Theological Formation as Ethical Instruction

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This essay examines the pedagogical contribution of Clement of Alexandria (A.D. 150 – 215), with focus on pedagogical pragmatism as the basis for prescribed moral purification, and implications for contemporary catechesis.

Pedagogical pragmatism

St. Clement of Alexandria, dean of the catechetical school whereat he derives his name, offers a useful reference for present-day catechesis, particularly in light of his striking ability to reconcile the demands of strict ethical instruction with an openness to contrasting ethical systems. As a teacher he was both unrelenting in his pursuit of excellence in his charges yet also acutely open to the work of grace that illuminated the seeds of truth present in others’ schools of moral thought. Such an approach testified to an unwavering confidence in the unity of truth.

He acknowledged that the Greeks possessed a form of truth but criticized its efficacy due to its impact on popular morality and religion. With biting scorn, Clement dismissed the Greek mysteries as childish ceremonies, worthless and debasing. He ridiculed the Greek gods for their low moral standards. Employing Plato’s metaphysics, which highlighted the unity, supremacy, and goodness of God, Clement argued that the true God could not be represented in material form. He asserted that Christianity offered the genuine mysteries, culminating in the vision of God.

The Greek religion Clement attacked was far removed from the lofty concepts of Plato or Aeschylus. In contrast, the Christian Church upheld a higher view of the divine character and demanded a correspondingly higher standard of human conduct. Ultimately, Clement secured a place for philosophy within the Church. Later, art found a home there as well, and even the fundamental ideas of the mysteries were admitted. This approach not only respects the tradition of the Church but also opens up new pathways for understanding and living out the Christian faith.

Clement tailored his approach to suit his audience. While he acknowledged the importance of a pedagogical method, he remained primarily focused on his ultimate goal: to articulate the most vital doctrines in a manner that persuaded his listeners. Scholar Henri-Irénée Marrou observes that the Christian diatribe, a form of pedagogical rhetoric, evolved alongside the catechism. Marrou convincingly positions Clement as a practitioner of the classical diatribe, or “imitation technique” (akin to the Cynic-Stoic diatribe), evident through his use of fictional dialogues. Furthermore, Clement’s homiletics incorporated fundamental rhetorical principles to engage and ease his audience. However, his application of classical diatribe rules was flexible, reflecting a pragmatism that prioritized his audience’s needs over rigid pedagogies.

Clement had a remarkable perspective on pagan philosophy, seeing it as a divine precursor to the Gospel, much like the Old Testament law and prophets. Unlike Tertullian and Hippolytus, who aimed to purge Christian theology of Greek philosophical influences, Clement perceived philosophy as a preliminary cleansing that prepared the way for faith. His eclecticism nurtured pagan thought until it could find its ultimate fulfillment in Christ. In this way, Clement effectively “Christianized” Gnosticism, suggesting that theology is the culmination of a scholarly journey that may well ascend to mystical truth through the pedagogy of pagan thought. His eclecticism should be viewed not as an endorsement of paganism’s truth-conveying ability, but as a testament to the Gospel’s superior capacity to make sense of paganism. For Clement, the truly successful student would eventually outgrow the need for the pedagogue, who functions “in persona Christi” as the divine pedagogue.

Clement’s didactic method draws from Greek philosophy, incorporating elements of rationality and mysticism without adhering to any single system or philosophical approach. He is recognized as the first Christian teacher to embrace “all forms of truth” in his methodology, demonstrating a unified pursuit of a visible manifestation of God in the world. This belief, coupled with the inseparability of thought, truth, and the nature of reality in Christ, sees Clement oscillate between philosophy and Christian theology. Hellenistic pedagogy, predominantly oratorical, was absorbed, interpreted, and integrated by Clement.

Clement’s approach is a fascinating blend of pragmatism and philosophical depth, reflecting his conviction that the Gospel can transform and elevate pagan thought. This synthesis of ideas not only broadens the scope of theological discourse but also underscores the transformative power of faith to illuminate and transcend cultural and philosophical boundaries. In Clement’s hands, the richness of Greek thought became a fertile ground for the seeds of Christian truth, demonstrating the remarkable capacity of the Gospel to integrate and elevate human wisdom.

