Well, friends, if you’re reading this, it could be quite lengthy. But the overall clarification needs more context. That’s why I’m blogging about it rather than making a two-hour YouTube video that might bore you to death. In this section, I would like to look at Jake’s chapter titled “Theological Diversity in Early Christianity.” For Jake, there seems to be no distinction between Early Orthodox Christianity and the other Jewish/Christian sects that existed during the first three centuries before Nicaea. He calls them all “Christian” (Pg.29). At least Jake acknowledges, “Justin [Martyr] strongly disagrees with these Christians” (page 30). But I would say it shows that early Christianity was theologically diverse, with different communities interpreting Jesus, God, salvation, Scripture, and apostolic tradition in significantly different ways.

But the important qualification is: diversity does not automatically mean there was no identifiable apostolic or proto-orthodox trajectory. The existence of competing Christianities has to be weighed against which traditions had earlier roots, broader geographical continuity, and stronger claims to apostolic authority.

Justin, Tertullian, and the Problem of Reading Nicaea Backwards

There is a fascinating problem with the way Jake’s reconstructs early Christian theology in Theological Diversity in Early Christianity. Not everything he says is wrong (Congratulations Jake). That would actually make the discussion much easier. I taught Church History at tertiary level, and it should be noted that the first seven Centuries Saw more happen than the subsequent eras put together! And it should be equally recognised that the early Christian community tried to reconcile deeply Jewish and current Christological ideas that they wanted to explicate and draw into the Greek mindset. So when it comes to the Martyr. Justin really does use subordinating language. Tertullian really is pre-Nicene. Early Christianity really was diverse. There really were Christians who rejected Christ’s personal pre-existence, and there really were Christians who collapsed the distinction between Father and Son.

The problem is what Jake does with those facts. His argument repeatedly moves from: “This Father is not yet using Nicene terminology” to: “Therefore this Father represents a theology fundamentally opposed to later Trinitarian orthodoxy.” That is a considerably larger historical claim. And it requires considerably more evidence. The fundamental methodological problem is anachronism: evaluating second- and early-third-century theologians as though they were sitting an examination on terminology that would only become technically standardised more than a century later. The scholarly literature is far more interesting than that.

The real question is development, not whether Justin had read Nicaea

Let us start with the obvious. Justin Martyr died around 165 CE. The Council of Nicaea met in 325 CE. Constantinople followed in 381 CE. So, Justin obviously did not use the mature fourth-century language of homoousios, the Cappadocian distinction between ousia and hypostasis, or the later pro-Nicene formulation of eternal generation. But that observation proves almost nothing (sigh). The important historical question is not: “Was Justin already Nicene?” He wasn’t… (Shocker). The important question is: “Do Justin and other pre-Nicene writers exhibit theological convictions and exegetical patterns from which Nicene Trinitarian theology later developed?” That is a very different question. And a fair historical question, as you would expect.

Lewis Ayres’ Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology is indispensable here. Ayres’ entire project resists simplistic accounts of doctrinal development and reconstructs the different theological trajectories that contributed to pro-Nicene theology. His discussion of Latin theology around 300 CE is especially important because he explicitly examines how much, and in what sense, later Latin theology should be understood as shaped by Tertullian. I suggest Jake look at Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy, especially pages 62–84. (Amazon). So already we have a problem with Brancatella’s framework. Pre-Nicene does not mean anti-Nicene. It means pre-Nicene. This is not shifting the burden; it is picking up the right problem, and this one is a historical one.

“Justin has in view a modalistic conception of God”

Jake writes: “Justin has in view a modalistic conception of God in which the Word/Son becomes a mode of the Father directed toward creation (Page 33). ” And then: “Justin is refuting Modalism while simultaneously affirming a separate, lesser deity (the Word/Son) capable of entering creation in a way the Father cannot (Page 34).”

These statements need to be separated. Justin certainly seems to be answering a position in Dialogue 128 that insists the divine power is “indivisible and inseparable” from the Father, analogous to sunlight from the sun. The problem is that Brancatella treats identifying that group as straightforward. It isn’t.

