
of the body even serves them. On the contrary, innumerable tribulations come upon the
innocent and pious worshippers of God; they live rejected, humble, contemptible, under
the blows of the powerful, sometimes even more severe diseases dominate them in their
body. But, as I said, the ignorant complain about what order there is in the divine
judgments.82
Origen's theodicy, as we will see, seeks to disclose the order and meaning of divine
providence to those able to see beyond the physical to the spiritual. In the end, God will
restore the harmony of the cosmos. We will discuss his unique eschatological resolution of
the unjust suffering of the innocent and the prosperity of the wicked in chapter 6.

Contextualizing Origen's Formulation of the Problem of Evil

Other second- and third-century thinkers were occupied with the problem of evil as well.
Origen, as we will soon discover, asserts that the arrangement of the cosmos reflects our
pre-existent choices, but there were competing theories in play. Origen explicitly
enumerates Marcion, Valentinus, and Basilides as rival interpreters of the problem of evil.
These Gnostic83 figures presuppose that souls are in their natures diverse, which
accounts for their disparate fortunes.84 The diversity of natures, Babcock rightly argues,
seems to be the axis upon which the Gnostic argument turns: first, the Gnostics wonder, if
God created this diversity (an apparent source of evil) then how can God be good and
righteous and absolutely fair as the Christians claim?85 Origen summarizes the Gnostic
formulation of the problem of evil and in the process reveals the striking similarities
between their theological sensibilities:
To sum it up briefly, they ask what reason there could be, supposing that God the Creator
lacks neither the will to desire what is good and perfect nor the power to produce it, that
when creating rational natures, that is, beings of whose existence he himself is the cause,
he should make some of higher rank and other of second and third and many still lower
and less worthy degrees? Finally, they raise an objection on the score of differences that
exist among men on earth. Some, they say, inherit at birth a happier lot.86
Marcion, Valentinus, and Basilides entertain two options in response to the problem:
either a soul with an evil nature is destined for evil, or each person's destiny is the result
of accident or chance.87 Origen rejects both(p.38) of these options. Instead of resorting to
dualism and fatalism, he maintains the justice and goodness of divine providence: It is
our endeavor to show that the providence of God which governs the universe with justice
also rules immortal souls on the most equitable principles in accordance with the merits
and motives of each individual.88 Both Gnostic options deny the reality of freedom,
thereby negating personal moral responsibility. Origen's theodicy, on the other hand, rests
on the premise that we determine our destiny through the exercise of our freedom.
Jean Danilou rightly perceives that the problem of providence dominated third-century
philosophy.89Philosophical reflection on the problem in the third century was influenced
primarily by Stoicism. For Plato and Aristotle, the problem of evil and providence was
interconnected with other metaphysical problems and did not constitute a separate
philosophical question: To neither had occurred the direct question: How can the Evil in
the world be reconciled with the goodness of God?90 But with the Stoic emphasis on the
perfection of providence, the problem of evil emerged as a distinct issue:
By this [Stoic] insistence upon the perfection and beneficence of the world-order the
problems of physical and moral evil were naturally raised in explicit and accentuated form.
How [to] reconcile with the existence of Evil the goodness of God, the rationality of the
world-order, and the direction of all things to the best? If the world, for example, be
designed to serve man's needs, how comes it that it also serves them so badly, and is not
merely insufficient but absolutely inimical to the end to which it has been created? If there
be gods or a God who regard justice, how comes it that the world is so unjust? Such were
the questions hitherto answered, without being stated, that the Stoic put and replied to
directly.91
The Stoic Epictetus (c. 55135 C.E.) addresses these questions, especially in his
discourse On Providence. Against the accusation that the wicked man is better off,
Epictetus argues that upon reflection no injustice exists in the universe: Whenever you
find fault with Providence [], only consider and you will recognize that what
happens is in accordance with reason [ ].92 The affirmation of providence by
Gellius (c. 125180 C.E.), borrowing from the authority of Chrysippus (c. 280207 B.C.E.),
shows that the existence of evil was being used as an argument against providence for

centuries before Origen. Stoics deny the incongruity between evil and providence because
good requires evil as its metaphysical counterpart, without which it could not exist. Good
and evil, they argue, exist in a necessary oppositional relationship:
(p.39) Those who disbelieve that the world was created for the sake of god and man, and
that human affairs are governed by providence, think that they are using a weighty
argument when they say that if there were providence, there would be no evils [si esset
providentia, nulla essent mala]. For nothing, they say, is less compatible with providence
than that in the world which it is alleged to have made for men there should be such a host
of troubles and evils. Chrysippus reply to this, when arguing the point in his On
providence [ ] book 4, is as follows: There is absolutely nothing more foolish
than those who think that there could have been goods without the coexistence of evils. For
since goods are opposite to evils, the two must necessarily exist in opposition to each other
and supported by a kind of opposed interdependence. And there is no such opposite
without its matching opposite. For how could there be perception of justice if there were no
injustices? What else is justice, if not the removal of injustice [aut quid aliud iustitia est
quam iniustitiae privation]. For goods and evils, fortune and misfortune, pain and
pleasure, exist in just the same way: they are tied to each other in polar opposition, as Plato
said. Remove one, and you remove the other.93
While Origen takes a different view, it is clear that the problem of evil was a serious
philosophical dilemma pondered by the philosophical schools of his day. These questions,
which were first systematically addressed by the Stoics, were major philosophical
preoccupations of third century, as we see with Plotinus and Origen and with Origen's
polemical interlocutors. Hence, Origen's formulation of the problem of evil clearly reflects
the philosophical and theological concerns of his time.
In addition to the intellectual background, we ought to examine briefly the relevant
existential background to his theodicy. Origen's thought on the problem of evil was
stimulated by his personal encounter with persecution. His adult life was punctuated by
political unrest and sporadic persecution. By the third century, the Roman Empire was in
decline, threatened by the migration of the Goths from the north and internal
fragmentation.94 Dodds describes the cultural milieu as an age of anxiety when
philosophical shifts threatened the viability of the traditional philosophical schools.95 It is
within this context that the Decian persecutions against the Christians began in 250 C.E.,
which were perhaps encouraged by the celebration of Rome's millennium in 247248
C.E., according to Robert Grant.96 Decius required libelli, or certificates of sacrifice, under
penalty of death. Failure to comply resulted in execution.
Eusebius reports that Origen underwent torture during the Decian persecution (250251
C.E.). In Book 6 ofEcclesiastical History, Eusebius describes it in vivid detail, including his
extensive imprisonment in chains(p.40) and the mutilation of his body.97 His persecutors
sought to compel him to apostatize, especially in light of his international influence and
intellectual stature.98 Origen, however, did not waver under the duress of torture, which
ended with his release after the death of Decius. Eventually, Origen died as a confessor
from the injuries he sustained. John McGuckin speculates that if Origen had died as a
martyr, later generations would have been less ready to condemn him and his writings:
That he died as a confessor, not as a martyr under the rack, was one reason for the loss of
much of his work in later centuries, when he was censured for unorthodox opinions.99 So
for Origen, the problem of evil or unjust suffering was not merely an intellectual issue; it
was also a personal reality that he experienced in his own life.100
Origen encountered the violence and injustice of the world firsthand well before his own
persecution. As we alluded to earlier, his experience of his father's martyrdom, as well as
the martyrdom of many of his close associates, must have left a deep impression on him.
The problem of evil was an experiential, existential problem for Origen before it was an
intellectual problem.101 These early experiences of loss and injustice prompted theological

questions about the mysterious relationship between divine providence and the miseries
that plague human existence.102 These experiences also cultivated, I suspect, his keen
sensitivity to global misfortune. Origen thus frames the problematic as the problem of
providence in light of the seemingly unjust arrangement of the cosmos. While his
theological and philosophical competitors advanced dualistic and fatalistic solutions to the
problem of evil, Origen's solution hinges on the benevolent response of divine providence
to the misuse of freedom.
Origen the Platonist or Origen the Christian? Beyond the False Dichotomy
Origen remains an elusive, albeit formidable, figure in the history of Christianity. From his
own time until today, he has been frequently misrepresented and misunderstood. His
creative, experimental, and speculative approach to theology naturally lends itself to
misapprehension and suspicion. Moreover, the later condemnations of Origenism in the
beginning of the fifth and middle of the sixth centuries cloud the issue even further. Origen
scholars must vigilantly avoid appropriating and perpetuating the distortions that taint
many ancient and modern assessments of Origen and his thought. How, then, do we
characterize a thinker who resists simple classification? Where do we locate him in the
tradition? (p.41) The question of Origen's identity has always been a contested aspect of
Origen scholarship. Origen scholars, either explicitly or implicitly, adopt a view of him that
shapes their analysis of his theology. Robert Daly enumerates the dizzying and
contradictory array of answers given to the seemingly simple question: Who is Origen?
There are many Origens: philosopher and scholar, mystic, systematician, proponent of an
esoteric system, exegete and/or allegorist, saint (even martyr), true Gnostic (in the sense of
Clement of Alexandria), one for whom mystical knowledge is the way to salvation,
Hellenist, Platonist, moralist, ascetic, eunuch, syncretist, and man of the church. Which
was the true Origen?103
It all hangs, of course, on the modifier true. Put differently, who is Origen really? Daly's
question, which correctly conveys the plurality of ways to interpret Origen, inadvertently
implies that we must choose between a series of mutually exclusive options to arrive at the
real Origen, which necessarily entails the rejection of the other options. Scholars have
followed this reductionistic method of interpretation for centuries. Against this approach, I
argue that there is no true or real Origen in the sense that his identity can be
encapsulated by one aspect of his work or personality. Origen scholars, Danilou avers, go
wrong when they try to reduce him to the particular facet of his personality they are struck
by themselves.104 It would be facile to isolate one facet of his personality and thought and
privilege it at the expense of the others. Origen, he says, simultaneously occupies many
roles and embodies many different kinds of greatness:
Origen has come before us in several guises, one after anotheras an active Christian, as a
learned exegete, as a philosophical genius, as a great master of the spiritual life. We may
have been inclined to think that every new side of him we discovered was the main one.
That is the way of it with really great men: they are equally good at all the possible ways of
being great.105
We should assiduously avoid reductionistic portrayals of Origen, which only distort our
assessments of him. Instead, we should take a holistic approach to his identity.
Origen scholarship typically alternates between two mutually exclusive options: Origen the
Platonist or Origen the Christian.106 Already in our analysis of Origen's ontology of evil and
of his formulation of the problem of evil, we have encountered the question of his
relationship to philosophy. Was Origen a Platonist or a Christian? There have been a
variety of responses to this question.107 For some, Origen's commitment to
Platonic (p.42) philosophy subverts his Christian identity. For others, his commitment to
Christian theology relativizes his dependence on Platonism. Adolf von Harnack and Henri

Crouzel represent the two traditional camps in Origen scholarship. For Harnack, Origen
was a Platonist who surreptitiously co-opted Christian theology to develop his
philosophical system, whereas for Crouzel he was a Christian who merely redeployed the
philosophical categories of his day to illuminate Christian theology.108 Von Balthasar,
conversely, refuses to press this either/or and instead conceives of two Origens operating
simultaneously: the Christian and Biblical Origen and the Platonic Origen.109 These two
Origens forward a Platonic-Biblical system that cannot always be harmonized, in his
view.110 Hence, whereas Harnack conceives of Origen as a Platonist and Crouzel conceives
of him as a Christian, von Balthasar affirms his dual identity as a Platonist and Christian,
thus inadvertently reinscribing the false dichotomy. For all, Platonism and philosophy
stand in various degrees of tension with Christianity and the Bible. Origen, however, would
reject the hidden presupposition that underlines the dichotomy: philosophy and theology
are perfectly compatible, in his view.111
Origen scholarship should thus avoid sliding into disjunctive thinking. He was neither a
philosophical intruder nor a simple man of the church. The picture is much more complex.
His theological innovations brought him into conflict with church leaders, despite his
intentions. Origen clearly appropriates Platonic modes of thought, but he adapts them to
Christian theological ends. To ask whether he was a Platonist or Christian commits the
fallacy of false dichotomy: he was both, and he did not see them as antithetical. On the one
hand, then, he situates himself squarely within Christianity: I want to be a man of the
Church. I want to be named with Christ's name and bear the name which is blessed on
earth. I desire, both in deed and in thought, both to be and to be called a Christian.112 On
the other hand, his willingness to illuminate theology with philosophy gave rise to
speculations that were condemned by the church he sought to serve. Origen's Christian
and philosophical identities coexist without any contradiction, in his estimation. But that
does not mean that subsequent generations of theologians and church leaders would
condone his theological methodology and speculations. While scholars at the beginning of
the century overemphasized his Platonism, recent Origen scholarship has perhaps
overcorrected by emphasizing his Christian beliefs at the expense of his philosophical
views, thereby domesticating his controversial theology.
I suggest that we accept his self-definition as a Christian without downplaying the Platonic
influence on his theology. Both operate simultaneously (p.43) in him as he engages
theological problems from a Christian perspective in the terms of his philosophical milieu.
As a first step, then, we must dismiss disjunctive portrayals of Origen as either a Platonist
or a Christian. As a second step, we must understand his sense of the compatibility
between Christianity and Platonism. As a third and final step, we need to problematize his
relationship to both Christianity and Platonism. Origen defies easy categorization and
interpretation, but if we accept his self-identification as a Christian writing for the church,
recognize that he internalizes more Platonic ideas than he cares to admit, and perceive how
his unwavering Christian commitments and Platonic presuppositions engender dual
internal tensions, we will begin to see him aright.
In his Letter to Gregory, which Gregory of Nazianzus and Basil of Caesarea included in
their anthology of Origen's writings called the Philocalia, Origen concisely outlines his
position on the relationship between philosophy and theology to his student Gregory
Thaumaturgus.113 At the outset of the letter, Origen encourages Gregory to devote his
talents to Christianity rather than becoming a Roman lawyer or a Greek philosopher of
one of the reputable schools, thus positing a professional disjunction between philosophy
and theology but not an epistemological disjunction.114 True philosophy, Origen avers,
prepares the way for the deeper truths located in Christianity. At its best, Greek philosophy
only functions as a general education or introduction for Christianity and thus does not
constitute an end in itself: For just as the servants of philosophers say concerning
geometry, music, grammar, rhetoric and geometry [sic: should read astronomy

()] that they are adjuncts to philosophy [ ] we say this

very thing about philosophy itself with regard to Christianity.115 For Origen, then,
philosophy and theology are relatedalbeit distinctenterprises. He regards the former as
the helpmate ( ) of the latter.116
Philosophy serves its purpose, then, when it explains scripture and theology. Scripture
hints at the subordinate and supportive relationship between philosophy and
Christianity in the story of the spoiling of Egypt by the Israelites (Exodus 11:2 and
12:35).117 The Israelites utilized the spoils of Egypt (namely, gold, silver, and clothing) to
prepare for divine worship: For, from the spoil taken from the Egyptians the children of
Israel prepared the appurtenances of the holy of holies, the ark with its covering, the
cherubim, the mercy-seat, and the gold vessel in which was stored the manna, the bread of
heaven.118 Similarly, Christians may utilize philosophy to prepare the way for their entry
into the mysteries of the faith. True philosophy, that is, philosophy that coheres with
Christianity, supplies the conceptual and epistemological resources for the
Christian's (p.44)apprehension of God. Origen recognizes the danger, however, of
utilizing philosophy. Just as some Israelites built idols from the spoils of Egypt, so some
Christians create heresies from philosophy: These are those who have used some Greek
ingenuity to beget heretical ideas and have, so to speak, prepared golden calves in Bethel,
which means house of God. 119 So while Origen sanctions the proper use of philosophy,
he also cautions against its misuse and notes its potential hazards. In this letter, Origen
does not posit a disjunction between philosophy and theology, since they both aim at the
truth, but suggests that the former functions as the handmaid to the latter. As such, it is
subservient but nonetheless necessary for the soul's spiritual progress.
These themes surface also in Gregory Thaumaturgus Address of Thanksgiving to
Origen.120 Gregory outlines Origen's pedagogical method and in the process illuminates his
attitude toward philosophy. First, Gregory portrays Origen as an intensely pious and
spiritual man. Gregory's eulogy accents his spiritual qualities, not his philosophical
acumen. He describes Origen as a holy man,121 divine interpreter,122 and formidable
and most penetrating student of God,123 who lives a blessed life124 and has almost
attained deification: For I am proposing to speak about a man who looks and seems like a
human being but, to those in a position to observe the finest flower of his disposition, has
already completed most of the preparation for the re-ascent to the divine
world.125 Gregory admired Origen for his deep learning in philosophy as well. Origen
expertly guided his students through the entire deposit of Greek philosophy,
demonstrating intimate familiarity with it but also deep reservations. Origen's
recommendation of the life of philosophy126 generally and Greek philosophy in
particular127 does not imply that he imbibed the Greek philosophical tradition in toto and
passed it on to his students. On the contrary, his theological commitments guide his
pedagogy, causing him to reject some positions and embrace others on the basis of their
conformity to divine truth:
He gathered and presented to us everything which was useful and true from each of the
philosophers, but excluded what was false, and for the rest especially people's outlandish
views on piety. To such he advised us to pay no attention, even if someone be hailed by
everyone as a genius, but to pay heed to God alone and his prophets.128
Gregory does not present two conflicting portraits of Origen; he depicts him as a pious
Christian employing philosophy to further the spiritual progress of his students.
(p.45) Gregory relates how Origen implemented his pedagogical method in his
curriculum. While Origen encouraged his students to read all the writings of the ancient
philosophers,129 he discouraged exclusive adherence to any one philosophical school,
which might result in an uncritical intellectual myopia or dogmatism.130 Origen's method
was at once more expansive and more discriminating. He instructed his students to be

conversant with all except the atheists, who are not worth reading: But [he did think it
worthwhile] to take up and become conversant with all the rest, neither biased in favor of
one nation or philosophic doctrine, nor yet prejudiced against it, whether Hellenic or
barbarian, but listening to all.131Gregory revels in the intellectual freedom Origen allowed
in their studies: We were permitted to learn every doctrine, both barbarian and Greek,
both the most mystical and the most pragmatic, both divine and human.132
His pedagogy, then, reflects his eclectic and selective use of philosophy and displays a
complete lack of totalizing commitment to Platonism.133 He exhorts his students to pay
heed to God alone and to his prophets134 and to learn by heart all the doctrines about the
divine,135 as he reiterates in his personal correspondence to Gregory: You, then, my lord
and son, apply yourself to the reading of the divine Scriptures.136 We see in Origen's
pedagogical method and curriculum his circumspect employment of philosophy for
spiritual and moralnot careeradvancement.137 For Origen, theology is a form of
philosophical reasoning growing from the first principles of an inherited, communally
established rule of faith. He does not conceive of philosophy and theology as incompatible
but as different stages of the soul's intellectual ascent and progress in virtue. True
philosophy, that is, philosophy that conforms to the rule of faith and scripture, functions as
the handmaid that leads the student to deeper levels of divine truth.
If asked are you a Christian or a Platonist? Origen would reject the premise of the
question because he would not see any conflict between his Christian identity and
philosophical interests. On the contrary, he argues for the congruence of truth
philosophical and theologicaland so feels free to utilize philosophy when it illuminates
scripture and discard it when it deviates from the truth of scripture and the rule of faith.
But when he develops his positions, such as his ontology of evil, he appeals to Christian
sources of authority, not to philosophy. Thus, while many of his ideas can be traced back to
Plato, he grounds his theology in Christian sources of authority, not in Platonic philosophy,
which reinforces the view that Origen sees himself as a man of the church who employs
philosophical categories to Christian theological ends.138
(p.46) Charles Kannengiesser hopes for a renewed image of Origen the believer in
future Origen scholarship, which would filter diverse influences and appellations through
the lens of Origen's abiding personal commitment to the Christian faith:
The whole literary legacy of Origen testifies to a life-long and adamant unity of his inner
personality, based on unshakable faith. The whole integration of philosophical and other
cultural values in his personal message testifies to a constant centrality of faith in his
intellectual creativity.139
Kannengiesser correctly perceives the Christian tenor of Origen's thought, but that
recognition must be balanced with the realization that his philosophical speculations
brought him into conflict with the faith he sought to defend in his writings.
Origen's ontology of evil perfectly illustrates his subtle negotiation of theology and
philosophy and brings the question of his identity into sharper focus. With respect to the
question of the ontological status of evil, Origen follows the prevailing philosophical
definition of evil as the privation of the good. But as we discussed, he justifies his position
from scripture, not philosophy. The equation of God's being and goodness precludes the
possibility of the divine origin of evil and relegates evil to the paradoxical metaphysical
realm of nonbeing. In this foundational assertion, theology and philosophy align. When
parsing the precise nature of evil, Origen relies on the philosophical resources available to
him: Platonism. Far from subverting theology, it supports it by supplying the necessary
conceptual apparatus for its theological explication. Is his ontology of evil Platonic or
Christian? The question, as we now see, misses the point. Origen's conception of evil as
privation draws from his philosophical heritage, but it makes sense only within his broader
theological cosmology and spirituality, as we will see.

Now that we have rejected the false dichotomy between Origen the Platonist and Origen
the Christian and showed how he harmonizes philosophy and theology, we are ready to
take the final step of problematizing his relationship to both. With respect to philosophy,
Origen sets clear parameters for its theological appropriation. He does not adhere to any
single philosophical school, and he explicitly subordinates philosophy to theology. In fact,
he distrusts philosophy unchastened by theology and warns of its potential dangers.
Furthermore, Origen borrows from multiple sources and schools to illuminate theology
without any concern forphilosophical consistency. In short, philosophy plays a
subservient, supportive role in his thought, and theology takes the lead. He dismisses
out (p.47) of hand all views that contradict the rule of faith. In this respect, Origen is not a
good Platonist or philosopher. The rationality of a concept depends, in his view, on its
coherence with the logic of Christianity. Since Christian truth and sound human reason
never disagree, he posits the perfect alignment or harmonization between theology and
philosophy. In other words, he filters philosophy through theology, not reason alone.
With respect to Christianity, Origen was too intellectually venturesome for the comfort of
many church leaders. His immersion in Greek philosophy and creative redeployment of
philosophy for theological ends alarmed some of his Christian contemporaries. On the one
hand, he was recognized for his brilliance, respected for his holiness, and recruited for his
theological expertise; on the other hand, he was rejected for ordination, recriminated for
heresy, and ruled unorthodox by his own bishop and others in his own time and in later
generations. His theological speculations were deemed unorthodox by many of the arbiters
of orthodoxy. His willingness to explore uncharted theological territory aroused suspicion
among his enemies and those genuinely concerned with the degree to which Platonism
infiltrated his thought. In this sense, Origen is not a good Christian or theologian.
Undoubtedly, he sees himself as a Christian, and he writes from a Christian theological
perspective, but his innovations complicated his relationship with the church he diligently
served his entire life. So Origen found himself and finds himself still in an uneasy
relationship to the church and its teachings.
Conclusion
Origen's exposition of the ontology of evil and the problem of evil surfaces the complex
issue of his identity and particularly the question of the influence of Platonism on his
theology. We need to reframe the debate, rejecting false alternatives between Origen the
Platonist and Origen the Christian and exploring the dynamic ways he incorporates
philosophy into his theology. In his mind, at least, there was no question of where his
loyalties lay: He was a churchman in the fullest sense of the term. It may even be said
that that was the most important and essential thing about him.140 In his own words, he
was a man of the church in tune with his philosophical milieu who worked in creative
interaction with philosophy. His exegetical discussion of evil as non-being and his
formulation of the problem of evil as the problem of failed providence reflect his
indebtedness to Platonism and his Christian theological sensibilities.
(p.48) In this chapter, we have analyzed Origen's ontology of evil and his formulation of
the problem of evil. At this point, then, we have established our theoretical paradigm
(chapter 1) and theological problematic (chapter 2). Origen begins to ascribe meaning to
evil and suffering by denying its positive ontological status and divine origin and thereby
its rightful place in creation. Evil stands in paradoxical relation to God both with respect to
its status as simultaneously existing and not existing and with respect to its status as
uncreated and yet arising from creation. We have thus set the stage for our analysis of
Origen's pinoreering theodicy by framing his concept of the nature of evil and the problem
of evil within his philosophical and theological context. Moreover, our discussion of his
willingness to redeploy Greek philosophy to constructive theological ends anticipates the
first phase of his theodicy: the story of the pre-existence of souls and their fall into
materiality. We turn now to the beginning of that narrative.

Paradise Lost
At its core, theodicy addresses the perennial question: why does God permit evil? David
Hume famously captures the logical thrust of the problem of evil in his Dialogues
Concerning Natural Religion: Epicurus's old questions are yet unanswered. Is he willing
to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is impotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is
malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Whence then is evil?1 The same basic conundrum
faces Origen, although he frames it in the terms of his intellectual context. How does evil
enter into a world created by a God of absolute power and goodness?2 God, he avers,
creates everything except evil, which does not, strictly speaking, exist, as we discussed
earlier. But if God does not create evil, then how do we account for its existence? Origen
recognizes the complexity of the problem: If there is any subject among those that need
study among men which is baffling to our comprehension, the origin of evil may be
reckoned as such.3 Origen attributes the origin of evil to the creaturely misuse of freedom,
as we will see later.4 If that were the extent of his argument, we might not think it very
original or illuminating, but Origen transposes this free will defense into a cosmic key. In
his theology, the fall occurs in a pretemporal, precosmic realm, giving rise to the universe
with its descending scale of being.5
In this chapter, I wish to accomplish two tasks. First, I will analyze and problematize
Origen's dual etiology of evil. Second, I will reinterpret his theory of pre-existence, which
functions as the lynchpin of his account of the origin of evil. Origen utilizes his theory of
pre-existence to explain the unjust suffering and disparity we encounter throughout the
cosmos. (p.50) According to his hypothesis, our station in life has been determined by our
free pre-existent choices. Few aspects of Origen's theology have been as controversial and
as misunderstood as his notion of pre-existence. In fact, it was explicitly condemned by
Emperor Justinian at the Second Council of Constantinople in 553 C.E.: If anyone asserts
the fabulous pre-existence of souls let him be anathema.6 Here I will suggest that we
interpret Origen's theory of pre-existence Christologically. My reinterpretation navigates
between two common interpretations that are partly right and partly wrong. The first
conceives of pre-existence as strictly Platonic; the other conceives of it as divine
foreknowledge. The first interpretation rightly perceives the Platonic inspiration of
Origen's theory but fails to see his Christological transformation of the Platonic myths. The
second interpretation rightly denies the strictly Platonic substance of Origen's theory but
wrongly characterizes it as an expression of divine foreknowledge. Thus, the former
interpretation foregrounds Origen's Middle Platonic heritage and commitments, and the
latter foregrounds his Christian heritage and commitments. To view Origen aright, as I
have argued, we must see how these converge in his creative and controversial response to
the thorniest question of theodicy.
My argument will proceed in four stages. First, I will introduce the main themes of his
etiology of evil as he outlines them in his apologetic work Contra Celsum. Second, I will
clarify his theory of pre-existence by dispelling two common misinterpretations and by
advancing a Christological interpretation that highlights his theological reasons for
positing the theory. Third, I will explicate his account of the fall of the rational minds in the
precosmic realm, which he conceives of Christologically. Fourth, I will analyze his theory of
pre-existence and his twofold account of the origin of evil and ask whether they provide a
cogent explanation of the origin of evil or merely defer the problem. Origen begins to
navigate the problem of evil by identifying the source of the theoretical storm, that is, by
explaining how evil intrudes into God's good creation in the first place.
Whence Evil? The Contours of the Problem
In Contra Celsum 4.6567, Origen delineates his conception of the origin of evil in
polemical dialogue with Celsus, a second-century pagan philosopher who composed On

True Doctrine ( ). Origen begins with the question: who has access to
knowledge about the origin of evil? Celsus virtually excludes the uneducated, since they
have no grounding in metaphysics: It is not easy for one who has not read philosophy to
know what (p.51) is the origin of evils [ ].7 While Celsus restricts
access to knowledge about the origin of evil to the educated, Origen avers that neither the
philosopher nor the commoner can discover its origin without divine revelation:
We reply to this that it is not easy even for one who has read philosophy to know the origin
of evils and probably it is impossible even for these men to know it absolutely, unless by
inspiration of God ( ) it is made clear what are evils, and shown how they
came to exist, and understood how they will be removed.8
Reason alone, Origen suggests, takes us only partway into the mystery of the origin of evil:
to be able to know it absolutely requires divine inspiration.
After refuting Celsus elitist philosophical assumptions, Origen proceeds to outline his
theory. He links the origin of evil to the Devil and the other fallen angels:
And no one will be able to know the origin of evils who has not grasped the truth about the
so-called devil and his angels, and who he was before he became a devil, and how he
became a devil, and what caused his so-called angels to rebel with him.9
Although he does not explain how the fall of the Devil accounts for the origin of evil, he
does correlate the two. Evil originates, he argues, with the fall of the Devil, who incited a
broader or general fall.10 God did not create the Devil and the demons; rather, God made
creatures who freely rejected their innate state of goodness. His argument here extends the
logic of his ontology of evil: just as God does not create evil in the abstract, so God does not
create evil in the particular: [Demons] are not God's creation in so far as they are demons,
but only in so far as they are rational beings [] of some sort.11 Origen reiterates this
point in his Commentary on John, where he states that God did not cause evil to subsist
in him [the Devil]; it was the act of turning away from God that engendered it.12 Later in
our analysis, we will probe more deeply into this partial answer to the origin of evil. We
will have to inquire into the antecedent reasons for the fall of the Devil, particularly the
question of why it was possible for the Devil to fall in the first place, but at this stage, we
need only to point out Origen's correlation of the two.
Next, Celsus comments that the simple multitude cannot and need not know the origin of
evil. All they need to know, he contends, is that God does (p.52) not originate evil in any
form: It is enough for the masses [ ] to be told that evils are not caused by
God.13 As we noted earlier, the notion of the nondivine origin of evil derives from
Plato.14 Origen agrees that God cannot cause evil, but he employs scripture, not Plato, to
justify his claim: For according to our Jeremiah it is clear that out of the Lord's mouth
evil and good do not proceed. 15 Just as Origen does not appeal to the authority of Plato to
affirm the metaphysical status of evil as nonbeing, so he does not appeal to Plato to refute
the divine origination of evil. In both cases, he utilizes Christian loci of authority: scripture
and the rule of faith. Philosophy and theology may cohere on these issues, but he anchors
his arguments in distinctly Christian sources of authority. So although he shares many
common philosophical assumptions with Celsus on the nature and origin of evil, he
carefully distinguishes his position from Celsus by his mode of argumentation.
At this stage in the discussion, Celsus forwards an explanation for evil that Origen
categorically rejects. Following Plato once again, Celsus contends that evils inhere in
matter and dwell among mortals.16Contrary to much of the assumed knowledge about
Origen, he does not conceive of matter as intrinsically evil. In fact, as we will discuss in the
next chapter, material creation breaks our metaphysical free fall, enabling our ascent to
God. Matter, then, positively expresses God's providential care. So Origen denies the
correlation between matter and evil: But in our view it is not true that the matter which
dwells among mortals is responsible for evils.17 So what or who is responsible for evil?

Not matter, fate, or external evil forces, in his view. No, for Origen the causes of evil are
within us, not outside us: Each person's mind () is responsible for the evil
which exists in him, and this is what evil is. Evils are the actions which result from it. In
our view nothing else is strictly speaking evil.18 Here we have an early version of the
classic free will defense, later famously enunciated by Augustine.
The polemic between Origen and his pagan interlocutor Celsus in Contra Celsum exposes
the basic counters of his etiology of evil. On the deep questions of existence, we cannot rely
on reason alone, he argues. God must reveal the full truth to us. So theodicy, by extension,
involves the dynamic interplay between rational exploration and spiritual transformation.
Origen absolves God from culpability for evil by transferring blame to creation, offering a
twofold explanation for its origin: (1) the Devil, who was created good, originates evil; (2)
the other rational minds originate evil through their neglect and satiety. Although Origen
does not attempt to correlate these two distinct arguments, they both link the origin of evil
to the misuse of freedom. As we will see, both arguments work in tandem for Origen, even
though they resist easy harmonization.
(p.53) Pre-Existence as Christological
Before we can situate Origen's theory of pre-existence within his theodicy, particularly vis-vis his conception of the origin of evil, we must first explicate what he means by preexistence. For Origen, pre-existence signifies the prior existence of rational souls in the
precosmic realm before their bodily creation. In what follows, I will navigate between two
common misconceptions of pre-existence. First, against those who view it as Platonic, I
will argue that while it draws from Platonism, especially filtered through Philo, it is not,
strictly speaking, Platonic. Second, against those who claim that Origen never taught preexistence, I will argue that while he never espoused the Platonic theory of pre-existence, he
does espouse a distinctly Christian version of pre-existence that was and continues to be
largely misunderstood. My analysis of his writings on the topic will show that Origen
conceives of pre-existence Christologically and justifies it theologically. Let us proceed by
examining some of the salient biblical texts on the issue.
In the Beginning
On the surface, it seems that Genesis 1:1 clearly tells the story of the beginning of the
cosmos: In the beginning God made heaven and earth. But Origen, the prince of
allegory,19 interprets the beginning allegorically, not literally.20 The beginning in
Genesis 1:1 and John 1:1 (In the beginning was the Word) refers not to a timebut to
a person: the Logos.21 Creation exists within the Son prior to the advent of time and space:
Scripture is not speaking here of any temporal beginning, but it says that the heaven and
earth and all things which were made were made in the beginning, that is, in the
Savior.22 He imagines an existence before materiality and temporality; that is, he
imagines a when before the cosmos: Origen holds a conception of reality when there is
neither time nor the world; a reality where there is nothing apart from God himself.23 This
precosmic realm, therefore, cannot be equated with the Platonic world of ideas. Rather, it
is located in the eternal being of the Son. Hence, we must situate Origen's theory of the
pre-existence of souls within the Logos, a crucial Christological point missed by many
scholars fixated on the Platonic tenor of his theory, as we will see later.
According to Origen's cosmology, the creation of rational beings precedes the creation of
the cosmoshence the terms pre-existence and precosmic realm. God creates the
precosmic realm and its incorporeal (p.54)inhabitants before he creates the physical
world: Although God had already previously made heaven, now he makes the firmament
that is, the corporeal heaven.24 On the basis of his allegorical interpretation of Genesis 1,
he claims that all beings exist spiritually prior to their embodiment:

And, therefore, that first heaven indeed, which we said is spiritual, is our mind, which is
also itself spirit, that is our spiritual man which sees and perceives God. But that corporeal
heaven, which is called the firmament, is our outer man which looks at things in a
corporeal way.25
Origen imagines two creations: one of the disembodied rational minds and one of the
embodied souls: Origen, like Philo before him, propounds a twofold creation: first there is
the spiritual creation of man and woman made in the image and likeness of God (Gen.
1:26) and secondly there is the physical creation of humanity formed from the dust of the
ground (Gen. 2:7).26 The first creation is incorporeal; the second is corporeal.27 It would
be theologically unsophisticated and anthropomorphic to attribute the image of God in
humanity to their physical form.28 If we suppose that the creation of humanity after God's
image refers to physical creation, then we must necessarily ascribe corporeality to God, a
position only an impious and carnal person would advocate: But if anyone suppose
that this man who is made according to the image and likeness of God is made of flesh, he
will appear to represent God himself as made of flesh and in human form.29 So Origen
locates the image of God in our spiritual being, which exists prior to our incarnation: For
the form of the body does not contain the image of God, he says, but it is our inner man,
invisible, incorporeal, incorruptible, and immortal which is made according to the image
of God. 30 Before the creation of the physical world, Origen avers, we pre-existed in the
divine realm, that is, within the being of the Logos. Our spiritual history predates our
terrestrial history.
Mark Edwards summarizes Origen's reasons for positing a twofold creation: Since there
are two accounts of the creation of humanity in the first two chapters of Genesis, humanity
must have been created twice. Since the second chapter records the fashioning of the outer
man and his consort, the subject of the earlier creation must be the inner man.31 Before
the creation of the world God created rational natures who were disembodied: all souls
and all rational natures are incorporeal in respect of their proper nature.32 The term
rational natures derives from the Latin phrase ratio mens, a translation of the Greek
word nous: In Rufinus's Latin translation of the First Principles, these rational, spiritual
creatures are (p.55) called mens, which is a translation of the Greek term nous, which
means mind, intelligence, spirit. 33 Genesis 1 outlines the immaterial creation of the
rational minds, who are created in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26). Genesis
2 outlines the material creation of the souls (Genesis 2:7). While it is important to
distinguish between his conception of minds and souls, we need not rigidly apply his
terminology, as Rowan Greer remarks: Origen uses rational nature, mind, and soul
virtually as synonyms.34 Be that as it may, in what follows I will refer to the created beings
before their precosmic fall as rational minds and after their fall as souls, following the basic
logic of Origen's cosmological conceptions of identity.35
The Theological Basis of Pre-Existence
Origen's theological commitments underwrite his theory of the eternal existence of
creationincluding pre-existencewithin the Son. He begins with the assumption of the
eternity and immutability of the divine attributes.36 Peter Widdicombe concisely
summarizes this theological principle: For Origen what is said of God must be eternally
true.37 Divine omnipotence, therefore, entails that there must always be something over
which God exercises power: Now as one cannot be a father apart from having a son, nor a
lord apart from holding a possession or a slave, so we cannot even call God almighty
[omnipotens] if there are none over whom he can exercise his power.38 It would be
inconceivable to argue that there were ages and periods when creation did not exist,
since that would entail that God was once not almighty: Accordingly, to prove that God is
almighty we must assume the existence of the universe.39 Divine omnipotence requires
creation. If there were no creatures, God could not exercise the attribute of omnipotence.

