His Holiness, Pope Benedict XVI's newest encyclical has been promulgated: Deus Caritas Est (here's the Latin).
From the excerpts I've read, it is fully emblematic of Pope Benedict's keen mind and pious heart.
[Note: The following is a book review I just submitted to the Stone-Campbell Journal. They previously published another review of mine (on Kevin Giles' The Trinity and Subordinationism, the list is here, but the link takes you to another review. I talk about Giles' book on my blog here). This review may get further edits, but here's the submitted draft.]
John Anthony McGuckin, ed. The Westminster Handbook to Origen Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004. 228 pp
McGuckin’s edited work, The Westminster Handbook to Origen, is a very consistent and concise tool introducing the reader to the life and thought of Origen. In fact, it is rather remarkable the depth of the information available in just over two hundred pages. There are two introductory chapters detailing the life of Origen and a brief survey of contemporary scholarly work on Origen. This is then followed by nearly eighty separate articles—arranged like encyclopedia articles—on various aspects of Origen’s thought, most notably on the pre-existence of souls, on the recapitulation of all things and universal salvation, and on his cosmology of various degrees of fallenness of created beings (from angels to humans to Satan), as well as his identification with the practice of allegorical interpretive practice. (An alphabetized list of articles follows the two introductory chapters and precedes the articles themselves.)
The strengths of this work are clearly evident in the foregoing summary. If one has very little knowledge of Origen, this work will give one a breadth of awareness of Origen’s life and thought, and issues related to them, as well as some depth in particular aspects of Origen’s thought (such as the ones noted above). More importantly, this work will serve to correct certain misunderstandings (or caricatures) of Origen and his thought. For example, it appears that Origen did not castrate himself such as legend seems to indicate. I recall certain of my former instructors referring to Origen as, in the catchphrase, the “origin of all heresies.” An obvious hyperbole, to be sure, and based upon posthumous anathemas against doctrines that derived from his thought or implications of it. But while Origen’s thought does, in fact contain extremely problematic tenets (such as the pre-existence of souls), McGuckin and the other authors do a fine job of demonstrating his fidelity to the apostolic faith.
If there are any weaknesses to the text, they are minor. One could have wished for a bit more discussion on the later conciliar anathematizations of doctrines arising from Origen’s thought and to what degree Origen's thought fell under such condemnations. One would have like to have seen explored a greater description of Origen’s influence on later thinkers such as Gregory of Nyssa and Maximos the Confessor (though these influences are briefly noted). But this would have added to the length of the book, and may well have compromised its conciseness. Further, these are admittedly concerns which do not address the primary interest of the book.
Since McGuckin and the other authors do such a fine job of situating Origen in his historical and doctrinal context, Stone-Campbell readers of the book will find much to satisfy their interest concerning early Christianity, particularly as Origen’s uniqueness provides counterpoints to the developing clarification of apostolic, or New Testament, Christian thought. Of special interest may well be the articles dealing with Origen’s use of allegorical interpretive practice (among his other interpretive practices), and how such allegorical interpretation did not result in bizarre flights of fancy, but actually helped Origen remain faithful to authorial intent and biblical coherence.
Given the above, this handbook is eminently suited to educated readers who have an interest in the thought of early Christianity, or in Origen in particular, especially as such figures as Origen played fundamental roles in the clarification of the apostolic deposit of faith. It could be quite useful in an introductory theology class, or, suitably facilitated, could provide helpful education in a selective adult Sunday School class.
Clifton D. Healy
Loyola University Chicago
From Fr. George Florovsky, St Gregory Palamas and the Tradition of the Fathers (also here):
Actually the whole teaching of St. Gregory presupposes the action of the Personal God. God moves toward man and embraces him by His own "grace" and action, without leaving that φος απροσιτον [light unapproachable], in which He eternally abides. The ultimate purpose of St. Gregory's theological teaching was to defend the reality of Christian experience. Salvation is more than forgiveness. It is a genuine renewal of man. And this renewal is effected not by the discharge, or release, of certain natural energies implied in man's own creaturely being, but by the "energies" of God Himself, who thereby encounters and encompasses man, and admits him into communion with Himself. In fact, the teaching of St. Gregory affects the whole system of theology, the whole body of Christian doctrine. It starts with the clear distinction between "nature" and "will" of God. This distinction was also characteristic of the Eastern tradition, at least since St. Athanasius. It may be asked at this point: Is this distinction compatible with the "simplicity" of God? Should we not rather regard all these distinctions as merely logical conjectures, necessary for us, but ultimately without any ontological significance? As a matter of fact, St. Gregory Palamas was attacked by his opponents precisely from that point of view. God's Being is simple, and in Him even all attributes coincide. Already St. Augustine diverged at this point from the Eastern tradition. Under Augustinian presuppositions the teaching of St. Gregory is unacceptable and absurd. St. Gregory himself anticipated the width of implications of his basic distinction. If one does not accept it, he argued, then it would be impossible to discern clearly between the "generation" of the Son and "creation" of the world, both being the acts of essence, and this would lead to utter confusion in the Trinitarian doctrine. St. Gregory was quite formal at that point.If according to the delirious opponents and those who agree with them, the Divine energy in no way differs from the Divine essence, then the act of creating, which belongs to the will, will in no way differ from generation (γενναν) and procession (εκπορευειν), which belong to the essence. If to create is no different from generation and procession, then the creatures will in no way differ from the Begotten (γεννηματος) and the Projected (προβληματος). If such is the case according to them, then both the Son of God and the Holy Spirit will be no different from creatures, and the creatures will all be both the begotten (γεννηματα) and the projected (προβληματα) of God the Father, and creation will be deified and God will be arrayed with the creatures. For this reason the venerable Cyril, showing the difference between God's essence and energy, says that to generate belongs to the Divine nature, whereas to create belongs to His Divine energy. This he shows clearly saying, "nature and energy are not the same." If the Divine essence in no way differs from the Divine energy, then to beget (γενναν) and to project (εκπορευειν) will in no way differ from creating (ποιειν). God the Father creates by the Son and in the Holy Spirit. Thus He also begets and projects by the Son and in the Holy Spirit, according to the opinion of the opponents and those who agree with them. (Capita 96 and 97.)St. Gregory quotes St. Cyril of Alexandria. But St. Cyril at this point was simply repeating St. Athanasius. St. Athanasius, in his refutation of Arianism, formally stressed the ultimate difference between ουσια [ousia, essence] or φυσις [physis, substance], on the one hand, and the βουλησις [boulesis, will], on the other. God exists, and then He also acts. There is a certain "necessity" in the Divine Being, indeed not a necessity of compulsion, and no fatum, but a necessity of being itself. God simply is what He is. But God's will is eminently free. He in no sense is necessitated to do what He does. Thus γεννησις [gennesis, generation] is always κατά φυσιν [kata physin, according to essence], but creation is a βουλησεος εργον [bouleseos ergon, energy of the will] (Contra Arianos III. 64-6). These two dimensions, that of being and that of acting, are different, and must be clearly distinguished. Of course, this distinction in no way compromises the "Divine simplicity." Yet, it is a real distinction, and not just a logical device. St. Gregory was fully aware of the crucial importance of this distinction. At this point he was a true successor of the great Athanasius and of the Cappadocian hierarchs.
Clark Pinnock's 1994 book, The Openness of God (which I read back in seminary shortly after it came out), is considered by many the first shot fired in the open theism debates which have rocked much of the evangelical world.
Open theism (also, open view theism, openness theology, and other similar variations) subscribes to the following tenets:
According to openness theology, the triune God of love has, in almighty power, created all that is and is sovereign over all. In freedom God decided to create beings capable of experiencing his love. In creating us the divine intention was that we would come to experience the triune love and respond to it with love of our own and freely come to collaborate with God towards the achievement of his goals. We believe love is the primary characteristic of God because the triune Godhead has eternally loved even prior to any creation. Divine holiness and justice are aspects of the divine love towards creatures, expressions of God's loving concern for us. Love takes many forms-it can even be experienced as wrath when the lover sees the beloved destroying herself and others.Second, God has, in sovereign freedom, decided to make some of his actions contingent upon our requests and actions. God elicits our free collaboration in his plans. Hence, God can be influenced by what we do and God truly responds to what we do. God genuinely interacts and enters into dynamic give-and-take relationships with us. That God changes in some respects implies that God is temporal, working with us in time. God, at least since creation, experiences duration.[1] God is everlasting through time rather than timelessly eternal.
Third, the only wise God has chosen to exercise general rather than meticulous providence, allowing space for us to operate and for God to be creative and resourceful in working with us. It was solely God's decision not to control every detail that happens in our lives. Moreover, God has flexible strategies. Though the divine nature does not change, God reacts to contingencies, even adjusting his plans, if necessary, to take into account the decisions of his free creatures. God is endlessly resourceful and wise in working towards the fulfillment of his ultimate goals. Sometimes God alone decides how to accomplish these goals. Usually, however, God elicits human cooperation such that it is both God and humanity who decide what the future shall be. God's plan is not a detailed script or blueprint, but a broad intention that allows for a variety of options regarding precisely how these goals may be reached. What God and people do in history matters. If the Hebrew midwives had feared Pharaoh rather than God and killed the baby boys, then God would have responded accordingly and a different story would have emerged. What people do and whether they come to trust God makes a difference concerning what God does-God does not fake the story of human history.
Fourth, God has granted us the type of freedom (libertarian) necessary for a truly personal relationship of love to develop. Again, this was God's decision, not ours. Despite the fact that we have abused our freedom by turning away from the divine love, God remains faithful to his intentions for creation and this faithful love was manifested most fully in the life and work of Jesus.
Finally, the omniscient God knows all that can be known given the sort of world he created. The content of divine omniscience has been debated in the Christian tradition; between Thomism and Molinism for example. In the openness debate the focus is on the nature of the future: is it fully knowable, fully unknowable or partially knowable and partially unknowable? We believe that God could have known every event of the future had God decided to create a fully determined universe. However, in our view God decided to create beings with indeterministic freedom which implies that God chose to create a universe in which the future is not entirely knowable, even for God. For many open theists the "future" is not a present reality-it does not exist-and God knows reality as it is.
This view may be called dynamic omniscience (it corresponds to the dynamic theory of time rather than the stasis theory). According to this view God knows the past and present with exhaustive definite knowledge and knows the future as partly definite (closed) and partly indefinite (open). God's knowledge of the future contains knowledge of that which is determinate or settled as well as knowledge of possibilities (that which is indeterminate). The determined future includes the things that God has unilaterally decided to do and physically determined events (such as an asteroid hitting our moon). Hence, the future is partly open or indefinite and partly closed or definite and God knows it as such. God is not caught off-guard-he has foresight and anticipates what we will do.
Our rejection of divine timelessness and our affirmation of dynamic omniscience are the most controversial elements in our proposal and the view of foreknowledge receives the most attention. However, the watershed issue in the debate is not whether God has exhaustive definite foreknowledge (EDF) but whether God is ever affected by and responds to what we do. This is the same watershed that divides Calvinism from Arminianism.
[1] It is not essential for open theists to take a stand on whether or not God was temporal prior to creation. Even if God was eternally temporal God did not experience metric (measured) time until the creation. See Nicholas Wolterstorff's discussion in God and Time: Four Views, ed. Gregory Ganssle (Downers Grove, ILL: InterVarsity Press, 2001), p. 233.
- Dr. John Sanders
Open theists primarily, it seems to me, are trying to reconcile two things, God's omniscient foreknowledge with human libertarian freedom. Unfortunately, they are doing so within a theological paradigm that is inimical to their efforts, for it creates further problems over those they are apparently solving.
The problematic definitional paradigm is what is called definitional divine simplicity. This understanding of God posits that since God is simple he cannot have parts, he cannot be divided. Thus any qualities or characteristics that God has must be indentical to his essence or nature. That is to say, God doesn't just have love, he is love. And if this is true--that all God's qualities are identical to his nature or essence--then all his qualities are themselves identical to one another: God's love is his foreknowledge is his omnipotence, etc. Thus, what God knows God must, in omnipotential essence, bring about. If God foreknows those who will be saved and be damned, then those who will be saved and will be damned must be saved or damned without failure--else God is not omnipotent. But if the saved and damned must be saved and damned, they are so apart from anything contingent to God's nature, for this would mean that something external to God was more powerful than God and could frustrate his omnipotence. Critics of open theism, then, rightly (at least within their own paradigm) point out that open theism must necessarily deny to God either his omniscience or his omnipotence if they, open theists, are, indeed, going to maintain libertarian free will.
And, in fact, that is something like what open theists do. That is to say, they do not actually deny God's omniscience, but rather redefine it in such a way so that God can only know that which it is possible to know. Since future human choices are undetermined and free, God cannot know them, since it is not possible to know them.
Now, as can be seen from above, open theists recognize that this opens up a rather smelly can of worms, so they are forced into admitting that some things God does infallibly foreknow since he has predestined them, but others he does not foreknow since he has left that to human libertarian freedom. His knowledge of the future is definite, but not exhaustive. And of course they also must clarify the relationship between God and time, since if God is timeless the future is not future to him, but all times are present to him. But this would mean that God does, indeed, know all that can be known of the (to us) future choices and acts of human beings, specifically what they are (though they are as yet unknown to us). But then if God does foreknow them he must predestine them and must omnipotently bring them about.
Now, let me admit that this is a very superficial synopsis of some of the questions to/criticisms of open theism and open theist responses. As will be seen in the links below and in the scholarly literature, there are significant and sophisticated philosophical and theological positions taken and defended. It is not my intent to engage them here.
But I do think that the primary problem in all this is the reliance upon definitional divine simplicity by all the participants in the debate. The resolution to this problem, for those concerned with human libertarian freedom, is not to redefine foreknowledge and omniscience per se, nor to reformulate God's relationship to time. Rather, the resolution is to abandon definitional divine simplicity.
There is another ancient view of God's simplicity which understands that simplicity not to be definitional but to be symbolic--that is to say, the verbal icon of a great mystery. God is, indeed, one and without parts. But that is not to say that God's nature and God's qualities are not really, though ineffably, distinguishable. We may take our clue from the historically orthodox understanding of the Trinity: God is both one nature or essence (ousia) and three Persons (hypostaseis); his plurality does not eliminate his unity, his unity does not prohibit his personality. Thus God is simple, but that simplicity is complex. God has "qualities," but is without division or parts, for each quality is both distinguishable from his nature and is fully his nature. Just as the Son is distinguishable from the Father and yet both Father and Son are fully God, so love is an eternal manifestation of God's essence in a divine "characteristic," a manifestation that is distinguishable from his essence, but in which God fully is as well. And given this distinguishability, God's love is not the same thing as his omnipotence, is not the same thing as his foreknowledge, is not the same thing as his omniscience, and yet all of them fully manifest the divine nature while being distinguishable from it and from one another.
The technical theological vocabularly is usually summed up in St. Gregory Palamas' energy-essence distinction, though St. Gregory of Nyssa utilized a nature-power vocabulary, and St. Maximos the Confessor utilized Logos-logoi. (It should be noted that these distinctions of terminology were related to the specific issues with which each of theses saints and Fathers were concerned. But it is ot be noted that the same consensus on the distinction between God's essence and his "qualities" goes back to the earliest testimonies of the Church and is traceable through the millennium represented by St. Gregory-St. Maximos-St. Gregory Palamas, and on through to the present among the Orthodox Churches.)
So, how does this work into the open theism debate? Open theists rightly intuit that there is a problem in the definitional understanding of God's divine simplicity. They are right to note that God's divine sovereignty is not antithetical to human libertarian freedom. But where open theists fail is to fall back on a redefinition of omniscience, foreknowledge and omnipotence. For those who hold the essence-energy distinction in God, we affirm that is is possible for God to will two (or more) eternal and unqualified goods at the same time (for example, his judgment and his mercy). That is to say, he can both know the (to us) future exhaustively and at the same time will human libertarian freedom.
How is this so? We need only look at Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, wherein he both wills his human nature's good of existence (if it be possible, let this cup pass from me) and his divine nature's good of cosmic salvation (nevertheless not my will but thine be done). That is to say, Jesus, in his mode of existence as both human and divine, perfectly united his human will with his divine will, thus actualizing two eternal goods: personal human existence which finds its end in God and cosmic salvation.
Thus, open theism's argument with definitional divine simplicity is on target. Unfortunately, the only resolution to definitional divine simplicity is simply to abandon it for the historically orthodox understanding of God as a unity of distinguishable energies in one essence.
[Note: Here are some other links to open theism. Some of the links on the pages and indices below are expired, but most remain.]
Pro
Open Theism Information Site
Omniscience and the Openness of God
Contra
Open theism
Pro et contra
Open Theism Index
Do we always search out the truth and then conform our reasoning to it later? Or do we find a position attractive, have an intuition as to its truth, and then follow the path of arguments so we arrive at that which we desired to begin with? I'd be a fool to insist on the first and deny the last. It is a combination of both. I think we do have an intuition that a particular conclusion is true, and find it beautiful and desirable. But I also think we legitimately can follow out the reasoning, examine the arguments, and submit the case to logical analysis. And if we still come out on the other end knowing it is true, our initial desire for it does not falsify the truth of it. If something is true, it is true no matter what road I took to get to it. If my pathway to it fails reason's strictures, I may not be able to demonstrate that it is true, and that would be a great loss. But it would still be true nonetheless.
Furthermore, truth by its nature is beautiful and desirable. Of course we will be attracted to it and our reason will want to struggle and scrape its way toward it. Reason will crawl on hands and knees, following this dead end trail, doubling back, slicing its hands on this jagged contradiction, will hang with sharply in-drawn breath over that abyss of non-sequitor, doggedly continuing on, even through darkness and paradox, until it at last comes to that which it has desired, that for which it has longed, that which gives it meaning and life. And once reason arrives at truth, once the desire for the good and the beautiful has been fulfilled, it will not cease being true, nor falsify reason's path.
We are used to thinking of Islam as a religion separate from, though related to, Judaism and Christianity. Indeed, even many Christians appeal to a common heritage between these three faiths, all being so-called "Sons of Abraham." But it would appear that Islam is not simply a separate faith that grew up out of its own soil. Rather, it would appear that it is a form of Christian heresy; and, indeed, this was how it was viewed by the Christians who knew Islam in its earliest days.
Let's first look at Church historian Sozomen. Writing in the early part of the fifth century, about two hundred years prior to the rise of Islam, Sozomen notes:
This is the tribe which took its origin and had its name from Ishmael, the son of Abraham; and the ancients called them Ishmaelites after their progenitor. As their mother Hagar was a slave, they afterwards, to conceal the opprobrium of their origin, assumed the name of Saracens, as if they were descended from Sara, the wife of Abraham. Such being their origin, they practice circumcision like the Jews, refrain from the use of pork, and observe many other Jewish rites and customs. If, indeed, they deviate in any respect from the observances of that nation, it must be ascribed to the lapse of time, and to their intercourse with the neighboring nations. Moses, who lived many centuries after Abraham, only legislated for those whom he led out of Egypt. The inhabitants of the neighboring countries, being strongly addicted to superstition, probably soon corrupted the laws imposed upon them by their forefather Ishmael. The ancient Hebrews had their community life under this law only, using therefore unwritten customs, before the Mosaic legislation. These people certainly served the same gods as the neighboring nations, honoring and naming them similarly, so that by this likeness with their forefathers in religion, there is evidenced their departure from the laws of their forefathers. As is usual, in the lapse of time, their ancient customs fell into oblivion, and other practices gradually got the precedence among them. Some of their tribe afterwards happening to come in contact with the Jews, gathered from them the facts of their true origin, returned to their kinsmen, and inclined to the Hebrew customs and laws. From that time on, until now, many of them regulate their lives according to the Jewish precepts. Some of the Saracens were converted to Christianity not long before the present reign. They shared in the faith of Christ by intercourse with the priests and monks who dwelt near them, and practiced philosophy in the neighboring deserts, and who were distinguished by the excellence of their life, and by their miraculous works. It is said that a whole tribe, and Zocomus, their chief, were converted to Christianity and baptized about this period, under the following circumstances: Zocomus was childless, and went to a certain monk of great celebrity to complain to him of this calamity; for among the Saracens, and I believe other barbarian nations, it was accounted of great importance to have children. The monk desired Zocomus to be of good cheer, engaged in prayer on his behalf, and sent him away with the promise that if he would believe in Christ, he would have a son. When this promise was confirmed by God, and when a son was born to him, Zocomus was initiated, and all his subjects with him. From that period this tribe was peculiarly fortunate, and became strong in point of number, and formidable to the Persians as well as to the other Saracens. Such are the details that I have been enabled to collect concerning the conversion of the Saracens and their first bishop. (Ecclesiastical History 6.38)
Note what Sozomen details: a dependence upon the Jewish faith, and then a coversion of some of the Saracens to Christianity. This happened more than two centuries prior to the rise of Islam.