Bogdan Bucur’s article, “Justin Martyr’s Exegesis of Biblical Theophanies and the Parting of the Ways between Christianity and Judaism,” Theological Studies 75.1 (2014), page. 34–51, is especially useful here. Bucur surveys the competing interpretations of Justin’s opponents and explicitly notes that the scholarly tradition is divided. He cites Eric Osborn, who argues that the ideas are “clearly of Jewish origin” while showing similarities to Modalist Monarchianism; he then notes that Minns and Parvis regard Christian modalists as a possible identification; Skarsaune likewise sees the theology as modalistic. See Bucur, pages 35–36 and n. 25. (Theological Studies Journal)

That is very important. Bucur does not simply say: “Justin is describing second-century Sabellians.” Rather, he places the interpretation within a debated scholarly reconstruction. Bucur’s wider argument is even more interesting. He argues that Christian exegesis of Old Testament theophanies was rooted in an earlier Christian tradition and became an important instrument in anti-Jewish and anti-Monarchian argument. His article notes that identifying Israel’s LORD with Jesus through Old Testament theophanies became central to Christian identity and doctrinal development. See Bucur, pages 34–35, 48–49. (Theological Studies Journal)

That is much bigger than “Justin invented a second god (Just saying).”

Justin’s own argument actually rejects the modalist model

Justin’s most important statement in Dialogue 128 is that the divine power is: “numerically distinct” and is begotten from the Father: “not by abscission.” Justin then illustrates his point through fire: “the fire kindled from the first fire” remains distinct, while the original fire is not diminished. (Dial. 128.4) The crucial point is not that Justin has somehow arrived at fourth-century homoousios. He hasn’t.

The point is that Justin is attempting to preserve two things at the same time: A real distinction without division between Father, Son, and Spirit. That is exactly why the fire analogy matters. Justin emphasizes that the Logos is not simply the Father wearing another theological hat. Justin specifically rejects the sunlight analogy because he thinks it can imply that the Logos is merely an extension or temporary manifestation of the Father.

Oskar Skarsaune’s The Proof from Prophecy: A Study in Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition is particularly relevant because his study places Justin’s Christology within his scriptural and Jewish exegetical method. His treatment of Justin’s exegetical traditions runs through the major sections of the Dialogue, especially pages 409–424, for conclusions on the theological profile of Justin’s proof-text tradition. Bucur explicitly directs readers to Skarsaune’s pages 409–424 when discussing Justin’s theophany arguments. (Google Books)

This is why it is problematic to reduce arithmō heteros or “numerically distinct” to “therefore another lesser god.” Justin is saying that Father and Logos are genuinely distinguishable. That is not an embarrassment for Trinitarian theology. It is a prerequisite for it. A doctrine in which Father and Son are not distinguishable is called Modalism. The Trinity does not teach that the Father equals the Son, and the Son equals the Spirit as one (prosopon) person. It clearly teaches that the Father is not the Son, and the Son is not the Holy Spirit. It does so while confessing one God! Justin is obviously nowhere near the technical precision of the fourth century, but his rejection of personal identity between Father and Son is not evidence against Trinitarian development. It is part of the problem later Trinitarian theology had to solve. This is very important!

The question then becomes, “But does “without abscission” prove Nicene equality?” My answer would be a simple No, and this is where we should be more careful than the earlier version. It proves something narrower and more defensible. The Martyr is explicitly denying that the Father is divided or diminished when the Son is begotten. That is significant. But it does not by itself prove that Justin has already articulated the full Nicene claim that Father and Son are homoousios in the technical fourth-century sense. Another scholar worth noting here is Denis Minns. In Justin Martyr: A Reader and in his broader scholarship on Justin, Minns interprets Justin’s language in its second-century setting. The crucial point is that Justin’s concern in Dialogue 128 is that the Father’s divine reality is not split into pieces by generation. That is much safer than claiming: “Minns proves Justin believed exactly what Nicaea later confessed.” He doesn’t. And that is ok… And we should not make the evidence carry more weight than it can bear.

Justin’s Logos is nevertheless unmistakably divine

Here Jake’s “lesser deity” language becomes problematic. Justin calls the Logos: God. Lord. Son. Word. Wisdom. Angel. Glory (think about that!) More importantly, the Logos is pre-existent and active in creation and revelation. Justin says in Second Apology 6: “His Son… the Word who was with Him and was begotten before the works.” The passage continues by explaining that God created and ordered things through him. That matters enormously. The Son is not simply dropped into the story after creation as an exalted creature or, as the Unitarians say, an “Intermediary”. He is positioned before the works of creation and as the divine agent through whom God creates. This is why Demetrius Trakatellis’ “The Pre-Existence of Christ in the Writings of Justin Martyr”, especially pages 53–92 and 138–146, is very relevant. Bucur specifically lists these sections in his survey of the Justinian scholarship. (Theological Studies Journal).