So Origen's doctrine of creation as eternal follows from his conception of God as eternal:
It is a matter of fundamental logic for Origen that Creation is the correlative of the Creator
and must therefore be eternal as God himself is eternal.40
Divine omnipotence must be immutable as well as eternal. God cannot progress or regress
because God maximally possesses and fully actualizes all divine perfection: Now how is it
anything but absurd that God should at first not possess something that is appropriate to
him and then should come to possess it?41 The eternity and immutability of divine
omnipotence logically entail the eternal existence of creation and hence the pre-existence
of the rational minds: But if there was no time when he was not almighty, there must have
always existed the things in virtue of which he (p.56) is almighty; and there must always
have existed things under his sway, which own him as their ruler.42 It is important to
capture the subtlety of his argument. He does not posit the eternity of creation on the
grounds that divine omnipotence depends on it, since that would entail the necessity of
creation for the perfection of the divine nature. For Origen, however, creation does not
complete God. Rather, since God is in fact almighty, it follows that creation must be
eternal. Creation is dependent on God, not vice versa.
Origen applies the same logic to divine goodness.43 Just as divine omnipotence entails the
eternity of the rational minds and thus their pre-existence, so does divine benevolence.
God's goodness expresses itself in God's providential care of creation: This is the good
God and kindly Father of all [Hic est bonus deus et benignus omnium pater], at once
beneficent power and creative power, that is, the power that does good and creates and
providentially sustains.44 Divine goodness must be eternal, Origen maintains, since God
cannot become good after not being good: And it is absurd and impious to suppose that
these powers of God have been at any time in abeyance for a single moment.45 If God
created the rational minds at a historical moment, one would have to explain his decision
to forgo creation until that moment by arguing that he was either unwilling or unable to
create before then, which is theologically untenable. In his insightful analysis of this
passage, Widdicombe underscores the theological logic of his arguments for the eternal
existence of creation:
Here again we see Origen applying the willing/able form of argument. God is the being
that always and fully realizes his nature. As first principle, God can neither be thought of as
constrained from without, nor as unwilling to be what he is. It is inconceivable to Origen
that any of the divine attributes should ever not be actively expressed by God.46
There must be objects over which God can exercise his benevolent goodness: It follows
plainly from this, that at no time whatever was God not Creator, nor Benefactor, nor
Providence.47 At stake in the eternity of creation is the integrity of the divine attributes.
Origen recognizes the difficulty of conceptualizing an eternally existing creation within the
Logos. Our imaginations are too narrow and our minds too weak to grasp these concepts,
he avers: Yet in this matter human intelligence is feeble and limited, when it tries to
understand how during the whole of God's existence his creatures have existed also
without a beginning.48 He does not believe that his conclusions present any risk to
piety, since they are firmly grounded in sound theological argumentation. (p.57) And yet
Origen realizes the danger of disclosing the doctrine of pre-existence to those who have
not developed the ability to perceive the divine mysteries in all their fullness:
And since such things would trouble some people who have an inkling of these matters but
do not understand them thoroughly, we will expose ourselves to danger concerning such
matters where it is precarious to mention and disclose such things, even if one speaks the
truth. Now it is precarious because the administrator of the mysteries of God must seek the
proper time for the presentation of such doctrines so as [not] to harm the hearer.49

We will elaborate on Origen's theological pedagogy in chapters 5 and 6. Despite the

impossibility of fully conceiving of how creation existed before the cosmos, Origen offers a
brief explanation. The Son, he argues, exists eternally with the Father, following the if a
Father, then a Son correlative argument. The Son, whom Origen also calls Wisdom,
contains creation within himself in nascent form, thereby enabling the eternal and
immutable exercise of the divine attributes: In this Wisdom, therefore, who ever existed
with the Father, the Creation was always present in form and outline, and there was never
a time when the pre-figuration of those things which hereafter were to be did not exist in
Wisdom.50 Widdicombe memorably compares this description to a set of metaphysical
Dutch dolls wherein creation is internal to the Son, who is in turn internal to the
Father.51 We have not yet arrived at the fully developed doctrine of perichoresis, but
Origen outlines the basic concept here in relation to his theory of pre-existence.
Origen's theory preserves a delicate theological balance. On the one hand, he affirms the
eternity of creation to safeguard divine goodness and omnipotence. On the other hand, he
emphasizes the derivative and dependent nature of creation, which receives its existence
from God.52 Creation, in his estimation, is not a coordinate being alongside God; it is the
eternal recipient of divine love. Although the rational minds pre-exist the cosmos, they do
not pre-exist the Father, who brings them into being from the pre-existing patterns within
the Logos: What they are, therefore, is something neither their own nor eternal, but given
by God.53 Creation, then, is not unbegotten: it is coeternal, not coequal with God. Origen
seeks to avoid the Scylla of deifying creation and the Charybdis of denying the eternity and
immutability of the divine attributes:
It is probably in this way that, so far as our weakness allows, we shall maintain a reverent
belief about God, neither asserting that his creatures were unbegotten (p.58) and
coeternal [ingenitas et coaeternas] with him nor on the other hand that he turned to the
work of creation to do good when he had done nothing good before.54
In the process, however, he appeals to scripture, not the Platonic world of ideas, to justify
his theory, particularly Proverbs 8 and Psalm 104: And certainly if all things have been
made in wisdom, then since wisdom has always existed, there have always existed in
wisdom, by a pre-figuration and pre-formation, those things which afterwards have
received substantial existence.55 Creation, which exists eternally in the Son, comes into
being at a particular precosmic moment and then assumes material form after the fall.
We must, in conclusion, carefully enunciate the kind of eternity Origen ascribes to the preexistent rational minds. They are not, he insists, coeval with God as fully actualized beings,
which would entail their coordinate divinity. Origen clearly repudiates this conception of
their eternity: But since these rational beings, which as we said above were made in the
beginning, were made when before they did not exist, by this very fact that they did not
exist and then began to exist they are of necessity subject to change and
alteration.56 Unlike God, the rational minds undergo a change from potential existence to
actual existence before the advent of time and space.57 But since divine omnipotence and
goodness are immutable and eternal, the rational minds must have always existed in some
nascent capacity for God to exercise his providential care. Two competing impulses
animate his theory: the desire to affirm the eternity of creation and the desire to restrict
eternity to God alone. To mediate between them, Origen ascribes a qualified eternity to
creation: the rational minds existed eternally in form or outline before their creation prior
to the cosmos. As we will discuss in the conclusion, his solution, while ostensibly satisfying
his theological objectives, ultimately buckles under the weight of imagining a pre-preexistent eternity of the rational minds, which only pushes the problem of accounting for
God's decision to create at a particular moment back one logical step. At issue here is
Origen's ontology of time, which is not always clear or precisely defined.58

Misconception of Pre-Existence as Platonic

Many scholars, both ancient and modern, dismiss Origen's cosmology in general and his
theory of pre-existence in particular as strictly Platonic.59 Crouzel, whose position is more
nuanced than most, remarks that it (p.59) comes from Platonism.60 Although Crouzel
affirms the Platonic origin and shape of Origen's theory of pre-existence, he argues that
Origen forwards it for distinctly Christian reasons: The hypothesis of pre-existence also
had in Origen's eyes the advantage of providing him with an argument against the most
difficult objection advanced by the Marcionites against the goodness of the Creator God:
the inequity of human conditions at birth.61 Crouzel highlights the chief function of
Origen's notion of pre-existence: to explain human suffering. While I would agree that
Origen's motivations are theological, I would qualify his assertion that his theory of preexistence comes from Platonism. Instead, I would say that Origen absorbs the Platonic
myths and concepts that were current in his day and redeploys them within a
Christological matrix, thereby transforming them. First we must look at the sources of his
theory of pre-existence and then examine how Origen conceives of it vis--vis Plato.
What are the sources of Origen's pre-existence hypothesis? Origen discerns in the coats of
skin in Genesis 3 a scriptural allusion to the disembodied pre-existence of souls and their
embodiment after the fall. In his article The Sources of Origen's Doctrine of PreExistence, Gerald Bostock argues that Origen's doctrine of pre-existence stems
essentially from Philo rather than from Plato.62 While Origen's allegorical interpretation
of Genesis certainly mirrors Philo's, his doctrine of pre-existence clearly finds its
inspiration in Plato.63 Whether Origen encountered this doctrine first in Philo's exegesis
need not detain us here, since it ultimately derives from Plato and he quotes from Plato
directly on this matter.64 Nevertheless, Origen asserts that his Christian version of preexistence, which stems from his allegorical reading of Genesis, is superior to the Platonic
doctrine of the descent of the soul, which loses its wings.65 Origen here refers to the
Platonic myth of the winged soul in the Phaedrus who descends into materiality: So long
as its wings are in perfect condition it flies high, and the entire universe is its dominion;
but a soul that sheds its wings wanders until it lights on something solid, where it settles
and takes on an earthly body.66 Bostock correctly notes the similarities between Origen
and Philo's exegetical construal of pre-existence. He fails to emphasize, however, Philo's
debt to Platonism in his interpretation of Genesis 3. Be that as it may, Origen clearly
distances his conception of pre-existence from Plato.
Moreover, Origen does not equate the precosmic realm to the Platonic world of ideas, even
though they share many of the same features. He refrains from describing this realm
precisely because it might evoke in the minds of his readers the Platonic world of ideas:
We have already said that it is difficult for us to explain this other world; and for this
reason, (p.60) that if we did so, there would be a risk of giving some men the impression
that we were affirming the existence of certain imaginary forms which the Greeks call
ideas ().67 When Jesus says, I am not of this world, he alludes to another world
that exists in reality, not merely conceptually: For it is certainly foreign to our mode of
reasoning to speak of an incorporeal world that exists solely in the mind's fancy or the
unsubstantial reason of thought.68 Origen does not specify the nature of this other world,
except to say that to speculate on whether it is entirely separate from this world or, as he
thinks, it excels in quality and glory but is nevertheless contained within the limits of this
world, exceeds the noetic capacity of humanity and is an uncertain, and in my opinion an
unsuitable subject for the mind and thoughts of men.69So Origen distances his conception
of the precosmic realm from Plato and thinks about it in terms of the incorruptible world
of Jesus and the saints: For indeed it is a world of saints and of those who have been
completely purified and not of the wicked, as our world is.70 Contrary to the common
scholarly assumption, he does not construe pre-existence Platonically. Instead, he
transforms it to cohere with his Christian cosmology.

Misconception of Pre-Existence as Foreknowledge

While some wrongly equate Origen's theory of pre-existence with the Platonic theory of
pre-existence, others flatly deny that Origen espoused any such theory at all.71 There has
been a major reevaluation of Origen's doctrine of pre-existence in recent Origen
scholarship. In her article La Prexistence des mes dans l'oeuvre d'Origne, Marguerite
Harl argues that Origen's notion of the pre-existence of souls does not refer to a precosmic
realm but to divine foreknowledge.72 John Behr, embracing Harl's conclusion, calls for a
rethinking of Origen's doctrine of pre-existence along these lines:
But rather than imagining a host of eternally existing intellects who through some precosmic fall descend into bodies, it seems more probable that the anterior causes invoked
by Origen to reconcile the inequality of human fate with the affirmation of the justice of
God refers to the anteriority of the foreknowledge of God, who knows all things for each
from their womb.73
According to this theory, Origen does not posit a precosmic, suprasensible realm wherein
the pre-existent souls exist before they become embodied in the world after they fall.
Rather, it argues that God determines our lot(p.61) in life on the basis of his
foreknowledge of our proper use or misuse of free will. In this way, providence and free
will perfectly coincide, since they meet in every act where God foreknows and
providentially responds to our free decision: And among all the things God foreordains in
accordance with what He has seen concerning each deed of our freedom, there has been
foreordained according to merit for each motion of our freedom what will meet it from
providence and still cohere with the chain of future events.74 We will delve into the
intricacies of how free will and providence cohere in the next chapter, but for now it is
sufficient to point out that while the theory of pre-existence as foreknowledge has some
textual support, the weight of the evidence suggests that Origen espoused a Christological
version of pre-existence. This passage may simply apply to providence vis--vis our
terrestrial choices.
However we conceive of his theory of pre-existence, its function in his theodicy remains
the same. Neither interpretation of pre-existence alters the fundamental point that,
according to Origen, evil arises from the misuse of freedom. God equitably arranges the
universe on the basis of our degree of decline, whether we conceive of this in terms of a
precosmic, suprasensible realm or divine foreknowledge. The outcome of this debate,
therefore, does not alter the shape of Origen's theodicy, although it does significantly alter
our view of his cosmology. I am not convinced by the recent theory of pre-existence as
divine foreknowledge. It downplays Origen's debt to Platonism and fails to explain his
persistent use of these categories in De Principiis. I have argued instead that we reinterpret
his notion of pre-existence as the interiority of the eternal Logos.
Paradise Lost: Rethinking the Fall
Not all theological questions have been settled. Some, Origen thinks, remain open. On
these open questions, he freely speculates, albeit with great fear and caution, discussing
and investigating rather than laying down fixed and certain conclusions.75 The church did
not have an established position on the question of the beginning of souls, so Origen
proceeds to discuss the issue as a matter of theological exploration rather than theological
dogmatizing. Before the creation of the cosmos in all its diversity, rational minds existed in
unity and harmony. At present, the cosmos is various and diverse, characterized by
stratification and ontological hierarchy.76 Before the precosmic fall, however, all rational
beings existed in the original unity and harmony [initii unitate atque concordia] in which
they were at the first created by God.77 No sin tainted their (p.62)contemplation of God,
and although they were capable of both good and evil, they invariably chose the good:
Before the ages minds were all pure, both demons and souls and angels, offering service to
God and keeping his commandments.78 Origen posits a theory of cosmological symmetry

where the end mirrors the beginning: For the end is always like the beginning.79 Since at
the end all will be one and there will no longer be any diversity, it stands to reason that at
the beginning there was no diversity.80 Crouzel describes this precosmic world: The
rational creatures were, remember, absorbed in the contemplation of God as the blessed
will be in the final restoration. They formed a unity, a Church, whose Head and
Bridegroom was the Christ in his pre-existent humanity.81 From these preliminary
speculations, we see that Origen's prelapsarian world consisted of unity, harmony, and
contemplation of God.
Origen takes the following two anthropological assumptions as axiomatic: that all
creatures are inherently good and that sin has corrupted their innate goodness. How do we
account for the transition from the original state of creation to its present state? Origen
speculates that all beings have fallen away from divine love by their individual misuse of
freedom. He does not, however, conceive of the fall in terrestrial terms, following a literal
interpretation of Genesis 13. According to Origen, Adam signifies the entire human race:
The story of Adam and his sin will be interpreted philosophically by those who know that
Adam means anthropos ( ) in the Greek language, and that in what
appears to be concerned with Adam Moses is speaking of the nature of man.82 He applies
the same logic to Eve: There is also no woman to whom the curses pronounced against
Eve do not apply.83 When interpreted philosophically, the story of Adam and Eve
signifies the fallenness of humanity. But this does not preclude their historical reality or
the reality of Adam's individual fall.84
The story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden sheds light on the nature of the fall,
albeit cryptically. After Adam and Eve sinned, God provided coats of skin to cover their
nakedness. These coats of skin become for Origen the key to understanding the nature of
the fall. As we will discuss in the next chapter, they signify the corporeal vessels that God
supplies to catch the incorporeal rational minds from falling into oblivion. The fall,
according to Origen, does not originate with Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden but in
the suprasensible realm prior to the creation of the cosmos: And the statement that the
man who was cast out of the garden with the woman was clothed with coats of skins,
which God made for those who had sinned on account of the transgression of mankind, has
a certain secret and mysterious meaning.85 The secret and (p.63) mysterious meaning
that he hints at here refers to the precosmic fall, which resembles but is superior to the
Platonic doctrine of the descent of the soul which loses its wings and is carried hither until
it finds some firm resting place. 86 By comparing his conception of the fall of creation
with Plato's, Origen tacitly acknowledges its Platonic connection, despite his insistence on
the superiority and distinctiveness of his version.
Origen offers two parallel explanations for the fall of souls. As we saw earlier, he attributes
the ultimate origin of evil to the Devil and the other fallen angels: And no one will be able
to know the origin of evils who has not grasped the truth about the so-called devil and his
angels, and who he was before he became a devil, and how he became a devil, and what
caused his so-called angels to rebel with him.87 Origen alludes to passages in Job, Ezekiel,
and Isaiah that Christian exegesis traditionally associates with the Devil.88 Isaiah 14:12,
which refers to the Day Star who has fallen from heaven, provides the biblical inspiration
for the philosophically laced notion of the precosmic fall: From these scriptures one would
learn not a little about evil, Origen says, of the character of its origin and beginning, and
how that evil came to exist because of some who lost their wings and followed the example
of the first being who lost his wings.89 Here we have another direct reference to the
Platonic myth of the winged soul, which, in the hands of Origen, takes on an explicitly
Christian character.
Satan, who was once light, before he went astray and fell to this place, was the first being
who lost his wings and instigated the fall of the rational minds from heaven.90 Satan was
once an angel of light who eventually fell away into spiritual darkness and enticed others to

follow him in disobedience: He [i.e., the rational mind] was expelled from Paradise on
account of disobedience and sin, after the prince of this world [Jn.12:31] had tempted him
with his enticements.91 Origen does not enunciate how Satan persuaded the other minds
to fall, since scripture does not disclose these details. But he does suggest that the negative
example of the Devil constitutes one of the primary explanations for the fall: But the devil,
who was one of them [the rational minds], since he possessed free-will, desired to resist
God, and God drove him away. With him revolted all the other powers.92 We will return to
the question of the whence of the Devil's desire to resist God, since it penetrates to the
heart of the problem of the origin of evil. The crux of the problem turns on the possibility
of evil in creation: if God created all things good, then whence the desire to resist God? By
attributing the origin of evil to the Devil, Origen simply pushes the problem back one
logical step, for we must then account for the origin of evil in the Devil himself.
(p.64) While Satan's fall explains the cosmic origin of evil in Origen's cosmology, it does
not explain the personal origin of evil in the other rational minds. For this he employs the
notion of neglect. The fall, for Origen, does not occur in a single catastrophic moment but
gradually through negligence. He compares the fall to a geometrician or doctor who has
mastered his area of expertise. If he were to neglect his studies for a day, he would not lose
his knowledge overnight. But if he neglected his work over an extended period of time, he
would lose his knowledge and cease to be an expert: If, however, he loses interest in these
exercises and neglects [neglegat] to work, then through this negligence [neglegentiam] his
knowledge is gradually lost, a few details at first, then more, and so on until after a long
time the whole vanishes into oblivion and is utterly erased from his memory.93 But if the
geometrician or doctor returns to his studies after only a brief period of negligence, he
would recover his knowledge and thereby retain his expertise. This analogy conveys the
plight of creation. Just as the skill of the doctor will vanish into oblivion (abeunt in
obliuionem) through neglect, so the rational minds, after extensive neglect, were in danger
of vanishing into oblivion.
The illustration of the geometrician or doctor who loses his skill through neglect explains
the gradual process of the soul's descent from heaven. Although it seems that Rufinus
might have omitted Origen's application of this illustration to the precosmic fall, various
fragments supply the missing details.94 According to a fragment of De Principiis from
Jerome, the disembodied rational minds fall from their state of bliss through neglect and
become embodied: All rational creatures who are incorporeal and invisible, if they become
negligent, gradually sink to a lower level and take to themselves bodies suitable to the
regions into which they descend.95 Just as a doctor or a geometrician loses his skill
through neglect, so the minds lost their disembodied state of perfection through neglect or
sloth. Nor, like the professionals in Origen's illustration, does the fall occur in a moment or
a single act of rebellion. Rather, as Jerome reports, Origen supposes that the fall of souls
occurs gradually: Origen used Jacob's ladder to teach that rational creatures descend
gradually to the lowest step, namely, to flesh and blood.96 It is highly unlikely that Origen
taught that the rational souls could fall to the status of irrational animals, as Jerome
accuses.97 The two key points to note here are, first, the biblical grounding of his doctrine
of the precosmic fall (i.e., in his allegorical interpretation of the coats of skin and Jacob's
ladder) and, second, his notion of the fall as gradual rather than instantaneous.
Neglect, however, does not fully explain the origin of evil. What lies beneath their
negligence? Origen probes deeper into the precosmic (p.65) psychology of the rational
minds and argues that their neglect stems from sloth and satiety. In a revealing passage,
Origen explicates the cause of withdrawal of the rational minds from God. He says that
the minds are subject to change and alteration because their existence is derivative and
therefore unstable.98 Their goodness, he says, existed in them not by nature but as a result
of the Creator's beneficence.99 Therefore, to maintain their divinely endowed goodness,
they must orient themselves entirely to the source of their goodness: God. The decline of

the rational minds occurs because they become distracted in their divine contemplation:
But the cause of the withdrawal will lie in this, that the movements of their minds are not
rightly and worthily directed.100 It would seem from his arguments here that Origen
would simply blame the Devil for our individual decline, but he does not. Rather, he
attributes our slow departure from divine goodness not to the Devil but to our own ennui
and mistaken sense of self-sufficiency: But sloth [desidia] and weariness of taking trouble
to preserve the good, coupled with disregard and neglect [neglegentia] of better things,
began the process of withdrawal from the good.101 Origen imagines a situation where the
rational minds became satiated with the divine presence and complacent with their state of
goodness. As a result of their satiation, they failed to keep their minds properly focused on
God. In this distracted state, they were easy prey for the Devil and fell victim to his
rebellion.
Satiety explains how the rational minds became vulnerable to the instigation of the Devil.
But what does Origen mean by satiety? As Crouzel, following Harl,
argues, satietas signifies not fullness but boredom: The Latin term translates the
Greek koros: it does not mean that the divine infinity can in some way surfeit a creature,
but as Marg. Harl has shown in an analysis of the word, koros and satietas express
boredom of contemplation.102 They became distracted by lesser goods and ultimately
became lazy, leaving them spiritually susceptible.103 His theory of satiety seems to come
from Philo,104 who drew it from Plato's Phaedrus: But souls which fall behind and lose
their vision of the truth, and are for some unfortunate reason or another weighed down by
being filled with forgetfulness and weakness, lose their wings thanks to this burden and fall
to earth.105 For Origen, the cause of decline was neglect fueled by sloth and satiety.106
He describes the fall as a transformation of the rational minds into souls through a process
of cooling. Origen associates fire and heat with God and divine being.107 Conversely, Origen
associates coolness with falling away. The rational minds, therefore, lost their warmth for
God and thereby became souls: As therefore God is fire and the angels a flame
of (p.66) fire and the saints are all fervent in spirit, so on the contrary those who have
fallen away from the love of God must undoubtedly be said to have cooled in their affection
for him and to have become cold [frigida].108 For Origen, then, coolness denotes the loss
of spiritual vitality or fervency. Scripture reinforces the antithetical symbolic import of
warmth and coolness: The things which are holy are termed fire and light and fervent
things while their opposites are termed cold, and the love of sinners is said to grow
cold.109 The burning signifies the passionate engagement of the mind with God, while the
coolness signifies spiritual apathy.
For Origen, the fall of souls amounts to the loss of paradise. The rational minds existed in
perfect harmony and unity in the beginning, as they will in the end. He advances two
distinct but interrelated arguments for the fall. On the one hand, he attributes it to the
Devil, who introduced evil into the cosmos and instigated a wider rebellion. On the other
hand, he attributes the falland hence the evil in each soulto its own neglect, which
results from sloth and satiety. These two explanations cannot be completely harmonized,
as we will discuss later, but they are designed to work in concert to explain the cosmic and
personal origin of evil and its relation to the fall. They function theologically to defend God
against the charge of injustice for the present state of the world and as a map that will help
the soul find its way back to God.
Free Will Defense
We have seen in the foregoing discussion that Origen locates the origin of evil in the
misuse of freedom. Thus far we have focused on the agents responsible for the fall, namely,
the Devil and the rational minds, and on thecauses of the fall: sloth, satiety, and
negligence. Now it remains for us to examine the underlying reason for the fall: the misuse
of freedom. Henri Crouzel aptly refers to Origen as the supreme theologian of free will

and the theologian par excellence of free will.110 Origen rejects the deterministic and
fatalistic schemes current in the third century and affirms the reality of free will:
In the face of the pagan determinism represented by astrology and the philosophies
inspired by it, in the face also of gnstic determinism that assigns to each man's proper
nature the cause of salvation or damnation, Origen was to remain in all his thought a
tenacious upholder of human free will, one of the controlling ideas of his theology and, in
dialogue with the divine action one of the actuating forces of his cosmology.111
(p.67) According to Origen, rational creatures are not bound by their natures to do good
or evil but can freely choose either: Our contention is, however, that among all rational
creatures there is none which is not capable of both good and evil.112 Origen explicitly and
categorically denies all fatalistic solutions to the problem of evil: We are not, however,
compelled by necessity to act either rightly or wrongly, as is thought to be the case by those
who say that human events are due to the course and motion of the stars.113 We see in
Origen's theodicy, therefore, the theological and anthropological components of what
would later be called the free will defense.114
The first stage of his free will defense involves denying the deterministic assertion that God
creates creatures either good or evil and that they therefore can act only in accordance with
their nature. If this were so, then Godnot creatureswould be responsible for the
existence of evil, since God would have created evil and forced creatures into one of two
inescapable destinies. But since God cannot create that which does not inhere in the divine
nature, God cannot originate evil or evil natures: It seems absurd, and indeed is absurd,
that the different natures of rational beings should be attributed to one and the same
creator.115 Correspondingly, Origen rejects the fatalistic view that the natures of souls are
such that they are absolutely lost or saved, and that a soul with an evil nature can by no
means become good nor can one with a good nature become evil.116According to Origen,
every rational mind has the ability to determine its own destiny by properly exercising its
own free will within the context of divine grace:
This also is laid down in the Church's teaching, that every rational soul is possessed of free
will and choice [omnen animam esse rationabilem liberi arbitrii et uoluntatis]. There
follows the conviction that we are not subject to necessity, so as to be compelled by every
means against our will, to do either good or evil.117
God does not rig the game by determining our actions beforehand. That would utterly
negate the moral injunctions in scripture and the concept of reward and punishment:
For the matter is not done by force nor is the soul moved in either of the two directions by
compulsion. Otherwise neither blame nor virtue could be ascribed to it, nor would the
choice of the good earn a reward or the turning aside to evil merit punishment. Instead the
freedom of the will is preserved in the soul in all things, so that it may turn to what it
wants.118
(p.68) God endows all creatures with the same capacity to follow the good or fall into evil.
By defending the authenticity of freedom, he transfers culpability from God to us.
As we will discuss extensively in the next chapter, the state of the cosmos, with all its
suffering, results from the misuse of freedom: By reason of the faculty of free will [Verum
cum pro liberi arbitrii facultate], variety and diversity had taken hold of individual souls,
so that one was attached to its author with a warmer and another with a feebler and weaker
love.119 So while the Devil and the rational minds are the agents responsible for evil, it is
the divinely imparted faculty of free will that enables these agents to go astray. The gift of
freedom comes with the real possibility of choosing against the good: For the soul has
freedom of choice and the option of moving in what direction it wants; and thus God's
judgment is just for, whether its advisors are good or bad, the soul follows them of its own

accord.120 God does not determine our actions and does not compel any rational creature
to act against its will. While preserving the integrity of free will, God continually seeks to
draw us to salvation.121 Henri Crouzel expresses the balance between free will and divine
pursuit: In any case the fall is due to the free will which is one of the essential
characteristics of the rational creature and which, in Origen's consistent doctrine, God
respects and never coerces, though He appeals to it constantly.122 In the final two
chapters, we will discuss how the realignment of the will to God leads progressively to the
soul's purification and deification.
Why does God endow human beings with freedom, especially in light of the disastrous
results that God presumably foreknew? Origen offers two explanations. First, God did not
want to create automata, creatures preprogrammed to worship and enjoy God. Rather,
God desired that all creatures would choose to embrace and appropriate the goodness that
God originally bestowed to creation: For the Creator granted to the minds created by him
the power of free and voluntary movement, in order that the good that was in them might
become their own, since it was preserved by their own free will.123 Second, God wanted to
create creatures who would develop morally, which requires the capacity to choose against
the good. In answer to the question whether God can transform sinners into saints via
divine fiat, Origen argues that the development of virtue requires the integrity of free will.
Without freedom, true virtue cannot be cultivated:
Was it impossible for God by divine power even to make men needing correction good and
perfect there and then so that evil should not exist at all? These arguments may carry away
the uneducated and unintelligent folk, but certainly (p.69) not the man who analyzes the
nature of the problem. For if you take away the element of free will from virtue, you also
destroy its essence.124
Hence, God gives freedom to creatures so that they may freely internalize the goodness
that God imparts to them by taking responsibility for their own actions and choices.
Origen categorically denies the divine origin of evil. He repeatedly avers that evil arose
because of our misuse of freedom: God did not make death (Wis. Sol.1:13) nor did he
make evil; he bestowed on human beings and angels a free will for everything.125 Any
attempt to assign blame to God cannot be justified, in his view, because the source of
cosmic disparity, including our experience of good or ill fortune, resides solely in our own
choices: What needs to be understood in this is how, through free will, some climbed to
the pinnacle of good things and others fell into the depth of evil.126 Our fate in this world
and our fate in the nextdepends entirely on us. Origen scolds those who wish that God
would simply determine their destiny: But you, O man, why do you wish to be deprived of
your free will? Why is it too much for you to strive, to work, to struggle, and by good works
to become yourself the cause of your salvation?127 We must take responsibility for our own
spiritual state and not bemoan the difficulty of the task. God gives humanity the great gift
of freedom, but it comes with great risk. Freedom brought about cosmic dismay and
disparity when it was abused, but it will also ultimately enable us to return to God, as we
will discuss in chapter 5.128 Before we explore his theology of ascent, we will carefully
explicate the relation between providence and free will, which work in tandem in Origen's
theology. He views providence as the general and universal operation of God's love that
provides the context for freedom.129
God off the Dock? A Theological Assessment
Origen probes into the etiology of evil in order to vindicate God from moral culpability for
cosmic suffering. As such, his analysis of the origin of evil constitutes the first stage of his
theodicy, which then expands into the broader issues of providence (chapter 4),
divinization (chapter 5), and eschatology (chapter 6). This initial phase functions
apologetically in his theodicy by shifting the blame for evil from God to the rational minds,
especially the Devil. Origen, as well as his Christian and pagan contemporaries,

presupposes that whoever originates evil bears the moral responsibility for its existence.
By excluding God from the equation, Origen(p.70) effectively denies divine culpability for
evil and thus embarks on the first step in his theodicy. But this step neither solves the
problem of evil nor exhausts his theodicy. It is only the first of a series of interrelated
moves that vindicates divine justice by explaining how evil arises and how it will ultimately
be destroyed when God is all in all. Before we proceed to the ensuing stages of his
theodicy, let us briefly pause to problematize four aspects of Origen's analysis of preexistence, the fall, and free will.
First, Origen posits the eternity of the pre-existent rational minds for the express purpose
of safeguarding divine omnipotence and goodness. If God is almighty and good, he
reasons, there must always have been creatures over which God expresses these attributes.
Otherwise, we would have to say that God became almighty and good with the advent of
creation, a theologically untenable position, in his view. Consequently, the rational minds
existed eternally in the Son, whom Origen refers to as Wisdom, following Proverbs 8: In
this Wisdom, therefore, who ever existed with the Father, the Creation was always present
in form and outline,130 he says, by a pre-figuration and pre-formation.131 They existed as
potential beings until the moment God actualized them: Since God always had both the
power and the will, there was never the slightest reason or possibility that he should not
always have this good thing that he desired.132 But why would God withhold substantial
existence from the rational minds in the recesses of eternity only to confer it upon them at
some unspecified pretemporal moment?133 It seems that by positing a pre-pre-existence
Origen simply pushes the problem back one logical step. If he intends to protect the
eternity and immutability of divine providence, how does it help to say that the rational
minds existed nascently in Wisdom until he brought them into existence? It seems just as
arbitrary to say that at some pretemporal moment God brought them into substantial
being as it is to say that he brought them into being at some temporal moment. Also, how
does God meaningfully exercise omnipotence and goodness over creatures existing in
form and outline?
But Origen might not be so easily foiled. He might answer that even in their nascent state
God exercises his omnipotence and goodness over them by nurturing them and molding
their being until he brings them into substantial existence. Even in their pre-figured and
pre-formed state they are destined to come into being at exactly the right providential
moment. So God does not arbitrarily decide to bring them into being at a particular
moment, but foreknows from eternity when they will transform from notional existence
within the Logos to substantial (yet incorporeal) existence within him. In both states, he
might argue, they are under the hand of providence. Our failure to conceive of this
scenario (p.71) reveals the deficiencies and limitations of our intellect and imagination,
not the failure of the concept itself, he might say.134 We are pressing here beyond the
narrow confines of reason to an expansive beyond that few can penetrate even partially.
Second, Origen does not attempt to correlate his two primary explanations for the origin of
evil. On the one hand, he attributes it to the fall of the Devil, who instigates the fall of all
other rational minds, except the soul of Jesus.135 On the other hand, he attributes it to
neglect or sloth resulting either from satiety from basking in the divine light or from
boredom. These two explanations do not easily cohere, since in the former the primary
culpability rests with the Devil, whereas in the latter culpability rests with each mind.
These two explanations are not mutually exclusive, however. Origen clearly assigns
different degrees of culpability to both. Since the Devil initiated the fall, he bears the
primary responsibility for the existence of evil. But since the rational minds allowed
themselves to become beguiled by his bad example, they also assume some culpability,
though to a much lesser degree than the Devil. One way of parsing this relation would be to
say that the Devil originates cosmic evil while the rational minds engender personal evil,
given their personal responsibility for their individual decline. But we should not force a

facile harmonization of these two arguments. They are not inconsistent, but they do seem
to run parallel with each other without much logical intersection.
Third, according to Origen, the Devil's misuse of freedom originates cosmic evil, which
spreads as a contagion through all the rational minds except the soul of Jesus. But does
this explanation truly exonerate God for the existence of evil? It would seem that, on its
own, it does not. Origen's speculations on the origin of evil do not account for why
the potential for evil exists in the first place. He argues that all creatures are endowed with
genuine freedom, but that does not explain why the option for evil exists. Could not God
create rational minds who exercise their free will by choosing between differing goods? If
God cannot create evil and if creation derives from God, whence the Devil's desire to resist
God?136 For Origen, all creaturely goodness ultimately derives from God: For whatever
may have been the goodness that existed in their being, it existed in them not by nature but
as a result of their Creator's beneficence.137 If the ability to choose goodness ultimately
derives from God, it follows that the ability to choose evil must have an external source.
And if nothing exists before creation except God, we must conclude that, according to
Origen's scheme, God at least creates the possibilityfor evil. How else would we explain the
Devil's inexplicable desire to resist God? These are difficult questions that we will take up
in the conclusion. At this point, we (p.72) can conclude that by attributing the origin of
evil to the Devil's abuse of freedom, Origen merely postpones the question of the origin of
evil, thus failing to provide a cogent resolution.
Fourth, his account of the origin of evil hinges on the plausibility of his idea of free will.
Against those who claim that evil comes from God, Origen argues that evil results from our
misuse of freedom. But does that argument withstand carefully scrutiny? As we just
discussed, God gives humanity the kind of freedom that can choose against the good. But
could we not expand our conception of freedom and imagine a kind of freedom where
creatures choose between a range of goods, perhaps ascending goods? Origen might argue
that restricting freedom to a prescribed range of goods undermines the concept of
freedom. Moreover, he might argue that it would not promote the development of virtue
the kind of virtue that can be forged only in the fire of authentic choice. But Origen might
be wrong on both counts. Perhaps we simply cannot imagine the kind of freedom that only
chooses between goods because we have never experienced it. Correspondingly, we cannot
conceive of moral development without the ability to choose evil. But our failure of
imagination does not preclude the possibility of freedom without evil. Furthermore,
placing the blame on free will does not instantly exonerate God, since God creates free will
in the first place and creates the possibility to choose evil. So although God does not create
evil, God creates the capacity and the possibility for evil, knowing that creatures will in
fact choose evil. God's permission of evil seems to imply either a loss of omnipotence, since
God does not prevent it, or a loss of omniscience, since God must not know the ruinous
consequences that will ensue. At this point, Origen might protest that we are wading in
waters too deep for us, but if we are to apprehend the origin of evil, we will need to
entertain these kinds of objections.
Conclusion
In this chapter, we have analyzed Origen's complex response to the fundamental questions
of theodicy: Whence evil? and How is it related to God? We began by summarizing his
answer to this question in Contra Celsum: evil originates not from God but from the
creaturely misuse of freedom, especially the Devil. Next we argued that Origen conceives of
pre-existence as Christological, and we demonstrated how his theory refutes fatalistic
approaches to evil and attributes the cause of evil to the individual soul. We then explored
his twofold account of the fall and entertained possible ways to harmonize or correlate his

explanation of the decline of(p.73) the rational minds in the precosmic realm. Finally, we
problematized his account of the origin of evil, noting that his theories often postpone the
problem without achieving any final resolution. Nevertheless, his theodicy
only begins with the question of the origin of evil, so we must withhold judgment on its
overall cogency and plausibility until we see how the other aspects of his theodicy cohere
with his etiology of evil to explain and justify suffering.
In a sense, then, he has embarked on the first stage of his navigation through the
problem of evil, assigning blame for the origin of evil to the precosmic rational minds.
Thus begins the narrative of the soul, which has fallen from paradise and found itself in
utter peril. Origen's navigation of the problem of evil parallels the narrative of the soul.
Each stage of the journey of the soul contributes to the theological meaning he ascribes to
evil and suffering. At this point, through his ontology and etiology of evil and his account of
the fall, he has shifted blame for evil and suffering from God to the rational minds. In the
next chapter, we will see how his etiology of evil filters into his explanation of cosmic
disparity. We move now, following the fallen soul, from the precosmic realm to the
material world to see how the logic of his theodicy unfolds in space and time.