Now take a look at St. John of Damascus, who lived, in the eighth century, in a city and region dominated by Islam. In his work, The Fount of Knowledge, and the section on heresies, he writes:
There is also the superstition of the Ishmaelites which to this day prevails and keeps people in error, being a forerunner of the Antichrist. They are descended from Ishmael, who was born to Abraham of Agar, and for this reason they are called both Agarenes and Ishmaelites. They are also called Saracens, which is derived from [in Greek] Sarras kenoi, or destitute of Sara, because of what Agar said to the angel: “Sara has sent me away destitute.” These used to be idolaters and worshipped the morning star and Aphrodite, whom in their own language they called Khabar, which means great. And so down to the time of Heraclius they were very great idolaters. From that time to the present a false prophet named Mohammed has appeared in their midst. This man, after having chanced upon the Old and New Testaments and likewise, it seems, having conversed with an Arian monk, devised his own heresy. Then, having insinuated himself into the good graces of the people by a show of seeming piety, he gave out that a certain book had been sent down to him from heaven. He had set down some ridiculous compositions in this book of his and he gave it to them as an object of veneration. (St. John of Damascus, The Fount of Knowledge, "On Heresies," 101)
Sozomen has already noted the dependence of certain of the Saracens on the law of Moses and a strong exposure to Christianity. St. John confirms this in his account, and even notes that Mohammed met an Arian (some say Nestorian) monk. Perhaps Islam is, after all, Christian heresy.
This Christian heresy, of course, has slaughtered untold numbers of Christians throughout its history, and is a source for the current fanatical terrorism being committed in our world.
Addendum
From the Qur'an:
It is not befitting to (the majesty of) Allah that he should beget a son. Glory be to Him! When He determines a matter, He only says to it, "Be", and it is. (Surah 19:35)
and:
They do blaspheme who say: "God is Christ the son of Mary." But Christ said: "O Children of Israel! worship God, my Lord and your Lord." Whoever joins other gods with Allah,--Allah will forbid him the Garden and the Fire will be his abode. There will for the wrong-doers be no one to help.They do blaspheme who say: God is one of three in a Trinity: for there is no god except one God (Allah). If they do not desist from their word (of blasphemy), verily a grievous penalty will befall the blasphemers among them. (Surah 5:72-73)
and:
O People of the Book! commit no excesses in your religion; nor say of Allah anything but the truth. Christ Jesus the son of Mary was (no more than) a Messenger of Allah, and His Word, which He bestowed on Mary, and a Spirit proceeding from Him: so believe in Allah and His Messengers. Do not say "Trinity": desist: it will be better for you: for Allah is One God: glory be to Him (far Exalted is He) above having a son. To Him belong all things in the heavens and on earth. And enough is Allah as a Disposer of affairs. (Sura 4:171)
Islam rejects the divinity of Jesus, just like Arianism.
Islam rejects the Holy Trinity, just like Sabellianism/modalism.
Islam rejects that Mary is the birthgiver of God, just like Nestorianism.
Yep. It's all rotten with heresy.
See also this account at Fr. Joseph's Orthodixie.
[Note: Once again, the message boards I have been frequenting of late, has evoked some theologizing from me. (Quick! Hide the kids! Shut the blinds! Lock the doors!) One of the board members asked me to address the notion of theosis in our discussion of what the New Testament Church really is. My answer follows. It has been lightly edited to reflect a different audience.]
Thanks for the suggestion. Actually, I have tried to steer clear of any technical jargon (unless only technical jargon can adequately convey the proper meaning) when it comes to these discussions. My primary intent is to, as the proverb goes, address the rest of Scripture we don't underline, to unleash a straightforward reading of the text, since I believe that should be sufficient.
That was probably a shade too naive, given that one must also address presuppositions.
In any case, theosis is the New Testament doctrine that salvation, union with God, entails a transfiguration of our persons to conform with the logic of the Incarnation. Which is to say, just as Jesus joined humanity to his divinity, we, by grace in Christ, join divinity to our humanity. As St. Paul writes to the Galatians:
For as many as were baptized into Christ, ye put on Christ (Galatians 3:27)
We don't just clothe ourselves with parts of Christ, his righteousness here, his humility there, but with the whole of Christ. And one cannot separate out his righteousness and his humility from his very Person. Nor can one separate out Christ's divinity and his humanity.
I have already pointed out 2 Peter 1:3-4, but the verses bear repeating:
"Inasmuch as His divine power hath freely given to us all the things for life and piety, through the full knowledge of Him Who called us by glory and virtue, by which He hath freely given to us the very great and precious promises, that through these ye might become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption which is in the world by desire." (2 Peter 1:3-4)
Here we are given the promise that our salvation is fundamentally a participation in the divine nature of God. (I will leave aside for now the later patristic clarification regading God's essence and energies.)
I have also already addressed Colossians 2:9-10 and Ephesians 1:22-23, but they also bear repeating:
“For in Him dwelleth all the fullness of the divinity bodily, and ye are made full in Him, Who is the head of all principality and authority . . . .” (Colossians 2:9-10)
Once again, if the fullness of divinity dwells in Jesus bodily, and if we are made full in Him, then it logically follows that His fullness dwells in us, and that means we share in His divinity, we are, as St. Peter tells us, partakers of the divine nature.
“And He put in subjection all things under His feet, and gave Him to be head over all things to the Church, which is His body, the fullness of Him Who filleth all things in all.” (Ephesians 1:22-23)
Once again, the Church, of which we are members, is the fullness of Him who fills all things in all. Clearly Scripture means we have the fullness of Christ in us (as the Church, and personally as members of the Church). And if Christ's fullness dwells in us, this must mean His divinity, which means we partake of the divine nature.
But it's not only these verses that speak of this. This is a consistent theme of Scripture. I note again, Jesus' words in his "high priestly prayer":
"And I do not make request for these [the Apostles] only, but also for those who shall believe on Me through their word; in order that all may be one, even as Thou, Father, art in Me, and I in Thee, that they also may be one in Us, that the world might believe that Thou didst send Me forth. And the glory which Thou hast given Me I have gien them, in order that they may be one, even as We are one: I in them, and Thou in Me, that they may be perfected into one, and that the world may know that Thou didst send Me forth, and didst love them even as Thou didst love Me. (John 17:20-23; emphasis added)
In other words, the union of God in Christ was more than merely a communication of "character and disposition," and so, too, is that union with us. The difference, of course, is immeasurable: Christ is the Second Person of the Godhead, we are not. That, however, does not erase the strong and clear wording of His prayer, that we as whole persons, will be joined to God in Christ and partake of the divine union, the divine nature. We will be/are by grace what Christ is by nature.
But there are other equally clear passages. Note 1 John 3:2:
"Beloved, now we are children of God, and it was not yet made manifest what we shall be; but we know that if He should be made manifest, we shall be like Him; for we shall see Him as He is." (1 John 3:2; emphasis added)
Some may object, and quibble over St. John's use of "like" (homoioi), meaning God stays God and we stay human, and nothing at all divine characterizes us even in eternity, I would simply point them to John 1:16:
"And of His fullness we all received; grace for grace . . . ." (John 1:16)
Whose fullness? Christ's. Does it mean his fullness, er, except for the divine part? Of course not. Christ's fullness includes his divinity. We participate in the divinity of Christ.
But note also that this isn't just in St. Peter's epistle, or St. John's epistle and Gospel, or a couple of letters to the Colossians and Ephesians. St. Paul also reiterates this doctrine to the Corinthians--whom of any of the Churches of the New Testament would seem far from a model for partaking of the divine nature.
"But we all, with unveiled face reflecting as a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, even as from the Lord, the Spirit." (2 Corinthians 3:18; emphasis added)
Now I know that some will emphasize the "reflecting part." But St. Paul immediately follows with the fact that we will be transformed into the image we are reflecting. Others will emphasize the "glory" part, as though we will not become partakers of the divine nature, but "only" of God's glory. But then the obvious question is: can you separate God's glory from his nature? Indeed, isn't it pretty well established biblical fact that "glory" is often a circumlocution for the very nature of God?
No, the evidence is overwhelming, and the New Testament is clear, our salvation involves union with God, but that union cannot be accomplished apart from our being transfigured with God's divine nature.
Nowhere does the New Testament claim that we become God. But we do, through the communication of God's divinity to us in the Person of Christ and in our union with Him in His Body the Church, become "gods." In fact, this is Jesus' own very point in reverse in John 10:34-36.
Jesus answered them, "Is it not written in you law, 'I said, "Ye are gods"'? If He called them gods, to whom the word of God came to pass--and the Scripture is not able to be broken--do ye say of Him, Whom the Father sanctified and sent forth into the world, 'Thou blasphemest,' because I said, 'I am God's Son'? (John 10:34-36)
That is to say, Jesus claims that Scripture itself referred to Israel as "gods," and since Scripture cannot be broken it was entirely biblical for Jesus to call Himself God's Son. But note: making "gods" only figurative, takes away the force of what Jesus is saying about Himself (which is something we the readers know about Him that the Jewish leaders did not). That is to say, if Jesus' claim is true because Israel was called "gods," then if Jesus is really God, Israel (and by implication the new Israel) are really "gods."
Now, before anyone goes all Joseph-Smith-Mormon-screaming-hysterical or Shirly-Maclaine-New-Age-God/Goddess-screaming-hysterial on me, none of this in any way indicates we become God, or gods in the same way that God is God. We are, if you will, and stating it in a very crass, non-technical way, "godlets."
Truly, the main point is that of union with God. But if we are going to be one with God, we must become like Him, we must come to share in His divinity. But as is also clear from the New Testament, we can only do this in Christ--Who unites human and divine in His Person--and only through His Body the Church. We are not inherently "gods," "godlets," or, worse blasphemy "God(s)". We are only so through grace.
Conversely, if we reject the union of God Christ makes real for us, we do not simply become "bad, bad humans," we become demonic, the monstrous distortion of the image of God into anti-christs.
[Note: The following is a response I composed to the discussion going on at the thread entitled, The Blood of Christ, and is posted as a new thread here.]
First of all, let me offer this disclaimer: I do not like the term “literally.” First and foremost, the way the term is often used is a fundamental mistake with regard to what metaphors really are and, more importantly, do (literally!). Metaphors are what they are precisely because there is something really real that they convey and which gives them their meaning. When one says that “Jesus is the gate of the sheep” one does not intend (forgive the crassness), that his limbs are wood, his innards barbed wire, and he has a latch sticking out his side. (Yes, I realize these are anachronistic to Jesus' day, but one ought get my point.) Rather, one means that the thing a gate does (the reality it conveys) is the same thing Jesus does: provide ingress and egress for the sheep. The “literal” reality of the gate is identical with the “literal” reality of who Jesus is. Metaphors (as the etymology suggests) are bridges from one referent to another on the basis of a commonly shared reality.
Secondly, the terms “metaphor” and “literally” are misunderstood and misused. “Literally” is intended to mean some sort of real physical reality only. “Metaphor” is intended to mean something that's only theoretically, or conceptually, true. Thus, when one hears “Jesus is not literally the gate of the sheep” they mean by that that he is not made of wood and barbed wire. But this conveys both too much and too little. Too much in the sense that “literally” ends up conveying the notion that the meaning is somehow constrained to physical reality, when that physical reality is what it is only because the full metaphysical reality which metaphor and referent share precedes, fulfills and completes it. Too little in that “metaphor” is usually used to dismiss any tangible connection between referents. The connection is “merely” conceptual.
One can see, I hope, how it is that I do not like the term “literally,” but that is how the question usually is framed: Are Jesus' words in John 6 meant to be understood figuratively or literally?
The answer is, quite simply: Both. It's not an either/or scenario, but a both/and. There is a “literal” (or metaphysical) reality which fills and completes what the symbols represent. In fact, it makes no sense whatsoever to speak of these symbols as merely or only figurative. If there were no reality behind the metaphor, it wouldn't be a metaphor.
So, my argument is that “blood” and “flesh” in John 6 cannot be merely or only figurative. That is to say, “blood” and “flesh” have no metaphorical meaning unless they also have a “literal,” or really real, meaning.
First, let's observe that St. John's Gospel abounds with metaphors that must have a “literal” (or really real) meaning.
“You must be born again.” “I am the light of the world.” “I am the way, the truth and the life.” Would any of us deny that the metaphor for being born again has a very real reality behind it, and shares with biological birth a very important reality: namely the making of a new person? Would any of us deny that Jesus and light share a very real reality (illumination)? Would any of us deny that Jesus is not really life and truth? Then clearly the consistent pattern in St. John's Gospel is to use one referent to stand for another by way of the common reality they share. These are metaphors in the truest sense: they bridge one referent to another.
Secondly, let's observe that the overall context of St. John's Gospel, as well as the context of John 6 is deeply Eucharistic, that is to say, evocative of the Lord's Supper, and that this requires a reading of John 6 that understands “flesh” and “blood” as Eucharistic.
Of the seven specific signs noted in St. John's Gospel (turning the water to wine 2:1-11; curing the nobleman's son 4:46-54; healing the paralytic 5:1-15; feeding the 5000 6:1-14; walking on water 6:15-21; giving sight to the blind man 9:1-41; and raising Lazarus from the dead 11:38-44), two of them occur in John 6. Furthermore, the two signs that occur in John 6 are tied specifically to the Passover (verse four), and both are evocative of the Exodus: the eating of manna in the wilderness and the crossing of the Red Sea.
One should also note that the Passover is highlighted in John 13:1 at the beginning of the following chapters which give Jesus' discourse at the Last Supper. Note also that in John 6:11 we have the verb for give thanks eucharisteo, and although the language of John 6 lacks the full liturgical form that the Synoptics offer (took, blessed, broke, gave), we do have the “took,” “gave thanks,” and “gave/distributed.” Note also that St. John's Gospel lacks the “institution narrative” that the Synoptics offer. John 6 nicely provides that element to his own Gospel, even if the events reported in John 6 are not the historical Last Supper events. In fact, given St. John's penchant for describing one reality with another, it makes perfect sense that John 6 is intended by St. John to be the “institution narrative” for his Gospel. Indeed, given that the Synoptics and St. Paul preserve the account of the Last Supper as the institution of the Eucharist, it would seem odd if St. John's Gospel did not have some similar account, as important as this clearly was to the New Testament Church.
Thus the consumption of Jesus' Body and Blood here in John 6, fits in perfectly with the earlier writings of St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 10 and 11. That is to say, literarily, though the events St. John is narrating really happened historically, he is using them in his Gospel functionally as a Eucharistic/Lord's Supper narrative.
Thirdly, the “flesh” and “blood” to which Jesus refers functions as a sign (semeion) of his Person.
In St. John's Gospel “sign” (semeion) occurs seventeen times (the verb semaino three times in 12:33, 18:32, and 21:19). Of those seventeen times, four occur in John 6. It always indicates a revelation of the Person of Jesus, or an authentication of the revelation of Jesus. The first occurrence in John 6 (verse two) indicates a large crowd followed him because of his “signs” he was doing upon the sick. In the second occurrence (verse 15), the sign of the feeding of the 5000 conveyed to the crowd an authentication of Jesus as the Prophet foretold to come into the world. In the third occurrence (verse 26) Jesus upbraids the crowd because they did not seek a sign (that is to say, they didn't seek the true revelation of Himself), but bodily satisfaction. In the final occurrence--which significantly sets up the discussion on “flesh” and “blood”--the crowd asks for a sign by which Jesus can be believed. And while Jesus is known to have refused to give a sign to those who demanded it (Matthew 12:39//Mark 8:12//Luke 11:29; and Matthew 16:4), here there is no explicit refusal. Indeed, in context, the sign he gives the crowd is his flesh and blood.
Fourthly, the contrast in John 6:27 is not between physical and spiritual (or, crudely, “literal” and “metaphorical”), but between perishable and everlasting.
Work not for the food which perishes, but for the food which abides unto everlasting life, which the Son of Man will give to you; for upon Him God the Father has set His seal." (John 6:27)
Indeed, if we truly believe the Incarnation, we know that in Jesus there is no separation or division between the physical and the spiritual. That is to say, because of the Incarnation, matter matters.
Similarly, the contrast in John 6:63 is not between literal or figurative, but between flesh and spirit.
Therefore many of His disciples, when they heard this, said, "This is a hard saying; who can hear it?" And Jesus, knowing in Himself that His disciples were murmuring about this, He said to them, "Does this offend you? What then if you should see the Son of Man ascending where He was before? It is the Spirit who makes alive; the flesh profits nothing. The words that I speak to you are spirit, and they are life. (John 6:60-63)
Now lest anyone take this as proof that this is a spiritual reality and not a physical one, note that Jesus contrasts the reality of drinking his blood and eating his flesh with his own Ascension into heaven. And clearly his Ascension was both a bodily and a spiritual reality. In other words, Jesus is saying, if consuming his flesh and blood is offensive, how much more offensive his Ascension to heaven, revealed as truly God's Son. And if his Ascension is a bodily and spiritual reality, then, to preserve the offense of both, the “flesh” and “blood” we are to consume of Him is also material and spiritual.
But note the offense of the Jews: the discerned it in merely physical, bodily, material terms--which would truly be repugnant. Jesus is emphasizing that the reality is not merely physical, bodily, material, but that it is also and necessarily spiritual. Just like his Ascension. Indeed, apart from the spiritual, that is to say, the divine, the material reality is nothing. And all of this is predicated upon belief versus offense, faith versus rejection. Thus, “flesh” here does not contrast with spirit in the sense of physical versus spiritual but in the sense of human versus divine, doubt and skepticism versus belief and faith.
Finally, the bread of heaven, whom Jesus is, is appropriated by the consumption of Jesus' flesh and blood; and Jesus lets the offense of it stay, without apology, or explanation.
Therefore the Jews were contending with one another, saying, "How can this Man give us His flesh to eat?" Then Jesus said to them, "Most assuredly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in yourselves. Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up in the last day. For My flesh truly is food, and My blood truly is drink. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him. Just as the living Father sent Me, and I live because of the Father, so he who feeds on Me will live because of Me. This is the bread which came down from heaven, not as your fathers ate the manna, and died. He that eats this bread shall live forever." (John 6:52-58)
This is perhaps the most telling of all. Jesus is well known to have explained to his disciples the spiritual realities behind his parables, which he did not do with the crowds. Here the crowds object to Jesus' saying, and when he is alone with his disciples, does he then explain that he did not mean it literally? No, indeed, he maintains the offense: “You won't leave also, will you?” For it is precisely the offense of the reality, that we must bodily and spiritually consume the flesh and blood of Jesus, that provokes either faith or rejection.
And, regrettably, it still does so today, even among those who claim the name of Him Who revealed these things to us.
A Response to Marilyn Adamson's Article Titled 'Is There A God?' (pdf file)
Citing William Dalrymple's, From the Holy Mountain: A Journey Among the Christians of the Middle East, Fr. Joseph notes that Islam is a Christian heresy.
From the hours of prayer and prayer posture to architecture, contends Dalrymple, Islam is an imitation of Christianity.
I submit to you this thought: Those who claim to be tolerant of all persons are the most intolerant of all persons.
Tolerance is the ubervirtue of modernist secular society. Modernist secularists abrogate rather arrogantly to themselves this ultimate compassion: the acceptance of all. The trouble is, it's all one big fat lie.
Don't believe me? Let's try a little thought experiment, shall we? We can take it as a given that modernist secularists are accepting of the lifestyle behaviors of gay and lesbian persons. But let's take that and push it around a bit, shall we? What does a modernist secularist do with, say, an ex-gay or ex-lesbian person? Have you ever see a conference devoted to tolerance and diversity in which one has equal representation and coverage of both gay and lesbian activist groups and, say, Exodus International? I thought not.
Or, let's try this one on for size. Modernist secularists are tolerant of people of all faiths. Er, except for those who hold faiths that are exclusivist: which pretty much boils down to conservative and/or traditional Christians. Roman Catholics can always be counted on to play the bad guy role, or at least can be mocked. But conservative evangelicals can always be counted on to play the role of sexually repressed, homophobic, misogynistic bigot. Orthodox Jews would receive much more mocking than they do except that the modernist secularist has this guilt complex over the Holocaust which does not allow him to break that tolerance taboo. And Orthodox Christians would be more denigrated more often if Americans had any idea just who the heck they were.
No, we can be tolerant of Islamist fascist terrorists and their supporting regimes--it's not their fault, it's the poverty, it's the American agressive world diplomatic policies, etc.--but not of Christians who claim some form of absolute truth. Modernist secularists do believe in the Antichrist, and they name him Benedict the XVI.
No, the calls to tolerance of modern day advocates are empty and hollow calls to simply conform to the Borg. And that's not tolerance at all.
No, give me the intolerance of a Mother Teresa who never countenanced one iota the evil of abortion. Give me the intolerance of Metropolitan Iakovos who could march against the evils of racism precisely because he believed that there is absolute truth that excludes those beliefs that contradict it. Yes, I'm intolerant in that way, and hope to become ever more so every remaining day of my life.
I've collected the following links, for those who would like to explore the Holy Father's theological and pastoral legacy.
Can it be any clearer?
For many deceivers entered into the world, those not confessing Jesus Christ coming in the flesh; this is the deceiver and the antichrist. Keep on looking to yourselves, in order that ye might not lose that which we wrought, but that ye might receive a full reward. Everyone who transgresseth and abideth not in the teaching of the Christ hath not God; the one abiding in the teaching of the Christ, this one also hath the Father and the Son. If anyone come to you and bring not this teaching, cease receiving him into the house and saying to him fare-thee-well, for the one who saith to him fare-thee-well partaketh in his evil works. (2 John 7-11, Orthodox New Testament, © 2004 Holy Apostles Convent)
Not only does one not have the right to introduce teachings which are not the doctrine of Christ, but others do not have the obligation to be hospitable to one's teachings if one does. Note also how closely tied is union with God and Christ to believing the right doctrine about Christ.