Justin is not merely asking: “How can Jesus be divine?” He is asking: “Who was the God who appeared to Abraham, Jacob and Moses?” Justin’s answer is the Logos. He argues that the Father is ineffable and transcendent and therefore is not the one who physically appears in the Old Testament narratives. So who appears? The Logos. This is why Bucur’s article is so valuable. Bucur concludes that the identification of Israel’s LORD with Jesus through Old Testament theophanies was deeply significant for the formation of early Christian identity. He surveys passages including Genesis 18, Genesis 28, Genesis 32, Exodus 3, Exodus 19, Exodus 24, Isaiah 6, Ezekiel 1 and Daniel 7. See Bucur, Theological Studies 75 (2014), pages 34–35. (Theological Studies Journal).

More importantly, Bucur explicitly states that theophany exegesis was already rooted in the apostolic era and continued to function in Christian anti-Monarchian argument through Irenaeus and Tertullian. See pages 35 and 48–49. (Theological Studies Journal). This is crucial for Brancatella’s thesis. Justin’s Christology does not look like: “God created an inferior deity who sometimes visits the world.” It looks more like: The invisible Father is revealed and acts through his divine Logos, who himself appears in the biblical narrative. That is a much more sophisticated theological structure.

What about “another God and Lord”?

This is probably Jake’s strongest quotation. Justin says: “there is… another God and Lord subject to the Maker of all things.” That certainly sounds startling. And we shouldn’t soften it. Justin does use language of “another God.”But the context matters. The phrase appears in a dispute over Old Testament theophanies and the relationship between the God who appears and the God who remains transcendent. Justin immediately qualifies the statement by saying that this “other God and Lord” is subject to the Maker of all things, “above whom there is no other God.”

The point, therefore, is not pagan ditheism. It is an attempt to maintain real distinction within divine agency while still maintaining the Father’s supreme monarchy. This is precisely where the term subordinationism is useful. I am quite happy to call Justin subordinationist. More refined, a Functional Subordinationist. The Late Michael J. Ovey wrote an excellent book on this topic called “Your Will Be Done: Exploring Eternal Subordination, Divine Monarchy and Divine Humility”. In it, he shows subordination does not equate to a lesser God status; the earliest Fathers understood functional and ontological subordination. In fact, whether they were orthodox or not depends on it.

So back to functional subordination…. The evidence supports it. What does not follow is: subordinationist = the Son is merely a lesser divine creature. Those are not identical claims. And Jake would be better off reading with this in mind. When contemplating this question, scholar Richard Bauckham gives us a better question. In Richard Bauckham’s God Crucified: Monotheism and Christology in the New Testament” and his book “Jesus and the God of Israel,” these works are important because Bauckham asks a different question from the simplistic “one God or two gods?” question.

He asks about divine identity!

His argument is that earliest Christology includes Jesus within the unique identity of Israel’s God. In Jesus and the God of Israel, Bauckham describes his purpose as demonstrating a “fully divine Christology” in which Jesus is “intrinsic to the unique and eternal identity of God.” See Bauckham, Jesus and the God of Israel, the volume reprints the foundational essay “God Crucified,” pages 1–59. (The Gospel Coalition)

Whatever one makes of every aspect of Bauckham’s project, it exposes a weakness in the language of “lesser deity.” The real question is not merely whether Justin thinks there are two distinguishable divine subjects. The question is: Does Justin place the Son on the divine side of the Creator/creature divide and within the biblical identity of the God who reveals himself? The answer is plainly (prolonged drumroll) ….. YES! But that is not all!

Hurtado adds another important piece to the puzzle

A scholar I had the privilege of knowing and communicating with was the late Dr. Larry Hurtado. His excellent books “Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity” and “How on Earth Did Jesus Become a God?” are important because Hurtado argues that devotion to Jesus emerged extraordinarily early within Christianity. Bucur explicitly cites Hurtado’s Lord Jesus Christ, page 577, to argue that Justin did not invent the idea that the pre-incarnate Jesus appears in Old Testament passages. Instead, Justin builds upon an older Christian tradition already present in Christian devotion. Bucur quotes Hurtado as saying Justin “was essentially building upon a line of christological argument already available.” See Bucur, pages 48–49. (Theological Studies Journal)

That is a significant historical point. Justin is not necessarily the beginning of the trajectory. He may be preserving and systematizing an already existing one. That seriously complicates the “Trinity appeared later” narrative. So, when Justin speaks of “Another God”, it needs to be read within Jewish monotheism. The terminology gets even trickier because Justin argues within a Jewish scriptural framework. The question isn’t merely: How many divine beings are there? Justin is trying to explain how the God of Israel can appear in Scripture while remaining transcendent. That is why Genesis 19:24 matters to him: “The LORD rained on Sodom and Gomorrah fire and brimstone from the LORD out of heaven.”

