The subtitle of this book might well be “some of my best friends are heretics.” Reviewing the theological debates from Irenaeus to Chalcedon, Edwards argues for a position that current scholarship would largely endorse: that tenets of the established orthodoxy of the early church had their origins among groups originally attacked as heretics. As a corollary, he asserts a thesis somewhat more problematic: that there was, if not an “orthodoxy,” at least a “catholicity” that provided a foundation for the assimilation of such tenets and tendencies into a post-Nicene orthodoxy.

He commences his argument with “The Beginnings of Orthodoxy” (chapter 1). He finds the foundations for central elements of subsequent orthodoxy in the speculative theology of the second century—apophatic theology in the Apocryphon of John; humanity as the divine image in the teachings of Valentinus; the eternal sonship of the savior in Basilides; and beginnings of theological anthropology in Marcion, raising the question of which of the “creeds” of Irenaeus or Valentinus and the Gnostics would most approximate the later “catholic” norm. Focusing next on Christology, and noting the intersections of the thought of Clement, Origen, and Tertullian in the third century with that of Valentinus, Basilides, and Theodotus, he finds a “tincture” of Valentinian thought (67) in the Alexandrians, and concludes that in the third century, as in the second, theological ideas flowed both ways between the “catholics” and the Gnostics. However, “[Valentinianism] was a stream to be panned, though only a fool or a heretic would bathe there” (77).

Edwards continues his argument with Origen and Origenism, Nicaea and the homoousious debates, and the Christological debates culminating in the symbol of Chalcedon. In each case, he finds views that are attacked as heresy in their own day appearing as pillars of orthodoxy in subsequent debates. For the Origenist controversy, he focuses on Pamphilus' Apology for Origen. Pamphilus records that Origen is accused for using homoousios to refer to Christ's relationship with the Father (rightly so, according to Edwards), an accusation which implies Valentinianism in the third century, but becomes the litmus test of orthodoxy in the fourth. Indeed, he shows that many of Origen's erstwhile heretical positions serve as the source for the formulations that subsequently become orthodox. With regard to the debates after the Council of Nicaea in the fourth century, Edwards argues that Eusebius of Caesarea, rather than being a conservative who attempted compromise with the homoiousios language, was one of the first proponents of metaphysical parity between the Father and Son, and became a “harbinger of the homoousian doctrine” (120). Further, according to Edwards, the sources for the defense of the homoousios doctrine by someone like Marius Victorinus lie in Gnostic apophatic language like that of Zostrianus.

Edwards concludes his argument for the shifting playing fields of orthodoxy and heresy with an analysis of the debates leading up to Chalcedon. While he rejects the overly simplified view provided by history of doctrine surveys (this is somewhat of a straw man—few in Edwards's audience would hold this view of Chalcedon as a compromise between the Christological schools of Alexandria and Antioch), he also rejects its more widely-held corollary, that the orthodoxy of the Chalcedonian definition is largely Antiochene. If double consubstantiality of Christ with the Father in divinity and with us in humanity is the hallmark of the definition, Edwards argues that this was first expressed by Apollinarius, the heretic of the fourth century. According to Edwards, Apollinarius affirmed the subjective unity of Christ and the Father, the Virgin Mary as theotokos, and the determinative doctrine of double consubstantiality. Although this doctrine was attacked as heresy in the fourth century, it was recovered in the fifth, especially by Cyril of Alexandria, who uses it in his victory over Nestorius. It then plays a key role in the Formula of Reunion in 433, and thus finds its way into the symbol of 451. Rather than being Antiochene, Edwards argues that every doctrine that was peculiar to Antiochene theologians such as Theodore of Mopsuestius and Nestorius was rejected at Chalcedon, while the Alexandrian (and formerly heretical) propositions of Apollinarius were affirmed (171).

Edwards has built a convincing case in this revisionist history of theology. In each period, the spectrum of theological ideas was broad, and the lines on the playing field shifted from generation to generation. However, from this he infers not that early Christianity was a fractionated or disparate movement. On the contrary, from this evidence for diversity Edwards argues for an underlying unity, or “catholicity. This argument is less compelling. He never fully defines this catholicity—it apparently is the consensus of the “catholic.” Each theologian, he argues, assumed that he was not speaking merely for his own “conventicle,” but for the whole church. If modern historiography thinks otherwise it is because it is “Protestant by culture if not conviction” (174). What defines this unity is ecclesiastical—it is the consensus of the bishops in any particular age. Given his jab at Protestantism, one is tempted to think the model here is Anglicanism (especially since often in the text “episcopal” is capitalized as “Episcopal”). Unless there is a doctrinal component to this, similar to H. E. W. Turner's “penumbra” of orthodoxy, or due consideration of rhetorical or social analysis, this merely begs the question—which bishops and who defines the consensus is precisely what is at issue.

This is an erudite and stimulating work that provides many fresh insights and innovative arguments. It convincingly proves its central thesis about heresy, while remaining relatively mute and unsatisfying about catholicity. Unfortunately, its overly turgid prose (including occasional triple negatives) combined with egregiously poor copy-editing (this often obscures the argument, as in the capitalization example above, and there are often two or three such errors per page) will prevent all but the most dedicated of readers from benefitting from it.