Things that make ya go, "Hmmmm . . . "
. . . or why getting what you want is its own judgment.
My reading this morning was, in part, from Romans 1 and 2. This passage caught my attention and reflection.
᾿Αποκαλύπτεται γὰρ ὀργὴ Θεοῦ ἀπ᾿ οὐρανοῦ ἐπὶ πᾶσαν ἀσέβειαν καὶ ἀδικίαν ἀνθρώπων τῶν τὴν ἀλήθειαν ἐν ἀδικίᾳ κατεχόντων, διότι τὸ γνωστὸν τοῦ Θεοῦ φανερόν ἐστιν ἐν αὐτοῖς· ὁ γὰρ Θεὸς αὐτοῖς ἐφανέρωσεν. τὰ γὰρ ἀόρατα αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ κτίσεως κόσμου τοῖς ποιήμασιν νοούμενα καθορᾶται, ἥ τε ἀΐδιος αὐτοῦ δύναμις καὶ θειότης, εἰς τὸ εἶναι αὐτοὺς ἀναπολογήτους, διότι γνόντες τὸν Θεὸν οὐχ ὡς Θεὸν ἐδόξασαν ἢ εὐχαρίστησαν, ἀλλ᾿ ἐματαιώθησαν ἐν τοῖς διαλογισμοῖς αὐτῶν, καὶ ἐσκοτίσθη ἡ ἀσύνετος αὐτῶν καρδία· φάσκοντες εἶναι σοφοὶ ἐμωράνθησαν, καὶ ἤλλαξαν τὴν δόξαν τοῦ ἀφθάρτου Θεοῦ ἐν ὁμοιώματι εἰκόνος φθαρτοῦ ἀνθρώπου καὶ πετεινῶν καὶ τετραπόδων καὶ ἑρπετῶν. Διὸ καὶ παρέδωκεν αὐτοὺς ὁ Θεὸς ἐν ταῖς ἐπιθυμίαις τῶν καρδιῶν αὐτῶν εἰς ἀκαθαρσίαν τοῦ ἀτιμάζεσθαι τὰ σώματα αὐτῶν ἐν αὐτοῖς, οἵτινες μετήλλαξαν τὴν ἀλήθειαν τοῦ Θεοῦ ἐν τῷ ψεύδει, καὶ ἐσεβάσθησαν καὶ ἐλάτρευσαν τῇ κτίσει παρὰ τὸν κτίσαντα, ὅς ἐστιν εὐλογητὸς εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας·For the wrath of God is being revealed from heaven upon all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold back the truth in unrighteousness, because that which is known of God is manifest in them; for God manifested it to them. For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being perceived by the things which are made, both His eternal power and divinity, so that they are without excuse, because, having known God, they glorified Him not as God, nor were thankful, but were brought to nought in their reasonings, and their heart, void of understanding was darkened; asserting to be wise, they became foolish, and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into a likeness of an image of corruptible man, and of birds, and of quadrupeds, and of creeping things. Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness in the desires of their hearts, that their bodies be dishonored among themselves, who exchanged the truth of God for the lie, and reverenced and worshipped the creature beyond Him Who created, Who is blessed to the ages. Amen. (Romans 1:18-25), Orthodox New Testament*
The word used in verse 24 above and in v. 26 ("For this reason God gave them up to passions of dishonor.") and 28 ("And even as they did not approve to have God in full knowledge, God gave them up to a reprobate mind, to do things which are not fitting"), is παρέδωκεν (aorist active indicative third person plural), from παραδίδωμι, I give up or hand over. (A related noun, παράδοσις, is the word "tradition.")
Three times the text indicates that God "gave them up" to their own desires, passions and their own minds. A look at the text in question clearly reveals that this is the wrath of God being visited upon them. Not disordered lives and bodily penalties (though the text acknowledges these consequences in addition), but rather God's judgment on them is to give them what they want. They know better, for God's power and divinity is evident to them from the created order. But instead, they "hold back this truth," they "exchanged the truth of God for a lie," and they are ungrateful.
God "is long-suffering toward us, not willing to have any perish, but to have all come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9), and his patience with us is great. Furthermore, he will not forcibly remove a person's free will. And so there comes a time when, though he is the Father who has gone out to look for his prodigal children, he realizes that for this particular prodigal child, a line has been crossed, free will has been given full rein. The prodigal has chosen to never return; his decision is set. God's judgment then is not a punishment so much as it is a ratification of a stubborn desire on our part to reject the manifest evidence of God's eternal power, divinity and the "law written in [our] hearts" (Romans 2:15). He says to us, in effect, "You can go your own way." And we then are "brought to nought in [our] reasonings, and [our] heart, void of understanding [is] darkened; asserting to be wise, [we] became foolish."
It is not hard to see the relevance of this text. Ours is a society that has stubbornly rejected the manifest truth about God, let alone his revelation in Jesus Christ. We have, I think it fair to say, been given up to our desires. As such we are darkened in our understanding, our reasonings have been nullified, we are fools.
We claim that an unborn child is not human and can therefore with impunity be suffocated, burned, dismembered and killed on demand. We claim, by our actions, that the point of human existence is sexual pleasure; we think by it to gain intimacy, connection, union. So we use sexual pleasure pervasively. In a damnable and damning "man's paradise," women and children are taught to present themselves sexually, in their dress, in their own aggressive initiation of sex. We use sexual pleasure to sell nearly all our products. And yet we dare to be troubled that our youngest children are sexualized, turned into objects, abused, and their innocence and souls ripped out of them. We have not progressed in our treatment of children from the ancient world: they are still our slaves and chattel, mere economic products that are meant to please us, renters whom we are desparate to turn into our consumerist clones as soon as we can. Our minds are darkened, void of understanding. We proclaim freedom, but all our precious reasoning is undone as we chain ourselves and our disciples to a bondage of unimaginable proportions.
Is God going to sweep away our nation with plagues and locusts? Some think so. But I rather suppose we are already trampling the grapes of wrath ourselves. What else but the punishment of God--that is to say, the delivering of us up to our own chosen desires, passions and darkened thoughts--could explain our psychoses and hysteria? We trample people to death at Christmas time to buy on sale the newest video recorder. We have lost the capacity for rational moral judgment, thinking it a matter of fundamental human rights to be able to spend billions of dollars on the most violent and virulent of pornographic media and yet object when our government sets aside some tens of millions of dollars to more fully fund sex education materials that stress the benefits of sexual abstinence.
Welcome to depravity of mind. Welcome to your own little preview of hell.
*All New Testament citations are from The Orthodox New Testament, © 2004 Holy Apostles Convent.
Over at Blogodoxy, in a post, "Confronting Islam," one of the Blogodoxers, Closer, reflects on the confrontation between Islam and Christianity. Though Closer's thoughts are broad, the more narrowly theological reply to his post points out the stark contrast between Islamic monotheism and Christian Trinintarianism. I want to bring those same thoughts over here and expand on them.
It is commonplace in our world to refer to the "three Abrahamic faiths" of, in historical order, Judaism, Christianity and Islam. It is as though, because these three faiths claim Abraham as an ancestor, at least in the religious sense, then somehow all three faiths derive from a single source and are therefore merely developments from the same root. And, indeed, so goes the thinking, if only the three faiths can get back to their common root, or at least acknowledge that they're merely "kissin' cuzin's" and therefore family, the world would be filled with peace and harmony.
Part of this thinking depends upon the understanding that each of these faiths describe themselves as monotheism faiths. But the monotheism of each faith is very different from the others, especially Judaism and Islam over against Christianity.
Another part of the thinking stems from the neurotic tendencies of modernist, Enlightenment thought to attempt to reduce everything to a perceived essence. Therefore, if all three faiths claim to be monotheistic and to have Abrahamic origins, voila! They're all essentially related. Indeed, they all, so the ecumenical thinking goes, really worship the same God
But we would do well not to forget the words of the Forerunner and Baptist, John:
καὶ μὴ δόξητε λέγειν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς, πατέρα ἔχομεν τὸν ᾿Αβραάμ· λέγω γὰρ ὑμῖν ὅτι δύναται ὁ Θεὸς ἐκ τῶν λίθων τούτων ἐγεῖραι τέκνα τῷ ᾿Αβραάμ.And do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father,' for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham. (Matthew 3:9 [ESV])
Abrahamic origins, so Christianity claims, does not mean that one has the faith necessary to claim some sort of covenant relationship with God.
More to the point, if the monotheism of these three faiths is radically opposed, then there can be no "synthesis" without each of the faiths giving up their own distinct claims. So are these different versions of monotheism really so radically different? Let's see what each claims.
From the JewishEncyclopedia.com article, "Christianity in its Relation to Judaism":
The idea of a Trinity, which, since the Council of Nice, and especially through Basil the Great (370), had become the Catholic dogma, is of course regarded by Jews as antagonistic to their monotheistic faith and as due to the paganistic tendency of the Church . . . .
The Jewish rejection of the Trinity may be a complex matter, since Christians use the Jewish Scriptures as their own, and redefine the monotheism the Jews derive from the same Scriptures.
Still, the Jewish rejection of the divinity of the Son of God and of Trinitarianism makes it impossible that Jews and Christians are speaking about the same God, because Jewish belief explicitly rejects what Christianity claims about God. There can be no reconciliation here without Jews giving up their monotheistic understandings or Christians giving up their Trinitarian understandings.
What about Islam? From the Qur'an:
It is not befitting to (the majesty of) Allah that he should beget a son. Glory be to Him! When He determines a matter, He only says to it, "Be", and it is. (Surah 19:35)
and:
They do blaspheme who say: "God is Christ the son of Mary." But Christ said: "O Children of Israel! worship God, my Lord and your Lord." Whoever joins other gods with Allah,--Allah will forbid him the Garden and the Fire will be his abode. There will for the wrong-doers be no one to help.They do blasphem who say: God is one of three in a Trinity: for there is no god except one God (Allah). If they do not desist from their word (of blasphemy), verily a grievous penalty will befall the blasphemers among them. (Surah 5:72-73)
and:
O People of the Book! commit no excesses in your religion; nor say of Allah anything but the truth. Christ Jesus the song of Mary was (no more than) a Messenger of Allah, and His Word, which He bestowed on Mary, and a Spirit proceeding from Him: so believe in Allah and His Messengers. Do not say "Trinity": desist: it will be better for you: for Allah is One God: glory be to Him (far Exalted is He) above having a son. To Him belong all things in the heavens and on earth. And enough is Allah as a Disposer of affairs. (Sura 4:171)
If explaining the dichotomy between Jewish monotheism and Christian Trinitarianism, since both utilize the same Scriptures, is a complex matter, it is hardly difficult to see the explicit rejection of the Trinity by Islam in the very Qur'an itself. Clearly there can be no compromise here. Muslims must either give up their central theological tenet--absolute unitarianism--or Christians must give up their Trinitarian belief.
It's possible that one might argue that Mohemmed did not understand the Trinity, thinking it to be tritheism, and therefore if only he, and modern-day Muslims, understood it properly they could acknowledge it as compatible with their own monotheism. But this fails to take into account that Muslims do not claim the Qur'an is a record of Mohammed's understanding of the Trinity but was delivered straight from God himself. It also fails to acknowledge the reality that more nuanced understandings of Trinitarianism are not going to persaude Muslims to revise their own monotheistic understandings. Radical monotheism which necessarily must reject Trinitarianism is the core of Islamic faith.
The only sort of reconciliation to these otherwise unresolvable conflicts is to claim that one or more of these faiths worship God in ignorance. That is to say, despite their best intentions, Jews and Muslims still worship the same God as the Christians, they just overemphasize one essential aspect of the Godhead. They may have the monotheism wrong in total, but they have it right in general and therefore, deep down, worship the same God as Christians.
But this interpretive framework necessarily assumes that Christians in the end have it right, and these other two faiths are mistaken, naively, innocently so, but still wrong. Because if one is going to mush these three faiths together in one ecumenical soup, it will have to include Christianity, which being much more complex in its theology will also necessarily have to claim the more advanced development. One can hardly see how this will sit well with Jews and Muslims.
The only other route is to only speak about that which the three faiths have in common. But aside from a nominal monotheism, it's hard to see exactly what theological tenets about God they do have in common. And in any case, for Christians to not speak of their Trinitarian understandings is to bowlderize their faith and thus to preach a different Gospel.
Finally, when it comes down to it, all three faiths claim their understandings of God are via direct and divine revelation. Since they all contradict, then if the God they all worship is one God, he is a liar and contradicts himself willy-nilly, first preaching monotheism to the Jews, Trinitarianism to the Christians, and then reverting back to radical monotheism with Muslims. But this is extremely patronising and disrespectful to all three faiths. It assumes a position outside all three faiths that one can stand in and judge objectively, and therefore truly, about these faiths. But then, if that is the case, this destroys the authority upon which all three faiths are built and gives to this "outside perspective" an infallibility it cannot prove but only assume.
In short, the only respectful and loving thing to do is for all three faiths to emphasize the tenets of their faith which divide, divisions it is necessary to maintain if they are to maintain their faith. And if this means that each adherent to their respective faith must say that the other adherents do not worship the same God, then in love this is what we must do. Better a clear and unequivocal witness to one's own faith, than a watered-down politicized version that is not faith at all.
But just because we must maintain these divisions for the sake of our respective faiths, it does not follow that we must dissociate ourselves from our neighbors. Each faith has tenets, based on its core beliefs, which demand an obligation to the poor, the outcast. These tenets are precisely why Christians put themselves at risk, and were even executed, for protecting and rescuing Jews from Hitler's satanic regime. It is why Christians here in the U. S. rightly assert the rights of Muslims to be free of discrimination and persecution, why Christians rightly condemn the destruction of mosques. It is also why Muslims rightly condemn the violence done to Christians and Jews in the name of Islam. And it is fundamentally in maintaining our distinctive differences in faith, even if this means that we worship three different gods, that we will also be better able to maintain loving and respectful discourse with one another and act toward one another with love, respect and dignity.
First go to A Few Remarks on the Traditional Procedure for the Recognition of Saints in Orthodoxy.
And here are some excerpts from a couple of online articles. The point is that incorrupt relics are tied in mystical participation to the Resurrection of Christ, from which their whole theosis arises.
From Why Relics?:
The veneration of saints is vital to the life of the Holy Orthodox Church, because the existence of saints affirms that it is truly possible to fulfill the Christian vocation --- to become conformed to the image of Christ --- because every Christian is called to be a saint, for Christ commanded us to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect.The theology of the icon is in part also the theology of the veneration of saints' relics and their frequent incorruption --- in essence, that the body participates in the process of transfiguration / sanctification / deification / theosis --- different words for the same process of salvation.
The veneration of saints' relics and their frequent incorruption affirm that the physical world indeed does have the potential for being transfigured and resurrected, as it participates in the restoration of humanity to the beauty of the Divine Image and Likeness. That the physical world participates in the process of sanctification is a fundamental element of Orthodox spiritual theology, and is an underlying principle in both the theology of icons and the theology of the veneration of saints' relics. In this, Orthodoxy diverges to some extent from Roman Catholic theology, and diverges enormously from Protestant theology, which vehemently denies the possibility of the deification (theosis) of humans or the sanctification of the material world. However, it is exactly these very principles (of theosis and sanctification of the physical world), that are manifested and achieved during the years of ascetic and spiritual experiences practiced by so many of the saints, that accounts for the widespread occurrence of the incorruption of saints' bodies. Basically, the saints bodies were so transfigured and deified by their sanctity, that even after their souls separated from their bodies, the elevated sanctity of their bodies remained, so that their flesh did not decompose, and their bodies exude a sweet fragrance. However, even for most of the saints, to whom the gift of incorruption was not given, their bones still exude the miraculous power of the first-fruits of the resurrection and of the Kingdom of God.
Incorruption of relics, like icons, affirm that the physical world indeed DOES have the potential for being transfigured and resurrected, as it participates in the restoration of humanity to the beauty of the Divine Image and Likeness. The sanctified and transfigured bodies of the saints, (whether or not they are incorrupt), are so powerful that numerous miracles occur by means of the saint's relics, or even by being annointed with oil from the lamps burning by their relics, or from soil from the ground where the saints are or were buried. Of course, most of the saints were also vehicles of miracles while they were yet in their bodies, and this miraculous grace continues to flow from them after their repose.
The physical world was created good and the process of the transfiguration of the world, which is the end purpose of the Orthodox Christian life and struggles, is part of the process of the transfiguration and salvation of each person. The incorruption of saints' bodies and the miracles performed through the relics of saints is a foretaste or firstfruits of the restoration of the world to the way in which God created it.
St. Justin Popovich, The Place of Holy Relics in the Orthodox Church:
The holiness of the Saints--both the holiness of their souls and of their bodies--derives from their zealous grace- and virtue-bestowing lives in the Body of the Church of Christ, of the God-Man. In this sense, holiness completely envelopes the human person--the entire soul and body and all that enters into the mystical composition of the human body. The holiness of the Saints does not hold forth only in their souls, but it necessarily extends to their bodies; so it is that both the body and the soul of a saint are sanctified. Thus we, in piously venerating the Saints, also venerate the entire person, in this manner not separating the holy soul from the holy body. Our pious veneration of the Saints' relics is a natural part of our pious respect for and prayerful entreaty to the Saints. All of this constitutes one indivisible ascetic act, just as the soul and body constitute the single, indivisible person of the Saint. Clearly, during his life on the earth, the Saint, by a continuous and singular grace- and virtue-bestowing synergy of soul and body, attains to the sanctification of his person, filling both the soul and body with the grace of the Holy Spirit and so transforming them into vessels of the holy mysteries and holy virtues. It is completely natural, again, to show pious reverence both to the former and to the latter, both to soul and body, both of them holy vessels of God's grace. When the charismatic power of Christ issues forth, it makes Grace-filled all the constituent parts of the human person and the person in his entirety. By unceasing enactment of the ascetic efforts set forth in the Gospels, Saints gradually fill themselves with the Holy Spirit, so that their sacred bodies, according to the word of the holy Apostle, become temples of the Holy Spirit (I Corinthians 6:19; 3:17), Christ dwelling by faith in their hearts (Ephesians 3:17) and by fruitful love also fulfilling the commandments of God the Father. Establishing themselves in the Holy Spirit through grace-bestowing ascetic labors, the Saints participate in the life of the Trinity, becoming sons of the Holy Trinity, temples of the Living God (II Corinthians 6:16); their whole lives thus flow from the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit. By piously venerating the holy relics of the Saints, the Church reveres them as temples of the Holy Spirit, temples of the Living God, in which God dwells by Grace even after the earthly death of the Saints. And by His most wise and good Will, God creates miracles in and through these relics. Moreover, the miracles which derive from the holy relics witness also to the fact that their pious veneration by the people is pleasing to God.
Archpriest Vasily Demidov, On the Veneration of the Holy Relics and Remains of the Saints:
"God made not death: neither hath He pleasure in the destruction of the living" (Wisdom 1:13). "God created man for incorruption and made him to be an image of His own eternity" (Wisdom 2:23). Corruption appeared after the fall. "Through the hatred of the devil death entered he world" (Wisdom 2:24). "Righteousness is immortal, but injustice causeth death" (Wisdom 1:15). "For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord (Rom. 6:23). As a result of the fall, the fate of man was altered. After death, his dust returned to the earth from which it had been taken, and his spirit returned to God Who had bestowed it (Eccl. 12:7). Therefore, the bodies of all men, both righteous and sinful, are interred in the earth. But the bodies of certain "friends of God," in accordance with His will, escape the universal corruption and remain, at times whole, at times partially intact. Death is the common rule for all that live. However, the words of the Bible point out to us the exceptions to this law. Enoch and Elias, born on earth and subject to the common law of death, did not die; but having conquered the law of death, they were transported to the Kingdom of Heaven while yet in the body. The accounts of their translation and present state are recorded in Genesis 5:4 and III Kings 2. In the course of so great a time these righteous men have remained in that degree of growth in which they were taken up, in accordance with the special Providence of God. They have teeth, a stomach, reproductive members, even though they have no need of food or wives. . . .As the struggles of Christians are not the same, but of various sorts, so also their glorification after death may take many forms. "There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differeth from another star in glory" (I Cor. 15:41). Gifts of grace are also given to people in different degrees, although they flow from the same source. "Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit... Who worketh all in all" (I Cor. 12:4, 6).
According to the testimony of the ancient, apostolic Church, "We receive the witness of men" (I St. John 5:9). The relics of the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, Obadiah, Zachariah and several of the apostles remained incorrupt. The relics of the holy Prophet Elisha, as we see from the Fourth Book of Kings, were preserved as bones.