The Physician of Souls

Suffering as Remedial Punishment
So far, the story of the fall of souls accounts for the intrusion of evil into creation. Evil has
no positive ontological status because it falls outside of the good of creation. Origen
attributes the origin of evil to the misuse of freedom, which transfers moral responsibility
from God to the rational beings. But Origen's theodicy does not end with the technical
acquittal of God for the existence of evil. It goes much further and deeper. God does not
remain idle while the precosmic minds drift into nothingness. Instead, God works to
restore the lost harmony. The next stage of Origen's theodicy, then, involves God's
providential response to the fall of souls. If Origen's version of the free will defense
explains the fate of the rational beings and the inception of evil, does it not also raise the
alarming possibility that God has lost control of the universe? Origen, however, defends
God against the charge of cosmic mismanagement. At every step in the soul's journey, he
argues, God creates the optimal conditions for its spiritual amelioration. Its place in the
world and the suffering it endures fit into God's providential design for the universe. God
guides, but never compels, fallen souls to restoration.1
The precosmic fall of souls necessitates the creation of the physical universe. Contrary to
Gnostic cosmologies,2Origen does not espouse a negative view of creation. He sees the
world as a schoolroom or hospital for the soul, not as a prison. For Origen, the material
universe functions positively as a cosmic net that saves the soul from falling into oblivion.
Moreover, it serves as a springboard for the soul's journey back to God, as we will elucidate
in the next chapter.3 In this chapter, I explicate the (p.75) relationship between free will
and providence in Origen's theodicy and link these twin concepts to Origen's conception of
the remedial nature of suffering.4 Henri Crouzel aptly describes Origen as the supreme
theologian of free will.5 Origen does not, however, affirm free will against Gnostic
determinism at the expense of divine providence.6 Freedom and providence are not
antithetical realities in his theology. On the contrary, they work in conjunction, which
preserves divine justice and goodness while also safeguarding the integrity of free will. God
justly assigns each soul its place in the world based on its precosmic exercise of free will,
but God benevolently uses the self-inflicted suffering of each soul to facilitate its return to
God. Punitive suffering is always remedial, never vengeful, in Origen's view. The
providential arrangement of the universe, then, reflects the diverse degrees of decline in
souls, on the one hand, and God's commitment to rescue creation, on the other.
Providence and free will in de Principiis: Beyond the Antithesis
In De Principiis, we find Origen's clearest exposition on the nature of providence. In fact,
later perplexities about the precise relationship between freedom and providence
prompted Rufinus translation of Peri\Arxw=n from Greek to Latin. Macarius, a man of
distinction from his faith, his learning, his noble birth and his personal life,7 wrestled with
the concept of providence. His theological quandaries seeped into his dream life, where he
saw a distant ship sailing toward him that brought the answers to his seemingly intractable
philosophical questions. Providentially, Rufinus arrival corresponded to Macarius dream,
which confirmed his belief that God sent Rufinus to elucidate the baffling knotty points
of divine providence.8 Rufinus, then, was the ship that carried the wisdom of Origen, the
most renowned among the Greeks on the points in question.9 Macarius immediately
commissioned Rufinus with the onerous task of translating Origen's works from Greek to
Latin to aid him in his intellectual labors. Rufinus resisted on the grounds that his facility
with writing Latin had diminished after 30 years of neglect, but Macarius pressed and
eventually prevailed. It is noteworthy, then, that the impetus behind Rufinus translation
of De Principiis was a dispute over the issue of free will and providence, which features so
prominently in the treatise.

Providence and free will10 are compatiblenot competingconcepts in Origen's

theology.11 He does not emphasize one at the expense of the (p.76) other because he does
not conceive of them as conceptually antithetical or mutually exclusive.12 God's
providential arrangement of the universe works in conjunction with human freedom, thus
ensuring its impartiality. Hence, Origen's defense of divine justice hinges on the
plausibility of the congruence between divine providence and human freedom. Providence,
for Origen, does not entail necessity. Rather, providence integrates the free choices of souls
into the grand cosmic narrative of salvation. Origen affirms the reality of free will from the
scriptures, which contain numerous moral injunctions that presuppose freedom: For it
would be absurd that we should have commandments given, the keeping of which is to
save us and the transgression to condemn, if we do not possess the power to keep
them.13 It was the misuse of freedom, after all, that led to the precosmic fall: [I]t was not
the delay of the divine providence but the will of each human mind that was the cause of its
ruin.14 Origen consistently unites providence and free will in his theological cosmology, as
we will demonstrate through an analysis of De Principiis and his commentaries and
homilies, particularly his Commentary on Romans.15
Freedom and Cosmic Disparity
As we observed in the last chapter, Origen recognizes the theological problem of cosmic
disparity. Rowan Williams articulates the problem well: The life of material beings in this
world order does not transparently show forth God's justice; but without a belief in God's
justice the intelligibility of the cosmos fails.16 The heretics from the schools of Marcion,
Valentinus, and Basilides deny divine justice on the basis of cosmic disparity. How, they
ask, do we account for the seemingly inequitable hierarchy in the cosmos? Why do some
inherit at birth a happier lot, while others experience misfortune?17 Despite appearances
to the contrary, Origen staunchly maintains that the great variety and diversity of the
world is consistent with the whole principle of righteousness.18 God, in his view, is good
and righteous and absolutely fair and arranges the universe according to impartial and
unimpeachably just criteria.19 Originally, all beings were created equal without any
differentiation in cosmic rank. But they fell away, necessitating material creation. The
hierarchical composition of the universe arose not from God's design but from the rational
minds, who started from one beginning but were drawn in various directions by their own
individual impulses and were distributed throughout the different ranks of existence in
accordance with their merit.20 In this section, we will examine how Origen
defends (p.77) divine justice by showing that the seemingly unjust stratification of the
universe follows equitable principles.
Origen broaches the subject of the hierarchical arrangement of the world early in De
Principiis in relation to the question of the celestial hierarchy of angels and demons. Are
these rational beings essentially good or bad, or do they become so through free will?
Origen argues, consistent with his doctrine of creation, that they were all created equal and
became angels or demons as a result of their exercise of free will. Otherwise, we would
have to posit that God created beings either good or bad. This, however, would endanger
divine justice, since their place in the cosmos would be determined not by their choices but
by their nature. Essential goodness belongs only to God, he argues. All other beings,
including the celestial beings, attain their place in the cosmos as a reward of merit: We
conclude, then, that the position of every created being is the result of his own work and
his own motives, including the powers mentioned above.21 So Origen's defense of the
justice of God begins not with human beings in the physical world but with celestial beings
in the cosmos, some of whom are visible (such as the sun and stars) and some of whom are
invisible (such as the angels and demons).
Against the fatalists, Origen argues that these principalities and powers receive their
position in the universe based on merit. Diversity arises not from their inherent qualities

but from their own choices: [T]he cause of the diversity and variety among these beings is
shown to be derived not from any unfairness on the part of the Disposer [non ex
dispensantis inaequalitate] but from their own actions, which exhibit the varying degrees
of earnestness or laxity according to the goodness or badness of each.22 In addition to
determinism, Origen denies the randomness of the universe and any chance theory. It is
equally erroneous to attribute the position of the celestial powers to chance, since that
would also undermine the justice of divine providence: [A]ll those beings are arranged in
a definite order proportionate to the degree of excellence of their merits.23 Thus, every
angelic office and every being, from the archangel to the devil, freely became such on
their own volition: [E]ach has obtained his degree of dignity in proportion to his own
merits, which establishes, in his view, the impartiality and justice of God [dei aequitatem
et iustitiam].24 He frequently employs Romans 2:11 as scriptural justification for this
theological position, where Paul declares that God is no respecter of persons. Origen's
emphasis on the pivotal role of free will in God's providential ordering of the heavenly
beings insulates God from the accusation of injustice, which would follow from the
alternative cosmologies available to him: fatalism and chance.
(p.78) Origen employs the same arguments in his explanation of the meaning behind
human disparity. As we discussed in detail in chapter 2, Origen evinces a heightened
sensitivity to the reality of human suffering and the injustices that plague our existence.
Human disparity begins at birth, he observes. Some inherit good fortune and auspicious
circumstances, while others inherit poverty, slavery, and various physical deformities.25On
the surface, the tragic tale of human miseries suggests that chance or fate determines our
place in the world, but Origen denies these alternative explanations, just as he did for
celestial diversity. Conceding to either of these heretical options would undercut divine
providence: Now if this were admitted, we should no longer believe the world to have
been made by God nor to be ruled by his providence.26 All diversity, he argues, stems from
the misuse of freedom, including human diversity. Like all rational creatures, they were
created equal and alike, but they were given the gift of free will, which eventually
resulted in cosmic misdirection. Diversity, and the concomitant human misery it entails,
arose not from the will or judgment of the Creator, but from the decision of the creature's
own freedom, which excludes God from culpability for the evil in the world.27
When Origen discusses the misuse of freedom, a discussion of divine providence often
ensues. The two concepts work in tandem in his theology to form a coherent system. After
locating the cause of diversity in the decision of the creature's own freedom, Origen
explains how God orchestrates the world to reflect the decline of souls: God, however,
who then felt it just to arrange his creation according to merit, gathered the diversities of
minds into the harmony of a single world.28 Consequently, happiness or misfortune
depends not on the whim of providence or the innate nature of every being, but on each
person's exercise of freedom. Hence, our place in the cosmos corresponds to the degree of
our decline: [D]ivine providence arranges all creatures individually in positions
corresponding to the variation in their movements and the fixed purpose of their
minds.29 The symmetrical correspondence between freedom and providence forms the
dynamic center of his theological cosmology, which functions to vindicate divine justice:
For this reason the Creator will not appear to have been unjust when, according to the
above principles, he placed everyone in a position proportionate to his merit; nor will the
happiness or unhappiness of anyone's birth, or any condition whatever that may fall to his
lot, be supposed to be due to chance, nor will it be believed that there are different creators
or souls that are diverse by nature.30
(p.79) Biblical Test Cases for Divine Justice: Jacob and Esau
Origen alludes to the cosmic equity that underwrites the world as a secret that, though
not systematically developed in scripture, still manifests itself in paradigmatic stories.

Chief among these is the story of Jacob and Esau. Paul utilizes this narrative to highlight
the mystery of providence. Why, asks Paul, was Jacob loved and Esau hated before they
were born (Romans 9:1113)? If neither had done anything either good or bad, why should
God favor one over the other? Their congenital disparity, specifically God's inexplicable
preference for Jacob over Esau, particularizes the global problem of freedom and
providence: For, as it appears to me, the same question which faces us in connection with
Esau and Jacob may also be raised in regard to all heavenly beings and all creatures on
earth and in the lower regions.31 Origen echoes Paul's negative response to the question in
Romans 9:14: Is there unrighteousness with God? because of his notion of pre-existence
and its cosmic implications. We need not presume unrighteousness with God, even
though Jacob was loved and Esau hated before they exercised their free will in this life,
so long as we believe that by reason of his merits in some previous life Jacob had deserved
to be loved by God to such an extent as to be worthy of being preferred to his
brother.32 Origen attributes divine preference for Jacob over Esau to his pre-existent
choices, as he explains later in De Principiis in his explication of the creation of vessels of
honor and dishonor (Romans 9:21):
But if this statement appears to be just, as it certainly is just and in harmony with all piety,
namely, that each vessel is fashioned by God for honour or for dishonour as a result of preexisting causes, it does not seem absurd for us, when discussing the older causes in the
same order and by the same method, to apply the same principles to souls, and to believe
that this was the reason why Jacob was loved even before he was born into this world, and
Esau was hated while still enclosed in his mother's womb.33
The story of Jacob and Esau reflects the providential system of cosmic equity, where acts
older than this life account for our present circumstances. All rational creatures, whether
human or angelic, determine their place in the universe through their actions.34
For Origen, then, the cosmos evinces God's graciousness and impartiality. The world
provides the platform for the soul's return to God, as we will discuss in chapter 5: [I]n his
gracious compassion he provides for all and exhorts all to be cured by whatever remedies
they may, and incites them to salvation.35 The diversity in the world, which seems to
unfairly favor (p.80) some more than others without reason, in reality reflects God's
impartiality, when seen from a broader perspective: and thus he has arranged the
universe on the principle of a most impartial retribution, according as each one deserves
for his merit to be assisted or cared for.36 So while the disparity of fortunes seems unfair,
it actually follows deeper principles of equity: Herein is displayed in its completeness the
principle of impartiality, when the inequality of circumstances preserves an equality of
reward for merit.37 Origen's system hinges on pre-existence, which he designs to prove
divine providence to be free from all suspicion of injustice:
[T]here were certain pre-existent causes which led these souls, before they were born into
the body, to contract some degree of guilt in their sensitive or emotional nature, in
consequence of which divine providence has judged them worthy of enduring these
sufferings. For the soul always possesses free will [Liberi namque arbitrii semper est
anima], both when in the body and when out of the body.38
God does not show favoritism with Jacob or anyone else spared from great misfortune. All
receive their due in this world and beyond, which reinforces God's impartiality.
The Hardening of Pharaoh's Heart
Origen adduces another paradigmatic biblical example of the relation between providence
and free will. The hardening of Pharaoh's heart, like the divine preference of Jacob over
Esau, suggests that providence operates independently of free will: Now many have been
troubled by the story of Pharaoh, in dealing with whom God says several times, I will

harden Pharaoh's heart. 39 By negatively disposing Pharaoh to the divine command, it

seems that God overrides and negates his freedom: For if he is hardened by God and
through being hardened sins, he is not himself responsible for the sin; and if this is so,
Pharaoh has no free will.40 By extension, Origen comments, some will suggest that
salvation depends therefore not on free will but on God's arbitrary decision. He
supplements this puzzling text with other passages, such Ezekiel 11:1920 and Romans
9:1821 (discussed previously), that have the same problematic implication that God
enables some to come to salvation and hinders others independently of their free choice.41
Origen's heretical trinityMarcion, Valentinus, and Basilides42misconstrue the story of
the hardening of Pharaoh's heart to mean that (p.81) God determines natures: Now these
passages are used by some of the heretics, who practically destroy free will [
] by bringing in lost natures, which cannot receive salvation, and on the other
hand saved natures, which are incapable of being lost.43 On their reading, Pharaoh had a
lost nature incapable of receiving divine mercy, so God hardens his heart. Origen
problematizes this interpretation by asking: why would God need to harden Pharaoh if he
possessed an earthly nature and was already disobedient? An inherently lost person
would naturally disobey and would therefore need no hardening. Origen exposes the flaw
in this deterministic interpretation and recommends precisely the opposite view: that God
hardened Pharaoh so that he would not obey as he might have: God, in order to display
his mighty works for the salvation of many, needs Pharaoh to proceed to a further degree
of disobedience and hardens his heart on this account.44 This means, of course, that it was
possible for Pharaoh to obey God's command, contrary to the deterministic view that he
possessed a lost nature that could not obey. Likewise, in the corollary passage in
Romans, Origen argues that God does not harden the lost (who would need no hardening,
after all) and have mercy on the saved (since they would have no need of a second
mercy); rather, God has mercy on all, which affects the saved and the lost differently.45
Origen delves deeper into the implications of the concept of hardening for theodicy. Why
would God harden anyone's heart? If we affirm the sound doctrine of divine goodness
and justice, how do we explain the condemnation of those whom God has hardened? How
is God acting justly when he hardens the heart of a man who as a result of this hardening
is lost?46 It is the task of the theologian to defend divine justice in the face of such
indictments against God's character: It is incumbent on him who believes that the
scriptures are true and that God is just, if he is a thoughtful man, to take pains to show how
God, in using such expressions as these, can be clearly conceived to be just.47 Origen
develops his theodicy in exegetical dialogue with these stories.
The silent interlocutors throughout Origen's discussion of the hardening of Pharaoh's heart
are the Marcionites, who regard the God of the Old Testament as just, but not
good.48 Origen insists there is only one God and attempts to vindicate divine justice and
goodness in this story and, by extension, in the cosmos. Let us consider, Origen says,
how one who is good and just could harden Pharaoh's heart.49 God does not, he argues in
his discussion of the parable of the sower, harden people: For no one has a stony heart
created by God, but each person's heart is said to become stony.50 To create a stony heart
would be utterly inconsistent with the divine nature. On the contrary, God acts mercifully
toward all, but his (p.82) mercy affects people differently. Thus, God does not treat the
saved and lost differently (and thus unfairly), but rather treats all the same, producing
disparate results depending on the character of the person: God has mercy on one and
hardens another by a single operation.51 He does not target the lost to ensure their
damnation but acts with kindly intent to all and works toward their salvation.
Our receptivity to divine providence depends on the condition of our souls. The good soul
embraces divine providence, resulting in mercy; the evil soul resists it, resulting in
destruction: the hardening follows as a result of the substance of evil present in the
particular evil person, so that God is said to harden him who is already

hardened.52 Origen illustrates this concept through the analogy of the rain that falls on
cultivated and uncultivated land (Hebrews 6:78). On the former, it produces fruit; on the
latter, it bears only thorns and thistles because the land is not receptive (hardened) to the
fructifying effects of the rain. Correspondingly, God showers mercy on all, but while tilled
souls receive it and bear spiritual fruit, untilled souls cannot receive it and become
hardened, bearing evil fruit. Thus, there is one operation (the rain = divine mercy) but
different states of the soul (tilled/untilled ground = good/evil souls) that react differently
(fruitful/unfruitful = repentance/hardening) to the one operation: Thus the marvelous
works done by God are as it were the rain, while the differing wills of men are like the tilled
and the neglected land, though as land they are both of one nature.53
Just as it would be unfair to blame the rain for the barrenness or evil fruit of the untilled
land, so it is unfair to blame God for the hardness of Pharaoh or anyone else who responds
to divine mercy with contempt rather than repentance.54 The fault lies not with diverse
natures (since all souls were created equal, just as the land is the same before it is tilled or
untilled) or with divine favoritism (since the rainor divine mercyfalls equally on all),
but with each individual person, who becomes good or bad through the exercise of free
will.55 Origen's cosmic scheme preserves both providence and free will, attributing the
disparate affects of grace to the permeability or impermeability of the soul.
To reinforce his point, he briefly employs another illustration: the disparate effects of the
sun. The sun shines equally on all, but it melts wax and dries mud. The difference lies not
with the operation of the sun but with the composition of wax and mud.56 This
illustration lacks the force of the rain-earth analogy, since it does not capture the initial
equality of the souls. In both illustrations, the point remains the same, that Pharaoh's
hardness does not indicate divine favoritism but personal culpability: Thus the one
operation which was performed through Moses revealed (p.83) the hardness of Pharaoh
the result of wickedness.57 Moreover, the fact that Pharaoh's heart softened temporarily
proves that the hardening came about through personal intransigence, not necessity:
And the briefly recorded fact that the heart of Pharaoh experienced a kind of softening
when he said: But ye shall not proceed far; ye shall go a three days journey and leave your
wives behind, and whatever else he spoke when yielding before the marvelous works,
makes it clear that these signs had some effect even on him, though they did not entirely
accomplish their object. Yet not even this would have happened if the idea held by most
people about the words, I will harden Pharaoh's heart rightly represented what was
wrought by him, that is, by God.58
These illustrations and Origen's careful exegesis of Exodus make three points: (1) divine
providence extends to all (the rain/sun); (2) the state of the soul (tilled/untilled earth, wax
or mud), which it freely chooses, determines its receptivity to divine providence; (3)
Pharaoh's heart was hardened not by God but by his own wickedness. By extension, then,
Origen concludes that God does not show favoritism on a cosmic scale either. Evil and
diversity arise not from disparate natures but from our own receptivity to God.
Providence and Free Will in the Commentaries and Homilies
Homilies on Exodus and Commentary on Exodus
In his Homilies on Exodus, Origen interprets the theological significance of the hardening
of Pharaoh's heart, but his discussion differs markedly from De Principiis in two ways.
First, he draws a sharp distinction between Pharaoh's heart was hardened and the Lord
hardened Pharaoh's heart, that is, between voluntary and involuntary hardening.59 In De
Principiis, Origen emphasizes the voluntary nature of Pharaoh's hardening. He refuses, on
the grounds of theological modesty, to elaborate on the difference between voluntary and
involuntary hardening: I admit, to be sure, that I am not fit or able in such differences to

pry into the secrets of divine wisdom.60 Nevertheless, he says that the Apostle Paul knew
the difference between the two kinds of hardening. On the one hand, Pharaoh voluntarily
hardens his own heart by resisting divine mercy, and Origen adduces Romans 2:45 to
explain the consequences of his impenitence. On the other hand, God also hardens
Pharaoh for reasons beyond our (p.84) comprehension.61 The former explanation
(voluntary hardening) coheres with his line of argument in De Principiis, but the latter
(involuntary hardening) introduces a new theological thread into the discussion: the
inscrutable mystery of divine providence.
Romans 9 shapes Origen's exegesis of Exodus 7. While Romans 2 alludes to the just
punishment of voluntary hardening, Romans 9 addresses the apparent injustice of
involuntary hardening.62 Why would God harden Pharaoh and then punish him for his
hardness? Paul refuses to disclose the solution to the very secret questions regarding
involuntary providential hardening: Because of the incapacity of his hearers he does not
judge it fitting to entrust the secrets of solutions of this kind to paper and ink. 63 The
questioner in Romans 9 who asks, Why then does he still complain? For who can resist his
will? (Romans 9:19) refers to Pharaoh's involuntary hardening. According to Origen,
Paul's imagined interlocutor does not probe into these deep mysteries for his own
spiritual edification (the reward of his studies), but simply to satisfy his intellectual
curiosity.64 But in these matters, the spiritual mystery outstrips our noetic capacity.
Similarly, in his Homilies on Genesis, when discussing the theologically related story of
God's prenatal love for Jacob and hatred for Esau, Origen frankly remarks: These matters
surpass both my ability to speak and your ability to hear, since the inner workings of
providence defy rational explication.65 We will see in chapter 6 that Origen follows this
Pauline policy of withholding divine mysteries from unenlightened believers, who might
misinterpret it to their detriment. Here Origen's emphasis on the mystery of the passage
hints at the remedial side of Pharaoh's involuntary hardening, which does not contradict
his attribution of hardening to Pharaoh's free will, but rather incorporates a
complementary theory of divine providence.66 Pharaoh indeed hardens his own heart, but
God permits his hardening in order to manifest his power and, ultimately, to bring him to
salvation. Origen declines to explicate the salvific component of the hardening for the same
reason as Paul: his listeners will misunderstand the teaching.
Origen expounds on the remedial function of Pharaoh's suffering in the fragment of his
lost Commentary on Exodus preserved in Philocalia 27.67 As in De Prinicipiis, he notes the
disturbing theological implications of the hardening of Pharaoh's heart to ordinary
believers.68 He then refutes three common misinterpretations, following the logic
employed in De Principiis. Some, he says, argue that Pharaoh's hardening reveals the
arbitrariness of providence. Others argue that it highlights the distinction between the just
and good God. Still others argue that he was hardened not because providence is arbitrary
or because God is just but not good(p.85) but because of his lost nature.69 Origen refutes
the first interpretation by appealing to the orderly design [] of creation.70 He refutes
the second by arguing that God's goodness and righteousness cannot be severed: God
could not be just if he caused Pharaoh to disobey him. He refutes the third argument by
noting that someone created for perdition would not need to be hardened because they
could not choose rightly, which undermines the deterministic interpretation.71 His
arguments against these three common misinterpretations of Pharaoh's hardening
in Commentary on Exodus closely resemble De Principiis.
But then he takes his argument in a different direction. Rather than arguing that Pharaoh's
hardening led to the salvation of the Israelites or that he brought about his own hardening,
Origen argues that God hardens him for his own salvation. Origen likens God to a
physician who heals the soul's sicknesses: The Word of God is a physician of the soul
[| ] and uses the most diverse, suitable, and seasonable
methods of healing the sick.72 Just as physicians employ painful methods to extract

diseases from the body, so God employs pain to extract sickness from the soul: so God
through His healing art draws out the secret mischief lurking in the depths of the soul, and
makes it show itself, in order that he may afterwards induce a healthy state.73 The precise
manner in which the hardening of Pharaoh benefits his soul remains obscure, but Origen
suggests that it might involve a surfeit of sin that somehow purges his soul by exhausting
his resistance to God.74 Origen recognizes that this interpretation might seem forced to
his readers, so he marshals other passages from the Old and New Testament that affirm
the benevolence of divine punishment and the remedial nature of suffering.75 Thus, in
his Commentary on Exodus, he develops the theme of the remedial suffering of Pharaoh
that he hints at in his Homilies on Exodus. We will develop the concept of God as Physician
and the remedial nature of suffering at the end of the chapter.
Commentary on Romans
In the preface to his Commentary on Romans,76 Origen remarks that the heretics,
particularly Marcion, Basilides, and Valentinus,77 misinterpret Pauline theology, falsely
supposing that Paul's notion of election and foreknowledge undermines free will and
supports their deterministic outlook: [T]he heretics [haeretici] are accustomed to add
that the cause of each person's actions is not to be attributed to one's own purpose but to
different kinds of natures [naturae diversitatem].78 Origen categorically (p.86) rejects
this view from the outset, accusing them of selectivity and intentional suppression of the
clear meaning of scripture, which teaches that God has given man freedom of will [qui
arbitrii libertatem concessam a Deo homini docet], so that God cannot be accused of
injustice.79 This polemical background, then, influences his exegetical emphases.
His Commentary on Romans, like his other commentaries and homilies, seeks to correct
the heretical deterministic interpretation of Paul with the orthodox doctrine of free will.
Origen begins his commentary by examining the implications of Paul's statement that he
was set apart for the gospel of God (Romans 1:1), which he considers in concert with the
related assertion that God set me apart from my mother's womb (Galatians 1:15).80 The
heretics, he says, wrongly teach that Paul was set apart because of his inherent goodness,
in contrast to the inherently evil persons mentioned in the Psalms: For they have been set
apart as sinners from the womb (Psalm 58:3). Origen, however, rejects the theologically
pernicious notion of predestination or election based on inherent natures. He uses Paul's
setting apart to illustrate the workings of divine providence. Paul was not chosen because
of his innate goodness but because of his future merits, which were foreknown by God:
But we maintain that Paul was not chosen due to chance or a special nature, but rather he
himself gave the reasons for his own election as found in himself and in the One who
knows all things before they take place. 81 Predestination, therefore, does not entail
divine favoritism but divine justice.82 Paul, therefore, was set apart because of his
divinely foreseen good works, not because of chance or determinism: For God foresaw
that Paul was going to labor harder than all the others in the gospel. Therefore, seeing in
advance these things and many other similar things in him, God set Paul apart for the
gospel from his mother's womb on account of these matters.83 In so doing, God follows
the impartial principle of reward for merit.
In his exegesis of Romans 1:1, Origen reworks the concept of predestination, replacing its
passive connotation with an active one. Predestination follows from our meritorious
actions, not an arbitrary divine decree: Therefore there precedes a foreknowledge of them,
through which is known what effort and virtue they will possess in themselves, and thus
predestination follows, yet foreknowledge should not be considered the cause of
predestination.84 God's foreknowledge does not foreordain the future. God does not
determine our actions but knows with absolute certainty how we will exercise our free will
and on that basis confers reward or punishment beforehandsetting us apart for good or
ill: For while men requite merit to each individual based upon past

accomplishments, (p.87) for God this is determined from future ones; and a person is very
impious not to concede to God that what we see in the past he can see in the future.85 So
our freedom retroactively (from our perspective) causes our election, thus ensuring the
equity of predestination. In this way, Origen rejects the heretical notion of good and evil
natures and instead affirms the righteous judgment of God [iusto iudicio Dei], which
will pay back to each one according to his own works [opera sua] so that no one can
protest.86Divine foreknowledge preserves the equity of divine judgment: And it is revealed
that each person must be judged not by the privilege of possessing a certain nature, but by
his own thoughts, accused or defended by the testimony of his own conscience.87 Above
all, Origen strives to defend divine justice against heretical attacks in his explication of
divine foreknowledge in his Commentary on Romans.
In his exegesis of Romans 8:2930, Origen further elucidates the meaning of divine
foreknowledge.88 Contrary to the common opinion, God does not foreknow good and evil
(bona malaque praescire), since knowledge of evil is beneath the dignity of the divine
nature: [E]verything that is evil is deemed unworthy of his knowledge and foreknowledge
[omne quod malum est scientia eius vel praescientia habetur indignum].89 God, as the
just and good creator of all being, cannot have any commerce with evil or nonbeing, as we
noted in chapter 2. Thus, God only foreknows, and thus predestines (based on his
knowledge of their future merits), the good. Those outside the knowledge of God are
condemned, though perhaps not for eternity, as we will see:
Of the others, however, God is said not only not to foreknow, but not even to know them.
For the Lord knows those who are his [2 Tim. 2:19]. But to those who are not worthy to
be known by God, the Savior says, Depart from me, because I have never known you, you
workers of iniquity [Matt. 7:23].90
Origen then parses the relationship between divine foreknowledge and free will. God, he
says, does not foreknow and predestine those who are not yet [in existence] but those
existing persons who fail to conform to the image of his Son [Romans 8:29].91 Those who
are not yet have not been born and can still choose their destiny, while those who have
chosen the good or evil path are thus foreknown by God: For in this [i.e., for those who do
not yet exist] it is more a question of choice than of the foreknowledge of the Creator. For
where will the foreknowledge appear, since what is future depends on the decision of the
agent?92Foreknowledge, then, applies to sublunary existence. Divine prescience signifies
God's knowledge of the implications of our free choices. It does not signify
God's (p.88) eternal knowledge of our election or damnation, since we have the ability to
choose our eternal destiny. If God foreknew our destiny beforehand, it would negate our
freedom because anything that God knows must necessarily transpire.
Origen repudiates the pedestrian conception of foreknowledge as divine foresight: And
behold, into what an absurd interpretation they would fall who understand in this case the
foreknowledge of God, as if only someone who knows beforehand what will come to pass
afterwards.93 To suppose that God foreknows in the flat-footed sense of knowing whom he
will save and whom he will condemn would subject God to the charge of injustice. It would
open, Origen says, a huge window to those who deny that it lies within man's power to be
saved, since it would imply that salvation depends on divine foreknowledge.94 If this were
so, the heretics aver, the lost could not be held responsible for their condition: For they
say: If it is those whom God has foreknown that he has also predestined, and it is those
whom he has predestined that he has also called, and it is those whom he has called that he
has also justified, those who are not justified are not to blame.95 Origen argues that to
counter this misinterpretation and understand the passage aright we must
interpret knowing andforeknowledge in the colloquial biblical sense of conjugal union.
Understood thus, Paul's use of foreknowledge connotes union with God based on the
divine knowledge of personal merit: His aim is to show that those who are foreknown by
God are those upon whom God has placed his own love and affection because he knew

what sort of person they were.96 To foreknow, Origen concisely states, is to receive in
affection and to unite with oneself.97 God sees the future not by looking ahead in time,
but by looking into the soul of each person and knowing how their character, which they
forge before their birth, will shape their earthly existence.
In this way, therefore, Origen's conception of foreknowledge is both distinct from and
related to his notion of pre-existence. We cannot equate foreknowledge with pre-existence
because those who are not yet cannot be foreknown. Our choices, then, must occur prior
to this foreknowledge. God foreknows our earthly choices based on our pre-existent
choices. The degree of our pre-existent fall from the Logos determines our place in the
cosmos and our spiritual identity. Foreknowledge, then, refers to divine knowledge of how
our pre-existent choices forge our identity, which shapes our future. God knows what sort
of persons we are by our pre-existent choices and unites with us as closely as our
subsequent spiritual constitution allows.98 The foreseen merits of Paul and Jacob and
demerits of Pharaoh and Esau, then, derive from God's knowledge of their pre-existent
character and how it will unfold on earth. From our perspective,
then, (p.89) foreknowledge is not a seeing into our future as much as it is a seeing into our
past. God cannot see the future from a temporal perspective because, like evil, the future
does not exist. But God, who exists outside of time, sees the future by perfectly knowing
every creature and his providential plan for creation.
The integrity of free will and the justice of divine providence hang in the balance in his
discussion of divine foreknowledge. He links freedom and providence, saying that our
place in the cosmos arises from our pre-existent choices. Salvation, as we will discuss more
in chapter 5, involves the exercise of our freedom: In this way, then, the cause of our
salvation or destruction does not lie in the foreknowledge of God.99 There is no causal
efficacy between divine foreknowledge and the future. Henry Chadwick elaborates on this
crucial theological point: For Origen divine foreknowledge is no more causative than
human foresight. God, for Origen, foreknows everything because he knows what choices
our wills will make. Predestination for Origen means foreknowledge of merits.100 God
simply knows our natures and the nature of the universe and therefore knows the future:
For even if we should conceive of foreknowledge according to the popular understanding,
it will not be because God knows that an event will occur that it happens; but, because
something is going to take place it is known by God before it happens.101 Origen makes the
same point in On Prayer. In response to the question of whether divine foreknowledge
renders prayer futile,102 Origen argues that foreknowledge does not negate freedom
because providence and free will work together seamlessly, the former meeting the latter
in each deed of our freedom:
God's foreknowledge is not the cause of everything that will come to be, even of our
freedom when we are made active by our own impulse. But if God takes the order for the
governance of the universe from His foreknowledge, then all the more is our individual
freedom useful for the ordering of the world. If, therefore, our individual freedom is known
to Him and consequently foreseen by Him, then what is reasonable in accordance with
each person's merit is ordered from providence.103
Judas, for example, did not become a traitor because the prophets predicted his treachery.
Quite the contrary, it is because he was going to be a traitor that the prophets could
predict it, even though Judas could have chosen a different path and become like Paul or
John.104 Salvation, then, depends not on divine foreknowledge but on one's own purpose
and actions, so that no one can accuse God of injustice.105 With these distinctions
and(p.90) correctives in mind, Origen proceeds to interpret the theological significance of
the story of Jacob and Esau and Pharaoh's hardening.
Origen addresses Jacob's divine favor, the hardening of Pharaoh's heart, and the wider
question of divine justice in his Commentary on Romans. The apostolic discourse, he

says, is like a capacious royal palace that has many secret chambers. Paul takes us into
some of the rooms, but not all: Paul seems to uncover the secrets of the divine mysteries
[divinorum mysteriorum secreta] for us, but only slightly, not throwing them open
completely and openly.106 His exegesis of Romans 9:1419, where Paul uses the story of
the hardening of Pharaoh's heart to discuss divine justice, appeals to the concept of
mystery. To the question Is there injustice on God's part? [Numquid iniquitas est apud
Deum?], which Origen attributes to an imaginary opponent,107Paul responds with scorn:
With a most deserved exclamatory rebuke, [Paul] confronts the person who raises these
[complaints] and things like these, as a man who is impudently and inappropriately
intruding into the chamber of this mystery.108 The imaginary interlocutor has
transgressed the bounds of human knowledge, trespassing into forbidden rooms.
Paul rejects the condemnation implicit in the question of divine justice, since the ways of
God cannot be apprehended: He [Paul] says, Who are you, O man, that you should reply
against God? It is as if he were saying: Who are you to rush into the king's inner court and
dare to penetrate the secrets of the inner apartment!109 The inner workings of divine
providence are a mystery beyond fathoming. Thus, in the face of the mystery of
providence, Origen recommends that questions about the justice of providence be met with
silence: Therefore, we also, by treading softly, as if put in the royal inner courts, let us
pass by most of these things in silence and a few words.110 At the limit of human reason
and imagination we enter the sacred precincts of providence, where silencenot inane and
insolent chatteringbefits the prudent guest.
With respect to Jacob and Esau, he has little to say, in keeping with his reverence for the
mystery of providence. He does, however, mention that Jacob's election was not based on
his merits in the flesh but on divine grace.111 The qualification in the flesh (in carne),
however, is a veiled reference that probably suggests that Jacob's election was based on his
pre-existent choices and God's decision to use him for providential ends. Paul's persona in
Romans 9 uses God's choice of Jacob over Esau and the hardening of Pharaoh's heart to
impugn divine providence. Origen notes that the persona even makes use of the words of
Moses that God says to him, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will offer
compassion
to
whom
I
shall
have
compassion.
112 Paul's
fictional
interlocutor (p.91) takes this passage out of context and falsely concludes that this
principle implies that salvation is not of the one who wills or strives, but of him on whom
God shows mercy.113 With these examples and assumptions, the imaginary objector
accuses God of injustice, concluding that God finds fault and condemns men without
reason, which renders human freedom illusory.114 Origen alludes to his discussion of free
will in De Principiis 3.1 for a fuller treatment of the issue of the authenticity of human
freedom and spiritual self-determination but proceeds to answer, with as few words as
possible, Paul's objections (and, by extension, those of his) interlocutor.115
Providence and free will, he argues, work in conjunction, not competition, to accomplish
salvation. Providence does not cancel out human freedom, and human freedom does not
achieve its aims independently of the aid of providence. Thus, following the hermeneutical
principle of using scripture to interpret scripture,116 Origen employs Psalm 127:12 to
illustrate how to interpret the Pauline passage It is not of the one who wills or strives, but
of God, who shows mercy (Romans 9:16): Unless the Lord builds the house, those who
build it have labored in vain, and unless the Lord guards the city, the guard has kept watch
in vain.117 This verse illustrates two crucial theological points: that without God the
industry of the laborer is futile and that God nonetheless requires the work of the laborer.
Applied to the issue of freedom and providence, it entails that we should not do nothing
and be idle but diligently work toward our salvation.118 This does not imply that we can
attain salvation on our own, for without divine mercy our efforts would be fruitless. These
verses, then, preserve both human freedom and divine providence, which work together,
though not in equal measure or with equal effect:

Since, therefore, through this it is being taught that man must indeed expend effort and
attentive care, but that God grants the success and completion to the work, it is assuredly
pious and religious, while God and man do what is in themselves, to attribute the chief part
of the work to God rather than to man.119
Origen correlates Paul's planting and Apollos watering to those who will and strive for
salvation, arguing that the increase and completion of our efforts come from God.120 So
while free will and providence work together, Origen clearly attributes saving power not to
human freedom but to providence, which responds to our free choices.
After delineating the relationship between free will and providence in reference to the
question of salvific agency, he applies this principle to the narrative of Pharaoh's
hardening. God foreknows, he says, the disposition of every person: It is certain that God
not only knows the purpose and (p.92) will of each man, but he also foreknows
this.121 But God, being a good and just steward [bonus dispensator et iustus], employs
his foreknowledge for providential ends. Knowing the inner affections of each person,
God assigns every person to tasks appropriate to their character.122 Pharaoh, who on his
own accord was hardened and bound for destruction, was used by God for the correction of
others. Origen carefully distinguishes between God's providential use of the hardened soul
and God's creation of the hardened soul. Pharaoh was not created hardened, but was used
because of his hardened heart, which preserves both human freedom (since Pharaoh freely
chose to turn from God) and providence (since God uses Pharaoh for the edification of
others and, as we saw before, for his own edification):
But since he wants his destruction to advance the correction of the others, he sends him to
those whom he desires to be corrected by his death. For notice that he has not said, For
this very purpose I have made you; otherwise the blame would seem to be referred to the
Creator. But he says, For this very purpose I have raised you up, that is, through the
malice of your own mind, which you have acquired for yourself by living in an unbridled
fashion without any fear of God, so that a beneficial and fruitful reproach might be
inflicted upon others, and so that in you a most spectacular destruction might be conferred
as an example for posterity.123
In this manner, Origen circumvents the prima facie appearance that God dealt with
Pharaoh unjustly by hardening him against God. God did not harden Pharaoh, in Origen's
view. Pharaoh was hardened and became increasingly hardened by God's forbearance.
Origen argues that the story of Pharaoh's hardening illustrates divine mercy, not injustice:
For although he was a man of consummate malice, nevertheless God, in his patience, had
not barred his capacity for conversion; and therefore, he uses lighter punishments on him
at first, then he gradually increased their severity.124 God does not harden anyone, but
those, like Pharaoh, who resist divine patience, become hardened. God's treatment of
Pharaoh specifically and his providential action generally are just and right and
beneficent, according to Origen.125 This illustrates, moreover, that human freedom works
in conjunction with providence to accomplish God's beneficent purpose: For that we may
be good or evil depends on our will: but that the evil man should be appointed for
punishments of some sort and the good man for glory of some sort depends on the will of
God.126 Humans are active agents that shape their own future, but God grants power to
human agency and uses it for providential ends.
(p.93) God Our Physician: The World as a Hospital for Souls
Suffering manifests divine justice insofar as it corresponds to the degree of our pre-existent
decline from the Logos. Those who fell further away from the Logos suffer more in this
world than those who fell less from him. The symmetrical correspondence between sin and
suffering reveals the congruency between free will and providence, which protects divine
justice. On its own, however, Origen's unimpeachable providential calculus would be fair
but not transparently benevolent. Without any further nuance, it would render suffering

meaningful but offer little hope. Origen, however, enfolds his providential calculus within
the broader context of God's remedial design for the cosmos: Everything that comes from
God that seems to be bitter is advanced for instruction and healing. God is a physician,
God is a Father, he is a Master, and he is not a harsh but a mild master.127 God uses
suffering for our amelioration: it is remedial, never vindictive or merely
punitive.128Pharaoh illustrates how God utilizes our self-inflicted hardness for the
betterment of ourselves and others.
Although suffering reflects divine justice, it also reflects divine goodness.129 While Marcion
sees these attributes as oppositional, Origen sees them as complementary. Moreover,
Origen values creation as the place where souls are caught from falling out of existence and
set on the road to purification.130 The cosmos functions as a way station for the soul, and
thus serves positive providential ends. Henry Chadwick notes Origen's positive view of
creation: So the material world is not a disastrous mistake in which humanity is involved
by a cruel chance, but a realm under the will of the supreme God and expressing his
goodness, justice and redemptive purpose.131 We see in Origen's theory of the remedial
design of the cosmoswith all its sin and sufferinga positive view of the body and the
world, both of which aid the soul in its ascent to God. Origen sees the world as a school for
souls,132 where Godthe Cosmic Teacherinstructs the soul toward higher and higher
goods, as Danilou suggests:
It might be said that being a didaskalos himself, Origen regarded God as a Didaskalos too,
as a Master in charge of the education of children, and looked on God's universe as a
vast didaskaleion in which every single thing contributed to the education of the free
human beings at school there.133
Correspondingly, the world is a hospital for souls, where they begin their spiritual
convalescence and rehabilitation. His two dominant cosmological metaphors, the world as
a school and hospital for fallen souls,(p.94) correspond to his two dominant theological
metaphors, God as Teacher and God as Physician.134While these two metaphors often work
in tandem, I will focus on the latter, since it more directly bears on the problem of evil and
better illuminates the meaning of the suffering of the soul.
Origen likens God's providential care for souls through remedial suffering to a physician's
care of the body through remedial treatment. God, he says, is the physician of our souls
[medicus animarum nostrarum], who, like a doctor, sometimes prescribes very
unpleasant and bitter medicine as a cure for ills in progressive stages, depending on the
severity of our illness.135 The neglect of our body causes physical ailments that the doctor
cures with various procedures, including the severe treatment of the knife and a painful
operation and, if that proves ineffective, in the last resort the ill is burnt out by fire to
restore the body to heath.136 Similarly, the neglect of our soul engenders spiritual ailments
that God our physician cures through various remedies, depending on the severity of the
spiritual illness, to restore the soul to health:
God our physician [medicum nostrum deum], in his desire to wash away the ills of our
souls, which they have brought on themselves through a variety of sins and crimes, makes
use of penal remedies [poenalibus curis] of a similar sort, even to the infliction of a
punishment of fire on those who have lost their soul's health.137
According to this view, God uses the punishment we bring upon ourselves and our selfinflicted spiritual wounds to restore us spiritually, not to satisfy divine justice.
As a wise physician, God apportions suffering to remedy our distinctive ailments. God does
not apply the same salve to all, but accommodates his medicinal art to the individual needs
of our sin-sick souls. Origen develops this point in his Homilies on Ezekiel:

Ten men go to a physician having ten kinds of illnesses. He does not cure them all in the
same way, but he heals one, for example, by this or that medicated plaster; to another he
gives some medicine; to several he applies what is called cautery; another he soothes with a
bitter potion; another by a sweet one; and on someone else's wounds he smears a very
heavy anointment. This is how the Word of God addresses the conditions of men.138
By tailoring the divine remedy to the peculiar needs of the patient, he underscores God's
benevolent design of the cosmos, a world that promotes the flourishing of each individual
in their irreducible particularity.
(p.95) Origen's image of God as physician highlights God's deep familiarity with the state
of our soul and his desire to heal us from our infirmities:
But the God and Lord of the universe does not merely inflict punishments on sinners but
as a Father he knows the wounds of all of us, he knows from what cause a given ulcer has
arisen, what deterioration is produced in a wretched soul and from what commencement
this comes, and what sort of grief comes from a given sin.139
Origen portrays God in touchingly intimate terms as a Physician-Father who knows us in
our totality and thus knows how to best treat our distinctive spiritual ailments.
But why would God not simply heal the soul without employing suffering? To cure a
patient fully, a physician must sometimes allow the patient to suffer.140 Rather than cure
the patient quickly, the physician will allow a fever or any other symptom of ailment to run
its course, so that it will be fully purged from the body. This method of physical healing
from ailments parallels spiritual healing from sin. God, Origen says, sometimes allows us
to suffer rather than healing us quickly so that we will not relapse into sin: Moreover, it is
perhaps expedient for those who have been more deeply infected with the passion of
wickedness to attain salvation slowly.141 Quick and easy remedies would imperil the soul,
leaving it prone to relapse, as Danilou remarks: If God had shown too much kindness to
men when they were still like children, they would have taken his goodness for
granted.142 God permits the soul to experience the consequences of its sin to avoid relapse
into evil, which would entail worse consequences: [L]est after having quickly turned and
been healed by obtaining forgiveness they should despise the wounds of their wickedness
as being slight and easy of cure and should very quickly fall into them again.143 He
reiterates this point in his Commentary on Exodus: Souls are more slowly healed,
because, if they were soon rid of the sufferings, they would think little of falling a second
time into the same evils.144 Rather than employing superficial remedies, God allows the
soul to suffer so long as it contributes to its spiritual health. Its prolonged experience of
suffering serves as a powerful disincentive to sin, thus preventing recidivism and securing
its spiritual health.
On the surface, punishment seems inextricably linked to justice, not mercy. But Origen
rejects the dichotomy between divine justice and mercy and argues that God punishes only
to heal wounds that would otherwise claim the sinner's soul. In his Homilies on Jeremiah,
Origen attempts to show how divine goodness requires inflicting pain. Commenting
on (p.96) Jeremiah 13:14 (I will not regret and I will not spare and I will not pity their
destruction), Origen argues it would be a disservice for the physician to withhold surgery
and sterilization from his patient in order to spare him the pain of these medicinal
procedures.145 This type of mercy is shortsighted, since it would not alleviate the sickness
but hasten its progression. So the physician inflicts temporary pain to restore the health of
the patient. But if he in a more bold way proceeds to cut and cauterize, he will heal by not
showing mercy, by appearing not to pity him who is cauterized and given
surgery.146Origen applies this cosmic principle of remedial punishment to church
discipline. Rather than quickly restoring the repentant sinner, the church should deny the
sinner communion until the appropriate time: If he is shown mercy hurriedly, the
common good will be inflamed, and the sin of others increases.147 Punishment, according

Origen, has the salubrious effect of impressing on the soul the severity of sin and the need
for spiritual vigilance. Cheap grace only promotes neglectthe very problem that
precipitated its fall. In an important passage in On Prayer, Origen articulates the rationale
behind lengthy remedial punishment:
Thus, since a quick and too brief healing causes some to think lightly of the diseases into
which they have fallen, as though they were easy to heal, and since this results in their
falling into the same diseases a second time after they have been healed, God in such cases
will reasonably overlook the evil as it increases to a certain point, even disregarding it
when it progresses so far in them as to be incurable. His purpose is that they may become
satiated by long exposure to evil, and by being filled with the sin they desire may so
perceive the harm they have taken. Then they hate what they previously welcomed; and
since they have been healed more firmly, they are able to profit from the health of their
souls, which is theirs by the healing.148
Like a physician, then, God does not heal quickly and painlessly but allows the soul to
experience the punishment it deserves for the sake of its long-term health. Consequently,
remedial punishment evinces divine justice and mercy, the kind of mercy that may appear
unmerciful at the time but ultimately proves to be beneficial.
Origen's characterization of divine punishment as remedial has philosophical antecedents,
particularly in Plato's Gorgias 525a526b. In this dialogue between Socrates and Callicles
on the judgment of souls, Socrates likens punishment to remedial care: [E]very instance
of punishment should either help its recipient by making him a better person or should act
as an example for others.149 The soul, Socrates maintains, undergoes (p.97)the
appropriate treatment with a view to curing it from its defects.150 Similarly, the language
of curing and treatment permeate Origen's writings, particularly in his discussion of
God's punishment of Pharaoh, which was intended for his personal benefit, as well as an
example for others. This Platonic concept of suffering as remedial punishment filters into
Plotinus as well, as Fuller mentions:
Secondly, we must not lose sight of the fact that though Plotinus does not develop the
subject at any length, he does point out that punishment is not merely vindictive, but
remedial. We are punished for our sins, indeed, but by our punishment we are purified
from them. It is advantageous for us that we should suffer.151
While Plato's conception of remedial punishment clearly informs Origen's discussion, he
nevertheless develops it using scripture and Christian theological categories. He appeals to
the punishments detailed in Deuteronomy 28, Jeremiah 25, and Isaiah 4 as examples of
remedial suffering. These passages, he says, help us understand that as physicians supply
aids to sufferers with the object of restoring them to health through careful treatment, so
with the same motive God acts toward those who have lapsed and fallen into sin, which
demonstrates the beneficence of providence.152
Suffering, then, purifies the soul: [T]he fury of God's vengeance ministers to the
purification of the souls.153God does not create evil and suffering, and yet God designs the
universe so that these realities serve salvific ends: God, who knows the secrets of the heart
and foreknows the future, perhaps in his longsuffering allows hidden evil to remain while
he draws it out by means of external circumstances, with the object of purifying him who
owing to carelessness has received into himself the seeds of sin.154 In this way, Origen
reposition suffering, portraying it as an expression of divine mercy rather than an
expression of divine wrath. God uses suffering to further our spiritual education and
healing. It functions remedially, never vindictively: And so we think that every threat and
pain and punishment, things that come from God, are never inflicted to injure the
sufferers, but always to do them good.155 What seems harsh to us actually expresses divine
goodness. Like Hamlet, God is cruel only to be kind: God sometimes causes suffering
but the doctor too, you know, often does. And when God makes men suffer, it is as a means
of restoring them to health. Thus, when he strikes men, what impels him to do it is his

goodness.156 God never abandons creation. Origen speculates that even someone deeply
mired by evil may in the end be able to obtain (p.98) purification after his evil life and be
renewed.157 When a sinner reaches the limit of satiety, he can be restored to his original
state, just as the invalid can be restored after his fever reaches its limit.158
Origen has an expansive view of remedial suffering. He suggests that the process of healing
extends beyond this world into other worlds and ages159: For God deals with souls not in
view of the fifty years,160 so to speak, of our life here, but in view of the endless
world.161 By broadening the time frame for the purification of the soul, Origen resolves the
problem of meaningless suffering. Not all suffering in this life has obvious redemptive
value, but since it advances the soul's purification for a future existence, all suffering
becomes meaningful within the larger narrative of the purification of the soul: [T]he soul,
which is immortal, is not shut out by the shortness of our present life from the divine
healing and remedies.162 God's remedial work continues beyond the grave, allowing souls
to find a remedy for their wounds and be restored to what is good:
This leads us to the opinion that since, as we have frequently said, the soul is immortal and
eternal, it is possible that in the many and endless periods throughout diverse and
immeasurable ages it may either descend from the highest good to the lowest evil or be
restored from the lowest evil to the highest good.163
Against those who argue that this teaching implies an endless cycle of fall and return, I will
argue in chapter 6that Origen posits an end to this cycle when the souls become
permanently united to God at the apokatastasis, when God becomes all in all.
Origen enlists the example of Pharaoh once again to illustrate the remedial nature of
suffering and the expansive range of providence. He affirms the uniqueness and diversity
of every soul. Each soul exhibits particular habits, inclinations, and impulses that explain
its present circumstances. God, who perfectly superintends the universe, knows the
identity of every soul and knows the stage of their journey back to God. Since we do not
share God's omniscience, we cannot know why some suffer more than others. God directs
each soul along the path to its ultimate amelioration: [F]or he only can know the remedies
for each individual soul and determine the time for his healing.164 God's providential care
for Pharaoh, to return to his paradigmatic biblical example, involves remedial suffering:
He [God] knows how by means of the great plagues and the drowning in the sea he is
leading even Pharaoh, but Pharaoh's story does not end with his drowning: And we must
certainly not think in this drowning the providential care of God for Pharaoh came to an
end; for we must(p.99) not suppose that, because he was drowned, he went immediately
out of existence.165 Pharaoh's journey, like that of every other soul, continues after his
mortal life in another realm of existence.
God, as the Cosmic Physician, works to restore the health of fallen souls: And when God
afflicts those who deserve punishment, how else is it except for their good?166 Like a wise
doctor, he accommodates his remedies to the needs of his patients. He apportions greater
afflictions to those who require severer remedies for their cure and fewer afflictions to
those who require milder remedies.167 Whatever measure of divine punishment we
experience, Origen assures us that it serves salvific ends. By linking divine punishment
with healing, Origen overcomes Marcion's theological dichotomy: [T]he just and good
God of the law and the gospels is one and the same, Origen says; he does good with
justice and punishes in kindness, since neither goodness without justice nor justice without
goodness can describe the dignity of the divine nature.168 God's goodness and justice
share a common purpose: the amelioration of the soul.
Conclusion
Origen's discussion of the unfolding of providence in the fallen world seeks to vindicate
divine justice and benevolence. Without a robust notion of free will, the moral injunctions
in scripture would be inane and our suffering would be meaninglesssimply a matter of

chance or fate. By positing real moral agency, however, he shifts responsibility from God to
the soul. For Origen, the arrangement of the world and our experience of suffering follow
an unimpeachable system of cosmic equity: It is our endeavour to show that the
providence of God which governs the universe with justice also rules immortal souls on the
most equitable principles in accordance with the merits and motives of each
individual.169 By using suffering remedially, not vindictively, however, God demonstrates
the depths of his providential love for the fallen creation. While our misuse of free will
accounts for our circumstances, God nevertheless uses these circumstances for our
betterment, facilitating our ascent in this life and beyond:
For God's dealings with men are not confined within the life of this age, but a previous
state of merit always furnishes the cause of the state that is to follow; and so by an
immortal and eternal law of equity and by the control of divine providence the immortal
soul is brought to the height of perfection.170
(p.100) Our suffering in this world, then, plays a pivotal role in accomplishing the
benevolent aims of providence. The world is not a prison where we serve our term for our
sins; it is a school or hospital where we learn from our mistakes and recover our spiritual
heath. We see, then, Origen's positive conception of creation as the locus of God's
providential care for the soul and the context in which it begins its purification and ascent
to God.171
At this point in our study, we have explored several crucial facets of Origen's theodicy,
bringing it into sharper focus at each successive stage of the argument. We began by
developing our theoretical paradigm of theodicy as navigation. Next, in chapter 2, we
delineated his view of evil as nonbeing and formulated the problem of evil as the problem
of failed providence in light of cosmic disparity. In chapter 3, we analyzed his account of
the pre-existent origin of evil and the reasons for the fall of the rational minds. In this
chapter, we examined the interrelation between free will and providence, noting the
providential arrangement of the cosmos and Origen's conception of suffering as remedial
punishment. Put differently, we have followed the soul from its pre-existent state of bliss,
to its gradual decline, and finally to its descent into materiality. We will now follow it on its
gradual ascent to the Father, who draws all souls to himself.

Theology of Ascent
The Journey of the Soul to Perfection
Over the course of the past century, particularly the latter half, Origen scholars have made
a concerted effort to retrieve Origen's spirituality.1 Jean Danilou, Henri de Lubac, and
Hans Urs von Balthasarthree leading exponents of la nouvelle thologiehave stood at
the forefront of this retrieval.2 By returning to the sources, especially patristic sources,
they sought to revitalize theology by injecting it with the dynamic spirituality of the
Fathers.3 As a consequence, scholars have become interested in the mystical theology of
Origen.4 His robust integration of theology and spirituality resonated with the aspirations
of la nouvelle thologie.5 The reflective life and the questing life of the soul cannot be
disconnected, Origen avers. When analyzing his theodicy, therefore, we must unite these
two trajectories that have often been kept distinct. His theodicy seeks to transform the
soul; that is, it incorporates the soul's journey from sin to perfection. As we will discover,
Origen calibrates the intellectual themes of his theodicy with the spiritual journey of the
soul back to God.6
Following von Balthasar, we will designate the pilgrimage of the soul as the theology of
ascent (theologia ascendens).7 After the precosmic fall, the soul finds itself mired in evil
and far away from God.8 Its distance from God depends on the degree of its decline, as we
saw earlier. Like the Lost Son in the Lucan parable (Luke 15:1132), once the soul realizes
its spiritual impoverishment, it embarks on a pilgrimage back to the divine bliss that it
squandered.9 As the soul advances spiritually, it slowly strips away layers of sin and evil,
leading to progressively higher states of virtue (p.102) and enlightenment. The acclivity of
the soul occurs gradually, in a series of stages, in this life and in the afterlife. At the end of
its long and tortuous journey, the soul reaches its final destination: deification, as we will
examine in chapter 6.10 Thus, in Origen's theology of ascent, salvation is not legal
righteousness, but a journey to perfection.11 The penultimate stage of Origen's theodicy,
then, is the progressive purification and enlightenment of the soul. I will argue that by
overcoming sin through the responsible employment of freedom, the soul eliminates the
very evil it originates through its misuse of freedom. The entire process, however, occurs
within the context of God's providential care for the soul.
Unsurprisingly, we discover Origen's most mature and developed reflections on spirituality
in his biblical commentaries and homilies.12 In this chapter, we will analyze the
soteriological undercurrent of Origen's theodicy by examining two classic works of
spirituality: Homilies on Numbers and Commentary on the Song of Songs. In Homilies on
Numbers 27, Origen allegorizes the stages of the Exodus to signify the soul's journey from
sin to perfection. This journey involves successive stages of purification and enlightenment
as the soul turns away from evil toward the good. Origen exhorts his audience to embark
on this pilgrimage, and his rigorous asceticism reflects his deep personal commitment to
the spiritual life, in keeping with his preaching. In the Prologue to his Commentary on the
Song of Songs, Origen interprets the love between the Bride and the Bridegroom as an
allegory of the union between the soul and God. When seen through chaste eyes, the love
portrayed in the Song of Songs symbolizes the soul's desire for union with God. As we shall
see, the Solomonic trilogy establishes a threefold divine curriculum for the soul's
divinization.13 After this, we will discuss the much vexed problem of bodily resurrection in
Origen's theology of ascent. Origen treats the problem of evil, then, not only by explicating
its theological meaning but also by outlining the process whereby the soul overcomes its
own sinfulness and thereby participates in cosmic renewal, through the power of God.
Thus, the individual soul is a microcosm of the grand cosmic narrative of God's
providential restoration of the lost harmony of the cosmos.

Living the Theology of Ascent: Origen as a Guide to Pilgrims

Origen lived the theology he taught. In this way, he embodies the aspirations of la nouvelle
thologie, which helps explain his appeal and the (p.103) renewal of interest in his
spirituality. By all accounts, Origen was intensely pious and spiritual.14 In Ecclesiastical
History, Eusebius eulogizes him as the didaskalos par excellence.15 Unlike so many false
teachers, who fail to practice what they preach, Origen's life accorded with his doctrine:
His deeds matched his words and his words matched his deeds.16 He exhibited moral and
rhetorical consistency throughout his life, aspiring to holiness and bravely facing
persecution and danger for his Christian convictions. From an early age, Origen actively
desired martyrdom.17 When his father, Leonides, was imprisoned during the persecution of
Severus, Origen wrote him a letter urging him to stay the course and not to falter through
his love for his family.18 At age 18, Origen solidified his reputation for courage and holiness
by accompanying and encouraging martyrs from their trial and imprisonment to their
execution, at great personal risk: For he was with them not only in prison or in court, right
up to the final sentence, but even when they were being led away to their death he
courageously approached them and kissed them boldly.19 He lived an ascetic lifestyle,
subjecting himself to a rigorous regimen of study and self-mortification:
For many years he continued living the philosophic life, dismissing all stimuli to youthful
lusts and disciplining himself with arduous tasks by day but spending most of the night
studying the divine Scriptures. Sometimes he fasted, at other times he restricted the time
for sleep, which he took on the floornever in bed. Above all, he felt that he had to keep
the Savior's sayings urging us not to own two coats or wear shoes or worry about the
future. By enduring cold, nakedness, and extreme poverty, he astonished his concerned
followers, who begged him to share their possessions. Yet he did not bend: for many years
he is said to have walked shoeless, to have refrained from wine and all but the most
necessary food, so that he actually risked his heath.20
Late in life, he was tortured during the Decian persecution for his faith.21 He never
recovered from the effects of this torture, which led to his death. Origen's consistency
enhanced his credibility among his students and his reputation throughout the church.
In his Address of Thanksgiving to Origen, Gregory Thaumaturgus paints a similar picture
of Origen. With the conventional hyperbole of a panegyric,22 Gregory praises Origen as a
paragon of knowledge and virtue who has nearly attained divinization:
For I am proposing to speak about a man who looks and speaks like a human being but, to
those in a position to observe the finest flower of his disposition, (p.104) has already
completed most of the preparation for the re-ascent to the divine world. But now I call to
mind his most godlike feature, where his inner being connaturally touches God (since
although for the moment it is enclosed in what is visible and mortal, yet it is struggling
with the greatest industry to become like God).23
Interestingly, Gregory characterizes Origen's spiritual advancement as an ascent to heaven,
perhaps alluding to Origen's theology of ascent, which we will outline later. Thus, Origen
does not simply teach the stages of ascent and exhort his students and parishioners to
progress in virtue. Rather, he embarks on the journey back to God with alacrity, and,
according to his admiring student, Origen nearly reached the summit of perfection. He
taught his students to strive for goodness by pursuing the life of philosophy,24 insisting on
the futility of knowledge without works:25 This man did not explain to us about virtues in
that fashion, in words, but rather exhorted us to deeds, and he exhorted us even more by
deeds than by what he said.26 Unlike some other teachers, his personal life reflected his
pedagogy, particularly vis--vis the spiritual life: [H]e did not even think it worthwhile to
speak if he could not do so with a pure intention and striving to put his words into
action.27 Gregory calls him a holy man,28 a wonderful man, friend and guide to the
virtues,29 a paradigm of a sage,30 and the interpreter of God's words to human
beings,31 whose amazing courage,32 true piety,33 and blessed life34 serve as an

example for all. While we must allow for rhetorical embellishment, we can nonetheless
gather from Gregory's account the congruence between Origen's theology and lifestyle. In
his homilies and lectures, Origen guides his listeners through his teaching and his personal
example. His intense spirituality elicited admiration both then and now.
Theology of Ascent: The Journey of the Soul Back to God
Origen's theology of ascent maps the stages of the soul's divinization. Through its
progressive purification, the soul gradually repristinates its tarnished image, thereby
participating in cosmic renewal. He explicates his theology of ascent in Homilies on
Numbers 27, where he draws an allegorical35 correspondence between the stages of the
Israelites exodus from Egypt and the stages of the soul's ascent to God.36 When read
aright, their historical journey conveys profound truth about our spiritual journey,
he (p.105) suggests.37 But before he delineates the spiritual significance of the stages of
the Exodus, he notes the hermeneutical and pedagogical implications of spiritual diversity.
Christians exhibit varying degrees of spiritual maturity, which reflect the degree of their
decline and the state of their spiritual progress. As such, not every one is nourished by one
and the same Word, since their receptivity to the Word depends on their spiritual
capacity.38 Origen employs corporeal things to illustrate spiritual things: just as the
physically weak and strong require different food, so the spiritually weak and strong
require different teaching. As children are nourished by milk, so spiritual infants are
nourished by the more obvious and simpler teachings, as may usually be found in moral
instructions.39 At the opposite end of the spiritual spectrum, mature Christians, like the
physically strong, find nourishment in the meat of scripture: the mystical teachings. The
stratified state of souls necessitates a stratified pedagogy: Every rational nature needs to
be nourished by foods of its own and suitable for it. Now the true food of a rational nature
is the word of God.40 He develops a progressive pedagogy as an accommodation to the
spiritual diversity of souls.41
While all of scripture conveys divine truth, different parts of scripture edify different
listeners. For example, those Christians edified by the simple instructions found in the
books of Esther, Judith, Tobit, and the Wisdom of Solomon often find no value in the
obscure meanings of Leviticus. Likewise, Origen continues, the weak rely on the Gospels,
Paul, and the Psalms for divine remedies, but dismiss Numbers as salvifically irrelevant:
But if the book of Numbers is read to him, and especially those passages we have now in
hand, he will judge that there is nothing helpful, nothing as a remedy [remedium] for his
weakness or a benefit for the salvation of his soul.42 The weak cannot stomach the deep
truths in scripture: He will constantly reject and spit them out as heavy and burdensome
food, because they do not agree with his sick and weak soul.43 Origen admonishes his
spiritually weak listeners not to begrudge the more obscure passages just because they
cannot comprehend them. Although these passages may not provide them with spiritual
sustenance, they are not thereby unnecessary to read:44
Now it is just the same way in the case of rational food, I mean the divine books. You
should not constantly either blame or reject Scripture when it appears too difficult or too
obscure to understand or when it contains what either the beginner and child or the
weaker and feebler in his general understanding cannot use and does not think will bring
him anything useful or saving.45
(p.106) Origen, then, proleptically responds to criticism that these passages (and, by
extension, his homilies on these passages) are spiritually irrelevant: But we cannot say of
the Holy Spirit's writings that there is anything useless or unnecessary in them, however
much they appear obscure to some.46 He exhorts his audience to progress from weakness
to strength, from childhood to maturity, asking God to heal their souls and illuminate the
meaning of this hard to understand text. He prefaces his exegesis of Numbers 33, then,
by preparing his audience for the arduous spiritual journey that lies ahead.