Justin sees two divine referents and identifies the visible one with the Son. Richard Bauckham’s divine-identity approach is useful here because he argues that Jewish monotheism is not adequately described merely as a numerical count of divine beings. It is fundamentally about the unique identity of the Creator and sovereign Lord. Also see Bauckham’s “God Crucified”, pages 1–59, and his work “Jesus and the God of Israel”, especially pages x, 1–59. (The Gospel Coalition)

So, Justin’s challenge is to ask how Jesus participates in what properly belongs to the God of Israel? That is much closer to the later Trinitarian problem than Brancatella’s “two lesser gods” formulation suggests.

The “Creator” argument also needs more nuance

Jake writes: “How could the Son be the Most High God in Justin’s theology if the Son is a numerically distinct God who is not the Creator/Maker of all things? (Pg.36)”

This is rhetorically effective. Historically, however, it oversimplifies Justin. Justin explicitly says that the Father created and ordered all things through the Logos. That distinction between source and agency is already present in his writings. So we need to distinguish: Father as ultimate source/cause from: Son as divine agent through whom creation occurs.

This does not make the Son a creature. Indeed, Justin’s pre-existence theology requires him to stand on the other side of the created order. The biblical background is obvious: “All things were made through him.” (John 1:3); “All things were created through him and for him.” (Colossians 1:16); “through whom also he made the ages.” (Hebrews 1:2). Justin’s own wording fits this kind of agency language remarkably well.

Andrew Louth’s The Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition (Oxford: Clarendon, 1981) is useful for the wider Middle Platonic and Christian background of divine transcendence and mediation, while Paul Blowers’ Drama of the Divine Economy: Creator and Creation in Early Christian Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012) examines precisely the early Christian distinction between divine action, creation and economy.

This is why the claim: “The Son is not the Creator” is too blunt. The more precise statement is: Justin distinguishes the Father as the ultimate source of creation while attributing creation and ordering to the Father through the Logos. That is historically defensible.

“Subject to the Maker” does mean something

It means the Son is ordered under the Father. And again, there is no reason to hide that. Justin’s theology is genuinely hierarchical. The Father is the unbegotten God. The Father is the ultimate source. The Son derives from the Father. The Son is sent by the Father. The Son obeys the Father. But the word subordinationism does not automatically answer the ontological question. This distinction becomes enormously important in later Trinitarian development.

John Behr’s “The Way to Nicaea: The Formation of Christian Theology” is particularly helpful because he stresses how questions about divine monarchy, the Son’s generation, and the interpretation of Scripture developed into the later Nicene controversy rather than simply appearing fully formed at Nicaea. The work is part of his broader two-volume Formation of Christian Theology. Its use in the scholarly literature on Nicaea is well established. (SAET)

Khaled Anatolios’ “Retrieving Nicaea: The Development and Meaning of Trinitarian Doctrine” likewise treats Nicene theology as the product of a developing theological grammar rather than an isolated conciliar invention. (Cambridge University Press)

Tertullian: “not fully Nicene” is true and rather beside the point

Jake writes: “Although Tertullian successfully argued against Modalism, we will later discover that he was not fully Nicene in his theology either (Page.36).”

Again: Yes. He wasn’t. He lived around 155–220 CE. Nicaea happened in 325. But the statement is being used rhetorically as though “not Nicene” demonstrates “not Trinitarian.” That simply does not follow. Tertullian is one of the most important pre-Nicene theologians precisely because he gives Latin Christianity a vocabulary for talking about divine unity and personal distinction. In Against Praxeas 2, Tertullian says the divine economy: “distributes the Unity into a Trinity” and speaks of: “the three Persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.” He then says that they are: “of one substance.” (Adv. Prax. 2). (New Advent). This is not the Nicene Creed. But it is difficult to pretend it has nothing to do with the doctrinal trajectory that culminates in Nicaea.

Tertullian is explicitly combating Modalism

Tertullian’s description of Praxeas is almost tailor-made to destroy Jake’s suggestion that early Christians simply had no developed Trinitarian categories. Tertullian describes Praxeas’ position as believing: “the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are the very selfsame Person.” He responds that the unity of God is not achieved by collapsing Father, Son, and Spirit into one person. Rather, the divine economy manifests a Trinity while retaining unity of substance. (New Advent)

This is exactly the problem Tertullian is solving: How do we maintain monotheism without Modalism? And his answer is remarkably explicit: one substance, three persons. Johannes van Oort’s discussion of early Trinitarian development similarly notes that Tertullian anticipates the classical formula tres personae, una substantia, while also cautioning that his theology retains subordinating tendencies. See Van Oort, “The Holy Spirit and the Early Church: Doctrine & Confession,” HTS Teologiese Studies 67.3 (2011). (SciELO) That is the kind of nuance Jake needs.