While ancient philosophers wielded rhetoric to enrich the mind, Clement saw Christian philosophy as a conduit to elevate the soul. Clement prioritizes practical knowledge before theory. He offers practical examples of moral conduct to enhance the recognition of goodness, thus promoting imitation. For instance, he explicates the term “metanoia” by recounting the story of John the Apostle and the brigand leader from Christian tradition. After John the Apostle’s return from exile on Patmos, he appointed a youth to a bishop for guidance and spiritual care. However, the bishop failed to maintain strict oversight, leading the youth into a life of crime and eventual leadership of a band of robbers. While the dramatic story ends with the youth’s reconversion, it serves to highlight Clement’s insistence on the importance of pastoral oversight alongside catechesis.¹

By the second century, the rise of Christianity attracted educated men eager to join its fold. These new converts brought with them a heritage of thought and culture unfamiliar to the simpler Christians of earlier times. Clement’s task was to reconcile the Christian message with the truths held by these educated hearers. He himself had come to Christianity with a mind deeply immersed in Greek learning, recognizing that philosophy, at its best, had served the Greeks much like prophecy served the Jews — a preparation for Christ, filled with foreshadowing of divine teaching.

Clement’s ordering, where practical application precedes theoretical understanding, offers a valuable lesson for modern educators. By fostering a deeper recognition of goodness through practical examples, educators can inspire students to emulate virtuous conduct. Incorporating Clement’s methods could enrich catechesis by embedding allegorical exegesis and focusing on the expansive capacity of signs and symbolism, functioning as transcendent vectors, within the Biblical narrative. This would not only deepen catechumens’ understanding of scripture but also help them connect more profoundly with the underlying spiritual truths. The result is a more engaging educational experience that resonates with Clement’s vision of leading souls from the material to the spiritual, and from the transient to the eternal. Such a progression, from the material to the spiritual, would later feature in the work of St. Bonaventure, as the hallmark of Franciscan Theology, a baton picked up by Pope Benedict XVI.

Formation predicated upon purification

Once conversion has begun, and the sheep has been brought into the fold of the Church, Clement reduces the scope of thought from expansive philosophy to precise practical instruction. Through a conversion of heart and ascent of mind the catechumen has found their way into the catechist’s care. The catechist, to follow Clement’s example, now begins the role of nurturing the growth of faith through the individual’s cooperation with the grace of the Holy Spirit. The implication for catechesis is clear: prescriptive ethical conduct only follows conversion of the heart and ascent of the mind.

In the teachings of Clement of Alexandria, one finds a solemn call to spiritual austerity that stands in stark contrast to the materialistic fervor of modern life. Clement, interpreting the parable of the Rich Young Man, sees a deeper message than the mere renunciation of wealth; he speaks of a profound “poverty of spirit” that seeks God above all. This poverty requires a state of apatheia — emotional detachment — not merely as an ideal but as a vital prerequisite for any serious catechetical journey. This severing of material references of growth and success can only be predicated upon a radical reordering of the worldview Clement so ardently sought to convey by any and all means of argument.

For the catechumen, disillusionment with the transient nature of worldly life is essential. Clement’s teachings suggest that one must recognize the mere shadow of eternity in all earthly things, indicating a belief that true existence — and therefore true learning — begins only when one has renounced temporal joys and concerns. This renunciation, according to Clement, is not just about turning away from physical possessions but about a deeper, internal conquest: the taming of passions, which he sees as vital to spiritual growth. Engaging in acts of mercy is not just charitable but transformative, tempering the soul’s desires with the discipline of service.

While contemporary pedagogical theories often celebrate the enthusiastic and vigorous student, Clement advocated for a composed and measured approach. Cautious about the dangers of excessive emotions, even in learning, Clement prized the quiet learner, whose calm steadiness of mind and modest demeanor were seen as shields against the capricious and corrupting forces of zeal. He warned his students against the spiritual perils of excess — even in something as seemingly benign as sleep, which he famously dubbed the “rival of death.” Clement’s guidance spans the simple routines of daily life, such as eating and sleeping. He advocates for moderation in all things — fasting from excess, whether in food or sleep, which he equates with a kind of living death as the seductive pull away from wakeful vigilance. Replace feasting with fasting, he suggests, and find greater nourishment in spiritual pursuits like prayer and vigils.

In his guidance on interpersonal conduct, Clement’s voice is both gentle and firm. He counseled his followers to adopt a demeanor of humility and restraint, suggesting that the true disciple should speak clearly but not loudly, engage respectfully but not intrusively, and walk through life with eyes cast down — not in shame, but in a symbolic gesture of inward reflection. Such practical instruction demonstrates a highly detailed approach to catechesis which views the spiritual maturation of the catechumen as impossibly bound up in the sum of small moment-by-moment decisions. Such a detailed formation can only realistically come from a residential program of the variety advocated by St. John Henry Newman, where students live alongside their teachers in collegiate setting. Weekly classes or even online groups, from this perspective, are deemed largely ineffective according to Clement’s approach, insofar as daily contact should be prioritized.