Consistent with his standard exegetical practice, Origen quotes the passage he intends to
explicate: These are the stages of the children of Israel, when they went forth out of the
land of Egypt with their power by the hand of Moses and Aaron. And Moses wrote down
their starting places and stages by the Word of the Lord, and so forth (Numbers 33:1
2).47 Responding again to the lingering question of relevance, Origen asks: Why did the
Lord want him [i.e., Moses] to write it down? Was it so that this passage in scripture about
the stages the children of Israel made might benefit us in some way or that it should bring
us no benefit?48 In his view, the answer to this rhetorical question is as obvious as it is
ignored: the entire scripture is fraught with meaning, even if it eludes us:
Who would dare say that what is written by the Word of God is of no use and makes no
contribution to salvation, but is merely a narrative of what happened and was over and
done a long time ago, but pertains in no way to us when it is told? These opinions are
irreligious and foreign to the Catholic faith. 49
Here again Origen preemptively addresses skepticism about the salvific value of this
passage. We can imagine his audience murmuring about the pointlessness of the text and
Origen's painstaking analysis of every tedious detail.50 Many in his audience lauded his
sermons.51 Others, however, accused him of obscurantism, arbitrariness, evasiveness, and
interpretive excess.52 As Castagno relays, Origen was frustrated by the apathy and
denseness of his audience: Origen often complained of the behaviour of the faithful during
his homilies: the audience was often distracted, they only rarely came to church, and often
they came for social relations rather than to listen carefully to the Word of God.53 Origen
wants to capture the attention of his audience. He begins, then, by assuring his restless
listeners of the spiritual value of investigating the stages in Numbers 33 and promising to
proceed in a summary fashion, although, as we will see, he certainly does more than
simply summarize the stages of spiritual progress.
(p.107) The Exodus, according to Origen, symbolically represents the journey of the soul
back to God: Therefore, the ascent from Egypt to the promised land is something by
which, as I have said, we are taught in mysterious descriptions the ascent of the soul to
heaven [adscensum animae ad caelum] and the mystery of the resurrection of the
dead.54 It has a twofold meaning, following the spiritual sense of the story.55 On the one
hand, it signifies moral progress, that is, our acquisition of knowledge of the divine Law
and our subsequent growth in holiness in this life. On the other hand, it signifies our
postmortem enlightenment. The stages of the soul pertain to this double Exodus:
Therefore, these stages, which Moses now writes down by the Word of the Lord, point
toward both.56 Origen's parsing of the dual meaning of the Exodus reveals the
multivalence of his allegorical exegesis. Each symbol can have multiple referents. Hence,
the Exodus signifies spiritual growth, but at two levels: in this life (moral growth) and in
the afterlife (enlightenment).
The stages of the journey of the Israelites out of Egypt symbolize the distinct stages of the
soul's spiritual pilgrimage. For Origen, spiritual restoration occurs progressively, not
instantaneously. As the soul fell gradually through neglect, so it ascends gradually through
obedience and careful attention to the divine teachings. At every step, the Son facilitates
the soul's acclivity, until it finally finds it way back home: Thus there are many stages that
lead to the Father, Origen writes, He will probably become in each of the different
stages the door for each soul, so that it may go in through Him and go out through Him
and find pasture, and again so that it may go into another and from there to another stage
until it attains to the Father Himself.57 While the Son enables the growth, the soul must
strive toward its union with the Father. In these preliminary reflections, Origen previews
the lofty heights awaiting the soul at the end of its journey. Having anticipated the end,
he now returns to the beginning.
Before their departure, the Israelites were oppressed in Egypt by Pharaoh and labored
intensely for his kingdom. In the midst of their slavery, they prayed to the Lord, who sent

Moses to deliver them. Likewise, Origen says, before our spiritual ascent, we were slaves of
the Devil: We, then, when we were also in Egypt, I mean in the errors of this world and in
the darkness of ignorance, did the works of the devil in lusts and desires of the flesh.58 Not
willing to abandon us in our servitude, God sent his Son to deliver us from our spiritual
bondage and enlighten our souls. Origen clearly delineates the allegorical correspondences
in the narrative: the Israelites symbolically represent the fallen souls; Egypt represents sin,
spiritual ignorance, and the world; Pharaoh represents the Devil; the labor of the Israelites
represents the sins of the flesh; the pillar of fire and(p.108) the cloud represent the Son of
God and the Holy Spirit; and Moses represents the Son of God as well. We will see these
allegorical correspondences unfold throughout his exegesis of the spiritual sense of the
stages of the Exodus. At the beginning of the journey, then, we were slaves to sin until we
turned to God for deliverance.
Now, after establishing the primary allegorical correspondences of the narrative, Origen
turns to the great mystery of the numerical correspondence between the stages of the
Exodus and the human descent of Christ.59He enumerates 42 stages between the departure
of the Israelites from Egypt and their arrival to the Promised Land. Not coincidentally,
there were 42 generations between the creation of the universe and the coming of Christ.
From this symbolic numerical connection, Origen posits an inverse correlation between
the ascent of the soul and the descent of Christ (Matthew 1:17): Therefore, in descending
into the Egypt of this world Christ passed those forty-two generations as stages; and those
who ascend from Egypt pass by the same number, forty-two stages.60 From the beginning
until the end, and at every stage in between, Christ is present to facilitate the progress of
the soul. Torjesen discusses the salvific import of the descent of the Logos: The purpose of
this ontological descent is pedagogical in Origen's Logos Christology. Every step of the
gradient between God and the soul has been occupied by the Logos, making visible the
contours of each step for the ascending soul.61 Christ serves as our conduit to God and
illuminates the steps of our ascent: And so, the person who ascends, ascends with Him
who descended from there to us, so that he may arrive at the place from which He
descended not by necessity but because he deemed it right.62 The incarnation of Christ by
means of his descent through 42 generations symbolically represents Christ's presence
with us through every stage of our ascent. Christ leads us to progressively higher
knowledge of the mysteries of God.
Our journey up mirrors Christ's journey down. Origen exhorts his listeners to embark on
the journey to God, beginning where Christ ended: If you have understood how great a
mystery that number of the descent and the ascent contains, then come and let us begin to
ascend through the stages by which Christ descended. 63 We begin, then, with the final
stage of Christ's descent: the Virgin birth. By abandoning paganism and believing in the
Virgin birth of the Word through the Holy Spirit, one takes the first step of the journey. We
progress further and further in faith and the virtues until we arrive at the end of the
journey: heavenly bliss. We end, then, where Christ began, so long as we persevere: If we
persist in them until we come to perfection, we shall be said to have made a stage at each of
the steps of the virtues until, when we attain the height of our (p.109)instruction, and the
summit of our progress, the promised inheritance is fulfilled.64 Christ, then, provides the
map and the means for us to climb the heavenly staircase.65
On the road back to God, we encounter all manner of trials and tribulations. Prior to the
end of our pilgrimage, it is difficult to understand the reasons for various moments of our
journey, particularly when they involve struggle. Alluding to 1 Corinthians 13:12, Origen
says that in this life we acquire only partial understanding of the meaning of life's struggle:
We understand these pilgrimages only dully and darkly so long as the pilgrimage still
lasts. But when the soul has returned to its rest, that is, to the fatherland in paradise, it will
be taught more truly and will understand more truly what the meaning of the pilgrimage
was.66 Even when the meaning of our present trials eludes us, Origen affirms its ultimate

intelligibility by appealing to our future realization of its meaning. In this way, his theodicy
preserves meaning amid the weal and woe of life. God, he assures, sets us on our long and
onerous pilgrimages for some kind of profit, that is, for our betterment.67 The divine
mystery of the alternation between toil and rest at each stage exceeds our ability to explain
and understand completely, Origen laments: I am uncertain whether the understanding of
the preacher would be sufficient for such weighty mysteries or the hearing of the listeners
capable of understanding.68 Yet, even though our feeble minds cannot fully apprehend the
mystery of the stages of our pilgrimage, Origen provides an interpretive framework for
understanding our suffering.
By contemplating the spiritual sense of the stages of the Exodus, Origen hopes to prompt
his listeners to attain higher levels of virtue and spiritual enlightenment. On earth, the soul
strives to attain the highest summit of virtues, while at the resurrection, the soul strives
to attain higher levels of enlightenment until it beholds God: It will always gain an
increase of enlightenment until it grows accustomed to the true Light Himself, who
lightens every man (John 1:9), and can endure looking upon Him and bear the splendor of
His marvelous majesty.69 These spiritual objectives correspond to the two journeys for
the soul (duae viae animae) that cohere with the mystery of his interpretation
(mysterium expositionis) that employs a double line of interpretation:
One is the means of training the soul in virtues through the Law of God when it is placed in
flesh; and by ascending through certain steps it makes progress, as we have said, from
virtue to virtue, and uses these progressions as stages. And the other journey is the one by
which the soul, in gradually ascending to the heavens after the resurrection, does not reach
the highest point unseasonably, (p.110) but is led through many stages. In them it is
enlightened stage by stage; it always receives an increase in splendor, illumined at each
stage by the light of Wisdom, until it arrives at the Father of lights Himself.70
Origen deduces his concept of the dual journey of the soul from the repetition of the placename at each stage of the Exodus. By growing in virtue in this life, we position ourselves
for a swifter ascent to the Father.71 We do not experience the beatific vision immediately
after death but must undergo further levels of purification and enlightenment.72
His homily on the dual journey of the soul functions pastorally as an exhortation for
spiritual responsibility and as a map to organize our experience. Our departure from the
life of sin (Egypt) requires knowledge and action: Moses represents the former, the hand of
Aaron the latter.73 Moses, Origen says, enumerates the stages of the Exodus for our
edification, not so that we would ignore them or dismiss them as irrelevant. They reveal
the length of the journey that leads to the kingdom, which should motivate us to begin to
live virtuously so that we may prepare ourselves for this way of life and, considering the
journey that lies ahead of us, may not allow the time of our life to be ruined by sloth
[segniter] and neglect [remise].74 Sloth and neglect, as we saw in chapter 3, precipitated
the fall. If we continue in them, they will hinder and prevent our spiritual development.
Origen, cognizant of the distraction of the cares of the world and the frivolities of life, urges
Christians to make haste on their journey to Godthere is no time to lose:
The danger is that while we linger in the vanities of the world and delight in each of the
sensations that come to our sight or hearing or even to our touch, smell, and taste, days
may slip by, time may pass on, and we shall not find any opportunity for completing the
journey that lies ahead. Then we give up halfway there, and there will happen to us what is
reported of those who could not complete the journey but whose limbs fell in the
wilderness. (Cf. Hebrews 3:17; 1 Corinthians 10:5)75
We see that Origen is not out of touch with the quotidian affairs and vanities of the world
that keep his listeners from attending to their spiritual life. His homily seeks not to bore
his listeners or to impress them with his exegetical ingenuity and prowess, but to shake
them out of their complacency and to awaken them to the gravity of life so that they do not

squander the chance to make progress: Thus, we are on a journey [iter]; and we have
come into this world that we may pass from virtue to virtue, not to remain on earth for
earthly things. 76 Origen uses the story of (p.111) the stages to impress upon his
listeners the need to concentrate on their spiritual life rather than ephemeral things. Only
by committing ourselves to the care of our souls will we complete the journey.
Those who desire to embark on the journey to spiritual maturity and perfection must
reflect on the hidden meaning of the departure from Egypt and the discrete stages of the
journey to the Promised Land.77 At this point in the homily, Origen has already
accomplished four preliminary tasks. First, he distinguishes between the spiritual needs of
his audience, some of whom require simple moral exhortation, while others require more
advanced teaching. Second, he affirms the salvific relevance of all scripture, including the
more obscure passages, which convey profound truth for those who see beyond the letter.
Third, he identifies Numbers 33 and the story of the Exodus as an allegory for the journey
of the soul to God and sketches the primary symbolic correspondences in the narrative.
Fourth, he admonishes his audience to take stock of their souls, transcend the trivialities of
life, and embark on a spiritual pilgrimage. These steps serve as a prelude to his exegesis of
the stages of the Exodus. While it does not serve our purposes to recapitulate all the details
of Origen's exegesis of the 42 stages, it will be helpful to analyze those stages that
illuminate and encapsulate his conception of the spiritual life, particularly the process by
which the soul overcomes evil.
Egypt represents the world and the soul's sinfulness. The spiritual exodus begins with the
soul's recognition of its slavery and its cry to God for deliverance. Repentance and
conversion, then, initiate the soul's journey toward God.78 The point of departure for the
Israelites was Ramesse, which was still within Egypt: Now the first starting place was
from Ramesse; and whether the soul starts out from this world and comes to the future age
or is converted from the errors of life to the way of virtue and knowledge, it starts out from
Ramesse.79 We will recall that each stage refers to the two journeys or double exodus
of the soul: the earthly progress in virtue and the postmortem progress in
enlightenment.80 Origen superimposes the same basic allegorical structure to both stages
of the soul's pilgrimage. His exegesis, however, emphasizes the earthly journey, since the
postmortem journey is shrouded in mystery. In both venues, then, the soul begins in a
state of spiritual disorientation. The name of the stage provides the clue to its spiritual
meaning. Origen combines his consummate philological skills with his allegorical
imagination to develop this meaning for each stage. Ramesse, then, means confused
agitation or agitation of the worm and signifies that everything in the world is set in
agitation and disorder, and also in corruption; for this is what the worm means.81 Within
the borders of Egypt, the soul finds itself surrounded (p.112) by wickedness and still
vulnerable to sin. It cannot, however, remain in them if it is to find its way to God, who
cannot coexist with evil. Rather than internalizing the sin of the world, the soul must
instead depart from its sinful inhabitation and journey toward purification.
From Ramesse, the soul travels through various stages, which represent progress in the
virtues: And virtue is not acquired without training and hard work, nor is it tested as
much in prosperity as in adversity.82 At Buthan (valley), the soul enters into battle with
the Devil, as Abraham fought in the Valley of Siddim (Genesis 14:8). By overcoming this
adversity, it progresses in virtue and ascends from the valley to the next stage, Iroth
(villages). Although it has been victorious in the valley, it has not yet attained perfection.
On the contrary, it has only begun the journey toward perfection. In Origen's spirituality,
progress occurs graduallystep-by-stepnot instantaneously: For progress consists in
coming to great things from small ones. For full and immoderate self-control is
dangerous at the beginning.83 By progressing slowly, the soul internalizes the virtues it
acquires, solidifying them through trials and prolonged practice. If the soul progresses too
quickly, it will be susceptible to relapses: sustainable spiritual transformation takes time. It

must be refined by fire, or adversity, and proven over time. As a quick cure may result in
recidivism, so a quick rise may result in a sudden fall.84 The soul must first learn to use its
wingsas it werebefore it can fly safely. It must proceed methodically from smaller
victories over sin to greater ones.85
Even though it has only begun the journey, the soul catches a glimpse of its future
perfection. Origen notes that Iroth, where the soul begins its progress, is situated opposite
Beelsephon [the ascent of the watchtower or citadel] and opposite Magdalum
[grandeur].86 Its geographical location suggests that while the soul has not reached the
watchtower or the grandeur that lies at the end of the journey, the end has now come into
view. Amid the toils of adversity, the soul finds courage and inspiration in the vision of
things to come: For it begins to watch and to look for the future hope and to contemplate
the height of the progresses; little by little it grows, while it is more nourished by hope than
worn out by toils.87 With the still distant summit of its perfection in sight, the soul, Origen
says, is fed and nourished by great hopes as it continues its pilgrimage.
Trials follow this fleeting glimpse of our journey's end. At the camp of the Bitter Waters,
after passing through the Red Sea, the soul undergoes temptation.88 We cannot expect that
our journey will be free from danger. On the road to the Promised Land, the soul is in
constant peril: relentlessly pursued by Pharaoh and the Egyptians (i.e., the Devil and
demons) and exposed to temptation.89 These bitter experiences, however,
refine(p.113) the soul and purge it of its spiritual dross. Origen employs the example of
the physician once again to illustrate the salutary effect of the bitter experience of
temptation:
For just as physicians put bitter substances in medicines with a view to the health and
healing of the infirm, so also the Physician of our souls [medicus animarum nostrarum]
with a view to our salvation has wished us to suffer the bitterness of this life in various
temptations, knowing that the end of this bitterness gains the sweetness of salvation for
our soul. 90
God, who relentlessly pursues the salvation of the soul even as the Devil pursues its
destruction, allows us to undergo these painful experiences for our spiritual amelioration.
As we saw in the last chapter, suffering functions remedially in God's providential design
for the universe. Even temptations serve to purify the soul from sin.
Following temptations, the soul is depleted and needs refreshment. It travels, then, from
the Bitter Waters to Helim, which has 12 springs of water and 72 palm trees.91 Helim
signifies spiritual respite after the trials of temptation: But God, who orders souls, has on
this journey put some places of refreshment into the midst of toils so that the soul may be
refreshed and restored by them and may more readily return to the toils that
remain.92 We must pass through the trials of temptation before we find spiritual
refreshment. Amid the trials, however, we can find comfort in the knowledge that on the
other side of suffering God rewards our endurance with sweet refreshment: You would
not have come to the palm trees unless you had endured the bitterness of
temptation.93 We must not linger in these pleasant places, but only rest long enough to
recover our strength: The end of the journey and the perfection of all things does not,
however, lie in these delights.94 These pleasant places are way stations, not our final
destination, and their delights are not for prolonged savoring and enjoyment but for
immediate use. The sweetness of these places would sour if we attempted to build houses
instead of tents. In Helim, then, we find brief respite and restoration to strengthen us for
the long road ahead.
Pressed for time95 and aware of the impatience and limitations of his audience, Origen
proceeds through the rest of the stages in summary and brief fashion, giving only the
basic interpretation of each stage through an allegorical analysis of their names.96 Halus
(toils) follows Raphaca (health) and signifies that God heals us from our iniquities only

to prepare us for future toils, which we should happily embrace. At Sinai, the soul, having
acquired discernment and right judgment at Raphidin (praise of (p.114) judgment),
becomes capable of receiving divine mysteries and heavenly visions.97 Even at this point
of advancement, the soul must still suppress lusts and quench desire at the Tombs of Lust.
In the successive stages, the soul grows in virtue and knowledge. Yet, even in the later
stages, it must continue to overcome temptations (Ressa, Galgad, Sin, Dibongad). God
allows temptations to keep the soul spiritually robust, thereby preventing its relapse into
sin: Why is it that however great the progress made by the soul nonetheless temptations
are not taken away from it? Here it becomes clear that temptations are brought to it as a
kind of protection and defense.98 Origen suggests that without the continual presence of
temptation, we could not grow in virtue and refine our souls.99Instead, we would succumb
to spiritual complacency and expose ourselves to sin.
We progress to higher and higher states of virtue as we pass through the stages. We must
continue to ascend, Origen insists, despite the pleasant pastures of refreshment and
spiritual refinement that we enjoy at times: Even if you have come to good things, you
must pass through them to better things until you come to that good thing in which you
should always remain.100 Until we have reached our omega pointunion with Godwe
must pass from stage to stage, keeping the ultimate goal of our journey in sight. The
impermanent goods that we encounter on our journey pale in comparison to our final good
and telos. In fact, they can hinder our progress if we abide with them too long.
In the penultimate and ultimate stage of the soul's journey back to God, we catch a glimpse
of Origen's profound eschatological vision, which we will analyze in detail in the last
chapter. When the soul finally arrives at Abarim [passage] opposite Nabau
[separation], the penultimate stage of the journey, it has attained the summit of
perfection. Like Enoch, it transcends the world, and God transports it to another place:
For when the soul has made its journey through all these virtues and has climbed to the
height of perfection, it then passes from the world and separates from it, as it is written
of Enoch, And he was not found, because God had taken him across (Genesis 5:24). This
passing and separation signifies spiritual, not physical, transcendence:
Someone like this, even if he seems to be still in the world and to dwell in flesh,
nonetheless will not be found. Where will he not be found? In no worldly deed, in no
fleshly thing, in no vain conversation is he found. For God has taken him across from these
pursuits and placed him in the realm of the virtues.101
In the last stage, east of Moab by the Jordan, the soul reaches its final destination: the river
of God. The Jordan signifies enlightenment and (p.115) purification. By these waters we
immerse ourselves in divine knowledge and receive final purification for our crossing
into the Promised Land.102 It is significant that Origen does not detail the soul's crossing
over into the Promised Land. The journey ends with the soul poised to enter on the banks
of the Jordan River. Why does he leave his audience in suspense? First, he does not
presume to know all the secrets of the afterlife, so he honors its mystery with silence.
Second, he intentionally withholds his controversial vision of the final harmony we find on
the other side of the Jordan for their edification, as I will discuss in chapter 6.
Origen knows that some of his audience will find his entire allegorical project dubious. His
allegorical exegesis of the Hebrew names will seem contrived and forced to those who
cannot see beyond the letter.103 While he defends his method at the end of his homily by
utilizing examples from education, where names signify the level of academic achievement
attained by the student, his defense seems perfunctory. I suggest that he aims this homily
more toward the advanced than the simple. He makes it clear that he has reserved some of
the hidden teachings of the passage because, as I will argue in the next chapter, they would
scandalize the simple and potentially induce moral laxity. He leaves the more elevated
reflections on Numbers 33 to those who are wise, so that they will not be idle and lazy
but will strive to realize the higher levels of enlightenment and moral virtue.104 For the

simple, he commends progressing in the virtues, which they can easily glean from his
homily. In this way, he edifies his entire audience, leaving the higher mysteries unspoken
and unexplored even while blazing a trail for the more advanced to contemplate the divine
mysteries embedded in the text.105
Divine Embrace: The Union of the Soul with God
What lies on the other side of the Jordan, that is, at the final stage of the soul's long
journey toward purification and deification? At the end of the pilgrim's road, the soul
regains the primordial union it once enjoyed. Evil has no place at the consummation when
the divine embrace enfolds all lost souls. We shall return to this crucial point in the final
chapter, but here we will examine how Origen employs the Song of Songs to illustrate the
stages of the soul's ascent and to show the centrality of love to the process of divinization.
Origen's most profound mystical theology occurs in his homilies and commentary on the
Song of Songs.106 According to Jerome, we see Origen at the height of his genius in his
allegorical exegesis of the Bride and Bridegroom: While Origen surpassed all writers
in (p.116) his other books, in his Song of Songs he surpassed himself.107His mystical
interpretation of the Song of Songs inspired generations of exegetes, including Gregory of
Nyssa:108 Origen's approach lies at the root of all later Christian interpretation of the
Song.109 We turn now to his exegesis of the Song, particularly his Prologue,110 for insight
into les tapes de la progression spirituelle revealed by the Solomonic trilogy, whereby
the soul flies heavenward on the wings of love.111
The mystical knowledge of the Song of Songs should not be disseminated to all, Origen
warns. It can have pernicious consequences for the spiritually immature. As in
his Homilies on Numbers, Origen distinguishes between the disparate stages of progress
among Christians. Not all advance in equal degree. Some are at the stage of infancy and
childhood in their interior life, while others have reached spiritual adulthood or
maturity.112 Those at different stages of spiritual development naturally require different
spiritual food: the weak need milk while the strong need meat, that is, simple teachings
versus mystical teachings.113 Hence, Origen cautions those in the early stages of their
ascent against reading the Song of Songs, since they cannot grasp the meaning of these
sayings: But if any man who lives by the flesh should approach it, to such a one the
reading of this Scripture will be the occasion of no small hazard and danger.114 Without
chaste ears (casti aures), the erotic language of the Song will inflame weak Christians
and induce lust because they do not comprehend that the language refers to the inner
spiritual man, not the outward and carnal.115 Only those who have mastered the flesh
can understand and benefit from the mystical knowledge of the Song of Songs.
As in his Homilies on Numbers, Origen finds symbolic correspondences in his allegorical
interpretation of the Song of Songs. The Bride represents both the perfected soul and the
church.116 The Bridegroom represents the Word of God or Christ.117 We will focus on the
Song's symbolic portrayal of the relationship between the soul and Christ.118 For Origen,
the Song represents the perfect Bride of the perfect Husband, that is, the soul who has
reached maturity: But this song is sung to her, now that she is grown up, and very strong,
and ready for a husband's power and the perfect mystery.119 These, then, are the central
characters. The central theme of the book is love, specifically erotic love, which Origen
allegorizes to signify the union of the soul with God.120Following Jewish exegesis of the
Song, Origen explicates the wholesome meaning (intellectus sanus)121 of conjugal love by
allegorizing it. But before Origen proceeds to unfold the mystical knowledge of this nuptial
tale, he outlines the stages of growth the soul must traverse first. The union of the
Bride (p.117) with the Bridegroom, or the soul with Christ, occurs at the end of a long
journey.
Love impels the soul forward in its journey to God.122 Origen distinguishes between carnal
love (carnalis amor) and spiritual love (spiritalis amor): the former pursues the desires
of the flesh, the latter the desires of the Spirit. Scripture employs the word caritas ()

instead of amor () for the sake of weaker (infirmiores) or simple (simpliciores or

) Christians who might confuse spiritual love with carnal love.123 Spiritual love,
purged of any trace of carnality, is the animating force that motivates the soul throughout
the stages of ascent, driving it toward the divine embrace: [T]he power of love is none
other than that which leads the soul from earth to the lofty heights of heaven the highest
beatitude can only be attained under the stimulus of love's desire.124 This knowledge,
however, can be easily misconceived. The Greek sages understood the spiritual meaning of
love, but carnal men perverted it for their own sexual gratification. Similarly, Christians
will be led astray unless they perceive the wholesome meaning of love in the Song of
Songs, which promotes chastity and holiness, not lasciviousness. Origen interprets the
sexual attraction between the Bride and Bridegroom in the Song of Songs as a metaphor
for the passionate desire of the soul and, by extension, the church for union with God:
The Scripture before us, therefore, speaks of this love with which the blessed soul is
kindled and inflamed towards the Word of God; it sings by the Spirit the song of the
marriage whereby the Church is joined and allied to Christ the heavenly Bridegroom,
desiring to be united to Him through the Word aflame with the single love of the Word of
God.125
Intense desire for divine union, desire born out of deep love for God and metaphorically
signified by sexual desire in the Song of Songs, stimulates the soul's ascent to God: And
the soul is moved by heavenly love and longing when, having clearly beheld the beauty and
fairness of the Word of God, it falls deeply in love with His loveliness and receives from the
Word Himself a certain dart and wound of love [vulnus amoris].126 Through love, we gain
access to God and strive for the union lost in ages past. Only like can know like, and since
God is love, we unite with God by internalizing divine love. Love, then, is the basis for our
insatiable longing for the fullness of the divine embrace: it is the condition for the
possibility of divine union.127
As in his Homilies on Numbers, Origen speaks of the stages of development whereby the
soul advances to maturity. He often speaks of the (p.118) growth from infancy to maturity,
using physical developmental stages to denote the soul's agea standard metaphorical
device in scripture: A little one in Christ [1 Cor. 3:1 ff.] is undoubtedly so called after the
age of his soul, not after that of his flesh.128 Following the language of scripture, he
employs this metaphor to describe the soul's spiritual maturity and readiness to receive the
divine mysteries. The soul progresses from spiritual infancy to maturity through the
successive stages of ascent. As the superlative name of the book suggests, the Song of
Songs comes at the end of a series of seven Old Testament songs sung of old by prophets
or by angels: they were sung by the Law and the prophets while the Bride was still a
little child and had not attained maturity.129 These seven songs symbolize the grades of
the soul's advance, that is, the progressive stages of enlightenment, culminating in the
Song of Songs.130 The truths conveyed by the Song of Songs are reserved for those who
have developed spiritual maturity. Origen worries that spiritual infants or youths, that is,
the spiritually immature and unprepared, will be inflamed by the erotic content of the Song
of Songs because they cannot perceive the spiritual meaning of love. Different parts of
scripture, as we saw in his Homilies on Numbers, edify different Christians, depending on
their level of spiritual maturity.131 He applies this spiritual pedagogy to the three books of
Solomon.
The Solomonic trilogy corresponds to three aspects of intellectual and spiritual
development.132 Origen penetrates into the meaning behind the arrangement of Proverbs,
Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Solomon.133Since Solomon embodies wisdom, his books
represent the three Greek branches of learning: ethics, physics, and enoptics (,
, /moralis, naturalis, inspective), which correspond to the threefold
structure of divine philosophy: moral, natural, and contemplative knowledge.134 The
Greeks, Origen surmises, must have drawn these categories from Solomon. Moral science

seeks the path to virtue; natural science investigates the empirical processes of the world;
and inspective science or enoptics, which Louth defines roughly as metaphysics, involves
the contemplation of the divine and heavenly, beholding them with the mind alone, for
they are beyond the range of bodily sight.135 Thus, Proverbs teaches moral science,
Ecclesiastes teaches natural science, and the Song of Songs teaches inspective or
contemplative science.136 As we progress morally, intellectually, and spiritually, we
advance from the lower to the higher stages of enlightenment.137 Only after mastering
ourselves morally (Proverbs) can we proceed to the higher knowledge of the fleeting nature
of the universe (Ecclesiastes) and recognize the need to pursue lasting and eternal things,
thereby reaching the summit: divine contemplation (p.119) (Song of Songs).138 We start as
beginners in Proverbs, then as advancing in Ecclesiastes, and, finally, as perfected lovers
in the Song of Songs.139Danilou describes these as the three stages of the spiritual life
the purgative, the illuminative and the unitive.140 La triple voie enseigne par les trois
ouvrages de Salomon, Harl rightly summarizes, are purification, dtachement du
sensible, dsir d'union l'intelligible. 141
The soul cannot skip any of these stages without spiritual shipwreck. One cannot grasp the
true nature of the universe without first attaining moral purity. Similarly, the soul cannot
enter into the mystical knowledge of divine love without first learning the inner
mechanisms of the world and its ultimate transience. At each stage, the soul must undergo
transformation. In the first stage, it transforms morally by becoming purified from sin. In
the second stage, it transforms intellectually by realizing the need to transcend the physical
in order to perceive the spiritual. In the final stage, it transforms spiritually by uniting with
the Logos.142 Thus, the sequence of the three stages ensures the complete transformation of
the soul. If the soul skips a step, it subjects itself to knowledge that it cannot properly
assimilate or internalize. The soul must acquire the moral integrity and intellectual
competence to advance to higher knowledge; otherwise, it will distort mystical truths to its
own detriment. The books of Solomon, then, provide a pedagogical framework for the
soul's advancement that must be followed in sequence to ensure its effectiveness.143 The
soul courts disaster by recklessly pursuing higher knowledge without sufficient intellectual
and spiritual preparation, he reiterates.
Origen does not want to give the impression, however, that the soul advances by its own
ingenuity without the aid of providence. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, he says, prefigure the
threefold structure of divine philosophy: Abraham exemplifies moral philosophy by his
obedience; Isaac exemplifies natural philosophy by searching out the roots of things;
and Jacob exemplifies inspective science by contemplating God and witnessing heavenly
beings ascending ladders to heaven. These three patriarchs built altars to God, which
signify their total reliance on God:
We find, moreover, that for this reason those three blessed men made altars to God, as it
was fitting that they shouldthat is to say, they hallowed the results of their philosophy, no
doubt that they might teach us that these fruits must be ascribed, not to our human skills,
but to the grace of God.144
For Origen, our divinization depends on divine assistance. While we bear the responsibility
for our spiritual state and must struggle to ascend the stages of divine philosophy, the
success of our journey rests with God. We(p.120) do not, therefore, accomplish our own
salvation through our own moral purity and noetic savvy: rather, God blesses our efforts by
effectuating our divinization. Freedom and providence work together seamlessly, thereby
upholding human responsibility and divine goodness. Without God, our striving toward
the divine would be futile, but through grace, our earnest efforts result in our
divinization.145 Like children, we must reach up to God, but our uplifted hands can never
grasp him. Put simply, we are too small and God is too big for us to reach him on our own.
God must pull us up into the divine embrace. God reaches down as we reach up, and while
the power comes from God, Origen insists that God asks us to reach.146

Our analysis has revealed seven central themes in Origen's theology of ascent. First, he
cautions against premature entry into the divine mysteries. Only enlightened Christians
see beyond the letter to the Spirit. Simple Christians run the risk of spiritual shipwreck by
entering into the mystical teachings of scripture prematurely. Second, he conceives of the
Christian life as a progressive journey toward perfection. Third, growth occurs in a series of
stages, beginning with purification, continuing with successive stages of enlightenment
and further purification, and ending with divinization. Fourth, Origen stresses not the
number of stages (which vary depending on the biblical passage at hand), but the need to
progress slowly and sequentially. Gradual transformation reinforces spiritual growth,
preventing relapse. Fifth, love, or desire for the divine embrace, impels the soul's journey
back to God. Sixth, while the soul must strive for perfection, the entire process depends on
divine providence, not the effort of the soul. Seventh, the journey ends with the soul's
divinization. He reflects these themes in his exegesis of the stages of the Exodus and in the
love between the Bride and Bridegroom in the Song of Songs. His theology of ascent
contributes to his theodicy by underscoring the spiritual dimension of the problem of evil.
More than simply an intellectual problem, it involves the soul in its lengthy quest to
overcome evil, not simply understand it theologically. Origen's theology of ascent, then,
takes us to the final stage of his theodicy: the end of evil and the restoration of all, which
we will discuss in the next chapter.
Bodily Resurrection and Beyond
In our analysis of Origen's allegorical exegesis of the Exodus, we noted that the stages of
ascent signify the soul's moral progress in this life and in the afterlife.147 After the
resurrection, then, the soul continues to attain(p.121) higher levels of enlightenment until
it comes to the end of its journey. We will explicate the precise meaning of the end in
Origen's theology in the final chapter, but here we must take up the question of whether
the climax of the soul's journey entails the transcendence of the body.148 Does Origen
affirm bodily resurrection?149 Does the end of evil mean the end of the body, and, if so,
does that entail the evil of materiality? Later hostile interpreters, such as Methodius,
Jerome, and Epiphanius, accused Origen of spiritualizing the resurrection body to the
point of extinction.150 I will argue that for simple believers and unbelievers, Origen
forwards a nuanced view of the bodily resurrection, while for the more advanced, he
intimates a deeper apprehension of the meaning of resurrection.
Unfortunately, we do not have all the necessary data to paint a complete picture of his
doctrine of the resurrection. If in the future we unearth his two lost books and two lost
dialogues on the resurrection, we will be able to enhance our understanding of his
eschatology, especially vis--vis the contentious problem of the resurrected body.151 The
loss of these works, perhaps more than any other, leaves a gaping lacuna in the Origen
corpus. Nevertheless, we can confidently reconstruct his basic position from his
discussions on the matter in De Principiis and Contra Celsum. In the preface to De
Principiis, Origen affirms the church's doctrine of bodily resurrection: Further, there will
be a time for the resurrection of the dead, when this body, which is now sown in
corruption, shall rise in incorruption, and that which is sown in dishonour shall rise in
glory. 152 He characteristically articulates his conception of the resurrection with
reference to 1 Corinthians 15. In Contra Celsum, he reiterates his adherence to the church's
teaching on the resurrection after quoting from this text: After it was sown in corruption,
He raises it in incorruption. We preserve both the doctrine of the Church of Christ and
the greatness of God's promise, establishing that it is a possibility not by mere assertion
but by argument.153 Origen assents to the church's basic formulation of the doctrine of the
resurrection, but, as we will see, he refines the concept with increasing subtlety.
Origen frames the problem of bodily resurrection in terms of the soul's ascent to God. He
asks whether it is possible for rational beings to endure altogether without bodies when
they have reached the height of holiness and blessedness, expressing doubt about the

plausibility of bodiless existence.154 At the end of the pilgrim's road, then, does the soul
exist with or without a body? Origen begins his answer by reiterating one of the
foundational theological axioms he established in the very first book of De Principiis:
divine incorporeality: God therefore must not be thought (p.122) to be any kind of body,
nor exist in a body, but to be a simple intellectual existence [Non ergo corpus aliquod
aut in corpore esse putandus est deus, sed intellectualis natura, simplex].155 Only God, he
says, exists without a body: [L]ife without a body is found in the Trinity
alone.156 Creatures, on the other hand, require materiality for differentiation.157 Moreover,
souls need bodies to progress in virtue and to graduate to higher levels of purification. The
body is the soul's vehicle, and the earth is its pathway to heaven: In this way, therefore,
there seems to be opened a road for the progress of the saints whereby after they have
made requisite progress, they inherit the kingdom of heaven.158
Origen outlines three perspectives on the manner of our existence at end of all things and
the supreme blessedness: (1) that we will exist without a body, (2) that we will assume an
ethereal body suitable for our heavenly condition, and (3) that we will supersede our
present material condition and enter into the true earth, where we progress until we
reach perfection. Origen allows a certain amount of imprecision here, especially between
options two and three, but adopts the position that the soul retains a body to facilitate its
postmortem quest for divinization. Origen expresses doubt about the plausibility of
bodiless existence at the resurrection,159 but I suggest that he secretly posits the eventual
obliteration of the body after the resurrection.160 In death, we continue to ascend through
various gradations of heavenly existence, which requires bodies. He therefore insists on the
doctrine of bodily resurrection. But once we complete our journey back to God, bodily
existence will no longer be necessary, as we will discuss in the final chapter. Origen
probably only speculated on the possibility of the postresurrection dissolution of the body
with a close circle of advanced pupils, who probably circulated the idea without his
authorization. But he does leave hints in his writings about the prospect of incorporeality,
and it follows as a logical corollary of his theology, soteriology, and eschatology.
Origen sets his sights against two misapprehensions of the resurrection. First, he refutes
the heretics, that is, his gnostic interlocutors, who deny bodily resurrection. To them, he
simply asks: What was it that died? Was it not a body? If so, there will be a resurrection
of the body.161 The very concept of resurrection presupposes bodily resurrection, he
argues. Lest the heretics seek to sidestep scripture, he adduces 1 Corinthians 15, the
definitive text on the resurrection, as proof of bodily resurrection. He takes it for granted
that this text validates the concept of a bodily resurrection without any further discussion.
Moreover, he argues that without bodies,(p.123) we would be unable to distinguish
between risen souls. What shape does a spiritual body possess? he asks.162 They cannot
answer because they deny any bodily characteristics, thereby precluding differentiation.
Ironically, Origen will have to address this very question in his explanation of the material
constitution of the resurrected body.
Second, he refutes the low and mean idea of the resurrection of the body espoused by
simple Christians and lampooned by pagans such as Celsus.163 Celsus misconception of
bodily resurrection derives from simple Christians who wrongly conceive of the
resurrection in flat-footed materialistic terms. In his diatribe against Christian eschatology,
Celsus expresses his repulsion at the idea of the reconstitution of human bodies from
decomposed material elements: This is simply the hope of worms. For what sort of human
soul would have any further desire for a body that has rotted?164 Origen, however, denies
teaching the resurrection of flesh and blood: Neither we nor the divine scriptures
maintain that those long dead will rise up from the earth and live in the same bodies
without undergoing any change for the better; and in saying this Celsus falsely accuses
us.165Rather, he looks in scripture for a meaning worthy of God, returning once again to
1 Corinthians 15 and the agricultural metaphor.166 Like planted grains of wheat that

transform into stocks of wheat, so our bodies will be transformed at the resurrection,
Origen affirms. Our bodies will be incorruptible and spiritual.167 They will no longer be
entangled in the passions of flesh and blood.168 Hence, our hope is not one of worms,
nor does our soul desire a body that has rotted, contrary to Celsus hostile caricature of
the Christian concept of resurrection.169 To avoid these materialistic errors, Origen must
further refine his conception of our resurrection body.
If not bodies of flesh and blood, then what kind of bodies will we inhabit? Origen posits
both the continuity and discontinuity between our earthly and heavenly bodies. What
differentiates the two bodies, and what unites them? With respect to the difference, our
resurrected bodies will be incorruptible, immortal, and spiritual, in contrast to our earthly
bodies, which are corruptible, mortal, and natural.170 With respect to the similarity, Origen
suggests that the body possess a seminal principle ( ) or life-principle
that adapts to the different environments of the soul, providing continuity between our
pre-existent, earthly, and heavenly existence.171 Thus, on earth, the soul acquired a body
appropriate to the degree of its decline. At the resurrection, the soul will need a better
garment for the purer, ethereal, and heavenly regions that will reflect the degree of its
moral progress and enable it to undergo (p.124) the process of purification from
sin.172 While the notion of a seminal principle echoes the Stoic concept of the logos
spermatikos, Origen formulates this principle with reference to the biblical metaphor of
the grain of wheat that contains within itself the germinating seeds for the stock of wheat.
Thus, he posits both the continuity and discontinuity between our earthly and heavenly
bodies.173 Nevertheless, unresolved questions remain, particularly the final destiny of the
body after its earthly and heavenly purification.
Later interpreters such at Methodius, Jerome, Epiphanius, and Justinian would
misunderstand and misrepresent Origen's doctrine of the resurrection, particularly the
problem of the corporeal form of the resurrected body.174 A later council leveled the
ludicrous charge that Origen taught that resurrected bodies are spherical.175 While it is not
our task to investigate the reception of Origen's doctrine of the resurrection, it is important
to note the persistence of the thorny problem of the risen body. Origen, I have argued,
seeks to uphold both the continuity and discontinuity between the earthly and risen body
through the concept of an embedded seminal principle that preserves the corporeal form
of the soul in various contexts. We find further explication of this idea in his Commentary
on Psalm 1, preserved in fragmentary form by Methodius. Like a river, our bodies are in a
constant state of flux. And yet we exhibit a continuous corporeal form that allows others to
recognize us throughout our lives. Likewise, our risen body contains the same form as our
earthly body, while adapting to the needs of its environment:
Just as the form is [the same] from infancy to old age, even if the characteristics seem to
undergo considerable change, so also the present form must be understood to be the same
in the future, when the transition to the higher [state] will be as great as possible. In fact, it
is necessary that the soul, when it is in corporeal places, use bodies appropriate to the
places. And just as we would certainly need to have gills and the other endowments of fish
if it were necessary that we live underwater in the sea, so those who are going to inherit
[the] kingdom of heaven and be in superior places must have spiritual bodies. The previous
form does not disappear, even if its transition to the more glorious [state] occurs, just as
the form of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah in the Transfiguration was not [a] different [one] than
what it had been.176
It is the same body that exists, but it exists differently in different environments. Through
the principle of the form of the body, Origen strives to emphasize the continuity between
the earthly and risen body, but he does not lose sight of the difference. The resurrected
body changes (p.125) its qualities (corruptibility, morality), while retaining its essential
substance.177 Thus, the resurrected body becomes the vehicle for the soul in its
postmortem journey.178 Edwards explains the philosophical underpinnings of the concept:

The vehicle or integument which the soul retains is the of the body, which is both
the substrate of corporeal functions and a superficial form. The best gloss on this concept
is the chariot of the Phaedrus, the astral body of Neoplatonism, which preserves the body's
shape, but in a rarer kind of matter.179 These distinctions and ambiguities (precisely how
does the form enucleate the essence of our substance and transpose it to the heavenly
realm?) perplexed later interpreters and generated much debate, but we must remember
that Origen's theology on these matters is speculative and tentative, not final. Although he
was accused of smuggling in Platonic metaphysics, his doctrine of the resurrection was
developed through his exegesis of biblical texts, particularly 1 Corinthians 15.
More than any other doctrine, the doctrine of the resurrection is deep and hard to
explain, according to Origen.180 Paul calls it a mystery (): This word, Origen
says, Is usually applied to the deeper and more mystical doctrines which are rightly
concealed from the multitude [
].181 His policy of concealing
mysteries finds its precedent in Paul: [T]he apostle wants to hide the secret truths on this
point which are not appropriate for the simple-minded and for the ears of the common
crowd who are led on to live better lives by their belief.182 What is the belief that prompts
the multitude to lead better lives? It is the belief in a fleshly resurrection, with the
concomitant possibility of physical punishment. Origen allows these misconceptions only
insofar as they promote virtuous living.183 Intellectually, however, they have no merit. The
truth about the resurrection body is much deeper. To gain a more sophisticated view of the
resurrection, we must
examine the divine scriptures very intently and diligently, with all reverence and fear of
God, to see whether there can perchance be found in them any secret and hidden meaning,
anything spoken in deep or veiled language (the Holy Spirit making the meaning clear to
those who are worthy) about matters such as these. 184
Origen will not reveal his true position on the bodily resurrection to the multitude or to a
heretic like Celsus. But he does leave hints for the wise in his preaching and writing.185
(p.126) Contrary to Mark Edwards, who argues that Origen envisages no end to
corporeality, I believe that the logic of his eschatology necessarily entails the end of
corporeality.186 As I will explicate further in the final chapter, at the apokatastasis God will
be all in all, and all souls will be forever united with the divine. At this point, the soul will
be purified from all sin and evil, and it will become like God, as the iron in the fire becomes
fire.187 So while only God is incorporeal, when the soul unites with God, it, too, will become
incorporeal. This is the secret and hidden meaning of the mystery of the resurrection that
he will not disclose to the multitude. Edwards considers the possibility of bodiless
existence after purification, but ultimately dismisses it:
But even if the soul requires a body for its ascension, might it not surrender it gladly when
its journey was complete? Might not a body of ever-increasingly subtlety at last become so
rare as to escape the definition of a body altogether? Two of Origen's teachings seem to
stand against this inference: first, he says that matter is required to differentiate God's
creatures from himself and one another [Princ 1.6.4]; secondly, if the soul regards the body
as its companion and beloved friend [Princ 2.10.2], it would be natural to conclude (with
certain Platonists) that it cannot fulfil its lot without embodiment.188
Edwards raises two salient objections, but they both fail to consider the ontological
significance of theapokatastasis. At the end of the soul's journey, when God becomes all in
all, the soul will be united with God, who has no commerce with corporeality. Then all
souls will exist in perfect unity as they did before the fall, without the need for corporeal
differentiation. Since the soul existed without a body at the beginning, it will exist without
a body at the end. In Origen's eschatology, the end mirrors the beginning, so we must
speculate on the end in view of the beginning.189 Bodies, then, are not constitutive to the
identity of the soul. This does not, however, resolve the question of incorporeal

differentiation. If we combine his doctrine of the resurrection and doctrine of creation, we

can conclude that since all souls will be absorbed into the divine life, they will be
characterized by unity, not differentiation.190 Nevertheless, just as they were distinct
beings before the fall, so they must be distinct beings in the restoration. I suggest that their
personal histories of fall and return will be imprinted on their souls and will provide the
basis for differentiation, since all now cling to the Logos with equal intensity.
(p.127) Conclusion
Theodicy, for Origen, extends beyond the intellectual dimension of the problem. While it
engages the conceptual niceties of the logical problem of evil, it cannot be reduced to
syllogistic arguments. It has a dynamic spiritual dimension. Henri de Lubac underscores
Origen's spiritual sensibilities: At this point we must rid ourselves of the still too popular
depiction of Origen as being almost completely intellectual, esoteric, and rationalist in
order to see in him the spiritual man, the apostle, and the man of the Church that he was
above all else.191 In his capacity as a pastor and teacher, Origen vigorously enjoins his
listeners to strive toward spiritual growth and maturity. His lifestyle, moreover, accorded
with his teaching: he exemplified the theology of ascent. Hence, his theodicy addresses the
problem of evil within the framework of the soul's fall and ascent. By embarking on the
road to perfection, our lives become a theodicy. As we overcome sin through the power of
divine providence, we participate in cosmic renewal and anticipate the eventual
annihilation of evil by God at the apokatastasis. I have argued that the narrative of the
soul's fall and return personalizes the abstract themes of his theodicy, highlighting their
spiritual implications. I have also shown that his theological reflections on evil cohere with
his spiritual programmatic. In the alignment between the intellectual and the spiritual, we
discover the explicit soteriological undercurrent of his theodicy.
In his homilies, Origen exhorts his audience to attend to the health of their souls. Only we
can begin to mend our self-inflicted spiritual wounds. And yet, in the same breath, he notes
God's providential care of the soul: God purifies the soul from sin. Freedom and
providence work together in the soul's journey back to God.192 As we strive to progress,
God works in us: God reaches down as we reach up. In this sense, it is cooperative, but the
cooperation does not imply equality of power.193 God accomplishes our salvation, but we
must properly orient ourselves to God. Just as the fall was gradual, so our restoration
occurs gradually. By progressing through the successive stages of ascent, the soul
undergoes complete transformation. Once the soul unites with the incorporeal God, bodies
will have no function. While Origen affirms bodily resurrection, he hints at the possibility
of incorporeality at the apokatastasis. I argue that the soul's ultimate incorporeality
follows as a logical corollary of his theology, soteriology, and eschatology. Bodies facilitate
our spiritual acclivity, but at the culmination of our journey, when God enfolds us
completely into the divine embrace, they will fade away.
(p.128) Origen's theology of ascent illustrates the seamless integration of the intellectual
and spiritual aspects of his cosmic theodicy. His navigation through the various facets of
the problem of evil mirrors the soul's decline and ascent. Within the framework of the
overriding narrative of the fall and restoration of the soul, suffering takes on a new
complexion. It functions remedially as the consequence of sin and as the means of its
purification. Now that we have outlined the antecedent causes of the fall, the reasons for
cosmic disparity and injustice, and the stages of our ascent to God, we can probe into the
final question of his theodicy: universalism. How does the story of the questing soul end?

Journey's End
The Triumph of Good and Universal Salvation
Mark S. M. Scott
DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199841141.003.0007
Abstract and Keywords
The sixth chapter examines Origen's universalism. It argues that the story of his theodicy
ends with the annihilation of evil when God will be all in all. It clarifies the ambiguity in
Origen's position on universal salvation. Origen accommodates his teachings on hell to the
intellectual and spiritual capacity of his audience. As a caretaker of souls, he warns against
the fires of hell to the simple and immature, while to the more advanced, he cautiously
speculates on the possibility of salvation beyond hell, even the salvation of the Devil. Just
as parents must sometimes deceive their children to promote their physical, intellectual,
and spiritual well-being, so God must sometime deceive us with the threat of eternal,
physical hellfire to promote our spiritual well-being. In his teaching, Origen employs the
principles of pedagogical accommodation and pastoral edification.

Keywords: universalism, divinization, eschatology, apokatastasis, purification, pedagogy,

mystery, Hell, Hevil, 1 Corinthians

Origen's theodicy culminates in the annihilation of evil.1 After the purification of souls,
God will become all in all, and evil will fade into oblivion.2 To conclude our study, we will
analyze Origen's portrayal of the end of evil and in the process discuss whether he ascribes
to the doctrine of universal salvation.3 Origen has conflicting statements on this
controversial soteriological question. On the one hand, in his Letter to Friends in
Alexandria, he categorically denies teaching the salvation of all, particularly the salvation
of the Devil. Moreover, in many places he rejects universalism, upholding traditional
conceptions of hell.4 On the other hand, numerous passages in De Principiis insinuate
universalism.5 More often than not, however, his statements are suggestive rather than
explicit, such as when he says that it would certainly not have been logical that beings
once created by God for the enjoyment of life should utterly perish.6 Frederick Norris
surveys some of the relevant passages for and against universalism in Origen and comes up
empty: This is a muddle, he opines.7 How do we reconcile these two seemingly
contradictory strands in the Origen corpus that create dual pictures of Origen as either
an arch-universalist or an exclusivist?8 Why such blatant confusion? Or, as we should
always suspect with him, is he operating at a deeper level?
In this chapter, I will examine the evidence for and against universalism in Origen and
clarify his ambiguity on the issue. I will make three central arguments. First, I will argue
that while Origen does not openly teach universalism, he cautiously posits its speculative
possibility in select company. He recommends theological discretion for
pedagogical (p.130) and pastoral reasons, recognizing that what might edify the
spiritually mature could scandalize and harm the simple multitude.9 Second, drawing on
the distinction outlined in chapter 2 between original creation and corrupted creation, I
will argue that Origen postulates the destruction of the Devil and sinners qua sinful beings,
but their salvation qua beings created by God. Their sinful identity will be destroyed by
fire, but their purified sinless identity will be saved. Third, I will argue that Origen appeals
to the concept of mystery in his speculations on universalism. Not all theological truths
have been clearly revealed: some remain shrouded in mystery, waiting to be discovered by
the spiritually adept. Origen approaches the divine mysteries with theological reserve,
knowing the dangers inherent in secret knowledge. Despite his ambiguity about
universalism, it follows as a logical corollary of his theology and cosmology. But before we
assess the evidence for and against Origen's universalism, let us set the stage by exploring
his striking vision of the end of evil at the apokatastasis.10

Divine Embrace: The End of Evil

When addressing eschatological issues, particularly the end of the world and the
consummation, Origen carefully qualifies his assertions.11 Given our epistemological
limitations and the inaccessibility of the divine mysteries, Origen recommends prudence:
Now we ourselves speak on these subjects with great fear and caution, discussing and
investigating rather than laying down fixed and certain conclusions.12 His theological
method, then, is speculative, not dogmatic.13 Instead of looking for theological surety, he
searches for theological possibilities. He aims at discussion rather than definition
because of the opaque nature of the subject.14 Only God knows our final destiny at the end
of the ages, when God encompasses all things. We can only grope in the dark. With
theological trepidation, then, he proceeds to delve into the mysteries of the end of evil.
Origen posits a multifaceted theory of cosmological symmetry where the end mirrors the
beginning: For the end is always like the beginning.15 Since evil did not exist at the
beginning, it will not exist at the end: [Evil] neither was from the beginning nor will it be
forever.16 Metaphysically, evil cannot exist after the soul's purification and unification
with God because it has no independent existence: Evil, then, is only a temporary byproduct of the freedom of rational creatures; eventually the good created by God must
triumph.17 His basic metaphysical theory of [the] non-substantiality of evil entails that
evil, as an intruder to God's original creation, cannot persist indefinitely.18 Rational
creatures, stripped of (p.131) every trace of evil, will be restored. Evil, as nothing (
or ) and not being ( ), that is, as the antithesis of being,19 is doomed for
destruction at the consummation of all things (consummatione omnium).20 Even now,
by facilitating the soul's purification, God works to overcome evil, seeking to make good
that which is wrong: I think that in an orderly way He is even making it [evil] disappear
entirely for the advantage of the universe.21The metaphysics of Origen's theodicy,
particularly his ontology of evil, necessarily entails the end of evil.
Evil ends with the divinization of the soul. As we mentioned in the last chapter, Origen
wrote two treatises on the resurrection that are no longer extant.22 Nevertheless, we can
reconstruct his stance on the end of evil from his extant works, particularly De Principiis,
which he wrote after his treatises on the resurrection.23 At the end of its pilgrimage, after
its resurrection and purification, the soul becomes divinized: The highest good, towards
which all rational nature is progressing, and which is also called the end of all things, is
defined by very many even among philosophers in the following way, namely, that the
highest good is to become as far as possible like God.24 Plato defines the telos of humanity
as likeness to God [ ] so far as possible inTheaetetus 176 B.25
According to Origen, this supposedly philosophical insight actually derives from the
divine books, which convey the same idea in the story of the creation of
humanity.26 Origen interprets the eschatological significance of the creation of humanity in
the image of God (Genesis 1:27), rather than his likeness (Genesis 1:26): Now the fact that
he said, He made him in the image of God, and was silent about the likeness points to
nothing else but this, that man received the honour of God's image in his first creation,
whereas the perfection of God's likeness was reserved for him at the
consummation.27 These two creations mark the beginning and end of the soul's journey
back to God. In the first creation, God creates beings with the unrealized capacity for
becoming God-like. In the second creation, God enables the soul to conform to the image
of God by imitating God (dei imitatione)following the example of Jesusthereby
becoming God-like in reality rather than in potential: This is why Christ is set forth as an
example to all believers so that perchance by this means we may as far as is possible
become, through our imitation of him, partakers of the divine nature.28 God inscribes his
image into our inner being as a gift, but then leaves it to us to attain divine likeness:

The purpose of this was that man should acquire it for himself by his own earnest efforts to
imitate God, so that while the possibility of attaining perfection was given to him in the
beginning through the honour of the image, he (p.132) should in the end through the
accomplishment of these works obtain for himself the perfect likeness.29
Once the likeness has been attained, evil loses its metaphysical footing and slips into
oblivion. Our realization of divine likeness or divinization constitutes the end of evil.
1 Corinthians 15:28 contains the biblical spark that ignites Origen's eschatological
imagination, particularly the declaration that God will be all in all ( ). In
his exegesis of this verse, he explores the possibilities of divine fullness in the cosmos.
From the future all in all of God, Origen envisions a state where God infuses every pore
of every being, where all beings contemplate God in perfect purity and harmony, and
where they participate in the divine nature itself.30 This total immersion in the divine life
comes about through the union of the purified souls with the Logos. We catch a glimpse of
this union in the prayer Jesus prays to the Father for the unity of believers: Father, I will
that, where I am, they also may be with me, and, as I and thou art one, so they may be one
in us [John 17:24, 21]. 31 This unity becomes actualized at the consummation, when
likeness becomes union, and purified souls become divinized: Here indeed the likeness
seems, if we may say so, to make an advance and from being something similar to become
one thing; for this reason undoubtedly, that in the consummation or end God is all in all
[deus esse omnia et in omnibus].32From his theological exegesis of this verse, then,
Origen speculates on the possibility of cosmic harmony when the diversity between souls
gives way to union: both with creation and with God. All paths converge toward one
omega point: divine union.33
In this state, all souls unite with the Logos, following the example of the soul of Jesus,
whose union with the Logos suffuses his entire being, creating an unalterable bond:
[What] formerly depended upon the will was by the influence of long custom changed into
nature, just as the metal iron in the fire becomes fire provided the fire is never removed
from it and itself is not separated from the fire.34 When souls unite with the Logos, they
will no longer cool or waver in their love: they will never fall again. At the consummation of
the cosmos, known as the apokatastasis,35 God will be all in all:
Now I myself think that when it is said that God is all in all, it means that he is also all
things in each individual person. And he will be all things in each person in such a way that
everything which the rational mind, when purified from all the dregs of its vices and utterly
cleared from every cloud of wickedness, can feel or understand or think will be all God and
the mind will no longer be (p.133)conscious of anything besides or other than God, but
will think God and hold God and God will be the mode and measure of its every
movement; and in this way God will be all to it.36
With this profound speculative exegesis, we reach the height of Origen's eschatology. When
God becomes all in all, there will be no metaphysical space or ontological place for evil to
exist because God and evil cannot coexist.37 After many ages, all that God has created
even the Devil and lost soulswill be reclaimed by God's persuasive power.38
But does the continuation of freedom threaten this harmony? Do we run the risk of
reintroducing evil into creation? Instead of an endless cycle of fall and return, I argue
contra Danilou's theory of permanent instability39that the soul learns from its
purgatorial experiences and does not fall again into sin after theapokatastasis.40 Through
its remedial suffering and reeducation, it learns to avoid evil and to fix its gaze
unwaveringly on the Good: [W]hen someone shall have ascended to the peak of
perfection, how much more impossible shall it be for the freedom of the will to separate us
from his love!41 Furthermore, I suggest that its union with the Logos, which follows the
pattern of the soul of Jesus, forges an unbreakable bond that precludes the possibility of
another fall and the reemergence of evil. Just as the soul of Jesus clung to the Logos

unchangeably and inseparably, progressing from a union of will to a union of

nature,42 so the other souls will follow his example by partaking of the divine nature:
This is why Christ is set forth as an example to all believers, because as he ever chose the
good, even before he knew the evil at all, and loved righteousness and hated iniquity,
wherefore God anointed him with the oil of gladness; so too, should each one of us, after a
fall or a transgression, cleanse himself from stains by the example set before him, and
taking a leader for the journey proceed along the steep path of virtue, so that perchance by
this means we may as far as is possible become, through our imitation of him, partakers of
the divine nature.43
Then, like the metal iron in the fire that eventually becomes fire,44 the soul completely
interpenetrates the being of the Logos, eliminating any possibility of sin and evil: For if
the soul shall have ascended to this state of perfection, so that it loves God with all its heart
and with all its mind and with all its strength, and loves its neighbor as itself, what room
will there be for sin?45 Divinization does not undermine freedom. On the contrary, it is the
ultimate expression of the soul's free will to unite itself with God eternally.
(p.134) Evil will end at the so-called restoration, when God will subdue all rebellion and
destroy the last enemy: death.46 As Lampe notes, a0pokata/stasij is a technical
theological term that means return, restoration, restitution, or reinstatement.47 For Origen,
it signifies the return or restoration of the fallen souls to God: In Origen's
corpus apokatastasis [Latin: restitutio] usually means the eternal return of creation to
God.48 It relates to the notion of the universal subjection of creation to God. According to
Origen, subjection entails restoration, not destruction: [S]o when his enemies are said to
be subjected to the Son of God we are to understand this to involve the salvation of those
subjected and the restoration of those that have been lost.49After a period of purification
and reeducation, God's enemies will at last surrender through the persuasive, not coercive,
power of providence: The end of the world and the consummation will come when every
soul shall be visited with the penalties due for its sins.50 Heine expounds on the centrality
of Origen's doctrine ofapokatastasis to his eschatology: It is the doctrine of
, or the restoration of all rational beings to their initial state of
contemplating God, that lies behind all of Origen's eschatological statements.51 It is, as
Danilou observes, the major chord on which this great theological symphony ends.52 It
will be the task of the chapter to unpack the final theological notes of this maestro of
Christianity.53
With the annihilation of evil, we arrive at the final stage of Origen's theodicy, since evil
does not have the last word in the cosmic narrative. We believe, Origen confesses, that
the goodness of God through Christ will restore his entire creation to one end, even his
enemies being conquered and subdued.54 But does the end of evil entail the destruction of
sinners and the Devil or their purification and restoration? All agree that evil will be
destroyed, but there are differing opinions on the fate of those deeply infected by evil.
Origen poses the question whether the final harmony will include those who have united
themselves to evil to such an extent that their nature has become utterly lost. Has their
union with evil permanently erased the image of God in them?
But whether among those orders that live under the chieftainship of the devil and conform
to his wickedness there are some who will one day in the ages to come succeed in turning
to goodness by reason of the power of free-will which is in them, or whether it be true that
long continued and deep-rooted wickedness turns at last from a habit into a kind of nature,
you, reader, must judge; whether, that is, this portion of creation shall be utterly and
entirely out of harmony even with that final unity and concord.55
We will take up this complex eschatological problem in Origen's theodicy.
(p.135) Hell and the Denial of Universal Salvation
Before we investigate the question of the universal scope of salvation, we must briefly
explicate Origen's soteriology. On this point, he follows the traditional apostolic teaching

of the atoning death of Christ.56 He outlines his basic soteriological tenets in his allegorical
exegesis of the scarlet cord in Joshua 2:1820. Rahab's scarlet cord, which saved her and
her family from the destruction of Jericho by the Israelites, signifies the Christ's sacrificial
death: For she knew there was no salvation for anyone except in the blood of
Christ.57Correspondingly, just as only those in her house were saved from destruction, so
only those in the household of God in which the blood of Christ is the sign of
redemption58 will be saved from the coming judgment of God: Outside this house, that is,
outside the Church, no one is saved [Extra ecclesiam, nemo salvatur]. If anyone goes
outside, he is responsible for his own death.59 Those outside the church, Origen clearly
states, will be destroyed. In the first place, then, Origen restricts the means and context of
salvation to Christ and his church, as he says to Celsus: [T]he blessed future life will be for
those alone who have accepted the religion of Jesus.60 Noah's ark, for Origen, allegorically
represents the church: This people, therefore, which is saved in the Church, is compared
to all those whether men or animals which are saved in the ark.61 The exclusivism he
expresses in these passages does not necessarily preclude universal salvation, since Origen
may (and, I will argue, does) posit the salvation of all souls through Christ, thus bringing
all beings within the house or ark of the church, leaving only their sinfulness outside.
But before we enter that stage of the argument, let us analyze the texts where Origen
denies teaching universal salvation.
In his preface to De Principiis, Origen classifies the doctrine of eternal fire as a basic and
fixed teaching of the church.62 In many places, he simply assumes the reality of hell and
the destruction of the Devil.63 But in hisLetter to Friends in Alexandria, Origen
categorically denies teaching the salvation of the Devil.64 Although this letter exists only in
fragmentary form, the substantial agreement between the fragments of Rufinus and
Jerome provide us with a full and accurate account of the letter, according to Henri
Crouzel: Thus Rufinus and Jerome have preserved in a Latin translation fragments of a
letter addressed to friends in Alexandria. The authenticity of their information is
guaranteed, wherever the two authors agree.65 Origen's letters were collected into
multiple volumes after his death, of which only a handful remain. Crouzel suggests that we
place Origen's Letter to Friends in Alexandria (p.136) alongside his other extant
correspondence: To be sure, we only have a few fragments of this letter, but they are long
enough for them to take, in what remains of Origen's correspondence, the third place after
the letters to Africanus and to Gregory, and before all other shorter pieces.66 From the
fragments embedded in the writings of Rufinus and Jerome, we can reliably reconstruct
Origen's official position on the salvation of the Devil.
In the letter, Origen repudiates the accusation that he teaches the salvation of the Devil in
an effort to rehabilitate his reputation in the Alexandrian church. This accusation arose,
according to the letter, from Origen's debate with the Valentinian Candidus over the
salvation of the Devil. Jerome summarizes the substance of the debate:
[Candidus] claims that the devil [diabolum] has an evil nature which can never be saved
[salvari nunquam posit]. To that Origen answers rightly that the devil is not destined to
perish because of his substance, but he fell by his own will and he can be saved [posse
salvari]. Because of that, Candidus calumniates Origen, making him say that the devil is of
a nature that must be saved, while actually Origen is refuting Candidus false objection.67
Origen consistently maintains in his writings the freedom of every rational being, including
the Devil, to choose its eternal destiny. Not surprisingly, then, Origen rejects the
deterministic view that God gave the Devil an evil nature, as he does in his Commentary
on John: God did not create the Devil insofar as he is the devil, but God created the
sinless being who became the Devil.68 Origen's polemic against deterministic doctrines of
natures fits into a wider early church polemic: The fathers of the second and third
centuries, says Crouzel, frequently combated this doctrine, whereby men are saved or
damned because of their nature, not as a result of the choice of their free-will.69 We see in

this account of the debate familiar Origenian themes of the fall of the Devil by his free will
and the denial of determinismcentral pillars of Origen's theodicy.
By Origen's leaving open the theoretical possibility of the salvation of the Devil, Candidus
and those who accepted his report falsely assume that Origen affirms what he refuses to
deny. This misunderstanding was reinforced, most likely, by Origen's refusal, following the
angel Michael, to curse the Devil.70 But in this letter, Origen adamantly denies universal
salvation, at least in a flat-footed sense of the salvation of all, regardless of their spiritual
state. First, he says that all sinners will be excluded from salvation:
(p.137) As for us, we think that among those to be excluded from the kingdom of heaven
are not only ones who committed the large sins, like the fornicators, adulterers,
homosexuals, thieves, but also ones who committed the lesser sins, since it is written:
Neither drunkards nor slanderers will possess the kingdom of God (1 Corinthians 6:10).71
Origen affirms the reality of hell and, to drive home the point with polemical flare, warns
his opponents that slanderers will find themselves in danger of hell. Second, Origen
specifically denies teaching the salvation of the Devil. Crouzel juxtaposes Rufinus and
Jerome's reproduction of this key passage from Origen's letter, which are identical in
substance. We will reproduce Rufinus version because while it is a little more redundant,
it is also more lucid:
Some of those who take pleasure in accusing their neighbors ascribe to us and to our
doctrine a charge of blasphemy, which they never heard from us. Let them pay heed, who
do not wish to pay attention to the precept: slanderers will not possess the kingdom of
God. According to them, I say that the father of malice and perdition, and of those who
are excluded from the kingdom of God, that is, the devil, will be saved. Not even a
deranged and manifestly insane person can say this.72
Origen, then, characterizes the doctrine of the salvation of the Devil as a blasphemy that
no rational or orthodox person could endorse. We will see later, however, that the situation
is more complex than it appears in this letter. Origen certainly does not openly teach the
salvation of the Devil, but he does cautiously suggest its theoretical possibility to more
enlightened Christians. Moreover, while sinners and the Devil cannot be saved in their
sinful condition, once they have been purified from sin, they may enter into divine bliss. In
the context of this letter, however, Origen distances himself from these heretical teachings
without entertaining speculative possibilities that could create further misunderstandings
and recriminations. Audience and context determine which teachings he explores and
which teachings he suppresses, as we will see.73
Often in his homilies, Origen takes the reality of hell for granted and describes it in
thoroughly traditional terms, as Brian Daley correctly observes.74 In Homilies on
Leviticus, for instance, Origen distinguishes between eternal punishment and temporal
punishment, suggesting that those punished for sin in this life will forgo punishment in
the next.75 He takes the eternal fires76 of hell for granted on the basis of explicit biblical
testimony and examples, such as the story of Lazarus and the rich (p.138) man (Luke
16:2025).77God balances the cosmological ledger of suffering by expanding, both forward
and backward, the life span of the soul. As we have seen, our place in the cosmos reflects
our pre-existence choices. Our place in the afterlife, correspondingly, will reflect our
choices in this life. Thus, the sinful will undergo remedial punishment while the innocent
(so far as they may be called innocent) will be rewarded while they make the final stages of
their journey toward divine likeness. Origen's construal of temporal punishment reveals
the basic contours of his eschatological resolution to the problem of evil and reveals the
possibility of a more nuanced and hopeful conception of hell and the afterlife.
Earlier in his Homilies on Leviticus, Origen urges his audience to confess their sins now to
avoid impeachment later: If, therefore, in this life we anticipate him and are ourselves our
own accusers, we escape the wickedness of the devil, our enemy and accuser.78 An
unconfessed sinner, Origen warns, will join the Devil in hell as his companion: [F]or he

will have as companions in Hell these whom he will have convicted of complicity.79While
Origen presumes the reality of the Devil and eternal hellfire in these passages, we must
remember his audience and context: his homilies seek to admonish and edify
laypeople.80 His view of hell is considerably more complex than his homilies suggest. But
for the purposes of pastoral exhortation, he simply echoes the biblical witness on hell and
the Devil and appeals to the eschaton for the final resolution of the evil and injustices of
this life. Not surprisingly, he does not often pursue speculative questions on the end of hell
and punishment in these pastoral contexts.
God must punish sinners to safeguard divine justice and goodness, Origen argues in
his Homilies on Jeremiah. While the heretics argue that the demiurge, the God of the
Prophets [i.e., the Old Testament God] punishes and therefore cannot be good, Origen
argues that divine punishment reflects divine justice and goodness.81 Just as a judge does
not arbitrarily show pity to the offender, which would only encourage moral laxity and
recidivism, so God does not spare the sinner, because that would encourage sin: So if
God spares the sinner and shows mercy to him and pities him such that he [does] not
punish him, who would not be inflamed? Who among the evil, when their own sins are
stopped through fears of punishment, will not be inflamed, will not be worse?82 As civil
punishment deters crime, divine punishment deters sin. To stay the hand of divine
punishment would not show forth God's mercy but would endanger many souls. The whole
church would be inflamed if a sinner went unpunished: One can also see such things
occurring in the churches. Someone sinned and after sinning prayed for return to
communion. If he is shown mercy hurriedly, the common good will be inflamed, and the
sin (p.139) of others increases.83 We see the underlying pastoral concerns of Origen's
doctrine of hell. The threat of hellfire serves as a useful deterrent against sin.
But eternal punishment might just be a divine deceptiona scare tactic for the spiritually
immatureto prevent impiety.84 Hence, it remains an open question if after the
punishment in hell the sinner (and the Devil) will be saved.
In Homilies on Joshua, Origen speaks of the future resurrection when the Devil will be
destroyed: For then, too, the people will again be divided into two parts; then, too, there
will also be certain ones in front and others behind, who when they unite into one for
Jesus, then, at that time, the Devil will certainly be no more because death will be no
more. 85 Following 1 Corinthians 15, his guiding eschatological text, Origen posits the
annihilation of the Devil: But concerning the Devil, the Apostle says, Death, the last
enemy, is destroyed because death is truly conquered when this mortal is swallowed up by
life. 86 Commenting on the burning of Ai in Joshua 8:28, Origen allegorizes the story,
suggesting that the burning refers to the destruction of demons and sinners:
For it is not so much that a piece of land is forever uninhabitable, but that the place of
demons will be uninhabitable when no one will sin and sin will not rule in any one. Then
the Devil and his angels will be consigned to the eternal fire with our Lord Jesus Christ
sitting as ruler and judge and saying to those who overcame before and afterwards, Come,
blessed of my Father, take possession of the kingdom that was created for you by my
Father. But to the others he will say, Go into the eternal fire that God prepared for the
Devil and his angels, until he takes care of every soul with the remedies he himself knows
and all Israel may be saved.87
Moreover, Origen rejects the possibility of the salvation of the Devil in his Commentary on
Romans: [B]ut for that one who is said to have fallen from heaven, there will not be any
conversion at the end of the age.88 I contend that the Devil qua Devil must be destroyed in
Origen's theodicy because of his incorrigible evil, but that the rational creature who
became the Devil will be purged and restored at the apokatastasis.
In Homilies on Exodus, Origen puzzles over the spiritual interpretation of the scarlet
doubled in Exodus 35:6.89 Scarlet, he explains, represents fire. He then distinguishes
between two types of fire: fire that burns and fire that enlightens.90 This applies to both

physical fire and spiritual fire. With regard to spiritual fire, Origen illustrates enlightening
fire by Jesus declaration I came to cast fire on the earth (Luke 12:49) and burning fire by
his future condemnation of sinners: Go into everlasting fire which my Father (p.140) has
prepared for the devil and his angels (Matthew 25:41).91 Enlightening fire, however,
sometimes burns, as when the disciples reflected on Jesus postresurrection appearance to
them: Was not our heart burning within us when he opened to us the Scriptures (Luke
24:32).92 Origen then raises the possibility that burning fire might enlighten, that is, that
the fire of hell could possibly enlighten the soul and function salvifically: I do not know,
however, whether that fire in the world to come which burns also has the power to
enlighten.93 In the pastoral context of his homilies, he refrains from delving too deeply
into these speculative discussions.
He also raises the possibility about the end of punishment in his Commentary on John.
Origen distinguishes between the physical binding of Lazarus and the spiritual binding of
sinners: the former results from death while the latter results from divine judgment.94 In
his tangential discussion of the man without a wedding garment who was cast away
(Matthew 22:13)which he links to his main exegesis of the raising of Lazarus through the
common reference to bindingOrigen asks about the duration of his punishment: But
you will ask of the one [not] wearing a wedding garment, of whom it is said, Bind him feet
and hand, and cast him into outer darkness, whether he will continue always to be bound
and in outer darkness or whether he will be released sometime.95 This question arises
because the text does not specify whether he is bound for the age, or for the ages, that
is, whether his punishment lasts only for a circumscribed duration or forever.96 The text in
question, Origen notes, indicates nothing about his future release.97 Since scripture does
not provide any further information, Origen avoids needless conjecture on the possibility
of the end of judgment: But it does not seem safe to me to express an opinion about him
when one has grasped nothing at all about him, especially insofar as nothing has been
written of him.98 In these pastoral contexts, Origen avoids reaching beyond the teaching
of scripture and the church. At other times and in other contexts, however, Origen feels
free to range into theologically uncharted territory and probe the limitless expanse of
divine love and power.
From our analysis of these texts, we can make the following three conclusions. First,
Origen categorically denies teaching universalism in his Letter to Friends in Alexandria.
Second, in his writings, especially his homilies, he follows scripture and tradition and
affirms the reality of hell and the damnation of the Devil. He does this to dissuade his
audience from sinning and to exhort them to pursue holiness, thereby avoiding
punishment. Third, Origen leaves open the possibility of an end to punishment, but he
often refuses to speculate on this possibility in the context of his homilies. He reserves this
discussion for a more enlightened audience.(p.141) Thus, while he affirms the traditional
church teaching on hell and the destruction of the Devil, he makes subtle hints about a
future beyond hell and punishment, which we will now explore.99
Beyond Hell: The Affirmation of Universal Salvation
If Origen expressly denies teaching universalism, why should we pursue the question any
further? Are we misunderstanding his conception of the apokatastasis or reading too
much into his veiled references to the end of punishment? Henri Crouzel rightly notes the
lack of explicit textual evidence in Origen for universalism, epitomized in the salvation of
the Devil, who represents the most incurable of sinners: Indeed, there is not a single text
of Origen extant today that maintains expressly the salvation of the devil.100 Nevertheless,
in several significant passages, Origen insinuates or implicitly affirms the salvation of all,
at least as a theoretical possibility. These suggestive passages should alert us to the
presence of secret mysteries or teachings that Origen reserves for the more enlightened
Christians. While he may not publicly teach universalism, I argue that it follows as a logical
corollary of his doctrine of creation and eschatology.