But Tertullian is not simply “Nicene before Nicaea.” This point deserves equal emphasis. Tertullian still uses terminology and conceptual patterns that are not identical to later Nicene theology. Christopher Stead’s discussion of “Substance and Persons” in “Philosophy in Christian Antiquity”, page 173–186, is useful because he explains how Tertullian’s una substantia, tres personae became influential while also showing that pre-Nicene terminology was fluid and that theologians did not yet have the later clarity concerning ousia and hypostasis. (Cambridge University Press)

A recent study of the historical relationship between Tertullian and the homoousion makes the point even more explicitly: Tertullian was influential upon later Western theology, but his use of una substantia did not function in exactly the same way as Nicaea’s homoousios. In other words, his contribution and his distance from Nicaea must both be acknowledged. (Journals.co.za). That is precisely the historically responsible position. Tertullian was formative, not simply finished.

The famous Tertullian formula deserves careful treatment

Tertullian’s famous phrase is: “One substance, three persons” (una substantia, tres personae). But even the word persona cannot simply be imported into twenty-first-century psychology. In Tertullian’s context, persona could carry meanings associated with distinction, role, and concrete presentation rather than automatically meaning three modern autonomous individuals. This is one of the reasons scholars such as J.N.D. Kelly and later historians of doctrine treat Tertullian with considerable care.

Stead’s analysis is particularly valuable here because he notes that Tertullian’s formula became influential in the West while the Greek East continued to wrestle with different relationships between ousia and hypostasis. See Stead, “Philosophy in Christian Antiquity”, pages 173–186. (Cambridge University Press). So, when Tertullian says “three persons,” don’t imagine three divine individuals standing three meters apart waiting for coffee. He’s developing technical Christian language for real distinction within divine unity.

Tertullian’s analogies are doing serious theological work

Tertullian uses analogies such as: root and shoot, fountain and stream, sun and ray. The point is not that Father and Son are two independent substances. The point is that something can proceed from another without severing the relationship or producing two unrelated origins. This is precisely why Tertullian says that the three are numbered: “without division.” The unity remains. The distinction remains. That is the theological problem. And, strangely enough, it is also the problem Nicaea will still be discussing more than a hundred years later.

The scholarly picture of Tertullian is therefore developmental

Eric Osborn’s Tertullian, First Theologian of the West, especially pages 65–87, treats Tertullian’s theological reasoning in precisely this kind of developmental context. Tertullian’s formulation is neither simply identical with later Nicene theology nor unrelated to it.

J.N.D. Kelly’s Early Christian Doctrines places Tertullian’s discussion of substance and person within the development of early Trinitarian doctrine; the relevant discussion is especially around pages 112–116 in the editions commonly cited.

Geoffrey D. Dunn’s Tertullian (2004) provides the broader historical and theological context for Against Praxeas and Tertullian’s anti-Monarchian argument.

John Behr, The Way to Nicaea (2001), situates these kinds of pre-Nicene arguments within the wider formation of Christian theological language.

Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy (2004), cautions against turning the pre-Nicene period into a simplistic straight line toward Nicaea.

In other words, the scholarship does not force us into the binary: Tertullian was fully Nicene or: Tertullian was essentially anti-Trinitarian. Both are crude.

Here is where the “no early Trinitarians” argument really breaks

Brancatella concludes that Trinitarians are “conspicuously missing” from the first centuries. That depends completely on what counts as “Trinitarian.” If the requirement is: “Someone must explicitly confess the Nicene Creed before Nicaea,” Then yes. There are no pre-Nicene Nicene theologians. Congratulations. But if the question is: “Do early Christians confess Father, Son and Spirit together, distinguish them personally, confess the divine status of Christ, worship Christ, understand Christ as pre-existent, and increasingly locate him within the identity and activity of the one God?” then the evidence is much different.

Johannes van Oort’s survey of early Christian confession is helpful precisely because he observes that early baptismal confessions frequently contain triadic structures and that these formularies gradually developed toward their mature forms. His article explicitly frames the issue as development, not sudden invention. See Van Oort, “The Holy Spirit and the Early Church: Doctrine & Confession,” HTS 67.3 (2011). (SciELO)

The same general developmental approach is visible in Anatolios and Ayres. So the argument cannot simply be: “The technical word was absent; therefore the theological reality was absent.” That is like saying nobody believed in gravitational physics before Newton because nobody had read Newton. Terminology matters. But terminology is not the same thing as conceptual content. Another key point is that “the scholars” don’t all agree and that actually helps. A strong historical argument should not pretend there is a scholarly monolith. There isn’t.