Christians of the second century reverently gathered the remains of those who were martyred for Christ—Ignatius the God-bearer, Polycarp of Smyrna, Irenaeus of Lyons—and they constructed churches over them when freedom was given to Christianity; they erected altars and tables of oblation, and celebrated the Eucharist over their graves. By the word "relic" the ancient Christians always understood either an entire body preserved incorrupt or a portion thereof, or even the bones of the holy Saints, since the executioners quite often cut the Christians they had slaughtered in pieces, throwing them to the wild beasts to be devoured. What remained of the bodies of the martyrs, the Christians gathered with profound reverence and with hymns of prayer, often bribing those on guard with gold, and at such gatherings the annals and accounts of the heroes who endured torture and death for the name of Christ were read. Russian Christians, emulating the ancient forms of worship of the Greek Christians, have prayerfully honored their own ascetics who strove in the arena of life to receive a crown (I Cor. 9:24-25), and have glorified them, for the Holy Scriptures say: "I will... honor them that honor Me" (I Kings 2:30).
A Russian chronicler, narrating his account of the construction of the Cathedral of the Dormition in Moscow (A.D. 1472), reports the following: "They found [Metropolitan] Jonah to be incorrupt; but Photius had decayed in part, and Cyprian had decayed completely, leaving only bones."
A very nice summary, with patristic citations, can be found at: Free Will and Death
Below are several lengthy citations from Sts. Athanasios (On the Incarnation of the Word), John Chrysostom (Homilies on Genesis and on Romans), and John of Damascus (An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith).
St. Athanasius, On the Incarnation of the Word
For He brought them into His own garden, and gave them a law: so that, if they kept the grace and remained good, they might still keep the life in paradise without sorrow or pain or care besides having the promise of incorruption in heaven; but that if they transgressed and turned back, and became evil, they might know that they were incurring that corruption in death which was theirs by nature: no longer to live in paradise, but cast out of it from that time forth to die and to abide in death and in corruption. Now this is that of which Holy Writ also gives warning, saying in the Person of God: “Of every tree that is in the garden, eating thou shalt eat: but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, ye shall not eat of it, but on the day that ye eat, dying ye shall die.” But by “dying ye shall die,” what else could be meant than not dying merely, but also abiding ever in the corruption of death?(3.4-5)
Thus, then, God has made man, and willed that he should abide in incorruption; but men, having despised and rejected the contemplation of God, and devised and contrived evil for themselves (as was said in the former treatise), received the condemnation of death with which they had been threatened; and from thenceforth no longer remained as they were made, but were being corrupted according to their devices; and death had the mastery over them as king. For if, out of a former normal state of nonexistence, they were called into being by the Presence and loving-kindness of the Word, it followed naturally that when men were bereft of the knowledge of God and were turned back to what was not (for what is evil is not, but what is good is), they should, since they derive their being from God who IS, be everlastingly bereft even of being; in other words, that they should be disintegrated and abide in death and corruption. For man is by nature mortal, inasmuch as he is made out of what is not; but by reason of his likeness to Him that is (and if he still preserved this likeness by keeping Him in his knowledge) he would stay his natural corruption, and remain incorrupt; as Wisdom says: “The taking heed to His laws is the assurance of immortality;” but being incorrupt, he would live henceforth as God, to which I suppose the divine Scripture refers, when it says: “I have said ye are gods, and ye are all sons of the most Highest; but ye die like men, and fall as one of the princes.”For God has not only made us out of nothing; but He gave us freely, by the Grace of the Word, a life in correspondence with God. But men, having rejected things eternal, and, by counsel of the devil, turned to the things of corruption, became the cause of their own corruption in death, being, as I said before, by nature corruptible, but destined, by the grace following from partaking of the Word, to have escaped their natural state, had they remained good. For because of the Word dwelling with them, even their natural corruption did not come near them, as Wisdom also says: “God made man for incorruption, and as an image of His own eternity; but by envy of the devil death came into the world.” But when this was come to pass, men began to die, while corruption thence-forward prevailed against them, gaining even more than its natural power over the whole race, inasmuch as it had, owing to the transgression of the commandment, the threat of the Deity as a further advantage against them.(4.4-5.2)
What the saint is saying above is not that death and corruption are the per se intended state of man, but rather that man does not have in himself the principle of life. That is to say, we are not inherently immortal, but are only living and immortal insofar as we remain in communion with God. Only God is truly immortal and alive in se. For man all his life and immortality is contingent. It is thus "natural" to man to be alive and immortal in that this is God's intended will for man. But insofar as man rejects God's will, he cuts himself off from that life and immortality, and thus, not having life and immortality in himself "naturally" succumbs to death and corruption, which is "unnatural" in that it is not God's will for man.
For this purpose, then, the incorporeal and incorruptible and immaterial Word of God comes to our realm, howbeit he was not far from us before. For no part of Creation is left void of Him: He has filled all things everywhere, remaining present with His own Father. But He comes in condescension to shew loving-kindness upon us, and to visit us. And seeing the race of rational creatures in the way to perish, and death reigning over them by corruption; seeing, too, that the threat against transgression gave a firm hold to the corruption which was upon us, and that it was monstrous that before the law was fulfilled it should fall through: seeing, once more, the unseemliness of what was come to pass: that the things whereof He Himself was Artificer were passing away: seeing, further, the exceeding wickedness of men, and how by little and little they had increased it to an intolerable pitch against themselves: and seeing, lastly, how all men were under penalty of death: He took pity on our race, and had mercy on our infirmity, and condescended to our corruption, and, unable to bear that death should have the mastery—lest the creature should perish, and His Father’s handiwork in men be spent for nought—He takes unto Himself a body, and that of no different sort from ours. For He did not simply will to become embodied, or will merely to appear. For if He willed merely to appear, He was able to effect His divine appearance by some other and higher means as well. But He takes a body of our kind, and not merely so, but from a spotless and stainless virgin, knowing not a man, a body clean and in very truth pure from intercourse of men. For being Himself mighty, and Artificer of everything, He prepares the body in the Virgin as a temple unto Himself, and makes it His very own as an instrument, in it manifested, and in it dwelling. 4. And thus taking from our bodies one of like nature, because all were under penalty of the corruption of death He gave it over to death in the stead of all, and offered it to the Father—doing this, moreover, of His loving-kindness, to the end that, firstly, all being held to have died in Him, the law involving the ruin of men might be undone (inasmuch as its power was fully spent in the Lord’s body, and had no longer holding-ground against men, his peers), and that, secondly, whereas men had turned toward corruption, He might turn them again toward incorruption, and quicken them from death by the appropriation of His body and by the grace of the Resurrection, banishing death from them like straw from the fire. (8)
For the Word, perceiving that no otherwise could the corruption of men be undone save by death as a necessary condition, while it was impossible for the Word to suffer death, being immortal, and Son of the Father; to this end He takes to Himself a body capable of death, that it, by partaking of the Word Who is above all, might be worthy to die in the stead of all, and might, because of the Word which was come to dwell in it, remain incorruptible, and that thenceforth corruption might be stayed from all by the Grace of the Resurrection. Whence, by offering unto death the body He Himself had taken, as an offering and sacrifice free from any stain, straightway He put away death from all His peers by the offering of an equivalent. For being over all, the Word of God naturally by offering His own temple and corporeal instrument for the life of all satisfied the debt by His death. And thus He, the incorruptible Son of God, being conjoined with all by a like nature, naturally clothed all with incorruption, by the promise of the resurrection. For the actual corruption in death has no longer holding-ground against men, by reason of the Word, which by His one body has come to dwell among them. And like as when a great king has entered into some large city and taken up his abode in one of the houses there, such city is at all events held worthy of high honour, nor does any enemy or bandit any longer descend upon it and subject it; but, on the contrary, it is thought entitled to all care, because of the king’s having taken up his residence in a single house there: so, too, has it been with the Monarch of all. For now that He has come to our realm, and taken up his abode in one body among His peers, henceforth the whole conspiracy of the enemy against mankind is checked, and the corruption of death which before was prevailing against them is done away. For the race of men had gone to ruin, had not the Lord and Saviour of all, the Son of God, come among us to meet the end of death. (9)
St. Chrysostum, Homilies on Genesis (Gen 2:4b-3:24)
(Homily 13, pp 173-174) Not so, however, in the case of the human person: first its body is created from the dust, and afterwards the power of life is given to it, and this is the being of the soul. Accordingly Moses said about the beasts. "Its blood is its life." [ Lev 17:11 ] But in the case of the human person its being is incorporeal and immortal, and has a great superiority over the body, to the same extent as incorporeal form surpasses the corporeal.
(Homily 15, pp. 202-203) . . . up till that time [the Fall] they were living like angels in paradise and so they were not burning with desire, not assaulted by other passions, not subject to the needs of nature, but on the contrary were created incorruptible and immortal . . .
(Homily 16, p. 221) The former tree [of knowledge of good and evil] brought death, death entering the scene after the Fall, remember, whereas the latter [the "tree" of the Cross] endowed us with immortality; one drove us from paradise, the other led us up to heaven;
(Homily 17, p. 246) I mean, how could we avoid the appearance of ingratitude if, while he who is God and immortal does not decline to take on himself our mortal nature and earthly character, free us from the ancient curse of death, lead us to highest heaven, honor us with his ancestral home and deem us worthy of being honored by all the heavenly host, whereas we are not ashamed to requite him in just the opposite way, glueing our immortal soul (so to say) on to our body and thus ensuring that it becomes earthly, perishable and impotent?
(Homily 17, pp. 7-8) When God gave Adam the command [to not eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil], he bade him abstain from nothing, with the single exception of that tree, and when he presumed to taste it he received the sentence of death; he made this clear to him in giving him the command in case he should break it, though he had given him no express instructions about the tree of life. I mean, since he created him immortal. as I see it and you can understand, it would have been possible for Adam, if he had wanted, to partake of that tree along with the others, a tree that was able to provide him with endless life--hence he was given no instruction about it.
St. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Romans, Homily X (Romans 5:12-6:4)
[Romans 5:12] As the best physicians always take great pains to discover the source of diseases, and go to the very fountain of the mischief, so doth the blessed Paul also. Hence after having said that we were justified, and having shown it from the Patriarch, and from the Spirit, and from the dying of Christ (for He would not have died unless He intended to justify), he next confirms from other sources also what he had at such length demonstrated. And he confirms his proposition from things opposite, that is, from death and sin. How, and in what way? He enquires whence death came in, and how it prevailed. How then did death come in and prevail? "Through the sin of one." But what means, "for that all have sinned?" This; he having once fallen, even they that had not eaten of the tree did from him, all of them, become mortal.
[Romans 5:13] And yet sin and grace are not equivalents, death and life are not equivalents, the Devil and God are not equivalents, but there is a boundless space between them.
In other words, there is no dualism here: on the one side sin and opposite to it grace. Grace is the greater and more power. So also life over death.
[Romans 5:17] What he says, amounts to this nearly. What armed death against the world? The one man's eating from the tree only. If then death attained so great power from one offence, when it is found that certain received a grace and righteousness out of all proportion to that sin, how shall they still be liable to death? And for this cause, he does not here say "grace," but "superabundance of grace." For it was not as much as we must have to do away the sin only, that we received of His grace, but even far more. For we were at once freed from punishment, and put off all iniquity, and were also born again from above (John iii. 3) and rose again with the old man buried, and were redeemed, justified, led up to adoption, sanctified, made brothers of the Only-begotten, and joint heirs and of one Body with Him, and counted for His Flesh, and even as a Body with the Head, so were we united unto Him! All these things then Paul calls a "superabundance" of grace, showing that what we received was not a medicine only to countervail the wound, but even health, and comeliness, and honor, and glory and dignities far transcending our natural state. And of these each in itself was enough to do away with death, but when all manifestly run together in one, there is not the least vestige of it left, nor can a shadow of it be seen, so entirely is it done away.
St. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Romans, Homily XI (Romans 6:5-18)
[Romans 6:12] He does not say, let not the flesh live or act, but, "let not sin reign," for He came not to destroy our nature, but to set our free choice aright. Then to show that it is not through any force or necessity that we are held down by iniquity, but willingly, he does not say, let it not tyrannize, a word that would imply a necessity, but let it not reign. For it is absurd for those who are being conducted to the kingdom of heaven to have sin empress over them, and for those who are called to reign with Christ to choose to be the captives of sin, as though one should hurl the diadem from off his head, and choose to be the slave of a frantic woman, who came begging, and was clothed in rags. Next since it was a heavy task to get the upper hand of sin, see how he shows it to be even easy, and how he allays the labor by saying, "in your mortal body." For this shows that the struggles were but for a time, and would soon bring themselves to a close. At the same time he reminds us of our former evil plight, and of the root of death, as it was from this that, contrary even to its beginning, it became mortal. Yet it is possible even for one with a mortal body not to sin. Do you see the abundancy of Christ's grace? For Adam, though as yet he had not a mortal body, fell. But thou, who hast received one even subject to death, canst be crowned. How then, is it that "sin reigns?" he says. It is not from any power of its own, but from thy listlessness. Wherefore after saying, "let it not reign," he also points out the mode of this reigning, by going on to say "that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof." For it is not honor to concede to it (i.e. to the body) all things at will, nay, it is slavery in the extreme, and the height of dishonor; for when it doth what it listeth, then is it bereft of all liberties; but when it is put under restraints, then it best keeps its own proper rank.
[Romans 6:14] What then is this statement? It is this; that our body, before Christ's coming, was an easy prey to the assaults of sin. For after death a great swarm of passions entered also. And for this cause it was not lightsome for running the race of virtue. For there was no Spirit present to assist, nor any baptism of power to mortify. (John vii. 39.)
St. John of Damascus, Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, Book II, Chapter 12:
Now this being the case, He creates with His own hands man of a visible nature and an invisible, after His own image and likeness: on the one hand man's body He formed of earth, and on the other his reasoning and thinking soul He bestowed upon him by His own inbreathing, and this is what we mean by "after His image." For the phrase "after His image" clearly refers to the side of his nature which consists of mind and free will, whereas "after His likeness "means likeness in virtue so far as that is possible.Further, body and soul were formed at one and the same time, not first the one and then the other, as Origen so senselessly supposes.
God then made man without evil, upright, virtuous, free from pain and care, glorified with every virtue, adorned with all that is good, like a sort of second microcosm within the great world. another angel capable of worship, compound, surveying the visible creation and initiated into the mysteries of the realm of thought, king over the things of earth, but subject to a higher king, of the earth and of the heaven, temporal and eternal, belonging to the realm of sight and to the realm of thought, midway between greatness and lowliness, spirit and flesh: for he is spirit by grace, but flesh by overweening pride: spirit that he may abide and glorify his Benefactor, and flesh that he may suffer, and suffering may be admonished and disciplined when he prides himself in his greatness: here, that is, in the present life, his life is ordered as an animal's, but elsewhere, that is, in the age to come, he is changed and-to complete the mystery-becomes deified by merely inclining himself towards God; becoming deified, in the way of participating in the divine glory and not in that of a change into the divine being.
But God made him by nature sinless, and endowed him with free will. By sinless, I mean not that sin could find no place in him (for that is the case with Deity alone), bat that sin is the result of the free volition he enjoys rather than an integral part of his nature; that is to say, he has the power to continue and go forward in the path of goodness, by co-operating with the divine grace, and likewise to turn from good and take to wickedness, for God has conceded this by conferring freedom of will upon him. For there is no virtue in what is the result of mere force.
The soul, accordingly, is a living essence, simple, incorporeal, invisible in its proper nature to bodily eyes, immortal, reasoning and intelligent, formless, making use of an organised body, and being the source of its powers of life, and growth, and sensation, and generation, mind being but its purest part and not in any wise alien to it; (for as the eye to the body, so is the mind to the soul); further it enjoys freedom and volition and energy, and is mutable, that is, it is given to change, because it is created. All these qualities according to nature it has received of the grace of the Creator, of which grace it has received both its being and this particular kind of nature. (emphasis added)
St. John of Damascus, Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, Book III, Chapter 1
Man, then, was thus snared by the assault of the arch-fiend, and broke his Creator's command, and was stripped of grace and put off his confidence with God, and covered himself with the asperities of a toilsome life (for this is the meaning of the fig-leaves); and was clothed about with death, that is, mortality and the grossness of flesh (for this is what the garment of skins signifies); and was banished from Paradise by God's just judgment, and condemned to death, and made subject to corruption.
This post and the one preceding it, got started when I was thinking about New Year resolutions. With these previous posts as background, I want this time to discuss God's energies and the passions.
First, let me start with a disclaimer. I am not well-versed in the Church's teachings on God's energies and the fallen human passions. I only know enough to know that Orthodox are unique among the various churches in their teaching on God's uncreated energies, and emphasize, as other churches generally do not, the passions and the struggle against them as part of the daily struggle of Christians as they grow in holiness. But even this “knowledge” is sketchy and incomplete.
This post, then, is little more than a very simple Bible study, as I look at the references in the New Testament of the energeia and pathema word groups. It is certainly incomplete, and not exhaustive. More to the point, it is my own individual attempt to grasp what Scripture says. It does not necessarily reflect the mind of the Church. In fact, I ask any of those reading this who detect departures from Orthodox teaching or other mistakes to please correct what I've written—for my own edification and so as not to inadvertently lead my readers astray.
We first of all note some very basic facts. The noun energeia—working, or operation—occurs some eight times, all in Paul, three times in Ephesians, twice each in Colossians and 2 Thessalonians, and once in Philippians. We note also, that energeia is always used of supernatural beings: God (all three times in Ephesians, once in Philippians, both times in Colossians), Satan (once in 2 Thessalonians), and the influence of error God sends on the followers of Satan (the other reference in 2 Thessalonians). This working of God is tied to the growing of the Church into her Head, Who is Christ (Ephesians 4), and to the Resurrection of Christ from the dead (Colossians 2).
So the working or operation is a supernatural working, either of God or of Satan. It is not merely human activity.
The verb energeo—to be at work—occurs some nineteen times. It twice refers to the spiritual powers at work in a purportedly resurrected John the Baptist, which Herod feared in Jesus (the parallel passages in Matthew 14 and Mark 6). It twice refers to the working of God and the Spirit in the spiritual gifts in the Church (1 Corinthians 12), as well as Peter's and Paul's apostleship and the similar works God does in the Galatian Christians (Galatians 2 and 3; cf. the noun form in relation also to Paul's apostleship in Ephesians 3). It is the working of God in the Church and her members such that they will and do God's good will (Galatians 3, Philippians 2 and Colossians 1), to build themselves up into the head (for the noun form in Ephesians 4), the same sort of working that raised Jesus from the dead, and that works all things according to the counsel of his will (Ephesians 1; cf. the noun form in Colossians 2). In fact it is our faith, working out itself in love (Galatians 5) that is the substantive force of our salvation as opposed to mere ritual compliance or the casting off of ritual. This power works in us through the word of God handed down to us from the apostles and our spiritual fathers (1 Thessalonians 2). The mortality one faces in persecution on account of Jesus may work death in one's body—though that may well mean life for one's fellow Christians (2 Corinthians 4). Indeed, our salvation works in us patient endurance and consolation in the face of suffering (2 Corinthians 1). Finally, the prayer of a righteous man is exceedingly efficacious when it is “energized” by this power of God (James 5).
There is also, however, a spirit of lawlessness that works in the sons of disobedience (Ephesians 2 and 2 Thessalonians 2). This spirit works in the lawless one according to the power of Satan (2 Thessalonians 2), and it is in concert with this that God sends the influence of error (cf. the noun form in 2 Thessalonians 2). And, in fact, the passions of the sins can “energize” death in our bodily members (Romans 7).
The final two word forms are another noun (energema), used twice to speak of spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians 12, and an adjective (energes), used three times: once in 1 Corinthians 16 to speak of the effectual door opened to Paul in the face of (or because of) the opposition he faced, once to speak of the communion of faith of Philemon and Onesimus that it might become effectual in the knowledge of the work of Christ in him, and once in Hebrews 4 to famously refer to the Word of God, which is living and active, and effectual toward discerning hearts and thoughts.
So we can in general emphasize that the sort of power working in the Christian for his salvation is the supernatural power of God in His Spirit who “energizes” the Christian to want to do and to accomplish God's will. It is a power triumphant over mortality and death, the power, in fact, that raised Christ from death, which turns suffering and death into consolation and life. This power is exhibited in the faith that works itself out in love, in the Logos of God which judges the thoughts and intentions of the heart and which we receive from the apostles and our spiritual fathers, in the gifts of ministry the Spirit gives to us for the building up of the Church into her Head, and in the prayer of a righteous man.
But there is another spiritual energy at work in us, as well. Speaking generally, it is the power of the passions of sins which work in us death and mortality. This spirit is a spirit of disobedience which energizes the enemies of God, particularly the lawless one and Satan. And God even works to confirm such willful rebellion with an efficacious influence of error.
It is here, in the energy of the passions, that our energeia word group and the passions (or, pathema) overlap. Pathema in the New Testament speaks generally of suffering and experience. In very general terms pathema are those things that happen to us, that affect us. There is a sense in which we are “passive” and the pathema which we experience or suffer is the active agent.
But in addition to these general senses of the word, there is a specific sense, which overlaps with our study here thus far. There are five overwhelmingly negative references (out of a total of twenty) for pathema, pathetos and pathos: passions of dishonor (Romans 1), passions of the sins (Romans 7) or of lusts (1 Thessalonians 4), and passion as an item in the sin lists of Galatians 5 and Colossians 3.