The essence of Clement’s instruction lies in the integration of action and belief, where external behaviors such as speech and manners reflect a profound internal commitment to spiritual ideals. This synthesis of the moral and the theological is most vividly presented in his work Paedagogus, where he balances the scales of ethical living with theological depth, illustrating that understanding and expressing God’s will requires a disciplined modulation of both mind and body. To Clement, every aspect of existence, from the mundane to the profound, was a terrain for the exercise of faith. He saw life as a continuous catechesis, a teaching that unfolds in each act, each choice, and each moment of silence.

Integration of thought and action

In the contemplative teachings of Clement of Alexandria, one discovers a framework of existence where every word and action holds a profound spiritual significance. Clement insists on a meticulousness of speech that is nearly antithetical to our modern rush towards incessant communication. “Take care never to speak what you have not weighed and pondered beforehand,” he advises, suggesting a world where words are treated with the same reverence and caution as precious artifacts. For the modern catechist, Clement would suggest that oral addresses should be written in advance, and not delivered “off the cuff.” This emphasis on deliberation extends to learning and teaching — activities that, in his view, should be embraced eagerly and shared generously, without the slightest hint of reluctance.

This philosophical approach is anchored in the concept of the Logos, or divine word, which for Clement is not merely a theological tenet but an Active Teacher. This call merges the act of living with the ethics of goodness; it is not enough to be, one must also be good. His writings, especially in the Paedagogus, weave together theological depth with ethical guidelines, showing a dexterous handling of doctrine alongside practical morality. For example, his call for enduring the insolence of others in silence speaks to a stoicism that elevates the spirit above the fray of petty human conflicts. He believes in language as a tool, not a weapon; it should serve the common good, always aligning with the deeper purposes of divine will. The entire structure of Clement’s moral universe is about alignment — aligning words to actions, desires to spiritual needs, and the human will to divine intent. Every act, whether a spoken word or a choice at the dinner table, is a reflection of a broader cosmic order. It is this alignment that allows the soul to turn constantly towards God, leaning on Christ’s power like a ship mooring in a safe harbor, bathed in divine light.

For Clement, the Christian life is a constant communion with the divine, where every moment is an opportunity to manifest the joy of one’s faith. It is a life where the mundane becomes sacred and every choice carries the weight of eternity. This vision offers a counterpoint to a world often lost in the superficial and transient, inviting a return to a life where every action is infused with meaning and directed towards the divine. In a culture saturated with wellness fads and health obsessions, the age-old wisdom to relinquish corporeal anxieties might seem radical, if not outright revolutionary. Yet this is precisely the counsel offered in an enduring spiritual tradition that advocates turning one’s gaze upward rather than inward. “Give up the many anxious cares about the body by taking comfort in hopes towards God,” the teaching advises, suggesting a divine providence that ensures the necessities — food, shelter, and warmth — are met. This is not a call to neglect, but a reassurance; for the believer, everything from the grand expanse of the earth to the minutest yield of the soil is under sovereign care.

The spiritual rhetoric imbues every element of existence with a sanctity, treating the body not merely as flesh and bone but as a temple deserving divine care. Such a perspective does not trivialize the ailments and wear of the body but contextualizes them within a broader tableau of faith and ultimate recovery. “Do not dread severe diseases, nor the approach of old age,” it counsels, positioning these not as catastrophes but as temporal challenges that, too, shall pass. The promise is profound: adherence to divine commands is a pathway not just to spiritual but also to bodily renewal. The exhortation deepens, urging resilience in the face of suffering. “Make your soul strong even in the face of diseases; be of good courage, like a man in the arena,” it commands, evoking the imagery of ancient gladiators whose bravery transcended mere survival and verged on the ceremonial.

This stoicism is not about denying pain but about a profound confrontation with it, armed with a belief in the higher wisdom of the divine (“since His thoughts are wiser than man’s”). Thus, Clement frames his catechesis as a challenge to engage the trials of life — not just disease, but any form of hardship — with a spirit fortified by faith and gratitude. In this view, every challenge is an opportunity to deepen one’s character, to transform personal struggle into spiritual triumph, and to live a life that continually reflects a profound thanksgiving for the inscrutable, yet always merciful, designs of the divine.