As Tom Greggs observes, the universalist strain of thought in Origen derives primarily
through De Princ., but we can also detect this strain in his homilies.101 Greggs rightly
highlights the disparate aims of differing genres in relation to universalism: It is not
surprising, therefore, that the sermons of Origen are largely less positive than De Princ. on
the question of universalism.102 We should not, however, overplay the importance of
genre in Origen's theology. It is difficult to reconstruct Origen's audience, and his
statements on universal salvation cannot be neatly schematized by genre. Nevertheless, we
should (and will) attend to the pedagogical and pastoral function of his doctrine of hell,
which includes considerations of genre and audience. But before we discuss his
pedagogical concerns, we must examine the textual evidence for universalism in Origen.
Not surprisingly, the most salient passages come from De Principiis.
While certain theological truths have been revealed and fixed by the apostolic teaching of
the church,103others remain open. As we mentioned earlier, Origen classifies the doctrine
of hell as an official church teaching.104 At the same time, however, he leaves open the
possibility of the end of hell, since the church has no formal position on that point: But
what existed before this world, or what will exist after it, has not yet been made known
openly to the many, for no clear statement on the (p.142) point is set forth in the Church
teaching.105 In the absence of formal declarations, Origen feels free to speculate on the
possibilities inherent in Christian theological principles. On the one hand, then, he situates
himself within the church and submits to established church doctrine. On the other hand,
he engages in speculations that go beyond the official church teaching, so long as it does
not contradict it in principle. As I will argue, Origen affirms the church's doctrine of hell,
but he conceives of it as a purifying stage in the soul's ascent to God that does not continue
indefinitely. Moreover, he does not see his interpretation as antithetical to established
church teaching. He sees it as a deepening and extension of its teaching.
Origen often hints at the logical possibility of universal salvation rather than explicitly
teaching it, such as when he says that it would certainly not have been logical that beings
once created by God for the enjoyment of life should utterly perish.106 Similarly, Origen
argues that since all creatures share in the incorruptible intellectual light of the Father,
Son, and Holy Spirit, they must also share in this incorruptibility.107Otherwise, God's
goodness would end with the destruction of his creation, thus limiting its duration and
perfection: [I]t follows logically and of necessity that every existence which has a share in
that eternal nature must itself also remain for ever incorruptible and eternal, in order that
the eternity of the divine goodness may be revealed in this additional fact, that they who
obtain its blessings are eternal too.108 Universalism, then, is the logical corollary of divine
goodness, which expresses itself in the creation of souls and the ultimate salvation of souls,
even after they have fallen into sin. Divine goodness functions as the theological
underpinning of both the soul's pre-existence (since there must have been something over
which God demonstrates his goodness) and salvation.
Passages outside of De Principiis echo these sentiments. In Contra Celsum, Origen
emphasizes the cosmic scope of salvation. On the surface, Celsus suggests, it seems that
God does not intervene to save humanity from itself. Why does God allow evil to go
unchecked? Rising to the defense of providence, Origen argues that God does not leave
humanity to perish by its own devices. God knows the plight of humanity, he insists, and
he sends ministers to correct people and to curb evil.109 God sent Moses and the prophets
to instruct humanity, but God's greatest emissary was Jesus: But greater than all these
was the reformation brought about by Jesus, who did not want to cure only those in one
corner of the world, but as far as possible to heal people everywhere. For he came as savior
of all men [1 Tim. 4:10].110 Salvation, Origen argues, cannot be restricted geographically
or temporally. Moreover, in his Commentary on John, Origen marvels (p.143) at the
magnitude of the sacrifice of Jesus, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin, not of a
few, but of the whole world [cf. John 1:29].111

While these texts hint at universalism, they do not provide conclusive evidence. They
establish the universal reach and efficacy of the sacrifice and moral reformation of Jesus,
but they do not guarantee that everyone will embrace them. People are free to reject God's
offer of salvation, and many, such as Celsus, do reject his sacrifice and teachings. We must,
therefore, turn to other texts to flesh out the picture of Jesus as the cosmic savior who
saves all rational beings through the unfailing work of divine love.
In a fragment included in the text of De Principiis by Koetschau, Origen purportedly
affirms universal salvation: There is a resurrection of the dead, and there is punishment,
but not everlasting. For when the body is punished the soul is gradually purified, and so is
restored to its ancient rank.112 We should use extreme caution when employing secondary
accounts of Origen's words, especially when they are recorded by his enemies. But in the
case of this fragment, the sentiments clearly reflect Origen's theology, particularly the
notions of remedial punishment and restoration to the primal harmony. Moreover, since it
comes from Leontius of Byzantium (d. c. 543), an Origen sympathizer, we need not suspect
any tampering of the text.113 So while the fragment may not be a verbatim rendering of
Origen's words, it in all likelihood accurately captures the thrust of his eschatology.
With the fragment immediately following this allusion to the apokatastasis, we need to
exercise more caution. In it, Origen posits the salvation of the wicked and fallen angels:
For all wicked men, and for daemons, too, punishment has an end, and both wicked men
and daemons shall be restored to their former rank.114 Unlike the previous text, this
fragment comes from Justinian (482565), an enemy of Origen.115 We have more reason to
doubt, therefore, the authenticity of this fragment, at least as a direct quotation from De
Principiis. I doubt Origen would express his belief in the speculative possibility of the
salvation of the wicked so incautiously and openly. It would be utterly inconsistent with his
standard pastoral circumspection. More often than not, as we have seen, he implies the
possibility of universal salvation. Nevertheless, the language of being restored to ancient
rank rings true to Origen's theology. The sentiment expressed in the fragment strikes me
as authentically Origenian, but it probably was a theological extrapolation rather than a
direct quotation of his teaching. As we will see, Origen reserves these higher truths of the
faith for only the most spiritually advanced, so it seems highly doubtful that he would
freely express it without qualification in De Principiis.
(p.144) A more explicit affirmation of universal salvation comes from Book Three of De
Principiis. In his exegesis of 1 Corinthians 15, the biblical cornerstone of his eschatological
edifice, Origen interprets the meaning of the subjection of the universe to the Father (1
Corinthians 15:28) positively to mean the salvation of all God's enemies:116
If therefore that subjection by which the Son is said to be subjected to the Father is taken
to be good and salutary, it is a sure and logical consequence that the subjection of his
enemies, which is said to happen to the Son of God, should also be understood to be
salutary and useful; so that, just as when the Son is said to be subjected to the Father the
perfect restoration of the entire creation is announced, so when his enemies are said to be
subjected to the Son of God we are to understand this to involve the salvation of those
subjected and the restoration of those that have been lost.117
God does not subject his enemies by force, but through remedial discipline and education.
Origen envisions God as a physician and educator, not a conqueror and destroyer.118 The
subjection in this verse, then, entails salvation, not annihilation. And as a good educator,
God never compels subjection, but persuades and exhorts lost souls to return: [T]he
whole world will not become subject to God by the pressure of some necessity that compels
it into subjection, nor by the use of force, but by word, by reason, by teaching, by the
exhortation to better things, by the best methods of education, only resorting to threats
for those who contemptuously neglect to care for their own salvation and advantage and
their spiritual health.119 God uses the fear of blows only for the spiritually immature who

do not respond to sound reason, but once they have arrived at higher knowledge of the
good, these threats will no longer be necessary.120
As we saw in the last chapter, salvation, according to Origen, occurs over an extended
period of time; it is, in Mark Edwards's apt phrase, a journey to perfection.121 I would add
that it is a cosmic journey to perfection that takes many ages. In On Prayer, Origen
speculates that in the ages to come, even the most hardened sinner will be saved. He
confesses that the relation between the ages to come and the end of the ages has often
perplexed him.122 In an effort to disambiguate this problem, he compares the two central
verses on the matter: Hebrews 9:26 and Ephesians 2:7. The former speaks of Christ
appearing once and for all at the end of the ages to put away sin, while the latter speaks
of the coming ages when Christ will show the immeasurable riches of his grace in
kindness towards us. The question, then, is whether there are to be ages succeeding this
one [that is, the end of ages] when God could continue (p.145) to show grace in
purifying the soul. His response reveals the expansive scope of his eschatology.123
He compares the unfolding of ages to the cycle of years. When a sequence of ages comes to
an end, like a sequence of months, it signifies an end of the ages, just as the last month
signifies the end of the year. But just as the last month of the year ushers in a new year or
new sequence of months, so the end of the ages ushers in the coming ages, when God's
grace continues to operate on the soul, purging it of sin:
If I may hazard a guess at so great a puzzle, I think that just as the end of the year is the last
month after which the beginning of another month takes place, so perhaps when many
ages have been accomplished as, so to speak, a year of ages, the end is the present age,
after which certain ages to come will take place, whose beginning is the age to come.124
After our present age, which extends from our pre-existence to our resurrection, the soul's
journey back to God continues in a new age. Unwilling to speculate on the divine methods
for purification in the ages to come, Origen nevertheless avers that even the most
recalcitrant soul will be brought into order, that is to say, will be restored:
And in those ages to come God will show the riches of His grace in kindness, since the
worst sinner, who has blasphemed the Holy Spirit and been ruled by sin from beginning to
end in the whole of this present age, will afterwards in the age to come be brought into
order, I know not how.125
If God can restore the worst sinner who commits the unforgivable sin of blaspheming
against the Holy Spirit (Matthew 12:31), then no one lies beyond the reach of the divine
embrace, which extends beyond the present age and the end of ages into the coming
ages: Origen's sense of the graciousness of God, Greggs comments, always allows for a
further opportunity of salvation for all people in future aeons.126 We must not think,
however, Origen says, that it will happen all of a sudden, but gradually and by degrees,
during the lapse of infinite and immeasurable ages, seeing that improvement and
correction will be realized slowly and separately in each individual person.127 Spiritual
transformation cannot be rushed: it happens slowly as the soul progresses.
Does universal restoration imply the salvation of the Devil?128 Again, we find conflicting
statements in Origen. On the one hand, he seems to expressly deny the salvation of the
Devil: For indeed there will be a conversion for them [Israel] at the end of the age but
for that one who is said (p.146) to have fallen from heaven, there will not be any
conversion at the end of the age.129 Henry Chadwick, among others, has attributed this
sentence to Rufinus, who surreptitiously inserted it into the text to bring Origen's theology
into conformity with current orthodoxy.130 Those of this opinion assume that Origen
taught the salvation of the Devil. Others, such as F. W. Norris, suggest that this accurately
reflects Origen's thought, since he rejected the salvation of the devil as unbiblical and even
insane.131 But in his Commentary on John, Origen argues that the all things that have
been given to the Son include his enemies.132 These two passagesJohn 13:3 and 1
Corinthians 15form an eschatological unit, according to Ronald Heine, that entails the

restoration of the Devil.133 Thus, since the all things given to Jesus include the Devil, and
since all things will be subjected to God the Father, it follows that the Devil will be
subjected: But if all things have been subjected, Origen says, then he too, of whom it is
written, He exalted himself before the Lord almighty [Jb. 15:25] will belong to those
things subjected to him, having been conquered, so that he yields to the Word, is subjected
to the image of God, and becomes Christ's footstool.134 Subjection, for Origen, entails
salvation, even for the Devil, after a long process of purification.
Perhaps the clearest allusion to the salvation of the Devil occurs in Origen's discussion of
the destruction of the last enemy (1 Corinthians 15:26)deathin De Principiis:
For the destruction of the last enemy must be understood in this way, not that its
substance which was made by God shall perish, but that the hostile purpose and will which
proceeded not from God but from itself will come to an end. It will be destroyed, therefore,
not in the sense of ceasing to exist, but of being no longer an enemy and no longer death
[Destruitur ergo, non ut non sit, sed ut inimicus et mors non sit].135
In this passage, death signifies the Devil. Destruction, like subjection, has a positive
soteriological connotation. God destroys the hostile purpose and will (propositum et
voluntas inimical) of the Devil, but not his substance (substantia), which will be
salvaged after its purification. Like a physician who must destroy part of the body to
salvage the life of the patient, God destroys the source of the Devil's depravity: his
sinfulness. Once this has been removed, the Devil will be transformed from the archenemy
to the subject of God. In Origen's theodicy, then, even the Devil, the paragon of evil, can be
restored: For to the Almighty nothing is impossible, nor is anything beyond the reach of
cure by its Maker; for (p.147) it was on this account that he made all things, that they
might exist, and those things which were made in order to exist cannot cease to
exist.136 God's power to heal far exceeds the Devil's power to destroy.
From these passages, we can formulate a partial solution to the seemingly contradictory
statements on the salvation of the Devil. We must distinguish between the Devil qua the
sinful being he has become and the Devil qua the sinless being created by God. Ronald
Heine offers a preliminary sketch of this approach to the Devil's salvation:
Given his argument concerning the distinction between the devil as a being created by
God, and the devil as wicked on the basis of his own choice, he may have argued that
insofar as he is the devil, he is destroyed, as are all the other evil powers, but insofar as he
has being, that being, properly changed through ages of disciplinary chastisement in which
he is treated as he deserves will finally be restored to its original state.137
Heine hits on a key distinction often missed by Origen scholars. God preserves the life of
his creatures, but destroys the diseases that infect them. This distinction upholds the
integrity of divine justice and divine goodness. Divine justice requires the annihilation of
sin and everything inimical to God. Hence, the Devil, in his present state as the
personification of evil, must be destroyed. Divine goodness, however, requires the
preservation of his creation, even when his creatures have degenerated into mere shadows
of their created being. Hence, the Devil must be purged of evil and restored to his sinless
condition. The same principle applies to all sinful beings: their sinful identity will be
destroyed, but their purified soul will be saved. In this sense, then, God indeed destroys the
Devil and sinners, who cannot coexist with God, but salvages their soul from the flames
and restores them to spiritual health. So we must conclude that the Devil qua Devil will not
saved, but his soul, after extensive purification, will be restored.
How does this interpretation of the salvation of the Devil cohere with his doctrine of hell?
In his Commentary on Matthew, Origen interprets hell as a psychological condition of the
soul. Commenting on the parable of the wheat and the tares, he describes how at the end of
days the angels will gather up the bad opinions that have grown upon the soul, and
overturning them may give them over to fire which is said to burn, that they may be
consumed.138 The wheat and tares, then, correspond not to the good and evil people, but

rather good and evil opinions, sown by the Son and the Devil, respectively: [T]he devil on
the watch sows what are called (p.148)taresthat is, evil opinions, while the Son of man
sowed good seed.139 Hell, then, seems to be the place or process whereby the evil seeds of
the Devil are destroyed: And so the angels and servants of the Word will gather from all
the kingdom of Christ all things that cause a stumbling-block to souls and reasonings that
create iniquity, which they will scatter and cast into the burning furnace of fire.140 Hell
does not entail physical punishment by fire, Origen suggests, but the searing of the soul by
guilt for those who allow evil seed to be sown in them through their own negligence: Then
those who have become conscious that they have received the seeds of the evil one in
themselves, because of their having been asleep, shall wail and, as it were, be angry against
themselves; for this is the gnashing of teeth. 141 According to this interpretation, hell
purifies the soul from the sin we have cultivated in ourselves with seeds sown by the Devil.
The proper object of divine punishment is sin, not the soul, as Greggs argues: CommMt.
X.2 points to sins rather than people being subject to judgment.142 It causes spiritualnot
physicalpain that lasts only long enough to purge the soul of sin.143 The purpose of hell,
according to this interpretation, is to destroy the contagion of evil that corrupted creation,
not the creatures themselves.
Hell, then, is an internal condition of guilt, not an external condition of fire: [E]very
sinner kindles for himself the flame of his own fire, and is not plunged into a fire which has
been previously kindled by someone else or which existed before him.144 As an abundance
of unhealthy food fuels physical sickness, so an abundance of sin fuels spiritual sickness. In
the afterlife, our mind's eye will see a kind of history of its evil deeds and feel remorse
and shame for all its wrongdoing.145 Our awareness of the mass of evils that we have
committed will result in an internal inferno that boils up into punishment and is kindled
into penalties: Then the conscience is harassed and pricked by its own stings, and
becomes an accuser and witness against itself.146 In essence, Origen argues that we create
our own hell, but it has a remedial function. It serves as divine punishment for sin that
prepares us to enter into the divine life by purging our sinful will and galvanizing our
resolve to live blamelessly.
All punishment is remedial, not vengeful. Hence, contrary to Celsus parody of God as a
cook, Origen sees God as a benevolent physician:
He [Celsus] has not realized that according to the opinion of some Greeks (probably
borrowing from the very ancient notion of the Hebrews) the fire that is brought on the
world is purifying, and it is probable that it is applied to each individual who needs
judgment by fire together with healing.147
(p.149) Origen tries to convince Celsus of the ancient pedigree of the notion of hellfire as
purifying. It is a crass misrepresentation of the Christian doctrine of hell, he argues, to say
that God roasts people. God does not apply fire like a cook but like a physician, purging
diseases and cauterizing wounds: The fire burns but does not consume utterly those who
have no matter which needs to be destroyed by it, while it burns and does utterly consume
those who have built wood, hay, or stubble [1 Cor. 3:12] on the building (as it is
allegorically called) by their actions, words, and thoughts.148 Divine fire refines the soul,
but the soul survives the fire. From the ashes of the wood, hay, or stubble that has been
consumed by God's refining fire arises the stainless soul. Hell destroys our sinful identity,
leaving only the purified saint. Hence, the Devil and sinners are consumed in hell, but their
repristinated souls, purged of evil, survive.
Celsus wrongly presumes that Christianity teaches that the rest of humanity will be
thoroughly roasted, failing to take into account more sophisticated construals of hell.
Origen reframes the doctrine of hell from roasting to purification, which will involve
most of humanity: only those who have been utterly pure in doctrine, morals, and mind
will remain untouched by fire and punishments, while the rest will have to experience the
ministry of punishments by fire for an appointed time.149 Nevertheless, even the vulgar

conception of physical hellfire has its uses for the masses. In the next section, we will
explicate Origen's principle of accommodation, which involves teaching elementary
doctrines to the simple and reserving more advanced and speculative doctrines for the
elite. For pastoral and pedagogical reasons, Origen emphasizes the reality of hell to the
simple and speculates on the possibility of universal salvation to the more enlightened. He
aims at maximal edification by calibrating his teaching to the intellectual and spiritual
capacity of his audience. He compares this method, specifically in relation to the doctrine
of hell, to the teaching of children, who sometimes need threats to spur them to action:150
Probably, just as some words are suitable for use with children and are appropriate for
their tender age, in order to exhort them to be better, because they are still very young, so
also those whom the word calls the foolish things of this world and the base things and the
things that are despised [1 Cor. 1:2728] the ordinary interpretation of punishments is
suitable because they have not the capacity for any other means of conversion and of
repentance from many evils, except that of fear and the suggestion of punishment.151
Since the threat of hell facilitates the growth of the simple, he allows the ordinary
interpretation of punishments to stand, knowing that their (p.150) conversion and
repentance will spare them much purgatorial suffering in the afterlife.
The basic principle of Origen's eschatology, as we have seen, is that the end mirrors the
beginning. Thus, every soul will eventually be remodeled after the image of the Logos:
But we believe that at some time the Logos will have overcome the entire rational nature,
Origen says, and will have remodeled every soul to his own perfection when each
individual simply by the exercise of his freedom will choose what the Logos wills and will
be in that state which he has chosen.152 In this eschatological inclusio, the lost harmony of
the cosmos will be restored, and all fallen souls will be saved. Origen returns to the analogy
of God as physician to describe the abolition of evil:
And we hold that just as it is unlikely that some of the consequences of physical diseases
and wounds would be too hard for any medical art, so also it is unlikely in the case of souls
that any of the consequences of evil would be incapable of being cured by the rational and
supreme God. For since the Logos and the healing power within him are more powerful
than any evils in the soul, he applies this power to each individual according to God's will,
and the end of the treatment is the abolition of evil.153
No matter how mired in sin the soul has become, God cleanses it from evil. No one can
stray beyond the grace of God, which extends into the very depths of hell. God's power to
heal surpasses our power to harm ourselves, but God does not override our freedom in the
process of healing us. In the end, then, evil will be abolished and all will be saved because
of the goodness and power of God, which destroys sin and heals the soul.
But if the end must be like the beginning, should we not expect that the soul will fall again
and the entire cycle of the soul's fall and return will continue endlessly? This problem has
vexed Origen scholars, and Origen himself raises it: But whether or not there is reason to
suppose that after evil has disappeared it rises again, such a problem will be discussed in a
book dealing primarily with this subject.154 As I mentioned earlier, I suggest that once evil
has been destroyed and the soul has been purified, evil will never again rear its ugly head.
The union between the soul of Jesus and the Logos provides the model of our future
existence. What began as a union of will with the soul of Christ and the Logos became a
union of nature: [What] formerly depended upon the will was by the influence of long
custom changed into nature.155 The soul of Christ so chose to love righteousness as to
cling to it unchangeably and inseparably in accordance (p.151) with the immensity of its
love; the result being that by firmness of purpose, immensity of affection, and an
inextinguishable warmth of love all susceptibility to change or alteration was
destroyed.156 Origen illustrates this union with the analogy of an iron in the fire. When a
metal iron has been placed in the fire for an extended period of time, it becomes utterly
penetrated by fire. It receives the fire in all its pores and all its veins, and becomes

completely changed into fire.157 Just as the iron is completely changed into fire, so the
soul of Jesus is God in all its acts and feelings and thoughts; and therefore it cannot be
called changeable or alterable, and so our souls will, after purification, follow the example
of the soul of Jesus and be united with God.158 When we fully unite with God at
the apokatastasis, the interpenetration between God and the soul will create an
unalterable union, which will preclude the possibility of relapse into sin and evil.
We see, then, the complexity of Origen's position. On the one hand, he affirms the
traditional church teaching on the doctrine of hell and posits the damnation of the Devil,
demons, and sinners. On the other hand, he spiritualizes the doctrine of hell and posits the
salvation of all beings after the destruction of their sinful identity. The Devil qua Devil will
be cast into hell and destroyed, but the Devil qua creature of God will be saved, as will all
other converted and purified sinners. Confusion arises when interpreters fail to apply this
distinction to Origen's seemingly contradictory statements on the salvation of the Devil
and sinners. Moreover, to understand his position aright, we must distinguish between
Origen's different pedagogical modes of operation. In his role as a priest and caretaker of
simple souls, he avoids disclosing the mysteries of the faith that would have subversive and
detrimental effects. In his role as a didaskalos of more advanced souls, he speculates on
mysteries that lie beyond established church teaching.
Mysteries Revealed and Concealed
These distinctions point us to the pastoral and pedagogical dimensions of his universalism.
Origen has two types of audiences in mind when he teaches. On the one hand, he wants to
edify the simple multitude. He knows that if he explicitly endorses universalism, the
multitude would either be scandalized or induced to moral negligence and spiritual apathy.
On the other hand, he wants to facilitate the growth of the spiritually advanced. Those
Christians who have arrived at a higher knowledge of the mysteries of the faith see beyond
elementary matters and are able to (p.152) sail into uncharted theological waters without
fear of spiritual shipwreck. Origen expresses his pedagogical dilemma:
I am worried about speaking; I am worried about not speaking. For the sake of the worthy,
I want to speak so as not to be guilty of defrauding of the Word [to] those able to hear it.
Because of the unworthy, I hesitate to speak, for the reasons mentioned, so as not to throw
holy things to dogs and cast pearls before swine.159
I contend that Origen wants to retain the threat of hellfire for the wayward multitude who
need prodding to keep them from wandering into sin. With the more advanced, who are
less prone to stray, he will speculate about the possibility of universal salvation. Moreover,
I argue that Origen's theology and cosmology logically entail universalism. He shares his
speculations on universal salvation to a select few, so he was not being disingenuous or
misleading in his Letter to Friends in Alexandria when he categorically denies teaching the
salvation of the Devil. Origen judiciously chooses to emphasize different themes to
different audiences for pastoral and pedagogical reasons.
Not all theological truths have been fully revealed in scripture, Origen avers. Some truths
still remain undisclosed, as John 21:25 intimates: But there are also many other things
that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself
could not contain the books that would be written. Commenting on this cryptic verse,
Origen surmises that beyond scripture lies a vast reservoir of deep theological knowledge:
For indeed, Scripture has not contained some of the more lordly and more divine aspects
of the mysteries of God.160 Remarkably, given his extensive exegetical interests, he thinks
scripture only begins to penetrate into the divine mysteries: Now I think that all of the
Scriptures, even when perceived very accurately, are only very elementary rudiments of
and very brief introductions to all knowledge.161 The scriptures, Origen maintains, are
merely introductions that lead us to Jesus and the wisdom of the Holy
Spirit.162 Consequently, Origen suggests that the Spirit of God may lead the spiritually
advanced to unexpected truths not explicated in scripture.

Moreover, Origen contends that not all knowledge should be openly disclosed. Some
mysteries are given only to a chosen few, such as Paul, who heard things that are not to be
told, that no mortal is permitted to repeat (2 Corinthians 12:4). Only the spiritually
advanced, such as John and Paul, are permitted to hear these mysteries, but they are
forbidden to speak the heavenly knowledge uttered by the angels. The knowledge that
edifies them would harm others, so they must keep silent:
(p.153) John is forbidden to write when he is about to record all that the seven thunders
said [Rev. 10:4]. Paul too, says that he has heard words that cannot be spoken [2 Cor.
12:4]. These were not words that were not permitted to be spoken by anyone, for angels
were permitted to speak them, but not men, for all things are permitted, but not all things
are beneficial [1 Cor. 6:12].163
While some drink deeply from the fountain of Jacob (Origen's metaphor for introductory
scriptural knowledge), others drink only superficially, but all who drink from this water,
however deeply, thirst again. Those who drink from the water of Jesus (Origen's metaphor
for higher knowledge), by contrast, never thirst again.164 Thus, some mysteries, disclosed
to a select few, must be hidden from the simple multitude for their protection. The waters
of Jesus (that is, the heavenly mysteries) that refresh the souls of the advanced are
wormwood to the simple believers, who cannot drink from so deep a well. The doctrine of
universal salvation, I submit, is one of the heavenly mysteries that has been disclosed to
the advanced (such as Origen and his coterie) and must be hidden from the uninitiated to
avoid scandal and moral stumbling.165 His pedagogical elitism does not restrict saving
knowledge to the advanced; it merely opens an expansive horizon of divine mystery to
those Christians whose intellectual acuity and spiritual purity enable greater theological
perception without any spiritual risk.
Likewise, in his Commentary on Romans, Origen delicately balances the twin
responsibilities of shielding the simple from scandal while edifying the more advanced
Christians. In Romans 5:15, Paul deliberately specifies that God's grace abounded to
many rather than to all to avoid providing false theological rationalization for moral
laxity: For this reason he restrains his words and does not put down all men, as is usual
in other places, but many, in order to keep the negligent of his hearers in check with fear
and to make them more apprehensive.166 Paul, Origen insists, does not want to fuel
spiritual complacency through a misunderstanding of universal restoration. He clearly
perceives, then, the potential dangers of the doctrine of universal salvation for those who
are inducted into the mysteries of grace without sufficient preparation and maturity.
Nevertheless, he leaves open the possibility of restoration for the more advanced; he seeks
to make the simple more apprehensive, for their spiritual edification, without closing
the mysteries of the divine goodness for those who are more perfect.167
Following Paul, Origen sees himself as a wise steward of the word, judiciously
withholding the secrets of the mysteries of divine goodness to those who would use it as a
pretext for ungodliness: For it is a custom (p.154)of the Apostle Paul, when he is
disclosing anything about the kindness of God in his ineffable goodness, in turn to roughen
up, as it were, at least in some measure because of certain negligent hearers, what he said
and to put some fear into those who are remiss.168 Origen, like Paul, does not want to
inadvertently lull his spiritually immature hearers into a false sense of security:
Paul is thus acting as a wise steward of the word. And when he comes to the passages in
which he has to speak about God's goodness, he expresses these things in a somewhat
concealed and obscure way for the sake of certain lazy people lest perchance, as we have
said, they despise the riches of his goodness and patience and forbearance and store up
for themselves wrath on the day of wrath [Rom. 2:45].169
Greggs sees this passage as the hermeneutical key to Origen's position on universalism
and exclusivism.170While I think Greggs overstates the importance of this particular
passage, he rightly hits on the pastoral dimension of Origen's theology. Origen

accommodates his teaching to the needs and capacity (both intellectual and spiritual) of
his audience. Universal salvation is the deepest mystery of divine goodness. Origen does
not teach this doctrine openly for fear of harming the simple multitude, but he will
speculate on the possibilities of divine goodness with the more mature. Hence, his pastoral
concern is expressed in the theological principle of accommodation.
The Principle of Accommodation
In his Homilies on Jeremiah, Origen expresses the principle of pedagogical
accommodation through the example of the parental instruction and discipline of children.
Commenting on the perplexing passage You have deceived me, Lord, and I was deceived
(Jeremiah 20:7), Origen avers that just as parents employ scare tactics to promote the
education and progress of children, so God sometimes deceives us to facilitate our
salvation. Certain pedagogical methods, he suggests, are age-appropriate:
When guiding children we speak to children, and we do not speak to them as we do to
mature people but we speak to them as children who need training, and we deceive
children when we frighten children in order that it may halt the lack of education in youth.
And we frighten children when we speak through words (p.155) of deceit on account of
what is basic to their infancy, in order that through the deceit we may cause them to be
afraid and to resort to teachers both to declare and to do what is applicable for the progress
of children. We are all children to God and we need the discipline of children. Because of
this, God, since he cares about us, deceives us, even if we do not perceive the deceit
beforehand, lest as those who have gone beyond the infant we may no longer be trained
through deceit but through acts. In one way the child is led into fear, in another way into
progressing in age and crossing beyond the age of childhood.171
We would not expect Origen to spell out the implications of this pedagogical principle for
the doctrine of hell, since he would regard most in his audience as spiritual infants, but I
suggest that the principle clearly applies to that doctrine.172 The threat of eternal hellfire,
then, is the divine deceit designed to promote our spiritual progress by prompting us to
action: They need to be chastened by threats and terrors in order to be able to attain
healing.173 We find further evidence in Origen's exegesis of the story of Jonah, particularly
God's declaration that he will destroy Nineveh in three days, only to relent later after they
repented (Jonah 3:4).174The threat of destruction, then, was the divine deception that
served as the impetus for reformation and repentance, just as, I suggest, the threat of
hellfire functions as the prime motivator for the simple:
Perhaps then, as a father wishes to deceive a son in his own interest while he is still a boy,
since he cannot be helped any other way unless the boy is deceived, as a healer makes it his
business to deceive the patient who cannot be cured unless he receives words of deceit, so
it is also for the God of the universe, since what is prescribed has to help the race of men.175
God protects us by concealing truths that may have deleterious consequences for us.
Those who unseasonably discover the emptiness of the threat of eternal physical hellfire
can be ensnared by that knowledge and lulled into spiritual apathy.176 They will face a far
worse punishment than physical fire: they will face a form of fire, an imperceptible fire,
which punishes us in our hearts and sears us to the core.177But Origen even refrains from
elaborating on the eschatological distinction between physical and spiritual punishment
because he does not know if his audience will be edified by that knowledge: The Word
intends to be daring here, but I do not know for what sort of audience it is fitting.178 The
threat of physical torture in hell was so ingrained in his listeners that he was reluctant
to (p.156) dispense with the idea altogether. He spiritualizes punishment, associating the
burning fire with our seared consciences pained with remorse for sin,179 but still upholds
the threat of hellfire because of its effectiveness in curbing sin among the simple or
immature believers, which ultimately facilitates their growth. Christians should live as