In Romans 1, these dishonorable passions are the judgment of God on those who insist on opposing God and his life-giving will. They are a sign of God's final handing over of rebellious human beings toward their own determined and willed ends. In Romans 7, these passions work death in our physical bodies, which bodies and their passion principles war against the Spirit. Apart from the deifying energies of God in us, we have no real ability to overcome these passions. (Which seems to me to be the point of Romans 7, though I know the interpretation of this chapter has been a point of contention in soteriological dialogues.) Indeed, we are twice expressly told to put to death, to crucify, to mortify these passions (Galatians 5, Colossians 3), and enjoined not to behave in passionate lust like those who have no life-giving knowledge of God (1 Thessalonians 4).
In summary, then, the passions are death-dealing forces at work in our bodies which war against our will to want and to do God's will. They are dishonorable and not to be entertained. Indeed, we are to put them to death. This war against the passions (as the conjoining of our two word groups, energeia and pathema in Romans 7:5 indicates) can only be done in the energies of God, that “Resurrection power” which is at work in us by the Spirit.
Having laid the foundations of a Christian anthropology and a biblical survey of the energies of God and the mortal passions, I can now pass on to speak of the thinking that got this whole process started: my New Year “resolution” to fight the passions.
In St. Theophan the Recluse's book, The Spiritual Life and How to Be Attuned to It (St Paisius Abbey: St. Herman Press, 1995), he early on (Letters 5-14) describes his account of the human person. St. Theophan, a bishop of the Russian Orthodox Church, lived 1815-1894 and is an important example of the faithful transmission of the mind of the Holy Church and the Church Fathers into the modern era. His writings exhibit a deep patristic consciousness, yet also reveal an accurate familiarity with the mind of his (and our) age. His account of the human person is what I will summarize here, as preparation for another couple of posts that are forthcoming (one on energeia and its related words, and one on the passions).
First let me offer this disclaimer: I am no expert on St. Theophan, let alone on patristic anthropology. At most this post is a very simple offering, a summary, of my understanding of St. Theophan. I welcome any criticisms that will keep both me and my readers from straying away from the mind of the Church.
St. Theophan organizes human existence under three aspects: the body (or physical life), the soul (consisting of the intellect, the desiring or active aspect, and the heart), and the spirit (which is the highest aspect of the human person, and encompasses both body and soul). The saint writes:
Human life is complex and multi-faceted. It has physical, mental and spiritual aspects. Each aspect has its power, needs and modes, and the exercise and satisfaction of them. Only when all of our powers are in motion and all of our needs satisfied does a man live. But when only one small portion of his powers is in motion, and only a small number of his needs are satisfied, this life is not life. (p. 38)
He notes that the physical aspect of human existence has three major systems: digestive (here one should think of all the internal organs such as lungs, heart, veins and arteries, ducts, glands, etc.) whose function is the nourishment of the body; musculoskeletal (whose function is movement) and the nervous system (including the brain, spinal cord, and all nerve endings), whose function is sensory perception (cf. p. 46).
The body, however, is not cut off from the soul, which “by virtue of having the closest contact with the body, has become intertwined with it, therefore all the needs of the body are to be considered as its needs, too” (pp. 46-47). Though the body is often equated with carnality, according to the saint,
Only the digestive systems is strongly carnal; but even it is ennobled by the adaptation of its satisfaction to strictly mental needs and purposes. The organs of movement and feeling serve mental needs more than bodily ones. One organ, which stands apart from the system of other organs, the organ of speech is an organ exclusively of the soul, which alone it is intended to serve. (p. 47)
Rather, the things we often associate with carnality and sinful sensuality are really an extreme focus on the things that are necessary with an eye to bodily comfort, or with a forgetfulness of meeting mental, and even more, with spiritual needs (p. 47). But this focus on these things ultimately enslaves us. We are not free, because we are always focused on meeting these bodily needs over against our other needs (p. 48).
The soul has three capacities, each having their own needs and satisfactions: the intellect, desire (or volitional activity, the will), and the heart. Intellect is the home of imagination and memory, reason and logic, thinking things through. The intellect deals with thoughts, concepts, knowledge and cognition as well as opinions and suppositions. It always attempts to organize its thought into ordered bodies of concepts, or various sciences), which is the goal of the intellect—understanding after laboring in thought. But the intellect is also susceptible to wandering thoughts, and daydreams, which frustrates its purposes and lead to confusion and opinions and ignorance. (Cf. Letter 6.)
Desire is the home of the will. Here is the zeal and ardor which originate in the heart (on which more in a moment) which drive desire toward the satisfaction of a need. Desire presents the intellect with a choice as to which of any number of competing objects of desire the person is to pursue. The choice also includes and leads to deliberation about the means of obtaining said object, and this process itself lends itself to habituation and the formation of character. This active life exhibited in desire is designed to be ruled by prudence, the reason of intellect which serves the will. The desiring or active part of the soul is designed toward conducting one's life “sober-mindedly in accordance with the established norm in all its affairs and undertakings” (p. 55). When this end is not met, then there is in this aspect of the soul “inconstancy, disorder, selfish desires, and [the preoccupation with] them” (p. 55). (For this entire paragraph cf. Letter 7.)
The final facet of the soul St. Theophan considers is that of the heart. The heart is the center of one's life.
Everything which enters the soul from the outside, and which is shaped by the intellectual and active aspects, falls into the heart; everything which the soul observes on the outside also passes through the heart. That is why it is called the center of life.The heart's occupation is to sense everything concerning our person. It constantly and persistently senses the condition of the soul and body, and along with this the various impressions from the individual actions of the soul and body . . . . The health and and disease of the body, its vivacity and languor, fatigue and strength, liveliness and lethargy, along with what has been seen, heard, felt, smelled, tasted, and what has been recalled and imagined, what has been done, what one does and intends to do, what has been obtained and is being obtained, what may and may not be obtained, what is favorable to us or unfavorable, whether having to do with a person or concurrence of circumstances—all of this is reflected in the heart, and affects it either pleasantly or unpleasantly. (pp. 56, 57)
But the heart is no mere passive recorder of impressions. It is also an active agent which “maintains the energy of all powers of soul and body” (p. 57). As noted, “Zeal, the motive force of the will, comes from the heart” (p. 58). And the heart is also a place of the battle of the human will with the “alien passions” which “tyrannize” it.
If a person were to always maintain sobriety in his mental part, and prudence in his actions, then he would meet in life only the smallest number of occurrences unpleasant to his heart, and accordingly, would have a greater portion of happiness. But, as has been explained, the mental part rarely maintains itself worthily, giving itself over to idle dreams and distractions, while the active part deviates from its normal bent, being enticed by inconstant desires, which are aroused not by needs of nature, but by alien passions. That is why the heart has not rest, and, as long as these aspects are in such a state, it will not have any. The passions more than anything tyrannize the heart. If there were not passions, it would still meet with unpleasant things, of course, but they would never torment the heart in the same way the passions do. How anger consumes the heart! How hatred tears it! How evil envy grinds! How many disturbances and torments cause discontent or disgraceful conceit! How heavy lies grief when pride suffers! Indeed, if we were to examine a little more stringently, we would find that every one of our disturbances and pains of the heart are from the passions. (pp. 58-59).
(For the above, cf. Letter 8.)
Finally, just as the soul is inextricably intertwined with the body, so the spirit vivifies soul and body, and joins with the human soul. What is the spirit? “It is that force which God breathed into man when He created him” (p. 61). The spirit, since it comes from God “knows God, seeks God, and in Him alone finds rest” (p. 62). This movement toward God is found in three distinct manifestations: the fear of God, that inbuilt awareness that there is a Supreme Being to Whom we owe all our life and love; the conscience, which is the “natural codex of God's commandments” (p. 63), that moral awareness from which humans must deform themselves to ignore; and the longing for God, which is that need manifested in all of us for transcendence and the satisfaction of the divine. The spirit of man is the “distinguishing feature” within us. “The human soul makes us a little above the animals, while the spirit makes us a little below the angels” (p. 63). (For this paragraph cf. Letter 9.)
The spirit influences the soul in each of its aspects. In the intellect, the spirit causes the soul to yearn for the ideal (p. 67). In desire, or the will, the spirit causes the soul to orient itself toward the production of unselfish deeds or virtues (p. 68). And in the sensual part of the soul (that having to do with the heart), the spirit causes the soul to yearn for and to love the beautiful (p. 69). (For this paragraph cf. Letter 11.)
With all this one understands that the human life is hierarchical: the spirit is the highest aspect of life, followed by the intellectual (that is to say, the soul), with the physical occupying the lowest aspect of human existence. But all of these aspects of human life are intertwined, even if hierarchically arranged, and thus comprise some five layers of spiritual life: the spiritual, the spiritual-intellectual, the intellectual, the intellectual-physical and the physical, each giving a certain character to the life of the person whose existence is dominated by one of these layers.
There are five layers in all, but one person in man, and this one person lives first one life, then another, then a third life. Judging by this, a person receives a particular character according to the life he lives, and this character is reflected in his views and attitudes, his habits, and his feelings. That is, his life is either spiritual, with spiritual views, habits and feelings; or it is intellectual, with intellectual concerns, habits and feelings; or it is carnal, with carnal thoughts, deeds and feelings. (I am not taking into consideration the states in between—the intellectual-spiritual, or the intellectual-physical, because I do not want too many categories). This does not mean that when a man is spiritual that the intellectual and physical have no place in him, but only that the spiritual predominates, subordinating to itself and penetrating the intellectual and physical parts. (pp. 71-72)
A person is always free to move into one characteristic state or another of these levels. They are, in themselves, after all, natural to human beings (i. e., the intellectual, physical and spiritual states). However, depending on which state a person has come to be characterized by, it may not be without struggle and much labor that he moves from a carnal character to a spiritual one. However,
The condition that is unnatural, and consequently, is in and of itself opprobrious, is that in which the thoughts stray, steam and seethe, and in which the desires are inconstant, being stirred by the passions. The passions are not natural to us, but alien; and the emotions of the heart are agitated and disturbed by reason of these very passions. (p. 73)
Furthermore, even though the intellectual and physical aspects of human life are natural to us, it does not mean we are guiltless in giving the carnal or intellectual aspect reign over our lives. For such a person
is guilty of granting supremacy within himself to something that was not meant for supremacy, and that is supposed to be in a subordinate position. It turns out that although the intellectual is natural, for a man to be intellectual is unnatural; in the same way carnality is natural, but for a man to be carnal is unnatural. (p. 74)
Indeed, “according to natural purpose, man must live in the spirit, subordinate everything to the spirit, be penetrated by the spirit in all that is of the soul, and even more so in all that is physical—and beyond these, in the outward things, too, that is, family and social life. This is the norm!” (p. 75).
This, in sum, is St. Theophan's account of the human person. It is the mind of the Fathers, of the Church, even if, in some specific details the saint amplifies what the Fathers left in summary, weaving the wisdom of the Church into the scientific knowledge of his (and our) day. And this account is the basis on which I will further consider (in forthcoming posts) the work (energeia) of God in the life of the Christian, and the battle of the passions (I will also draw on St. Theophan here)—as these subjects are given in the New Testament.
The Akathist Hymn of Thanksgiving (requires free Quick Time player)
Text and more information here.
The following excerpts are from comments I've posted on the atheist/antiChristian message board I've mentioned in an earlier post. They have mainly to do with God, suffering and freewill. But since they deal with omniscience, omnipresence and omnipotence, they also have to do with space, time, and the nature of God (an essence or a person?). The comments are excerpted from a couple of different message threads, so there's little continuity between excerpts, and some repetition.
But I thought I'd offer them for your review and comment.
On omnipotence and free will:
There is no logical necessity, or contradiction, between omniscience, omnipotence and free will. Omnipotence, for example, does not necessitate that one always exercise omnipotence. One may, indeed, refrain from using one's power. If one MUST always use one's omnipotence, then, by definition, one is not omnipotent. In other words, precisely because one is omnipotent, one may refrain from using one's power.
Omniscience in no way precludes free will, either. To deny free will, omniscience must be combined with omnipotence (an omnipotence which must always be used). But as we've seen there is no logical necessity that omnipotence must always be used.
On what is properly basic to God, essence or personhood:
Strictly speaking, in Christian theology, it is not proper to posit a philosophical category (immutability) in place of a person. That is to say, what is "essential" as it were to God is personhood, not any sort of quality. God does not change in terms of personhood, but whether and to what degree God does engage in any other sort of change (not in terms of mutability), is debated.
On God's omniscience and on time:
First of all, you have to determine how it is that God knows the future. He clearly does not know it in the way we do, since we are temporal beings and cannot but exist in time. God, being eternal, which is to say, ex-temporal, or outside time, knows our future in a way we do not. We experience time in only a linear way. But if God is outside time, he experiences all time as present, as it were; as if it were happening now. (These are temporally-founded expressions so can only approximate what God's experiencing of time actually is.) And if the "non-temporal now" that God knows (which is our future) is the arena in which we exercise our choice, then clearly God's knowing of the future does not eliminate our free will.
On whether God must act in terms of his essence, or is a free person who acts as he will:
I would say that the Christian God is not jealous, spiteful, etc. Whether or not he can be these things, in terms of whether he can freely choose to do or be these things, is nonsensical if he is the sort of person who does not do these things. In other words, he is not precluded from doing these things simply on the basis of free will consideration. Rather it is the sort of person he is that is under consideration. The Christian claim is that all God's acts are love. That all he does is holy. That everything he says is true. But we do not say such things as God must love because it is his nature so to do, that he must act in holy ways, or that he cannot but speak truth. Though these claims are, in certain ways true, they are misleading because they presuppose that his nature is more fundamental than his personhood. But in point of fact, for Christians, the personhood of God is the basic reality of the Godhead.
On God's omnipotence and whether he acts only in special circumstances in this world, or always acts in this world:
But understand, I'm not denying that there are real "natural laws" in the universe. I'm not denying the law of gravity. But neither am I denying the miraculous, which you are required to do by your presuppositions. In other words, yours is a case of special pleading, whereas mine does not seek to make any exceptions as yours does.
That is to say, the Christian understanding of God's activity in the world is that it is always ongoing at every moment. Thus miracles, though they are in seeming contradiction to observable natural causes and effects, are not special instances of actions that God does, while the rest of the time he's off doing whatever it is that God is doing. On the contrary, the Christian understanding is that the universe always has God's special attention: he ensures the orderly processes that sustain human life and strethces out the galaxies, as well as acting in ways that are "exceptional" (from our perspective) to those processes (what we call miracles). He is not some deist watchmaker, but is, in fact, the consummate lover of all such that his care and attention is always in love directed toward that which he has made.
On whether creating humans with freewill is compassionate and loving or not:
Well, since Christians (among others) believe in free will, that God created it as a fundamental human reality and works to preserve and honor that freedom, then it would be contradictory to who God is to force people to believe in him and that what he has done is indeed his work. If you think not having free will is a better world you're free to argue it. But then if you really believed it, you wouldn't argue it. It would be pointless to do so.
On whether suffering is pointless:
You characterize rape as pointless suffering. You are right that it is suffering. It is evil. Is it pointless? No. How could any of us ever say that such a deep and violating evil such as rape causes a suffering that is pointless? To do so is to say of the victim that she is incapable of rising above the evil that has happened to her. You reduce and minimize her humanity at the expense of proving a philosophical point of injustice. Suffering at the hands of evil and injustice should never ever--in my opinion and according to the theology of the Church--be explained by whatever effects or results it may engender, no matter how noble or positive. This sort of suffering is evil and unjust. Full stop.
But then to conclude from that that the humans who suffer these things are incapable of overcoming that suffering through their inherent worth and nobility as made in God's very image--that is also truly evil.
In other words, the Christian view is that not even evil and injustice can overcome Christ's love and the power of God. In the face of radical nothingness and insatiable evil, the Christian can know and experience the reality that suffering is not the final word.
And from that standpoint, suffering is never pointless.
On freewill and suffering:
But if you don't believe in free will, then you don't believe in evil and injustice, and therefore don't believe in suffering. If it is all cause and effect, then our moral evaluations of pain and actions are merely effects of other causes and have no intrinsic meaning. Indeed, not only can you not escape not believing in God, neither can I escape believing in him. Let's turn out all the prison inmates, let's allow more Islamic terrorist beheadings, let's let be what will be, since it's all determined cause and effect, and nothing we can really choose to do anyway.
Your position is nonsensical in the truest sense.
More on freewill and God:
I note here, then, that you have failed to address the issue of co-free will. God has free will, and in creating beings like himself (angels and humans) did so such that they, like him, had free will. You may well note that God, in his foreknowledge, could have foreseen that evil would occur as the result of misuse of the free will he'd given creatures he'd made like ourselves. But you have not proven that foreknowledge necessarily entails the negating of free will.
You also claim that since God foreknew that humans would sin, he could have saved himself the trouble and eliminated free will such that humans could never do anything but the good that God himself always willed. But this effectively eliminates any sort of sentience which eliminates any sort of actual relationship.
The picture you paint of God is a picture not even deserving of attributing to my one-year old daughter. God would not only be less than childish, in your view, he would effectively demonstrate his powerlessness. The Christian view of God keeps in perfect tension God's omnipotence, his foreknowledge and his love.
In your view, humans would be nothing better than automatons. You seem to prefer the fact that in your conception you would be incapable of sentience, incapable of anything but enslavement to your drives and needs. Granted, in the perfect world you've mentioned, you wouldn't hunger. But neither would you think. How could you, your entire being would be subsumed under the domination of forces you can neither control or understand, but could only obey. You would have no capacity to relate to God, of course, because you could not exercise love, which demands free will. But you would also have no relationship with anyone else.
In short, everything you now value you could not enjoy, because you would not have free will. All you could do is experience them. You could not enjoy them because you would have no contrary against which to judge them. Indeed, you could not judge them at all. Because your will would not be free. And if your reaction to something MUST be, you cannot truly be said to enjoy it. It would be an automatic response.
And this is a better world, you think?
No, the Christian view notes that it is precisely the gift of free will (in humans) that both causes injustice AND enables humans to fight injustice. Indeed, your free will is the very basis of your umbrage at what you take the christian position to be. Without free will, you would have no ability to either resist the umbrage you would feel, or, conversely the satisfaction you would feel, and without the ability to resist the impulse you could not judge which would be better.
On God and time:
Since God does not experience time as we do, to speak of God's knowing of his action beforehand is a bit misleading. God's knowing and willing are the very same act, at least speaking in terms of temporal events. Indeed, for God, willing and acting are the same event. Or at least there is no inhibition of his will. Everything he wills to do, he does; thus his will is both free and omnipotent. Everything he knows he knows as present to himself, and all his knowing is unfrustrated, uninhibited. If he knows it, it is. But this knowledge is simultaneous with the reality of what it is that God knows. Thus he knows, for example, whether or not I will die in the faith. For me, this is an unknown. It is hidden. But God knows it. And since his knowing of it is simultaneous with it's reality, then it is the case both that I freely exercise my will in the moment of my action and that God knows I have so willed and acted in the moment I do so. It is not as though God were ignorant of my act until I do it, because for him this knowledge is always now a reality. But by the same token, he does not know it prior to my willing and acting it in such a way as to determine it, because the reality of it happens in the moment in which I will and act. A moment that is always present to god, but is, for now, a moment hidden to me.
On freewill, time and atemporality:
Free-will exists in a temporal space: I'm not sure that it is the case that free will must be limited to temporal conditions. If free-will is the choice between two or more options, then why must time be a necessary condition for such a choice? That it inescapably is for humans, sure. But unless you can tie a logical necessity between choosing and time, you are merely asserting a proposition which is debatable.
Furthermore, if it is the case that freewill must demand a temporal locus, then in an atemporal locus, it is not the case that a divine and eternal being would not have freewill, only that it wouldn't make sense to speak of freewill as attributed to a divine being. In other words, while it would be true that one could not ascribe freewill to such a being, it would also be true that one could not deny freewill to such a being. Neither assertion would make sense since an atemporal divine being would necessarily not be subject to any assertions about a temporally-located freewill.
But what one could determine about a divine being is if there were any constraints on such a being such that in a given scenario an atemporal being could not but think/act in a specific way. Some conceptions of God do in fact posit such a thing: that God must necessarily be utterly good and act in good ways, that such a being must necessarily be all-powerful and act in omnipotent ways, and so on. But the Christian conception of God rejects such descriptions since for the Christian God is not a sum of attributes or traits but is fundamentally a person. If God is determined in anyway it is that he is a person, but as a person he can think and act in whatever way as a person he chooses so to do. What we say about God's attributes and traits--that he is good, all-powerful, and so on--are a result of a personal experience (note: I do NOT mean an individual experience) of who God is and how he acts and the thoughts he articulates to us. That is to say, we do not come to know these traits by rational cognition primarily but rather by personal (not individual) experience.
More on God and time:
If one posits that there is a reality which is throughly located in time (as you do), it is not necessary to conclude that all reality is so located. If God is the sort of person Christians claim him to be, then his is a reality that is outside time. But if that is the case, this does not eliminate the temporal experience, but rather that God is not limited by that experience. For God, then, all things are seen, as it were, as simultaneously present (though to speak of God's reality in temporal terms is admittedly to speak only by analogy).
On God, acting and thinking, and atemporality:
For humans, we can only know decision making and action in temporal terms. But Christians understand their God to both think and act simultaneously. From a human perspective, God's acts unfold in time. We do not know how God's acts unfold for him.