Oskar Skarsaune emphasizes Justin’s Jewish and scriptural proof-text tradition.

Eric Osborn stresses the Jewish origin of some of Justin’s conceptual material while noting similarities to Monarchian theology.

Denis Minns and Paul Parvis regard Christian modalists as a plausible target in Dialogue 128.

Bogdan Bucur emphasizes the broader trajectory of christological theophany interpretation and challenges the idea that Justin invented it.

Larry Hurtado argues that Justin inherited an already existing pattern of identifying the pre-existent Jesus within Old Testament theophany.

Richard Bauckham analyzes the problem through divine identity rather than merely numerical deity.

Charles Gieschen’s Angelomorphic Christology: Antecedents and Early Evidence (Brill, 1998; later Baylor edition) examines the Jewish background of mediator, angelomorphic and divine-hypostasis traditions and then traces their Christian appropriation from Justin through Nicaea. His section on “Angelomorphic Christology at Nicea and Before” begins the historical Christian evidence with Justin. (DOI)

That is especially relevant to Justin’s “Angel” terminology.

Gieschen’s thesis is not that calling Christ “Angel” means Christ is merely a created angel. His broader argument is that angelomorphic traditions provided language for articulating pre-existent and divine Christology. The book explicitly treats Jewish mediator traditions, Wisdom, Word, Glory and Power before moving to Christian evidence from Justin onward. (Baylor University Press)

Again: context matters. So where does that leave Justin? Probably somewhere much more interesting than Jake allows. Justin is not Nicene. Justin is subordinationist. Justin does distinguish the Father and Son numerically. Justin describes the Son as subject to the Father. Justin calls the Father the Maker of all things.

All of those things should be conceded. But Justin also says: The Logos is God. The Logos is pre-existent. The Logos is begotten before creation. The Logos is active in creation. The Logos appears to Abraham, Jacob, and Moses. The Logos is Lord. The Logos reveals the invisible Father. The Logos is not merely a temporary mode of the Father. The Logos is numerically distinct from the Father without the Father’s substance being divided. That is an extraordinary collection of convictions. You can argue that Justin has not yet solved the metaphysical problem.

That is fair. You can argue that his theology remains subordinate in ways later Nicene theology rejects. That is fair. You can argue that his terminology is inadequate by fourth-century standards. Obviously. But saying: “Justin believed in a separate, lesser deity” is not a neutral summary. It is a theological interpretation that needs to account for everything else Justin says about the Logos.

And here is the crucial distinction. Jake’s argument tends to collapse these four categories into one:

distinction… subordination… difference… inferiority. They are not synonymous. Father and Son can be distinct without being two unrelated gods. The Son can be subordinated in an economic relation without necessarily being a creature. The Father can be the ultimate source without the Son being excluded from divine creative agency. Justin’s own theology forces us to hold these things together. That is precisely why his theology is historically important.

The historical conclusion

So what can actually be demonstrated? Not that Justin was secretly Athanasius. Not that Tertullian had already worked out the Cappadocian theology. Not that second-century Christianity was doctrinally uniform. But neither can Brancatella establish that Justin’s Logos is merely a lesser deity or that Tertullian’s Trinitarian formulation is simply an unrelated precursor to later Nicene theology. The evidence shows something much more historically plausible:

Early Christian theology was developing. Justin inherited and developed christological readings of Israel’s Scriptures. The Logos was distinguished from the Father. The Logos was confessed as divine. The Logos was understood to act in creation and revelation. Tertullian then gave Latin Christianity more precise language for distinguishing Father, Son and Spirit while maintaining divine unity. Later controversies forced Christians to make these distinctions increasingly precise. Nicaea did not invent every conviction from scratch.

It clarified and defended them in a new controversy with a more precise conceptual vocabulary. And that is why the whole “Nobody was Nicene before Nicaea, therefore Nicene theology was invented at Nicaea” argument feels impressive until you examine it for more than five minutes. It is essentially: “Justin was not fourth-century Justin.” Correct. But hardly a historical earthquake. The much more difficult question is whether Nicaea represents a radical doctrinal invention or the culmination of centuries of Christian argument over the identity, divinity, relation and activity of the Son.

The evidence from Justin, Tertullian, Irenaeus, the theophany tradition, early Christian worship and the developing language of divine identity strongly favours a story of development and clarification rather than theological creation ex nihilo.