though these things [eternal punishment] were real in order to avoid doing the actions
which cause punishments.180 For Origen, then, the doctrine of hell facilitates the soul's
moral progress, but he does not affirm the reality of hell and eternal punishment in the
vulgar, vengeful, corporeal sense.
The issue of divine punishment surfaces the problem of divine wrath. Origen applies the
principle of pedagogical accommodation to the passages in scripture that speak of the
anger or wrath of God. These passages, Origen explains, intentionally employ
anthropomorphic expressions181 that should not be taken literally: If you hear of
the anger of God and his wrath, do not suppose that anger and wrath are passions of
God.182 God only feigns these emotions to instruct the spiritually immature: The
purposes of using this way of speaking are for converting and bettering the infant, since we
also use a fearful expression with children, not from an actual state of mind but because of
a purpose to cause fear.183 We experience God's remedial punishments as divine anger
and wrath when, in fact, they manifest the depths of divine love. God punishes only to heal,
and, like a good parent, he employs disciplinary methods that will spare us from harming
ourselves. This strikes us as anger and wrath, but, for Origen, even divine punishment
evinces the benevolence of providence:
So then it [scripture] states that God is also said to be angry and wrathful in order that you
can convert and become better. And he is truly neither angry nor wrathful, but you
experience the effects of anger or wrath when you are in unbearable pains because of evil,
whenever he disciplines by what is called theanger of God.184
God does not experience human passion or emotions but rather displays his perfect divine
love by correcting us for the purpose of restoring us to spiritual wholeness.185 God
accommodates his punishment to our spiritual needs by employing scare tactics that will
curb evil and impel the soul toward repentance. But as Origen emphasizes, God is not
angry with us but loves us and seeks to facilitate our journey back to him.
Hence, Origen refrains from publicizing his speculations on the end of hell because he
knows the spiritual value of the doctrine, as Daley (p.157) observes: Origen is aware that
the issue of the eternity of punishment is a sensitive one, because of the enormous
importance of the deterrent of eternal fire in shaping the ordinary Christian's moral
behavior (Hom in Jer 12.4; 19 [18].15; 20 [19].4).186 In his Commentary on Matthew,
Origen writes to communicate these things (i.e., speculations on Gehenna) openly and at
length, by ink and pen and parchment, seems to me incautious (Comm Ser in
Matt 16).187 The danger of such knowledge to the spiritually immature precludes it from
public preaching. Nevertheless, Origen believes that all the torments of a good God are
designed for the benefit of those who endure them, despite the fact that this knowledge
has been hidden from those who are still little ones with respect to their spiritual
age.188 God, then, accommodates the needs of each group. To the more advanced, he
bestows knowledge of the remedial intent of divine punishment, but to the masses, who
easily fall into sin, he employs threats: The Logos, accommodating himself to what is
appropriate to the masses who will read the Bible, wisely utters threatening words with a
hidden meaning to frighten people who cannot in any other way turn from the flood of
iniquity.189 Threats serve a temporary purpose, but as the soul matures, more spiritually
age-appropriate pedagogical methods take the place of threats.
He reiterates this point later in Contra Celsum. While enumerating the allegorical parallels
in the Hebrew Bible for the Gospel teaching on Gehenna as a place of punishment
(Matthew 5:22), Origen stops short of describing the nature of Gehenna:
It is not right to explain to everybody all that might be said on this subject. Nor is this an
appropriate moment. It is risky to commit to writing the explanation of these matters,
because the multitude does not require any more instruction than that punishment is to be
inflicted upon sinners. It is not of advantage to go on to the truths which lie behind it

because there are people who are scarcely restrained by fear of everlasting punishment
from the vast flood of evil and the sins that are committed in consequence of it.190
Origen reserves certain teachings for certain audiences. It would be pastorally
irresponsible and pedagogically unsound to burden the multitude with the speculative
possibilities of the end of hell and the salvation of the Devilit would only confuse them
and potentially incite sin. Jerome reports that Origen wrote a letter recanting erroneous
statements, presumably on some aspect of his universalism: Origen himself in a letter
written to Fabian, bishop of Rome, expresses penitence for having
made (p.158) erroneous statements, and charges Ambrose with over haste in making
public what was meant for only private circulation.191 Notice, however, that Origen only
repudiates the public distribution of ideas intended for a private audience. In public,
Origen will only hint at the deeper truths behind the threat of hellfire and eternal
punishment: But we have been compelled to hint at truths which are not suitable for the
simple-minded believers who need elementary words which come down to their own
level.192 His pedagogical principle of accommodation and pastoral principle of edification
lead him to affirm the doctrine of hell as punishment to the multitude while revealing the
possibilities of universal salvation to more spiritually and intellectually advanced
Christians. Thus, he does not dissemble, but tailors his teaching to the capacity and needs
of his audience. As a pastor and teacher, he seeks to edify his audience through the
judicious preaching and teaching of the Word: What is it I really want? To treat the matter
in a way that heals the souls of my hearers.193 Far from treating theology as an abstract
exercise independent of spirituality, Origen thinks theology should advance the welfare of
the soul. Origen's pedagogy carefully imitates divine pedagogy. He sees himself as a
caretaker of souls.
Conclusion
At the beginning of the chapter, we set ourselves the task of answering the question Origen
poses: whether the final harmony will include all rational creatures.194 Through an analysis
of his writings, I have argued that the logic of Origen's theology and cosmology entails
universalism. He employs a series of theological argumentssome implicit, some explicit
to speculate on the theoretical possibility of universal salvation. According to Origen, even
the most recalcitrant souls will find their way back to God. In the end, then, God will cure
all souls of the disease of evil and will restore cosmic harmony. Origen's affirmation of the
endless possibilities of divine love and goodness underwrites his belief that God would not
create beings only to destroy them and that God will eventually persuade all fallen souls to
return to him. The mysteries of divine goodness leave open the possibility of the salvation
of all sinners after their purification from sin, although Origen seeks to conceal these
mysteries from the spiritually immature:
It was necessary to conceal these things and not bring them out into the openbut the
heretics force us to bring out in public things that should remain (p.159) hidden, for
these things are kept covered as a benefit to those who are still little children [cf. 1 Cor.
3:1] according to the age of their soul and who need the fear of teachers. They need to be
chastised by threats and terrors in order to be able to attain healing. Thus by means of
bitter remedies they may one day desist from the wounds of sins. For the mysteries of God
are always covered by veils on account of the hearers who are children.195
The doctrine of hell, while theologically, pedagogically, and pastorally necessary, must be
situated within the overriding context of the cosmic unfolding of divine providence.
Moving from the cosmic to the personal, Origen suggests that our experience of eternal
beatitude would be laced with sadness if some were excluded. The damnation of a single
soul would eternally taint our joy and mar heaven's perfection. Combining the imagery of 1
Corinthians 12 and Ezekiel 7, Origen argues that just as the body is incomplete without all
of its members (1 Corinthians 12), so our collective resurrected body (Ezekiel 7) would be
incomplete without the restoration of each and every person: But then the delight will be

full when you lack none of the members of the body.196 Correspondingly, just as our
eternal felicity would be diminished by the loss of our friends and family, so the eternal
felicity of God would be diminished by the loss of his beloved creatures:
Because if the delight does not seem to be complete for you who are a member, if another
member is missing, how much more does our Lord and Savior, who is the head and the
originator of the whole body, consider his delight to be incomplete as long as he sees one of
the members to be missing from his body.197
As the Good Shepherd, God will eventually bring all the lost sheep into the fold of heaven:
He is a lover of men and by necessity approaches those who are not yet free.198 As the
Patient Teacher, he gradually educates the soul in the ways of divine wisdom. As the Great
Physician, he heals souls of their self-inflicted wounds and facilitates their journey to God.
As the loving Father of all, he pursues the soul until it yields to his relentless love.
Eventually, after ages upon ages of purification and illumination, every soul will be saved.
Origen's theodicy, then, ends on a majestic note in a cosmic key. All will be restored. All
will be well. All will be enfolded in the eternal divine embrace.
With the salvation of all, we reach the culmination of Origen's theodicy. God does not
create evil, and God does not let evil have the final say in the universe. Creatures bring evil
into existence through their (p.160) misuse of freedom, and God brings evil to an end by
eradicating sin and drawing all souls to the divine embrace. The story of the precosmic fall
of souls, their cosmic embodiment, and their ultimate restoration beyond the resurrection
and beyond the fires of hell does not simply preserve the intelligibility of the cosmos and
vindicate the goodness and justice of God; it gives a robust vision of the spiritual life, a
vision for what to do about evil, not simply what to think about it.

Conclusion
If the task of theodicy consists of the restoration of cosmic coherence in the face of evil, we
must now ask: does Origen succeed? In the final analysis, does his theodicy preserve the
intelligibility of the cosmos?1 How does it stand up to critical scrutiny? Origen presents an
internally coherent account of the beginning and end of evil. His cosmic narrative of the
fall and return of souls transfers the blame for suffering from God to humanity. Origen
interlaces the cosmic narrative of the soul's journey back to God with the theological
narrative of God's providential care for humanity. God does not leave us to our own devices
as we plunge toward annihilation. On the contrary, God intervenes by creating the material
world to function as the schoolroom or hospital for our reeducation and amelioration. This
dual cosmological and theological narrative constitutes the heart of his theodicy. Several of
his cosmological assumptions, however, were later condemned as heretical. As a result, his
cosmic vision lost explanatory force, even while other facets of his theodicy filtered into
subsequent Christian attempts to reconcile the existence of evil with divine goodness,
justice, and omnipotence. It remains for us to sift through the wheat and the chaff of
Origen's theodicy, gleaning its promising grains for the storehouses of Christian theology
and dispersing the rest to the wind.
Despite the internal coherence of his theodicy, many issues remain unresolved. First, as I
discussed in chapter3, his account of the origin of evil fails to distance God entirely from
the creation of evil. Even if God does not directly create evil, God nevertheless creates the
conditions that allow for the possibility of evil. By endowing creation with freedom, God
seemingly destabilizes the relationship between God and creation. Rather than securing
cosmic harmony, freedom ruptures it by giving us the means to turn away from God.
Instead of leading to our divinization, it led to our demise, at least at the outset. God,
however, must have foreknown the disastrous consequences freedom would unleash on
creation, (p.162) even if they were not predestined. God then bears an indirect
responsibility for the creation of evil. Saying that God does not create evil only defers the
question of the origin of evilit does not settle it. This difficulty, however, is not
insuperable. Origen would distinguish between causal and moral responsibility. God
assumes causal responsibility for the existence of creation but not moral responsibility for
its downfall. Origen, however, does not spell out these arguments and never adequately
explains how evil could arise in a world created by a perfect God.2
Second, his theodicy views all suffering as either deserved or valuable. But this does not
explain suffering as much as it explains it away, we could say. If everyone's station in life
results from their pre-existent choices, then everyone gets exactly what they deserve.
Everyone brings their own suffering upon themselves, and God allows them to undergo
suffering for their betterment. If each person deserves their suffering and if it serves
providential ends, then we have no incentive to alleviate the evil and suffering of the world.
Moreover, it legitimizes social inequalities by suggesting that they reflect a just
postlapsarian hierarchy. While this system seems equitable, it undercuts calls for social
justice and rationalizes the plight of the underprivileged, thereby foregrounding divine
justice at the expense of divine mercy. In reply, Origen would say that creation evinces
both divine mercy and divine justice. It does not ossify social inequalities; it gives everyone
the opportunity to transcend diversification and return to the primal harmony. God does
not inscribe inequality and oppression into creation; we do. As we strive to progress
spiritually both individually and collectively, we work toward the elimination of social
inequality. Origen's eschatology subverts all forms of inequality and oppression. Moreover,
he would deny that the symmetrical correspondence between sin and suffering precludes
our moral responsibility to assist the poor and needy. If we look at his cosmology,
independent of his eschatology and without sufficient attention to his conception of

providence, his theodicy might easily appear to justify suffering. As we have seen, however,
God's persistent love underwrites his entire approach to theodicy.
Third, his parsing of the conjunctive relationship between freedom and providence raises
some unresolved questions. Origen seeks to balance the relationship between these poles
or perspectives of causality and thereby harmonize his cosmological and theological
narratives. But these narratives seem to be in irresolvable tension. On the one hand, he
posits our ability to determine our spiritual destiny without divine interference. In this
sense, he seems to privilege freedom over providence. On the other hand, God intervenes
to assist the fallen souls and designs the (p.163) universe to facilitate our amelioration. In
this sense, he seems to privilege providence over freedom. Correspondingly, he accents the
necessity of striving for salvation while simultaneously affirming our total dependency on
God for salvific transformation. He vacillates, then, between emphasizing freedom over
providence and vice versa. When addressing the fall and humanity's need for spiritual
transformation, he emphasizes freedom. When reflecting on the arrangement of the
universe and the salvific destiny of humanity, he emphasizes providence. These two
seemingly conflicting emphases reflect, I have argued, his pastoral desire to promote
spiritual advancement and his apologetic desire to refute determinism without sacrificing
his fundamental theological commitment to divine goodness and omnipotence. In the end,
his parsing of the relationship between freedom and providence can be criticized as
paradoxical. But Origen would say that the mysteries of providence exceed our noetic grasp
and that the question of how freedom interweaves with providence will come to light only
at the end, when all mysteries will be revealed. Until then, he exhorts us to take
responsibility for our souls, trusting God to guide our journey from darkness to light.
Fourth, we must problematize the two most controversial aspects of his theodicy: preexistence and universalism. He bases the doctrine of pre-existence on the theological
premise that God must eternally exercise goodness and omnipotence, but that does not
explain why God chose to bring the rational minds into existence at an unspecified
moment before space and time. If it would have been arbitrary to bring them into
existence at the creation of the cosmos, would it not be equally arbitrary to bring them into
existence at a pretemporal moment? His argument buckles under the conceptual weight of
a pre-pre-existence. Moreover, while he self-consciously develops a distinctly
Christological conception of pre-existence in dialogue with scripture, it does not easily
cohere with the Genesis creation narratives or John's prologue without some
hermeneutical sleight of hand or eisegesis.
Fifth, his doctrine of universalism radically alters the biblical conception of hell and
undercuts his conception of freedom, since it implies that no creaturenot even the
Devilcan finally choose against God. Providence, through its patient, persistent,
persuasive power, seems to override freedom in the end.3 Origen would rejoin that he
entertains these theories only as thought experiments or speculations into theologically
undefined areas of inquiry, not as propositional dogmatic assertions. Nevertheless,
Origen's reputation would be indelibly tarnished by the church's strong disavowal of the
doctrines of pre-existence and universal salvation.
(p.164) I have enunciated some major conceptual difficulties with Origen's theodicy, but
we must remember that many of these complications are inherent to Christian theology,
not distinctive to Origen. Nevertheless, I have analyzed several problems that are
distinctive to Origen, such as his concepts of pre-existence and the final harmony of the
fallen souls. These particular problems diminish the explanatory force of his theodicy in
Christian theology, but they do not diminish the grandeur of his cosmic vision and the
remarkable creativity of his approach. Despite these problems, Origen's theodicy holds
promise for those who can perceive the theological vision that inspired his cosmological
speculations. What, then, can modern theologians glean from Origen's theodicy?

Even if we question the theological tenability of Origen's theodicy, he nonetheless employs

a sound theological method. Origen sought to make theology accessible to all: from the
simple believer to the erudite philosopher. In this respect, he eludes charges of elitism. His
principle of pedagogical accommodation meant that he emphasized different themes to
different audiences. This does not imply that he employed a duplicitous pedagogy, as
Jerome accuses.4 Rather, he took his listeners as deeply into the mysteries of the gospel as
their capabilities would allow, always careful not to outstrip their noetic and spiritual
capacities. Early exposure to the higher mysteries of the gospel has pernicious
consequences, according to Origen. Above all, Origen sought to be a faithful steward of the
gospel and to edify his listeners. Like any good teacher, he employed the prevailing
philosophical categories of his day to communicate to his contemporaries. As a result, his
theodicy reflects his Middle Platonic milieu. While these aspects of his theodicy eventually
lost their explanatory value, his pedagogical method of accommodation remains a vital
aspect of his theodicy.
For the modern theologian steeped in the often arid analytical approaches of much postEnlightenment theodicy, Origen will appear refreshingly practical and spiritually
profound. Origen does not engage in theodicy as an idle intellectual exercise but as an
earnest attempt to spur his listeners to take responsibility for their souls. The time is short
and the road is long, so we must embark on our journey toward perfection, he exhorts.
Origen exemplifies the inextricability of the theoretical and practical dimensions of
theodicy. Theodicy involves not simply the intellectual resolution of a logical problem
(namely, evil) but also the spiritual resolution of a moral problem (namely, sin). It
demands intellectual and spiritual transformation. We can no more separate the
theoretical and practical dimensions of theodicy than we can separate theology and
spirituality. Theological reflection on evil serves to cultivate the soul, not (p.165) simply
defend theology. Origen's cosmic vision does not merely promote an idea; it promotes a
way of life: the progressive purification and illumination of the soul. His theodicy, then,
demonstrates the need to forge stronger links between the intellectual and the spiritual in
theodicy.
Last, Origen's governing theological metaphors constitute the most enduring and
promising feature of a theodicy marked by its cosmological speculations. As a basic
theological starting point, he affirms the goodness and justice of God even in the face of
evil, repudiating all dualistic theologies. For Origen, God providentially draws fallen
creation toward purification and perfection. Origen portrays God as a teacher who
patiently instructs his students until they have reached maturity. Danilou remarks:
It might be said that being a didaskalos himself, Origen regarded his God as
a Didaskalos too, as a Master in charge of the education of children, and looked on God's
universe as a vast didaskaleion in which every single thing contributed to the education of
the free human beings at school there. It is with the aid of this principle in particular that
he outlines his solution of the problem which is at the heart of all philosophical systems,
the problem of evil. On the one hand, he rejects the Gnostic theory, which makes evil an
alien substance, not created by God; on the other, he excludes the Stoic idea that evil is
only apparent. In his opinion, evil is certainly real, but it can be conducive to good and it
will eventually cease to exist. Hence the existence of evil is consistent with the goodness of
God.5
God, as the Perfect Teacher, gently guides us into the mysteries of divine wisdom, leading
us into successively higher levels of enlightenment. Origen makes the same theological
point with two other key metaphors: God as Physician and God as Father: God is a
physician, God is a Father, he is a Master, and he is not a harsh but a mild Master.6 As the
great Physician, God heals our wounds, sometimes through painful procedures. As the
loving Father, God disciplines us for our betterment: Everything that comes from God
that seems to be bitter is advanced for instruction and healing.7 With these three central

theological metaphorsGod as Teacher, Physician, and FatherOrigen conveys God's

providential care for humanity.8 Origen's theology, then, accents divine love for creation:
God hears our cries, pities our suffering, and has compassion on us.9 Throughout his
corpus, Origen portrays God in positive terms as the lover of humanity who works
tirelessly for our spiritual amelioration. His theological orientation gives theodicy fertile
resources for exploring the depths of divine love for creation.
(p.166) At the beginning of our study, we defined theodicy as navigation, that is, as the
process of ascribing meaning to suffering. Theodicy enables us to interpret and integrate
evil and suffering into a larger narrative. Origen locates this larger narrative in the fall and
ascent of the soul, which becomes the lens through which his theodicy unfolds. He employs
cosmic hermeneutics to find a meaning worthy of God in the evil of the
universe.10 Whereas scriptural hermeneutics seek to explain the infelicities and problems
of scripture, cosmic hermeneutics seek to explain the infelicities and problems of the
cosmos. Origen ambitiously set out to explain not only human suffering but also the
suffering and inequality of all creationfrom angels to demonsand the underlying
reasons for cosmic disparity. He sought not to validate these inequities, but to give them
theological coherence. Moreover, his theodicy anticipates the ultimate elimination of this
hierarchy at the apokatastasisthrough the progressive purification and illumination of the
soul. In the centuries after Origen, theology was narrowed,11 and his sweeping cosmic
vision lost its explanatory force. Despite the loss of his broad vision, important trajectories
of his thought would filter into the theology of the Cappadocians, Evagrius, and others who
would adapt (and sometimes distort) his vision to shifting theological landscapes.
At stake in the problem of evil is the intelligibility of the cosmos, that is, the theological
coherence of the universe.12 As we have seen, Origen employs multiple strategies to
preserve cosmic coherence. In the overall balance, he sees evil as the spiral shavings and
sawdust of an orderly and salutary universe, thus taking a higher order goods approach to
the problem of evil.13 Furthermore, he employs a free will defense by attributing the origin
of evil to our misuse of freedom. His account of the salvific transformation of the soul
evinces a subtle Christological approach: through his descent to humanity, the Logos
enables and facilitates the soul's ascent to God. Origen also appeals to mystery by arguing
that the remedial designs of providence outstrip our noetic and imaginative capacity. Last,
his cosmic theodicy concludes with an eschatological resolution: the apprehensibility of the
cosmos will be unveiled when God is all and all. Through the interplay of these diverse
approaches in the narrative of the fall and return of the soul, Origen endeavors to give
meaning to suffering and to restore cosmic coherence.

(p.211)

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(p.223) Index
Aaron, 106, 110
Abarim, 114
Abraham, 112, 119
Adam, 62
Address of Thanksgiving to Origen, 44, 103
Ai, 139
Alexandria, 28, 30, 129, 135137, 140, 152
Ambrose, 158
allegory, 5354, 59, 62, 64, 102, 104, 107108, 111, 115, 117118, 120, 135, 139, 149, 157
Ammonius, 28
angels, 62, 65, 69, 77, 79, 118, 136, 147148, 152153, 166
apokatastasis, 98, 126127, 130, 132134, 139, 141, 143, 151, 166
Apollo, 91
Aristotle, 27, 38
Augustine, ix, 6, 52
Babcock, Harold, 37
Balthasar, Hans Urs von, 3, 42, 101
Basil of Caesarea, 43
Basilides, 37, 76, 80, 85
beatific vision, 110
Beelsephon, 112
Behr, John, 60
Benedict XVI, Pope, 4
Berger, Peter, 1012, 1618

Bitter Waters, 112113

Bostock, Gerald, 59
Bride/Bridegroom, 62, 102, 115118, 120
Buthan, 112
Callicles, 96
Candidus, 136
Cappadocians, 166
Castagno, Adele Monaci, 196
Celsus, 26, 5052, 123, 125, 135, 142143, 148, 149
Chadwick, Henri, 33, 89, 93, 146
Christ, 108109, 116118, 131, 134135, 144, 146, 148
Chrysippus, 3839
church, 96, 116117, 135, 138, 140142, 151
Clement, 6, 41
coats of skin, 62, 64
Commentary on Exodus, 8485, 95
Commentary on John, 24, 29, 31, 51, 136, 140, 142, 146
Commentary on Matthew, 147148, 157
Commentary on Romans, 76, 8592, 139, 153
Commentary on the Song of Songs, 102
consummation of the world, 130132, 134
Contra Celsum, 26, 31, 50, 72, 121, 142, 157
cosmic coherence, 22, 33, 75, 128, 160161, 166
cosmic disparity, 3337, 49, 59, 61, 69, 73, 7680, 93, 100, 166
cosmological symmetry, 62, 126, 130, 150
creation, 5360, 70, 74, 85, 93, 97, 99, 126, 131132, 136, 141, 147, 158, 160, 162163
arranged by God impartially/fairly, 7680, 86, 99, 136, 162
(p.224) final harmony, 115, 126, 132134, 158, 162, 164
as hospital for the soul, 74, 93, 100, 161
original unity and harmony of, 61, 7678, 102, 126, 143, 162
position within based on merit, 7680, 136
not random or by chance, 7778, 8586, 99
as schoolroom for the soul, 74, 93, 100, 161, 165
Crouzel, Henri, 4, 6, 42, 5859, 62, 6566, 68, 74, 135137, 141
Council of Constantinople II, 4, 50, 124
Daley, Brian, 137, 156157
Daly, Robert, 41
Danilou, Jean, 3, 31, 38, 41, 93, 95, 101, 118, 133134, 165
death, 139, 146
Decian persecution, 39
Decius, 3940, 103
deification, 102, 115 See also divinization, union with God
De Lubac, Henri, 3, 5, 101, 127
Demetrius, Bishop, 4, 47
demons, 51, 6263, 77, 112, 139, 143, 151
De Principiis, 56, 2426, 33, 54, 61, 64, 7577, 79, 8385, 121, 129, 131, 135, 141144, 146
determinism, 75, 77, 81, 8586, 136, 163
Devil, 6, 25, 35, 51, 6366, 6869, 7172, 77, 107, 112113, 129130, 133141, 145
148, 151152, 157, 163
Dialogue with Heraclides, 3
Dibongad, 114
divine attributes, 25, 36, 5557, 70, 7576, 81, 85, 93, 99, 121, 138, 147, 156, 160
(see also God, theology)

divine deception, 139, 154156

divinization, 102103, 115, 119120, 122, 131133, 161 (see also deification, union with
God)
divine likeness, 131132, 138
divine wrath, 156
Dodds, Eric, 39
Dostoevsky, Fyodor, 33
dualism, 10, 25, 3538, 40, 165
Ecclesiastes, 118119
Ecclesiastical History, 103
Edwards, Mark, 28, 54, 125126, 144
Egypt, 104, 106108, 110112
election, 8586, 88, 90
Elijah, 124
enlightenment, 102, 107, 109111, 115, 118, 120121, 165166
Enoch, 114
Epictetus, 38
Epicurus, 49
Epiphanius, 121, 124
Esau, 7980, 84, 88, 90
eschatology, 121123, 126127, 130134, 138, 141, 143145, 150, 155
Esther, 105
Eusebius, 1, 39, 103
Evagrius, 166
Eve, 62
evil, 2432, 130 (see also problem of evil)
cannot co-exist with God, 112, 130, 133 (see also God)
God does not create, 2427, 2932, 46, 4849, 5152, 67, 69, 72, 78, 87, 97, 130, 159, 161
162
ontology of, 2427, 2932, 4549, 52, 7374, 100, 130132
origin of, 4952, 6366, 69, 7174, 161162, 166
arises
from
the
misuse
of
freedom, 24, 31, 49, 52, 61, 6669, 71
72, 74, 76, 78, 82, 92, 102, 130, 160161,166
as the privation of the good, 2425, 2732, 46, 48, 130
ultimate destruction of, 24, 31, 70, 127, 129134, 150, 159160, 166
Exodus, 8485, 102, 104, 107111, 120
Fabian, 157
fall, ix, 6, 35, 49, 51, 55, 5866, 7174, 76, 93, 96, 100101, 107, 127, 132
133, 136, 142, 150, 158, 160, 162163
reasons for, 6366, 100, 110
(p.225) fatalism/fatalists, 38, 40, 6667, 72, 75, 7778
final restoration/harmony, 62, 66
freedom/free
will, 50, 52, 61, 6669, 7172, 7492, 99100, 102, 120, 130, 133
134, 136, 138, 143, 150, 162163, 165166
compatibility with providence, 7576, 89, 9193, 119120, 162163
free will defense, 52, 6669, 74, 166
Fuller, B. A. G, 2930, 97
Galgad, 114
Gehenna, 157
Gellius, 38
gnosticism/gnostics, 31, 3738, 41, 66, 7475, 122, 165
God (see also divine attributes, theology)
all in all, 129, 132133, 166

anger of, 156

benevolent, 9394, 99100, 148, 156
does not compel, 74, 134, 144, 163
cannot co-exist with evil, 112 (see also evil)
Creator, 37, 5359, 76, 78, 87, 92, 146
eternal, 5558, 61, 70
goodness
of, 25, 3238, 46, 49, 5659, 65, 7071, 7577, 81, 85, 87, 92
93, 95, 97, 99, 120, 134, 138,142, 147, 150, 153154, 157158, 160163, 165
Good Shepherd, 159
grace of, 90, 120, 145, 150, 153
as Father, 2, 57, 93, 95, 100, 107, 110, 132, 139, 142, 144, 146, 159, 165
as First Principle, 56
and foreknowledge, 50, 6061, 68, 70, 8588, 9192, 97, 161
incorporeal, 121, 126127
immutable, 5558, 70
impartial, 7680
justice of, 33, 3538, 60, 68, 70, 7581, 8596, 99, 138, 147, 160162, 165
love of, 57, 62, 117, 119, 133, 143, 156, 158159, 162, 165
as master, 93, 165
merciful, 8182, 9092, 9597, 138, 162
omnipotent, 3436, 49, 5558, 70, 72, 146, 150, 161, 163
omniscient, 35, 72, 8687, 98
perfection, 55, 98, 142, 162
as physician, 2, 85, 9396, 99, 113, 139, 144, 148150, 159
righteous, 76, 79, 85, 87
as teacher, 2, 9394, 144, 159
and time, 58, 8589, 97
wisdom of, 5758, 70, 83
wrath of, 156
Gorgias, 96
Geertz, Clifford, 10, 1318
Grant, Robert, 39
Greer, Rowan, 21, 55
Greggs, Tom, 141, 145, 148, 154
Gregory of Nazianzus, 43
Gregory of Nyssa, 116
Gregory Thaumaturgus, 4345, 103104
Halus, 113
Hamlet, 97
Harl, Marguerite, 60, 65
Harnack, Adolf von, 3, 6, 42
Heine, Ronald, 134, 145, 147
hell, 129, 135, 137141, 147152, 155156, 158160, 163
Helim, 113
heretics, 35, 76, 8081, 8588, 122, 138
Holy Spirit, 105, 108, 142, 145, 152
Homilies on Genesis, 84
Homilies on Exodus, 83, 85, 139
Homilies on Ezekiel, 94
Homilies on Jeremiah, 95, 138, 154
Homilies on Joshua, 139
Homilies on Leviticus, 137138
Homilies on Numbers, 102, 104, 116118

Hume, David, 32, 49

image of God, 5455, 131, 134
imitation of God, 131, 133
incarnation, 108
Irenaeus, 6
Iroth, 112
Isaac, 119
Israel/Isrealites, 85, 104, 107108, 111, 135, 139, 145
(p.226) Jacob, 7980, 84, 88, 90, 119, 153
Jericho, 135
Jerome, 64, 115, 121, 124, 135137, 157
Jesus, 124, 131133, 135, 139140, 142143, 146, 150153
Job, 20, 30, 63
John, 89, 152153
Jonah, 155
Jordan, River, 114115
Judas, 89
Judith, 105
Justinian, 50, 124, 143
Kannengiesser, Charles, 46
Koetschua, Paul, 143
Lampe, G. W. H., 134
Lazarus, 137, 140
Leibniz, G. W., 2
Leonides, 1, 40, 103
Leontius of Byzantium, 143
Letter to Africanus, 136
Letter to Friends in Alexandria, 129, 135137, 140, 152
Letter to Gregory, 43, 136
Leviticus, 105
Life of Plotinus, 28
Logos, 5354, 5657, 61, 70, 88, 93, 108, 118, 126, 132133, 150, 157, 166
Long, Charles, 13, 1618
Louth, Andrew, 118
love, 115118, 120
Macarius, 75
Magdalum, 112
Marcion, 10, 25, 3537, 59, 76, 8081, 85, 93, 99
material creation, ix, 31, 5255, 58, 7374, 76, 93, 100, 160
McGuckin, John, 40
Methodius, 121, 124
Middle Platonism, 6, 2627, 50, 164
Moab, 114
Moltmann, Jrgen, 34
Moses, 62, 82, 90, 106108, 124, 142
mysteries of God, 57, 84, 90, 105, 108109, 115, 118120, 125, 151154, 158159, 163166
mysticism, 101, 115116
Nabau, 114
neglect, 6466, 71, 96, 107, 110, 148
Neoplatonism, 125
Nineveh, 155
Noah, 135
Norris, Frederick, 129, 146

nous, 5455
nouvelle thologie, 3, 6, 101102
Numbers, 105, 111, 115
On Prayer, 89, 96, 144
Origen
ascetic, 103
apologist, 5, 163
champion of free will, 66, 75
churchman, 3, 56, 4048, 127, 142, 158
confessor of the faith, 1, 40, 103
early years, 1, 40, 103
and orthodoxy, x, 34, 67, 42, 47, 56, 146
as pastor, 106, 115, 127, 130, 138141, 143, 149, 151, 154, 157159, 163164
pedagogy, 6, 4445, 56, 104105, 108, 115116, 118, 125, 129, 137138, 140142, 149, 151
159, 163164
and philosophy, ix, 36, 4048, 52, 9697, 104, 118119, 131, 164
and Platonism, 36, 4048, 50, 53, 5860, 63, 9697, 125, 131
scholarship on, 24, 4042, 46, 50, 53, 58, 60, 101, 147, 150
as teacher, 4345, 102104, 115, 127, 149, 151, 158, 164165
theological methodology, 45, 30, 40, 42, 61, 104, 125, 130, 140142, 163164
zeal for martyrdom, 1, 40, 103
Origenism, 4, 40, 50
Orsi, Robert, 20
Paul, 77, 79, 8386, 8889, 91, 105, 125, 152154
perfection, 99, 101102, 104, 112114, 120, 122, 127, 144 (see also souls)
perichoresis, 57
Phaedrus, 59, 65, 125
Pharaoh, 8085, 88, 9093, 9799, 107, 112
(p.227) Philo, 5354, 59, 65
Philocalia, 43, 84
Plato, 24, 2627, 29, 3839, 45, 52, 5960, 63, 65, 9697, 131
Platonism, 3, 24, 30, 4048, 50, 53, 5860, 63, 126 (see also Middle Platonism)
Plotinus, 2632, 39, 97
Porphyry, 28
precosmic realm, 49, 53, 5960, 62, 73
pre-existence, 6, 4950, 7072, 7980, 88, 100, 138, 145, 162164
as Christological, 6, 5358, 61, 72, 163
as Platonic, 6, 53, 5861, 63
predestination, 8687
principle of accommodation, 154158, 164
problem of evil, ixxi, 2, 68, 23, 3240, 4748, 70, 73, 100, 102, 120, 127128, 138, 165
166
progressive restoration/ascent, 107108, 112, 120, 127, 145, 166
Promised Land, 107108, 111112, 115
Proverbs, 118119
providence, 2, 12, 14, 26, 33, 3540, 47, 56, 58, 61, 6970, 7494, 97
100, 102, 113, 120, 127, 142, 159, 161163, 165166
compatibility with freewill, 7576, 89, 9193, 120, 127
Psalms, 105
punishment, 36, 84, 92, 137141, 143
as remedial, 75, 8485, 93100, 128, 133, 138, 143144, 148, 155158
purification, ix, 101, 104, 110, 112, 114115, 119120, 122, 124, 126, 128
132, 134, 137, 142, 145151, 165166(see also souls)

Rahab, 135
Ramesse, 111112
Raphaca, 113
Raphidin, 113
rational beings/minds, 6, 5358, 6173, 7678, 100, 121, 130, 132, 136, 139, 143, 163
religion, 1114
Republic, 27
Ressa, 114
resurrection, 102, 107, 109, 120128, 131, 139, 145, 160
ritual, 20
Rufinus, 64, 75, 135137, 146
rule of faith, 45, 47, 52
Saccus, Ammonius, 28
salvation, 2122, 69, 75, 7982, 8485, 8889, 91, 95, 97, 99, 102, 105
106, 108, 111, 113, 120, 122, 127,129130, 134135, 140147, 151, 153, 163
Seligman, Adam, 20
Severus, Septimius, 1, 103
simple multitude, 5152, 105, 115118, 121, 123, 125126, 130, 149, 151158, 164
sin, 6, 36, 101105, 111114, 119, 128, 137138, 140, 145, 148, 152, 156, 158160, 164
Sin, 115, 142
Sinai, 113
Smith, J. Z., 8
Socrates, 96
Solomon, 119
Solomonic trilogy, 102, 116, 118119
Son of God, 107108, 134, 142, 144, 146147
Song of Songs/Solomon, 115120
souls, 6, 5468, 727, 80, 8283, 85, 9399, 101166
purification
of, 93100, 101, 104, 110, 112, 114115, 119120, 122, 124, 126, 128
132, 134, 137, 142, 145,147150, 155158, 165166
perfection of, 99, 101102, 104, 112114, 120, 122, 127, 133, 144, 150, 165
spirituality, 6, 101105, 112, 119120, 158, 164
Stoicism, 27, 31, 3839, 124, 165
suffering of children, 8, 33
suffering as remedial, 75, 8485, 93100, 128, 133, 144, 166
temptation, 112114
Tertullian, 35
Theaetetetus, 27, 131
(p.228) theodicy, ixxi, 2, 68, 23, 61, 6970, 7375, 100101, 109, 120, 127
129, 131, 134, 136, 139, 146,159, 161162, 164166
as meaning-making, 916
as navigation, 6, 8, 1622, 100, 166
Weber's three pure types of, 10
theology, 2, 67, 12, 14, 5558, 75, 104, 121122, 125, 127, 129130, 141
143, 146, 152, 154, 158, 163165 (see also divine attributes, God)
of ascent, 101102, 104, 107, 118, 120, 127128, 142
Tillich, Paul, 1518
Timaeus, 27
Tobit, 105
Tombs of Lust, 114
Torjesen, Karen Jo, 108
Tracy, David, 17
Trinity, 122, 142

union with God, xi, 102, 107, 114117, 126, 130, 132133, 150151
universalism/universal salvation, 6, 128130, 135, 140144, 149, 151154, 157, 163
Valentinus/Valentinian, 10, 37, 76, 80, 85, 136
Valley of Siddim, 112
virgin birth, 108
Weber, Max, 911, 1618
Widdicombe, Peter, 5557
Williams, Rowan, 4, 35, 76
Wisdom of God, 5758, 110
Wisdom of Solomon, 106