But it is not necessary to assume sequence as limited to time. Though in an atemporal sequence there is no time between one thing and another in the sequence, but just because this happens atemporally it does not mean it cannot happen sequentially. It's just that the sequential events happen as though it were simultaneously. by way of analogy, one may point to conception: at the moment of conception other things that will unfold in time have already become fact: hair and eye color, sex, and so forth. From a temporal perspective, these attributes only develop sequentially in time. But from the standpoint of the makeup of the person, it has already happened simultaneous with the coming into being of the person. (I grant you this is an imperfect illustration, but it gets at what I'm trying to communicate.)
On God's extratemporality:
On the contrary, if God created all that is, as the Christian view asserts, then God created time and can do with it as he will. But as the creator of time his person is not bound by time. He can cross into time at will. In fact, the Christian view is that he has done and is doing so, most quintessentially in the Incarnation.
On God, time and place:
It doesn't seem to me to be logically necessary to posit a place that exists outside time. Indeed, if place involves extension and magnitude, even in nonmaterial ways, thus extrauniversal, it would seem to follow that space and time are also necessary, even if space and time as applied to these nonmaterial, extrauniversal "places" were of a fundamentally different character than is the space and time we experience.
Rather, it seems that all one needs to say is that the Christian God is a person who is extrauniversal and who is extra-temporal. God, in his essence, has no extension or magnitude, and therefore space and time, even the extrauniversal nonmaterial sort I posit above, do not properly apply to God. It thus becomes nonsensical to ask "Where" God is, since God, having no extension or magnitude, is nowhere, in terms of place. But if God is nowhere, then place does not properly apply, and therefore all wheres, just as all times, are present to him. Only in this way can he be omnipresent. And being thus omnipresent he can observe all things (past, present and future to us) as eternally now.
I came across a phrase recently that has raised some questions for me. I've read it on some of the blogs I read, and have heard it in some conversations among friends. "Making Eucharist." As I understand the phrase, it's meant to indicate what the celebrant does as part of the Lord's Supper/Eucharist; he or she "makes Eucharist."
But the more I've heard this phrase, the more it has become deeply offensive to me. As I understand the Eucharist, we humans do not make anything. We entreat, in faith, the Holy Spirit to come down upon the gifts of bread and wine and make them the Body and Blood of Christ. It is the Holy Spirit who makes the Eucharist; we receive it. This is no magical mumbo jumbo or sacerdotal mojo: it is a gift of the Holy Spirit. And indeed, this Eucharist makes the Church; apart from it, there is a group of people, but in and through it this group of people become the Body of Christ.
So when I hear someone say something like "Let's go make Eucharist," it is seriously bothersome to me. I am deeply saddened and hurt at what seems to me like a failure to honor the work of God in the Eucharist.
But, let me be quick to say that I may be misunderstanding a) what those who use the phrase "make Eucharist" really mean, and/or b) what the Church's teaching on the Eucharist actually is.
Would any of my readers care to address this question for me?
From ECUSA's Women's Ministries webpage comes this collect celebrating the 30th anniversary of the ordination of women in the Episcopal Church:
Collect for the Anniversary of the Approval of Women's Ordination
Most holy and loving God, you sent your Child Jesus Christ that there might no longer be slave or free, Jew or Gentile, male or female: Be with us this day as we rejoice in the ordination of women to the diaconate, priesthood, and episcopate, giving thanks for their ministry among us. Fill our hearts with gratitude for those who worked and prayed unceasingly for the full and equal participation of women in our church in both holy and lay orders. Strengthen those who still struggle for the full inclusion of women in holy orders in their diocese; in the name of the Source, the Word, and the Spirit.
Amen.
(Source: Galatians 3:28)
revised 8/27/01
-The Rev. Elizabeth Rankin Geitz
I'm not about to "pile on" my former denomination, nor is this going to be about women's ordination per se. Rather, what I find objectionable is the language used (or the avoidance of other language) to refer to the Holy Trinity. In short: if this prayer isn't heresy, it is only a short half-step away.
First of all, using "Child" instead of "Son" is just simply ignorant. In Greek, whenever the word we usually translate as "child" is used in reference to Jesus, it is in masculine form. English sidesteps this because "child" is a neuter form. If the author of the collect wanted to be correct, the translation should read "your (male) child Jesus." But this is just awkward and clumsy and doesn't flow well. More to the point, what is a "male child" but a "son"? Would this author be so chary of referring to a "female child" as a daughter? Hardly. So why this circumlocution?
Apparently, and this is a far more serious matter, the author wants to avoid calling Jesus male. But why? When God became an incarnate human being, he became a man: Jesus Christ. Would the author deny this? Probably not when questioned directly. But the historical fact of Jesus being a male is crucial--if we believe in the Incarnation.
The Incarnation is not merely some dogma somebody made up once because they thought it would be a good idea. It is an historical event. Either God became a male human called Jesus Christ or he did not. If he did, then we do not have the luxury to alter those details without altering our faith. Ours is an historical faith. To deny, or alter the maleness of Jesus' humanity, is to deny the Incarnation, because not only did God became the male human Jesus, when Jesus rose from the dead, he rose with the same body, now transfigured, with which he entered the world. He does not cast off this body, but it is assumed in hypostatic union with the Holy Trinity. And thus, by grace, humans can participate in the life of God.
I should clarify that I am not insisting that it is Jesus' maleness, as opposed to his humanity, that saves us. On the principle that whatever is not assumed is not saved, this would assert that there was something defective about being female. Yet God created femaleness just as he did maleness, so both maleness and femaleness are intrinsically good. Jesus saves us by his humanity. But it is a humanity that is embodied in being a male. To deny Jesus' maleness is to deny his humanity. And to deny his humanity is to deny the Incarnation.
To use the term “child” does not necessarily deny the Incarnation. But after more than three decades of intentionally emasculating liturgical language, the neutering of Jesus as Child instead of Son is a calculated attempt to deny Jesus' maleness which is also to deny his humanity. A humanity, I assert again, that was assumed in the resurrection of his male body and brought into union with the Godhead.
In the close of the collect the Holy Trinity is addressed as “the Source, the Word, and the Spirit.” Now one can certainly take this phrase and connect it to orthodox Christian teaching. The Father is, indeed, the font or source of the Godhead. Not an aside: Source is arche in the Greek, and father is pater. Thus, it would be correct to say that Christianity is a radically patriarchal religion. Granted, feminists do not understand patriarchy in this way, but this is a fault not of orthodox theology but of human sin and sociopolitical agendas. Jesus is most definitely the Word. And, of course, the third Person of the Trinity is the Holy Spirit. So, there is a way that it can be understood in orthodox terms.
But one wonders what the point is of referring to the Persons of the Holy Trinity in these specific terms. What would be the problem of using the traditional formula, “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”? What objections would the author have to this formula?
Presumably the same objections which caused her to use “Child” in place of “Son” to refer to Jesus. But here we run into an important problem. The revelation of God as Father came not from some council of exclusively male bishops, but from the Incarnate God, Jesus Christ, himself. It was Jesus who taught us to pray to God as “our Father.” It was Jesus who taught us that he was God's Son (and not some neutered Child). To deny God is the Father is to deny Jesus' own revelation. To deny Jesus is the Son is to deny the Incarnation which must include all its historical particulars.
Two other things I would add: First, to neuter liturgical language in this way makes a troubling assertion, namely, that women in particular, though others as well, are unable to worship God in traditional language. In effect, women must have a special language with which to worship God. But this is dangerously close to establishing a mystery religion, into which one is initiated by learning special words for God. The revelation of Jesus is not enough. The common and understandable terms like "father" and "son" are not appropriate. They must be replaced with a "higher" language, one that is sexless, immaterial, unincarnate.
And finally, this ultimately comes down to power and authority: Do we have the power to change the revelation given us by Jesus Christ? If we do, then we call into question Jesus' own authority and the legitimacy of his revelation. But if we do that, we remove the cornerstone of our faith, and we cease to be Christian. If we do not have that authority, then to change the language Jesus has given us is to assert an authority and a power in opposition to God. And rebellion against God is the most dangerous spiritual state possible to us humans.
Were this collect merely one instance in an otherwise thoroughly traditional and orthodox set of liturgies, one might find it curious and be rightly cautious, but would not, under those conditions, need necessarily to reject it outright. However, given a sustained and intentional movement of more than three decades to deny the most basic revelations of our Lord and Savior about our God, then one is justified in characterizing this as heresy, and to rightly reject it as prayer worthy of the Church's God.
The following is a reply I posted on Tripp's blog, but I wanted a larger group to read and critique it. It is given in the context of a discussion on Ephesians 5.
The essence of manhood, is, personhood, which highlights the always already communal nature of what it means to be a man. Thus, men, being essentially persons, have an essential equality with women, whose essence is also personhood.
But manhood cannot simply be reduced to its mere essence, because manhood is also always already embodied. There is no such thing as manhood in the abstract, but only men. And here biology and personhood are united, two natures, as it were, in one person. Men, as persons, share an essence with women, but are also different and distinct, because as embodied, they have different traits and characteristics which arise from their biological embodiedness.
Thus, in conception, men play a biological role that is distinct from that of women, and therefore, they embody conception in a different way than do women. Similarly, the nuture that men give their children are distinct and different from women. But yet at the same time, their nurturing shares an essential similarity in that both men and women are always already in community, and so also the children they conceive and bear.
Now beyond the obvious biological traits are the more controversial ones. Clearly Scripture embodies distinctive roles in the family. There is an essentially similar submission, but because of the embodied personhood which men and women possess, their roles are distinctive.
Why I think my definition commends itself over yours is that it has obvious symmetry between the definitions for manhood and womanhood, it is clearly modelled on conciliar Trinitarianism, as well as on the Chalcedonian definition of Christ as the new Adam.
What think ye all?
In a recent exchange over on Tripp's blog regarding servanthood and fatherhood, there's been an exploration regarding what Paul says in Ephesians 5 on the relationship between husbands and wives and what it means to submit. At one point, one respondent asked me "Where in the Gospels does it say that men and women are spiritually distinct?"
My post today is not about wives and husbands, but about this idea that the Gospels somehow trump the Epistles. There's an understanding that somehow the Gospels reinforce modern enlightened understandings (on marriage, sexuality, etc.), whereas the Epistles, especially the Pauline epistles, contradict in some way, the Jesus of love, inclusivity and tolerance.
Currently, for example, much is trotted out about the fact that nowhere does Jesus condemn homosexual behavior. In fact, nowhere, so the argument goes, does Jesus say anything about homosexual acts. The silence, then, is interpreted to mean that this Jesus who did away with the old Law--which, by the way, did condemn homosexual behavior in no uncertain terms--now frees us to engage in whatever sexual practices we desire, so long as they're consensual and monogamous.
But this fails to take into account one simple and important fact: the only sexual relationship Jesus did bless was the heterosexual union of a man and woman in marriage. Not only did Jesus uphold this standard, he blessed it with his presence at the wedding in Cana in Galilee. Furthermore, Jesus' holding up of the standard of lifelong heterosexual marriage is based explicitly on the Genesis creation account. In other words, Jesus understood that there was one way of holy sexual behavior, rooted in God's original design for the universe, and that this was the lifelong marriage of one man and one woman. This is something Jesus actually did say (as opposed to making guesses about what Jesus did not say), and in fact, not only is it what he did say, the very nature of what he said and his rooting it in the creation account, shows that it is the standard which does not allow any exception.
But this is only one example. My point is that the divorcing of Jesus from the Epistles is not somehow more authentic Christianity, but is frequently little more than remaking Jesus in our own image.
This Jesus is also the one who spoke about Church discipline and about treating the unrepentant Christian "as a tax collector and pagan" and gave to the Church the authority to bind and to loose (Matthew 18:15-20). But of course this text is often ignored in favor of the more winsome "He is a friend of tax collectors and sinners." We don't much emphasize Jesus' "Go and sin no more" since we'd rather hear "Neither do I condemn you."
David Mills, in his article, St. Paul the Eccentric, writes:
This is a now common problem in Western Christianity, Catholic and Protestant: the Christian who believes that Jesus of Nazareth is God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, and who also almost completely rejects the unfashionable teachings of the Bible found outside the four Gospels. As our society becomes more and more interested in "spirituality," we find more and more people talking in very traditional terms about Jesus while assuming that the Scripture in which he is revealed has nothing to say about any part of their lives they wish to keep to themselves.
These people in effect separate the Gospels they accept—partly because they have not read them closely—from the Epistles they reject. It is usually St. Paul whose words they reject. The other New Testament writers they usually ignore, perhaps because they did not say anything so offensive to modern ears as St. Paul’s instructions on men, women, and sexuality. They do not reject even Paul’s Epistles entirely, of course, as they accept those useful verses, most famously Galatians 3:28, that they can take out of context to support some view one suspects they already hold for other reasons.
Those who think this way often divide Jesus the gentle prophet of inclusive love (or however the favorite Jesus of the moment is described) from St. Paul the rule-maker, and sometimes also divide St. Paul the apostle of freedom from St. Paul the unreformed Pharisee. Sometimes they simply talk a lot about Jesus and pretend that St. Paul did not exist. The first tactic seems to have been the more popular some decades ago, while the latter seems now to be the more popular of the two. It is certainly shrewder to forget to invite St. Paul to the party than to invite him and then pick a fight with him in front of the guests.
The problem with all this anti-Paul, pro-Jesus, and anti-judging Jesus, pro-inclusive Jesus, is that Scripture is divided up according to the criteria of the reader. Certainly it's true that all Christians fail to live up to all the standards of Scripture. And it's also true that we tend to ignore those passages of Scripture that conflict with our worldview or cherished practices. But this conscious attempt to provide a rationale for excising one or another passage--usually by complicated interpretive methods that gut the text of any intrinsic meaning--is a different thing altogether. It is the willful subjection of Scripture to our own authority. We decide what's in and out, what applies and what doesn't. Rather than Scripture being a living active sword to divide joint and marrow, we are the swords dividing up Scripture to suit our tastes. We judge Scripture. It doesn't judge us.
To further complicate this divorcing of Paul and Jesus is just a plain historical fact: Paul's epistles were the earliest New Testament Scriptures the Church had, and Paul's epistles were beginning to be recognized as Scripture by the Church as early as the AD 60s* when Peter wrote: "our beloved brother Paul, according to the wisdom given to him, has written to you, as also in all his epistles, speaking in them of these things, in which are some things hard to understand, which untaught and unstable people twist to their own destruction, as they do also the rest of the Scriptures" (2 Peter 3:15-16). In other words, both on internal New Testament evidence, as well as evidence supplied by the earliest Christian writers, Paul's letters were understood to be of equal weight with the Old Testament Scriptures at a very early date, even within his lifetime.
Add to this the other fact that the Gospels were not written (at the earliest) till near the deaths of Peter and Paul (in the case of Mark), or until well after their deaths, as in the case of Luke, Matthew and John, and far from making a case for the more primitive authority of the Gospels, one is quite struck by the fact that the Episles held the earliest (chronologically) place of authority.
But of course, it is not my intent to place the Gospels over against the Epistles. At the same time that the Apostles, and Paul in particular, were handing on the Tradition Jesus had established, the oral pieces of what later became our canonical Gospels were also being circulated in the Church. In other words, the Gospels and the Epistles were equally authoritative both chronologically and pneumatologically. Neither can be divorced from the other. But most be understood together.
*Addendum: I recognize the dispute as to the authenticity of the Petrine authorship of this epistle, but following other NT scholars, I find the difficulties surrounding the assertion that 2 Peter is pseudepigrapha are far greater than the difficulties surrounding Petrine authorship. So a date of mid-60s seems to me to be the most reasonable conclusion, even if no theory entirely lays to rest its own difficulties and problems.
Theology is the word of God, which is apprehended by pure, humble and spiritually regenerated souls, and not the beautiful words of the mind, which are crafted with literary art and expressed by the legal or worldly spirit. . . .
Theology that is taught like a science usually examines things historically and, consequently, things are understood externally. Since patristic ascesis and inner experience are absent, this kind of theology is full of uncertainty and questions. For with the mind one cannot grasp the Divine Energies if he does not first practice ascesis and live the Divine Energies, that the Grace of God might be energized within him.
Whoever thinks that he can come to know the mysteries of God through external scientific theory, resembles the fool who wants to see Paradise through a telescope.
Those who struggle patristically become empirical theologians through the visitation of the Grace of the Holy Spirit. All those who have an external education, in addition to the internal enlightenment of the soul, may describe the divine mysteries and interpret them correctly, as did many Holy Fathers.
If, however, one does not become spiritually related to the Holy Fathers and wants to take up translating or writing, he will wrong both the Holy Fathers and himself, as well as the people, with his spiritual cloudiness.
Neither is it right for someone to theologize using someone else's theology, because he will resemble an impotent man who adopts others' children, presents them as his own and pretends to be the father of a large family. The Holy Fathers took the divine word or personal experiences from their hearts: the result of spiritual battles against evil and the fire of temptations, which they confessed humbly, or, out of love, wrote down in order to help us. . . .
Those who are grateful towards God for everything and constantly attend to themselves humbly and look after God's creatures and creation with kindness, theologize and thus become the most faithful theologians, even if illiterate. They are like the illiterate shepherds who observe the weather in the countryside, day and night, and become good meteorologists.
--The Orthodox Word [2003], no. 229, pp. 86-88
Today is the feast day of our Holy Fathers and Great Hierarchs: BASIL THE GREAT, GREGORY THE THEOLOGIAN and JOHN CHRYSOSTOM
We owe these godly men an incredible debt. Apart from them we would not have a proper understanding of the Trinity. Were it not for them, we would not believe rightly about the Holy Spirit. Were it not for them and their influence, the Nicene Creed would look different. Were it not for them, we would not worship the way we do.
Thank God today for these men. Even if you're an evangelical sola scriptura Christian, you would not have the beliefs you do apart from these men.
This from the Prologue:
THE THREE HIERARCHS: SAINT BASIL THE GREAT, SAINT GREGORY THE THEOLOGIAN AND SAINT JOHN CHRYSOSTOM
Each of these saints have their own feast day. St. Basil the Great, January 1; St. Gregory the Theologian, January 25; and St. John Chrysostom, January 27. This combined feast day, January 30, was instituted in the eleventh century during the reign of Emperor Alexius Comnenus. At one time a debate arose among the people concerning who of the three is the greatest? Some extolled Basil because of his purity and courage; others extolled Gregory for his unequaled depth and lofty mind in theology; still others extolled Chrysostom because of his eloquence and clarity in expounding the Faith. Thus some were called Basilians, others Gregorgians, and the third were called Johannites. This debate was settled by Divine Providence to the benefit of the Church and to an even greater glory of the three saints. Bishop John of Euchaita (June 14) had a vision in a dream: At first, all three of these saints appeared to him separately in great glory and indescribable beauty, and after that all three appeared together. They said to him, "As you see, we are one in God and there is nothing contradictory in us; neither is there a first or a second among us." The saints also advised Bishop John that he write a common service for them and to order a common feast day of celebration. Following this wonderful vision, the debate was settled in this manner: January 30 would be designated as the common feast of these three hierarchs. The Greeks consider this feast not only an ecclesiastical feast but their greatest national school holiday.
And this is from the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese:
This common feast of these three teachers was instituted a little before the year 1100, during the reign of the Emperor Alexis I Comnenus, because of a dispute and strife that arose among the notable and virtuous men of that time. Some of them preferred Basil, while others preferred Gregory, and yet others preferred John Chrysostom, quarreling among themselves over which of the three was the greatest. Furthermore, each party, in order to distinguish itself from the others, assumed the name of its preferred Saint; hence, they called themselves Basilians, Gregorians, or Johannites. Desiring to bring an end to the contention, the three Saints appeared together to the saintly John Mavropous, a monk who had been ordained Bishop of Euchaita, a city of Asia Minor, they revealed to him that the glory they have at the throne of God is equal, and told him to compose a common service for the three of them, which he did with great skill and beauty. Saint John of Euchaita (celebrated Oct. 5) is also the composer of the Canon to the Guardian Angel, the Protector of a Man's Life. In his old age, he retired from his episcopal see and again took up the monastic life in a monastery in Constantinople. He reposed during the reign of the aforementioned Emperor Alexis Comnenus (1081-1118).
Troparion of the Three Great Hierarchs Tone 1
Let all who love their words come together and honour with hymns/ the three luminaries of the light-creating Trinity:
Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian,
and renowned John of golden speech,
who have enlightened the world with the rays of their divine doctrines,
and are mellifluous rivers of wisdom
who have watered all creation with streams of divine knowledge;
they ever intercede with the Trinity for us.
Kontakion of the Three Great Hierarchs Tone 2
Thou hast taken the sacred and divinely inspired heralds,
the crown of Thy teachers, O Lord,
for the enjoyment of Thy blessings and for repose.
For Thou hast accepted their sufferings and labours above every burnt offering,
O Thou Who alone dost glorify Thy Saints.
Each week, our pastor, Fr. Patrick, puts in the church bulletin his "Father Pat's Pastoral Ponderings." The following is the one from last week. I thought it too good not to share.
January 18, 2004
Second Sunday After Theophany
Father Pat's Pastoral Ponderings
Like Caesar's Gaul, the Christian Gospel is divided into three parts, each theologically identified by the people to whom it is addressed. This division is sequential, involving stages, and all three have to do with membership in the Church.