And perhaps that is the point Brancatella’s tidy taxonomy misses. Early Christian theology was not a finished house. But neither was it an empty plot of land. It had foundations. It had walls going up. Builders argued about where the windows should go. And, apparently, some of them were already arguing about the plumbing. That is what doctrinal development looks like. Not theological nothingness followed by a fourth-century invention.

The point is that we should use scholarship to say exactly what needs to be said in the specific field it addresses…sounds obvious. But here is a few examples, especially with this topic!

Scholarly works and precisely where they are relevant

Bogdan G. Bucur, “Justin Martyr’s Exegesis of Biblical Theophanies and the Parting of the Ways between Christianity and Judaism,” Theological Studies 75.1 (2014), pages 34–51. Bucur surveys Justin’s three approaches to Old Testament theophanies, identifies Jesus with the subject of several Old Testament theophanies, and discusses the competing scholarly interpretations of Justin’s opponents, including Osborn, Minns, Parvis and Skarsaune. Particularly useful: pages 34–36 and 48–49; n. 25 discusses the competing identification of the “indivisible and inseparable” group. (ResearchGate)

Oskar Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy: A Study in Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition: Text-Type, Provenance, Theological Profile (Leiden: Brill, 1987). Especially relevant are pages 409–424, which Bucur cites in connection with Justin’s theophany argument and theological profile. Skarsaune’s larger study reconstructs Justin’s scriptural method and the traditions behind his proof-texting. (Google Books)

Eric Francis Osborn, Justin Martyr (Tübingen: Mohr, 1973). Bucur cites page 31 specifically for Osborn’s conclusion that the theology behind Justin’s opponents is “clearly of Jewish origin” while showing similarities to Modalist Monarchianism. That is important because it demonstrates that identifying Justin’s opponents straightforwardly as later Christian Modalists is not universally accepted. (Theological Studies Journal)

Denis Minns and Paul Parvis, Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). Bucur uses their edition and notes their interpretation of Justin’s Apology 63 and Dialogue 128; see Bucur, Page number 25. Their work is particularly useful because it preserves the textual and historical difficulty of identifying Justin’s opponents rather than simply assuming later heresiological categories. (Theological Studies Journal)

Demetrius Trakatellis, The Pre-Existence of Christ in the Writings of Justin Martyr (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976), pages 53–92, 138–146. Bucur cites these pages as a major treatment of Justin’s pre-existence Christology and the exegetical basis of his argument. (Theological Studies Journal)

Bogdan Bucur, “The Divine Logos and His Revelations in Justin Martyr,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 22.2 (2014), pages 171–198. This broader work develops Bucur’s interpretation of Justin’s Logos and revelation theology. The supplied research notes specifically identify pages 171–198 as relevant to the divine Logos and his revelations.

Charles A. Gieschen, Angelomorphic Christology: Antecedents and Early Evidence (Leiden: Brill, 1998). Especially relevant is Part III, “Angelomorphic Christology at Nicea and Before,” beginning around page 187 and treating Justin specifically around pages 188–190. Gieschen argues that angelomorphic traditions were important vehicles for early expressions of pre-existent and divine Christology rather than simply evidence that Christ was regarded as a created angel. (DOI)

Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), page 577, as cited by Bucur. Hurtado argues that Justin did not originate the basic idea that the pre-incarnate Jesus appears in Old Testament passages but inherited a christological approach already present in Christian devotion. Bucur quotes Hurtado directly in making this point. (Theological Studies Journal)

Richard Bauckham, God Crucified: Monotheism and Christology in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), pages 1–59, and Jesus and the God of Israel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), especially page x and pages 1–59. Bauckham’s divine-identity approach argues that Jesus is included within the unique identity of the God of Israel rather than simply added as another deity. (The Gospel Coalition)

Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), pages 62–84 for his discussion of early fourth-century Latin theological trajectories and Tertullian’s place within the history. Ayres is especially useful for rejecting simplistic “straight-line” narratives of Nicene development. (OUP Academic)

Christopher Stead, Philosophy in Christian Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), pages 173–186, chapter 15, “Substance and Persons.” Stead explains how Tertullian’s una substantia, tres personae became influential while stressing the fluidity of pre-Nicene terminology and the differences between Tertullian’s conceptual world and later Greek Trinitarian terminology. (Cambridge University Press)

Tertullian, Against Praxeas, especially chapters 2 and 9–13. In chapter 2 Tertullian describes the divine unity as distributed into a Trinity and speaks explicitly of “three Persons” and “one substance.” The same work repeatedly argues against collapsing Father, Son, and Spirit into one person. (New Advent)

J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, especially the discussions of Tertullian’s terminology and the development of substantia and persona. Kelly’s treatment is foundational for understanding why Tertullian is simultaneously a profoundly important precursor to later Trinitarian doctrine and still unmistakably pre-Nicene.