First, to those outside the Church the Gospel is directed as the announcement of salvation and the summons to repentance. In this context the Gospel is (to translate Hebrews 6:1 quite strictly) "the word of the beginning," *ho tes arches logos*. This is the Gospel as *kerygma*, or announcement, and it deals with such elementary matters as "the foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God, of the doctrine of baptisms, of laying on of hands, of resurrection of the dead, and of eternal judgment" (6:1-2). The process initiated in this stage of the Gospel is the catechumenate, and its sacramental fulfillment is Baptism, "for by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body" (1 Corinthians 12:13).
Second, to those inside the Church the Gospel is directed as *didache*, or doctrine, and *paraklesis*, or exhortation, the summons to "increase and abound in love to one another and to all" (1 Thessalonians 3:12), to "abound in everything-in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in all diligence" (2 Corinthians 8:7), "till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ" (Ephesians 4:12). This is the Gospel as *theologia*, the more intimate knowledge of God from *inside* the house of salvation, the repeated extension of the believer's finger to know the place of the nails. The sacramental fulfillment of this Gospel proclamation is the Holy Eucharist, in which "we, though many, are one bread and one body; for we all partake of that one bread" (1 Corinthians 10:17).
Third, to those who are passing into glory the Gospel is directed as the completion of the Christian life: "Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" (Matthew 25:34). This is the Gospel in its utter fullness, "for now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as also I am known" (1 Corinthians 13:12). And inasmuch as sacraments involve signs and representations, there is no sacramental mode to this proclamation of the Gospel. In this third stage of the Gospel proclamation the Church gathers without the medium of symbols, to chant to the Lamb, "You were slain and have redeemed us to God by Your blood out of every tribe and tongue and people and nation" (Revelation 5:9).
Within the Scriptures we find all three forms of the Gospel, sometimes with respect to exactly the same theme or image. Let us take, for instance, the Good Shepherd.
In the Gospel of Luke, the theme of the Good Shepherd pertains to the first stage of the Gospel, the conversion and return of the sinner. The Good Shepherd here goes after the one sheep that is lost until He finds it, and when He has found it, He lays it on His shoulders rejoicing, and when He comes home, He calls together His friends (Luke 15:4-6). That is to say, He brings the sheep into the Church. This is the Gospel that Ananias preached to Paul: "Arise and be baptized, and wash away your sins, calling on the name of the Lord" (Acts 22:1). Expressed in Baptism, the Gospel's first stage is also the first fulfillment of the prophetic hope expressed by the Psalmist: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul" (Psalm 22 [23]:2-3).
In the Gospel of John, on the other hand, the theme of the Good Shepherd pertains to the Gospel's second stage, the knowledge of God *within* the flock, where "I know My sheep, and am known by My own. . . . My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life" (John 10:14,27-28). This recognition of the Shepherd's voice, calling each of His sheep by name (10:3), is the grace given to Mary Magdalene, for instance. Only when the Shepherd addresses Mary by her own name does she recognize His voice (20:16). This experience describes the life within the Church, where believers daily attend to the modulations of the Shepherd's call. Perfected in the Eucharist, it is the second fulfillment of the prophetic hope expressed by the Psalmist: "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life" (Psalms 22 [23]:5-6).
In the Book of Revelation the theme of the Good Shepherd pertains to the third stage of the Gospel, the realm of eternal glory. Here the Good Shepherd is portrayed as one of the flock, "for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to the living fountains of water" (Revelation 7:17). As the entrance into heaven, this is the final fulfillment of the hope expressed by the Psalmist: "And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever" (Psalms 22 [23]:6).
I happened across a wonderful audio link at OC.net. It's from the Minnesota Public Radio website "Speaking of Faith." The audio is of an interview Jaroslav Pelikan gave to MPR on the creeds. In the interview Pelikan does touch briefly (if vaguely) on his conversion at the end of the interview, and how Tradition and creeds related to that conversion. His summation of his conversion: "I sort of discovered that I'd been speaking 'Orthodox' all my life. And so I didn't convert. To convert is to change. And I didn't change. I simply discovered the continuity that had been there all along." All in all, he gives the most wonderful defense of the creeds.
The 53-minute audio link is here. (Requires free RealPlayer, which can be downloaded here.)
I love the Pelikan quip: "The only alternative to Tradition is bad tradition." (!!!)
And this one: "I'm aware of it [the modern discomfort with creeds]. I don't share it."
And this one, too: "The interesting thing though is the world is much more pluralistic than it is relativistic. And those are often equated in the secular west."
Oh, and this one: "If we're going to have wait for one billion Muslims to become relativistic, if that's the way we're going to get religious understanding, we're going to have to fasten our safety belts."
Wait a minute, there's this one: "It is not enough to Christianize Africa, we have to Africanize Christianity."
And how could I not love this one: "There was a Norwegian who loved his wife so much he almost told her."
Really, you've got to check this out. You'll love the Massai Creed.
[This one's for Jeff. Hope you like, bro.]
I am, as a graduate lecturer in philosophy, often in the to me surprising position of justifying to my students my decision to teach a particular Aristotelian text (normally the Ethics, though recently the De Anima) in my introductory philosophy class. I say surprising because to me the importance of Aristotle and his philosophy is so self-evident.
I am even more surprised when put in this defensive posture by Christians who object (though largely unreflectively) to Aristotle and his philosophical paradigms. In some cases this is just ignorance of Christian history. Some just do not know (though they should) how Aristotelian thought dominated the Western Church through the labors of the Angelic Doctor, St Thomas Aquinas. In other cases, certain presupposed commitments to relativism and/or skepticism, or just blinkered devotion to the present, lead to a largely irrational opposition to Aristotle and his thought.
My present taks is to highlight points at which Christian concepts of knowing and Aristotelian concpetions both converge and diverge.
In the De Anima 3.4-8, but especially 3.5, distinguishes between the potential intellect (the intellect of potency [dynamis]) and the active intellect (the being-at-work [energeia] intellect). The latter, the active intellect, is that capacity of the intellect to, as it were, grasp the essential nature (form [eidos, morphe]) of an object of the senses (material [hule]). Since the essence (or thinghood [ousia]) of a thing, its being-at-work, is its form, and since form actualizes the material which is a potency, the active knowledge of a thing is identical with its object. This claim, in its exact wording, is made twice (at 430a19-21 and 431a1-2): "Knowledge, in its being-at-work is the same as the thing it knows." (Literally: And the same thing it is, the according-to-being-at-work knowledge, as the thing.) Clearly this is important. But Aristotle repeats this claim, with variant phraseology at 430a3-5 ("and it [the intellect] is intelligible in the same way its intelligible objects are"), 430a5-6 ("for in the case of things without material what thinks and what is thought are the same thing"), 431b18-19 ("But in all cases the intellect, in its being-at-work, is the things it thinks"), and 431b21-22 ("let us say again that the soul is in a certain way all beings . . . While knowledge in a certain way is the things it knows"). The soul is all beings, because it apprehends all forms. It is a place of all forms. We might say, then, that our knowing of a thing participates directly in that thing.
This is an all-too-brief recapitulation of Aristotle's epistemology (and it does not even touch on the relationship of the divine knower to the human knower), and admittedly does ignores contemplation (theoria) so as to focus on knowledge (episteme). Nor is it the case that Aristotelian epistemology translates completely (or even mostly) into a Christian worldview. But there are some important points of convergence which I find interesting and illumining.
It would be appropriate here to provide a tantalizingly brief sketch of the foundations of a Christian epistemology by way of comparison to Aristotle. In sum we can say that an epistemology that is distinctly Christian is one which founds Truth in and on a Person and in and on a Body. That is to say, Christian knowing is both personal and corporate. Christ says of himself that he is the Truth (John 14.6). St Paul says that in Christ are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge (Colossians 2.3)--and significantly our knowing and understanding are predicated on our incorporation in him (Colossians 2.1-2). And St Paul also says that in the Church is the fulness of Christ (Ephesians 1.22). Since this is the case, the Church is the pillar and ground of the Truth (1 Timothy 3.15). Because Truth is anchored in the Christ, the Truth is absolute; it does not change from time period to time period, for Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13.8). On the other hand, because Truth is a Person, Truth is relational (one wants to say "relative," but this would be misleading), or perhaps existential or communal. That is to say, in human terms, it cannot be individual. (See Addendum.)
I now want to reflect on where these two admittedly different epistemologies both converge and diverge. That is to say, I want to show how Aristotle is useful, though not exhaustively so. Or to say it another way, in what way does Christ fill up that in Aristotle which though true is yet partial?
First it can be said that Aristotle's epistemology seems to converge with Christian knowing in the point of incarnationality. For Aristotle, however, the term would not be incarnational but hylomorphic--or, "enformed matter." There are no mere things--in Enlightenment terms--but all things have form (eidos, morphe). These various forms, which give the many things their particular being, or their individual "whatness," in their particularity yet participate in the general modes of all being. (Aristotle gives eight modes in Metaphysic and ten modes in Categories .) In Christianity, we are each persons, and so reveal a particularity founded in the fecundity of life which is Christ and originates in him. Yet our personhood is a particular participation in Christ--we share a general being in that life of which we are his image and likeness.
But Aristotle is no Christian, and thoug his epistemology is a precursor to the fullness of the Truth that is Christ, yet in its partiality it diverges. That is to say, the Aristotelian understanding of the relationship between form and matter, when followed to its logical conclusion, leads to a being (a whatness) that is impersonal. Aristotle's unmoved mover is not the Christian God but an impersonal motive cause necessitated to avoid a logical conundrum.
Secondly, Aristotelian epistemology may converge with Christian knowing at the point of participation. For Aristotle, this concept is contained in the sentence, "Knowledge, it its being-at-work [energeia] is the same [thing] as its object." Knowledge becomes, or better is, what it knows. (Thus for Hegel, Spirit is all Reality.) In Christianity this understanding is fulfilled in the doctrine of theosis (or deification). Contra some Protestant teachings, Christian salvation is not merely about a juridical fiat declaring us righteous, but is rather the partaking of the divine nature (2 Peter 1.4). We become, by God's grace (and to the degree or in the way he has determined) gods ourselves. Or, in the more traditional formulation, we are by grace what God is by nature. We participate in God's being through and in his gracious uncreated energies. This participation, however, takes place through the union of the divine and human that has been achieved in the Person of Christ through the means of his Body, the Church.
But where Aristotle, in his incompleteness, diverges from Christian knowing is his identification (one could argue confusion) of knowing with the thing known. Though Christians know Christ and by participation become like Christ through his Body, the one who knows Christ does not become Christ. We partake of God's energies, not his essence. Knowing, in Christian terms, is communion, but it is not identification.
Finally, Aristotelian epistemology may converge with Christian knowing at the point of absolutivity. That is to say, both Aristotle and Christianity posit an absolute point of reference, an unvarying standard, by which to measure and to conform our rational explorations. In our radically relative century, the self is seen as the measure and confirmation of truth. But both Aristotle and Christ (though in different ways) reject his standard. Aristotle's criterion is the divine knower; that of Christ is himself, or more accurately, the Godhead, the Trinity. The absolute nature of Truth, grounded as it is (for the Christian) in God, does not admit of contraries. Similarly, Aristotle's divine knower, though not a person per se, grounds the uniformity of the being of actual things in a constant standard which it itself is.
However, there are certain problems, from a Christian viewpoint, with Aristotle's conception of absolute Truth. First, as already alluded to, Aristotle's divine knower is impersonal, whereas for Christians the Truth is a Person and a community hypostatized in that Person. And if this ground for the absolute is some impersonal intellective capacity or force, then it is difficult to discern how it is that human freedom (even the freedom to know) can be guaranteed, or even made real. Indeed, it seems that only because in the Christian worldview the absolute bedrock of Truth is a Person, that human freedom can be real.
It has famously been said that all truths are God's truth. And if Christ is the Truth, and if all humans are created in the image of the Trinity, then it would seem reasonable to conclude that wherever Truth is found, it ought to be celebrated. Aristotle is a uniquely useful all to Christians, as St Thoms himself found. But apart from Christ and his Body, the Church, all human philosophies are subject to revision.
Addendum:
It is interesting to note--though I will not develop this thought here--that for Plato intellect (nous) if left to itself gets lost in mere speculation. Rather, the intellect needs love (eros) to provide intellect with both a disposition toward the good and the beautiful and the motive force to induce its journey after knowledge (of the good and the beautiful--incidentally both translations of the same Greek word). One is right, then, to say that apart from love, the possibility of real knowledge is ever more remote.
Erik Nelson, Why Defending Marriage is an Act of Social Justice
Douglas LeBlanc, Gay Rights Would Not Bless Ecuminism
Douglas LeBlanc, What in the World is God Doing?
Neil Elliott takes a position for homosexuality in his article The Apostle Paul on Sexuality
Robert Gagnon responds here.
In the middle ages, occurred a development in philosophy that is with us, though in a more crude form, to this day. Among the Schoolmen there arose significant debate about the relationship between Universals (the class, say, of human beings) and Particulars (Joe, that specific member of the class of human beings). Proponents of one perspective of the debate declared that only Particulars are real. Universals are only invented names we give to those classes we create by way of rational inquiry. That is to say, there is no such thing, really, they said, as a human being. There are only Joe's and Nancy's, and so forth. Proponents of this view were called "nominalists."
Nominalism in today's world, particularly in today's Christian world, is alive and well, though it has changed a bit. Reality is still this particular existence with which each of us are familiar (he says, in universal terms). But nominalism today, rather than eschewing any commitment to the reality of things like classes, posits that we do indeed make real those things we name. Or, to say it much more crudely: Things are what we say they are. And yet, there are a whole bunch of contradictions that arise here. Not the least of which is that, unlike "classical" nominalism, modern-day nominalism demolishes the particular for the sake of the universal. Well, actually, not for the sake of the universal but for the sake of other paticulars.
The most obvious beginning point for what I mean can be seen in the fairly typical liberal Protestant and secular notions of God. Muslims and Jews teach--each by authority of their scriptures--that God is a radically monotheistic God. There is only one God, and he (and God is most emphatically a non-sexed "he" in these scriptures) contains no plurality. God is radically one. Furthermore, in Judaism, God is the God of the Covenant, utterly faithful and requiring the same unwavering faithfulness of his people. For Judaism, God enters history and changes destinies. God is personal. In Islam, God is utterly transcendant. God does not enter into human history, per se, but rather remains uncontaminated from human affairs, due to his greatness and glory. God has left a moral code, which Muslims are enjoined to follow, and at the end of life, one's deeds are weighed in the balance. If there is a covenant, it is only to a rigid code of behavior. Christianity, on the other differs from both of these faiths in its insistence that God is both one and three, unity and plurality at once without contradiction. God is personal, as in Judaism, but in contradistinction to Judaism, God has also joined to his divinity in hypostatic union, humankind--in the person of Jesus, the second figure of the Godhead. Christianity, too, has a moral code, and involves covenant faithfulness, struggle. But in differentiation with Judaism and Islam, Christianity preaches participation in the divine energies of God (not quite "union", but nonetheless a real joining of God and man as revealed and accomplish in Jesus Christ).
Clearly we have three different, indeed, contradictory Gods, right? Not for the modern-day nominalists. No, Allah equals Elohim equals Pater Noster. We're all talking about the same thing. This is more than manifest nonsense, it is fairly typical western liberal hubris. That is to say, "We enlighted purveyors of western civiliation and illumination know much better than you what you're talking about. When you say, "Pater Noster" or "Allah" what you really mean is . . . ." Muslims respond, "Uh . . .No! I mean Allah. Allah is not the Christian God." Jews say, "I'll second that. El Berith is most definitely not the Christian God, and sure doesn't look like Allah, either." Western illuminati, however, say, "Oh, come now. This is just like the three man and the elephant. One of you has the trunk, another the leg, and the other the tail. But it's all one elephant." This baffles these three adherents, however. How can the the Christian Three-in-One God be the same thing as the Only-One God, a personal God the same as an impersonal transcendant God? We are not talking about the same thing, these adherents claim. This is elephants and camels, say. Or it's at least three different elephants. We are not just talking about one elephant!
But Western elites, with the typical chauvinism granted them by their affluence and technical superiority, shake their heads knowing that in time everyone else will come around. But of course, that would take a conversion. And conversion is a break with one's previous convictions.
This sort of nominalism is played out in other contentious venues: abortion and human sexuality, to name two. All the vocabulary on the various sides of these debates "creates" the "realities" their proponents desire. A human baby can be killed. A fetus, however, is merely a vestigial "organ" one can "excise." Sex is biological, and clearly evident. Gender is a state of mind. You get the point.
But ultimately, when it comes to naming, it rests on the question of authority. Despite modern American notions of libertarianism and person autonomy, authority is a fact of human existence. It has been since the dawn of time and will be into eternity. Like it or not, authority is pervasive of the human experience. The only differences among humans is to what authority we subscribe, either consciously or unconsciously. Westerners have to quite consciously reject scientism as their authority, so pervasive is its influence in our society. We take polls. We do studies. We derive formulas. And we have authority, an authority more powerfully influential than the divine tablets brought down from the mountain top. That is, untill another poll, study or formula comes down the pike and discounts the previous poll, study or formula.
Christians, of course, are just as much influenced by scientism as their secular neighbors. We take it in with our mother's milk--er, excuse me, I mean formula. The difference for Christians, of course, is that we are called to reject this scientistic mindset. (Please note: Scientism does not equal science.) We are called to transformed minds, not conformed worldliness. We cannot bring the Gospel to the world, unless we stand apart from within it. We are to hate the world. Because hating the world is the only way to truly love it.
But once again, it boils down to authority. This calling is explicit in Scripture. Too many Christians, however, do not accept the authority of Scripture. For two reasons, it seems. First, it would require daily taking up one's cross. To put it more bluntly, it would demand of us the giving up of our favorite consumerist sins (such as lust, gluttony, pride). Secondly, it would require admitting we don't know as much as Scripture. Or, to put it a bit more plainly, it would demand rejecting the modern heresy that the youngest in time is the most wise and intelligent; it would mean admitting we don't know better than Paul.
We could multiply the issues, not the least in importance of which is: What is the Church? But since the Roman Catholics will come with papal infalliblity, the Protestants with their tens of thousands of authorities (convention resolutions, confessions of faith, scientific studies, commentaries, private interpretations, etc.), and the Orthodox with the infallibility of the Church, it does not seem to me that this disparate bunch will be able to, together, answer that question. We'll be talking camels and elephants. While the Western elites will be saying, "Ah, it's all the same anyway!"
This past autumn, I submitted a book review of Kevin Giles' The Trinity and Subordinationism: The Doctrine of God and the Contemporary Gender Debate. You can click on the link and take a look at what I thought of it.
It's becoming ever more clear to me, in these online and person-to-person discussions, that there are two fundamentally opposed perspectives in addressing these issues of faith and worship (these perspectives are also evident in other philosphical and cultural venues, but I am limiting myself to the Christian faith and practice). While all labels can end up being used perjoratively, it seems to me that the terms "traditionalist" and "modernist" encapsulate these perspectives in as neutral as possible way. No traditionalist or modernist is so purely located within their camp so as to be impervious to the other perspective. Indeed, many modernists claims to be adhering to traditional Christian understandings and practices. Similarly, traditionalists while upholding the ancient Christian faith do not presume to bury their heads in the sand with regard to intelligent and caring interaction with the modern world. In short, these perspectives align themselves along a spectrum. So my discussion of these viewpoints will tend to emphasize their distinctions.
Traditionalists start with a mindset of acceptance toward the wisdom of the past. Traditionalists assume that God has revealed his will in Scripture and the Tradition of the Church, and that such a will is healing, restorative, and divinizing for all men and women. Strictures against sexual intercourse (heterosexual or same sex) outside of marriage, against divorce, and other prohibitions, are meant to safeguard and protect human dignity (as little lower than God) and freedom. The equal dignity but different roles God has assigned to Christian men and women in marriage is meant for peace and holiness. The limiting of sacramental ministry to men is meant to safeguard and protect the Faith of the Church, and to incarnate the ministry of the Spirit. Traditionalists see the removing of prohibitions against sexual intercourse outside of marriage, and of divorce, as destructive of human dignity and freedom. And, say traditionalists, the statistical reports of our era prove this to be the case.
Modernists, on the other hand, start with a mindset of suspicion toward the tenets of the past. Modernists have a presupposition of human progress, that those who are most recently on the human scene are wiser and smarter than those who've been longer off the scene. This presupposition is an easy one to acquire. Technologically we are more advanced than at any other era in known human history. Diseases have been cured, or those that were once lethal have been relegated to simple and inexpensive over the counter treatments. More children receive education than ever before in history. So modernists look back to the past, see it's sins and failures, and decide ours (the modern age) is the better standard by which to measure wisdom. Particularly the dogma of dogmas for modernists is that of freedom. That which would limit or prohibit autonomous individuals from freely chossing that which they wish to be and do is, for modernists, anathema. Biblical hierarchical ordering of the relationships in the home? Gone. Limiting the priesthood to certain men? Gone. Jesus' prohibition on divorce? Gone. Indeed, gone is the Scripture and the Tradition of the Church, except as historical documents from which we can learn. Clearly, modernists would say, one cannot take Scripture whole-cloth and live it in today's world.