Eric Osborn, Tertullian, First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), especially pages 65–87 for his treatment of Tertullian’s theology of God and the Trinity. Osborn’s work is particularly useful for showing that Tertullian cannot simply be reduced either to a fully developed Nicene theologian or to a non-Trinitarian subordinationist.

Geoffrey D. Dunn, Tertullian (Routledge, 2004). Dunn’s treatment of Against Praxeas provides the historical setting for Tertullian’s attack upon Monarchianism and his attempt to maintain divine unity while affirming distinctions among Father, Son and Spirit.

John Behr, The Way to Nicaea: The Formation of Christian Theology, vol. 1 (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2001). Behr’s broader thesis is important for understanding Nicaea as part of the formation of Christian theology rather than as an isolated doctrinal invention. The work remains a major modern treatment of the road to Nicaea. (SAET)

Khaled Anatolios, Retrieving Nicaea: The Development and Meaning of Trinitarian Doctrine (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011). Anatolios reconstructs the development of Nicene Trinitarian theology and its theological logic rather than treating homoousios as an isolated fourth-century novelty. (Cambridge University Press)

Johannes van Oort, “The Holy Spirit and the Early Church: Doctrine & Confession,” HTS Teologiese Studies 67.3 (2011). Van Oort examines early Christian Trinitarian expressions and explicitly describes early formulas as developing toward their mature forms. His discussion of Tertullian notes the classical tres personae, una substantia formulation while also acknowledging subordinating tendencies in Tertullian’s theology. (SciELO)

Andrew Louth, The Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition: From Plato to Denys (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981). Louth is relevant for the broader philosophical and cultural setting within which Christian thinkers articulated divine transcendence, mediation and Logos theology. (Oxford Academic).

Paul M. Blowers, Drama of the Divine Economy: Creator and Creation in Early Christian Theology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). Blowers’ work is useful for understanding early Christian distinctions between Creator, creation, divine agency and the economy of salvation rather than automatically equating economic order with ontological inferiority (Oxford Academic).

Rowan Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition, 2nd ed. (London: SCM, 2001). Williams is particularly useful for understanding the distinction between divine monarchy, eternal generation and the later fourth-century controversy rather than reading earlier subordinationist language through the finished categories of the Arian dispute (Google Books).

Paul Parvis, Justin Martyr and His Worlds (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), edited with Paul Foster. The volume contains major studies of Justin’s exegetical, historical and philosophical context, including contributions by Minns and Skarsaune. Its table of contents itself illustrates how modern Justin scholarship treats his thought as historically situated rather than reducible to later doctrinal labels. (IUCAT)

The bottom line about Justin and Jake….

The strongest historical response to Brancatella is not: “Justin was secretly Nicene.” That is too easy to refute. Nor should it be: “Justin believed exactly what Athanasius believed.” He didn’t. The stronger argument is this:

Justin is genuinely pre-Nicene. He is genuinely subordinationist. He is genuinely wrestling with the distinction between Father and Son. But the Logos he describes is also genuinely divine, pre-existent, personally distinct, active in creation, the subject of Old Testament theophanies and inseparable from the Father’s divine activity without dividing the Father’s reality.

Tertullian likewise is genuinely pre-Nicene, but he explicitly provides the Latin formula: una substantia, tres personae. That is not the Nicene Creed. But it is also not theological terra nullius. It is part of the history from which later Nicene theology emerges. So the real historical mistake is not Brancatella’s recognition of diversity or subordination. Those are real. The mistake is treating the existence of pre-Nicene development as though it demonstrates the absence of theological trajectories. That conclusion is not demanded by the evidence. And once the actual works of Skarsaune, Osborn, Minns, Parvis, Bucur, Gieschen, Hurtado, Bauckham, Ayres, Behr, Anatolios, Kelly, Dunn, Stead and others are brought into the conversation, the historical picture becomes much harder to squeeze into Brancatella’s tidy three boxes.

Early Christianity was messy. It was argumentative. It was developing. It was full of theologians trying to explain how Christians could simultaneously confess one God, worship Jesus, speak of the Spirit, distinguish Father from Son, affirm Christ’s pre-existence, and preserve the biblical conviction that the God of Israel is one. Nicaea did not create those questions. Nicaea inherited them. And that distinction is the whole ball game.