Let me reiterate, these two descriptions do not take into account the various spectral degrees with which specific traditionalists and modernists hold to their respective viewpoints. Some modernists would claim a more wholehearted adherence to Scripture. Some Traditionalists would allow modern notions to shape and transform certain traditional practices and doctrines. But for the most part, I think these two descriptions are a fair assessment of the basic presuppositions.
Let me also say that traditionalists do not equate to conservatives, nor modernists to liberals. The Stone-Campbell churches in which I was raised, for example, would be considered very conservative, but they are very clearly modernists. Similarly, the Orthodox Church with which I currently align myself, would be considered liberal on some public policy issues, but is clearly traditional.
To this point, I have tried to strike a balanced appreciation of these two views. However, at this point I have to proceed in criticism of the modernist view. One of the most glaring weaknesses, in my view, of the modernist position is two-fold: a largely critical, adversarial stance to the tradition, and its usually unreflective acceptance of its presupposition of progress. So, modernists begin with something like a belief in absolute freedom, approach Ephesians 5:21ff and dismiss it as "unworkable" and, even more extreme, as "unChristian." Modernists begin with the absolute equality--which means no difference between--men and women and dismiss 1 Timothy 2 and 1 Corinthians 11 and 14 as "merely historical," something modern-day Christians have "gotten over."
But traditionalists would agree with G. K. Chesterton, in his chapter "The Ethics of Elfland" in Orthodoxy [Note: Chesteron was an Anglican who converted to Roman Catholicism.]:
But there is one thing that I have never from my youth up been able to understand. I have never been able to understand where people got the idea that democracy was in some way opposed to tradition. It is obvious that tradition is only democracy extended through time. It is trusting to a consensus of common human voices rather than to some isolated or arbitrary record. The man who quotes some German historian against the tradition of the Catholic Church, for instance, is strictly appealing to aristocracy. He is appealing to the superiority of one expert against the awful authority of a mob. It is quite easy to see why a legend is treated, and ought to be treated, more respectfully than a book of history. The legend is generally made by the majority of people in the village, who are sane. The book is generally written by the one man in the village who is mad. Those who urge against tradition that men in the past were ignorant may go and urge it at the Carlton Club, along with the statement that voters in the slums are ignorant. It will not do for us. If we attach great importance to the opinion of ordinary men in great unanimity when we are dealing with daily matters, there is no reason why we should disregard it when we are dealing with history or fable. Tradition may be defined as an extension of the franchise. Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about. All democrats object to men being disqualified by the accident of birth; tradition objects to their being disqualified by the accident of death. Democracy tells us not to neglect a good man's opinion, even if he is our groom; tradition asks us not to neglect a good man's opinion, even if he is our father. I, at any rate, cannot separate the two ideas of democracy and tradition; it seems evident to me that they are the same idea. We will have the dead at our councils. The ancient Greeks voted by stones; these shall vote by tombstones. It is all quite regular and official, for most tombstones, like most ballot papers, are marked with a cross.
One could also add this text (on books, but related to my points here) from C. S. Lewis' introduction to Athanasius' On the Incarnation
Naturally, since I myself am a writer, I do not wish the ordinary reader to read no modern books. But if he must read only the new or only the old, I would advise him to read the old. And I would give him this advice precisely because he is an amateur and therefore much less protected than the expert against the dangers of an exclusive contemporary diet. A new book is still on its trial and the amateur is not in a position to judge it. It has to be tested against the great body of Christian thought down the ages, and all its hidden implications (often unsuspected by the author himself) have to be brought to light. Often it cannot be fully understood without the knowledge of a good many other modern books. If you join at eleven o'clock a conversation which began at eight you will often not see the real bearing of what is said. Remarks which seem to you very ordinary will produce laughter or irritation and you will not see why - the reason, of course, being that the earlier stages of the conversation have given them a special point. In the same way sentences in a modern book which look quite ordinary may be directed at some other book; in this way you may be led to accept what you would have indignantly rejected if you knew its real significance. The only safety is to have a standard of plain, central Christianity ("mere Christianity" as Baxter called it) which puts the controversies of the moment in their proper perspective. Such a standard can be acquired only from the old books. It is a good rule, after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between. If that is too much for you, you should at least read one old one to every three new ones.
Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books. All contemporary writers share to some extent the contemporary outlook - even those, like myself, who seem most opposed to it. Nothing strikes me more when I read the controversies of past ages than the fact that both sides were usually assuming without question a good deal which we should now absolutely deny. They thought that they were as completely opposed as two sides could be, but in fact they were all the time secretly united - united with each other and against earlier and later ages - by a great mass of common assumptions. We may be sure that the characteristic blindness of the twentieth century - the blindness about which posterity will ask, "But how could they have thought that?" - lies where we have never suspected it, and concerns something about which there is untroubled agreement between Hitler and President Roosevelt or between Mr. H. G. Wells and Karl Barth. None of us can fully escape this blindness, but we shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard against it, if we read only modern books. Where they are true they will give us truths which we half knew already. Where they are false they will aggravate the error with which we are already dangerously ill. The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books. Not, of course, that there is any magic about the past. People were no cleverer then than they are now; they made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes. They will not flatter us in the errors we are already committing; and their own errors, being now open and palpable, will not endanger us. Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction. To be sure, the books of the future would be just as good a corrective as the books of the past, but unfortunately we cannot get at them.
In short, modernists, in rejecting the wisdom of the Tradition, subject their followers as well as innocent bystanders, to the consequences of folly. Modernists want to criticize the Tradition because of its alleged "denigration" of women, by making them "second-class" citizens in home and Church. But let's look at the consequences of the modernist viewpoint in the lives of women: domestic abuse from live-in male companions; the objectification of women as sexual service providers by men who won't marry their women companions (marriage is, after all, traditional), men who are living the tenets of the feminist doctrines of the last two or three decades; the killing of untold millions of women in the womb; the derailing of ecumenical discussions and resultant perpetuation of schism by insisting on women's sacramental ordination; as well as the recent hazing incident in Chicago, as young women become like the males they've been told they were "just like."
Now, I know that not all modernist Christians hold to some of these presuppositions. Nor do any modernist Christians I know make the connections I am making between the modernist viewpoint and the consequences I've just listed. Most would probably dispute them. But most simply have not made (and many will not make) the connections, because they're unaware of the consequences of their philosophical convictions.
The modernist "tradition" is being tried and found wanting. The Tradition has been tested for more than twenty centuries, and its healing and salvific results are evident.
Reconnecting with the Church Fathers this past week or so has been like going from arid desert to lush tropical valley. Though I've been chronically short on sleep all semester (my body rebelled this past weekend, keeping me in bed with a cold), and though I had a short night last night, after morning prayers this morning, I'm facing today with a renewed, fresh vigor. God be praised.
One thing that really made that possible, today anyway, was the knowledge that today commemorates the miracle of the Mother of God in giving sight to the blind Stephen of Cassiopia, coupled with my return to the Greek New Testament and reading Matthew 7.7-12. I noted my immediate reaction to the miracle. "No way. There's just no way that a blind guy was given seeing eyes. I mean, I believe in miracles and all, but this is too much." Hmmmm. Wonder why that was so? Could it be my Protestantism coming to the fore and igniting my skepticism of anything that smacks of Marian prayers? How could I justify that skepticism? I knew I couldn't. If Mary, still living as do all those who die in Christ, could pray for a man's eyes to regain sight, is it not possible to assume that her prayers were answered? And given her place in the work of God's salvation, aren't her prayers something one can assume would be both unified with God's will and effective? Then, as is my habit, having prayed, I turned to Scripture. And there was Holy Writ telling me "Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and to you the door will be opened."
I suppose it will be a lifelong process to excise this anti-tradition, anti-catholic outlook from my mind. God help me. The Holy Spirit has been at work in the Church for 2000 years. On what basis do I introduce skepticism of his work, in what way can I justify innovation? This is the burden of all those who would re-invent the Church: on what basis can I authoritatively substitute my view, or my little corner of the Christian world's view, on subject X in place of the Church's long-established Scripture and understanding? Who am I to say that Ignatios of Antioch was wrong about bishops when he was a disciple of the Apostles, and I am so far removed from the Apostles historically, geographically and doctrinally? What makes my view more authoritative? How can I say to Ignatios "You didn't understand the Apostles you heard firsthand. Let me who has never heard them, spoken their language, lived in their land and time, tell you what you should have said"?
The burden of innovation is more than just a matter of justification, however. I spent most of my teen years, and all of my adult years up till a few years ago seeking spiritual and intellectual "highs." If it gave me a "pious feeling," or otherwise made me "feel close to God," it was justified. Conversely, if anything disturbed me or made me feel bad, it was not of God. Which may have been well and good, except that for a sinner such as myself, God often needed (and needs) to disturb and make me "feel bad." Furthermore, my only barometer of "feeling good" was, well, my own narrow life experience and that of those around me. Clearly that, though not to be discounted, was anemic compared to the robust, millennia-long, multi-ethnic, multi-national, experience of the one thing on this planet in which the human and divine are joined: the Church.
The worst of it was, I had no one to lead me in how to pray. Oh, sure, there was a bunch of folks telling me how to read Scripture--too bad they disagreed on just about every issue one could put forward. Oh, sure, there was another gaggle of folks who were willing to tell me how to worship--mostly demagoguing on how it was necessary to let go the "traditional" (in the sense of the last several decades) style of three hymns and a sermon in favor of the more "Spirit-led" contemporary style (although "Spirit-led" always meant "led according to the latest trend in musical styles in our culture"). And there were folks who told me "how" to pray: don't read prayers, or if you read them, use language everyone can agree on. But I soon learned, there was no one who could lead me in how to pray. In short, I was burdened with discipling myself in the most basic of Christian activities.
Thankfully, God was merciful and took my prayers for what they were. And eventually led me back to the sources of life and vigor.
This is not to say that every "new" thing is bad. God does bring in times of change. But the burden of those who would innovate is twofold: proof that their innovation is in line with the apostles' doctrine and practice, and, the most daunting one of all, proof that theirs is the same life-giving way of the Spirit. And that last can only be tested over generations, not the short "highs" of a single life, or even the life of a single community.
In a former Touchstone article (now reprinted and online at The Christian Activist), rather pedestrianly entitled, "Women Priests - History and Theology," Fr. Reardon explores the historical, linguistic, iconographic and liturgical history of women's ordination. Caution: meaty thought ahead. But rather than deal specifically with women's ordination--since I'm likely to alienate almost everyone who reads these pages (oops! forgot. I've already done that.), I wanted to touch on God-talk, under the impetus of what's going on in some of the comments on Laura's Magdalen News.
I excerpt from the Reardon article the following:
Prior to becoming a male in the human race, the eternal Word was already God's Son, not just his offspring. The fatherhood and the sonship in the Holy Trinity are not simply cultural names. Even if there were no such things as men and women, God could still be Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Male headship in the Church and in the Christian family, then, is not an arbitrary arrangement. It has to do with the very being of the God of Christians. Change it and you start to alter that most patriarchal of dogmas: the doctrine of the Trinity.
I hasten to add that sex may not be read back into the Being of God as Father. I simply want to insist that God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, not something else. If it is erroneous to read sex back into God, then it is at least as wrong to read androgyny or gender-neutrality back into God . . . . The theology . . . goes out of its way to portray an androgynous divinity by concentrated and intentional recourse to gender-neutral, feminine, and even animist metaphors with a view to "balancing" the biblical names "Father and Son," while these latter are only sparsely employed. [These] are shocking examples of a modem reluctance to voice the two proclamations given us by the Holy Spirit: "Abba, Father" and "Jesus is Lord."
Reason is an incredibly powerful tool. Aristotle, in his spare eloquence, noted that the highest form of human thinking, theoria, was akin to the divine. For Plotinus, our access to the divine One was through the intellect, the Nous. Christ himself was called Logos, the Word. But not even a millennium and a half of Hebrew language and history, in which the Word (dabar,) was, in part, a deed accomplished, could completely deplete Logos from its content of Hellenic rationality.
Furthermore, the Church's foremost first-century missionary, the Apostle Paul, though of Jewish descent and upbringing, freely utilized the tools of Hellenic philosophy when it suited his evangelistic aims. And though there's no evidence that the author of the epistle to the Hebrews had Plato's Republic in mind, still the first chapter of that New Testament epistle resonates with something like Platonic ideas. By the middle and end of the second century, Christians were espousing Hellenic philosophy as a precursor, for the Gentiles, to the Gospel. But most clearly of all, in the great golden epoch of the patristic era, the fourth century, the Church explicitly made use of the terms and tools of Greek thought to grasp and guard the full implications of the Gospel which had given Her being.
However, concomitantly with this positive espousal of the best in human thought, came warnings of its dangers. Paul himself characterized the Gospel message as "foolishness" to the Greeks and reveled in the power of the Gospel to demolish arguments and take the strongholds arrayed against it. At the same time that Clement of Alexandria was idealizing his Christian "Gnostic," Tertullian was asking what Jerusalem had to do with Athens. Alexandria, the intellectual center of the world of late antiquity, after all bred a certain Arius who developed the Christian world's first rationalist theology, and in so doing almost destroyed both the Gospel and the Church. Some thirteen centuries later, Kant's critical project could emphatically declare that God's existence could neither be proven nor experienced. The faith for which Kant was making room was a purely rational one, in which God was a rational supposition, an ethical idea, no more. Little wonder that Nietzsche had Zarathustra proclaim, "God is dead."
Part of the problem faced in this high regard for reason is its absolutization.
In the Platonic chariot of the soul, reason is the charioteer who takes the reins, guiding appetite and spiritedness to the divine knowledge of what most truly is. This, of course, is not an entirely worthless paradigm. Ours is an age of appetite, Plato's licentious democratic society. We could do with some of reason's application of the reins.
But in Christian understanding, there is, one might say, a fourth element: the heart. In Christian terms, the heart is a robust and complex entity, nothing like (or not much like, anyway) the anemic emotionalist smarminess we see everywhere from Valentine's Day cards, reality shows, popular music, to Oprah. It is possible, it seems to me, to suppose in Christian terms that while Plato's reason pulls the reins on flesh and will, it is the heart that encompasses these players. For Christians, the heart is where thoughts, emotions and will all interact, and it is the heart that shapes and forms these interactions. When our passions and desires, our stubbornness, or our rational workings jump the circle of our heart, our interior harmony is broken and we become enslaved with that which breaks free. We must exert ourselves, it seems to me, and encompass these aspects of our inner being by the heart.
But this is not something we may do on our own. After all, the heart is deceitful above all things. It is desperately wicked; who can know it? Only a purified heart can keep all things properly circumscribed. Only a heart filled by faith with grace, a heart in which dwells the Spirit of God, a heart which knows obedience, a heart which follows after Christ in discipleship, can know this accomplishment.
Many of us have our particular weaknesses and imbalances of heart. For some it is willfulness, the assertion of myself as myself over against another, the instinct for psychical survival; an instinct which exerts itself against even the longings of emotion and the dictates of reason. For others it is the emotions and the appetites, the sense of emptiness and longing which seeks filling, even seeking longing and emptiness for their own sake, allowing one's self to be deafened to the calm of rationality and to submit one's self to any and all experience even as far as fighting against one's own self-assertion. For yet others it is the seduction of rationality, a rationality which takes the will and the emotions out of the arena of shared human existence into the airless ether of pure thought. Untethered, reason seeks its freedom from all things. Even the mighty physical force of gravity reason harnesses for its own ends and slings humans out from the earth into the void. Even moral principles fall prey to reason's cunning, and reason can argue the wanton killing of the innocent for the convenience of the guilty.
These are our temptations. But all too often we do not face these testings full on. For their implications disturb us, and we prefer the illusion these things offer. In following willfulness to its own end we find that we have lost the very self we sought to assert, for the end of willfulness is the negation of the other. But in negating the other we lose ourselves and our will, for there no longer remains anything against which we may assert ourselves, let alone anything which may strengthen us in our despair. We cry, "I!" Into a depthless void which does not hear us nor care, and which swallows our cry--and us--wholly.
In our longing for the other, in our assertion of our emptiness, in the seeking of feeling and pleasure, we find that we lose ourselves not by asserting ourselves but by giving ourselves away; in being filled by the other we become that which fills us, whether sex or infatuation or taste. But this filling ultimately eludes us for it is a kind of suicide in reverse. We do not cast ourselves into the void, but assert in us a kind of void; a void that, in being filled, does not assume our true shape, but rather gives us the shape of that content with which we fill ourselves, and in so doing mars and destroys us.
In our attempts at rational mastery, at describing and controlling, the further we advance into reason's center, the further we distance ourselves from the understanding we seek. Reason frames our experience, analyzes it, but can only do so by virtue of its own terms, its own structures. What it fails to recognize is that these structures themselves do not and cannot give us the content, the understanding we seek. Confronted with these anomalies, reason brackets them, places them in a corner and says, "Not reason." And slowly reason empties our world of love, freedom, immortality, of God.
The heart's energies in fighting these imbalances are not inveighed against them equally. When aided by reason and will, the powers of desire and emotion are somewhat readily seen as illusory. When the heart tries to fight these by the will alone, the will may be somewhat weakened and may begin to believe their ferocity to be something real. If it is a strong will, this mastery may not be so dearly bought. But even a weak will, the heart may strengthen by reason.
The recalcitrance of the will is a more bitter battle. The flesh asserts itself, aided by passion and emotion. The heart must call in the aid of reason in ever greater measure. Almost always this battle requires an external obedience for resolution and victory. Heart and mind pull the will into subjection to a spiritual authority, the Church.
But the most painful struggle of all, at least for me, is that of disordered reason. The first two battles of the heart are mostly ones of force. The battle of reason is one of subtlety and despair. The self-annihilation of stubbornness and passion are none too difficult to see. That of reason is much, much more difficult to discern. Reason, that great gift, promises so much, and can deliver almost as much. But ultimately it cannot deliver in full that which it proffers. It promises knowledge but left to itself gives vanity. That is to say, it guarantees contact with being but delivers emptiness. Unity brings exclusion. Knowledge leads to solipsism. Peace gives way to power. Love metastasized and becomes domination. Unfettered reason is a liar. "See," reason says, "I give you humanity." But when the curtain is drawn, we see that pluriform creature which is a patchwork of cadavers, the walking dead, the soulless living.
This is the great contradiction of reason: to truly know, to deliver on its promise, it must be tethered, it must surrender its structures to that which is greater than itself. This tethering of reason is finally the job of the heart. The Queen of the South went up to hear reason speak its wisdom. But behold one greater than reason has come and is in our midst.
The heart corrals these three great gifts of God, disordered though they are by sin, and offers them at the foot of the cross. These gifts--we ourselves--are then taken up, in the resurrection, into the divine energies. There will is fully itself, desire is filled, and reason at last knows. There the heart loves. And there is for us life and peace.
(With acknowledgment for the inspiration and use of Paul V. Mankowski's "A Fig Leaf for the Creed" in Creed and Culture, ed. by James M Kushiner, ISI Books, 2003)
A small chapel, where several non-gender-specific persons are gathered for prayer.
First male speaker: (Praying) ". . . Who for us men and for our salvation, was . . ."
First female Speaker: "And women"!
First male speaker: I'm sorry?
First female speaker: "Who for us men and women and for our salvation . . ."
First male speaker: Well, yes, of course. (Resumes praying) "Who for us men and for our salvation--"
First female speaker: "And women"! Women need to be included, too.
First male speaker: (Slightly irritated) Of course. May we continue?
First female speaker: Certainly
First male speaker: (Praying) " . . . Who for us men and for our salvation--"
First female speaker: Christ came to save me, too!
First male speaker: I know.
First female speaker: Then why didn't you say that?
First male speaker: I did.
First female speaker: No, you didn't.
First male speaker: I most certainly did. Everyone was included.
First female speaker: I wasn't.
Second female speaker: Neither was I.
First male speaker: (Puzzled and exasperated) How is it that I did not, as you accuse, include you . . . both?
Second female speaker: You said, "for us men."
First male speaker: Right. "Men." We're all included.
First female speaker: All you men.
Second female speaker: I'm a woman.
First female speaker: Me, too.
First male speaker: Of course you both are.
Second female speaker: So why didn't you include us?
First male speaker: I did.
Second female speaker: We're women.
First male speaker: Yes, I know.
First female speaker: So you didn't include us. Men aren't women. When you said, "for us men," you left us out.
First male speaker: No I didn't. You were included. Women are also men.
Second female speaker: You're crazy.
First male speaker: No. Look it up. Webster's Ninth Collegiate: "man: 1. a. a human being; esp. an adult male human, b. the human race, c. a bipedal primate mammal . . .", etc.
First female speaker: Ah ha! See! "Especially an adult male human." I'm an adult female woman. You left me out.
First male speaker: Did either of you have English grammar.
Second female speaker: Of course! Are you trying to insult us?
First male speaker: Not at all. I just thought this might have been a misunderstanding based on ignorance. But since you've had grammar, you know what the issue is. So, since I presume you're now done pulling my leg . . . (Resumes prayer) "Who for us men--"
Second female speaker: Oooh! You are such an idiot! Why do you keep excluding us?
First male speaker: I'm not.
First female speaker: You are, too.
First male speaker: Then you must have forgotten your grammar about marked and unmarked nouns.
First female speaker: Marked nouns?
First male speaker: (Knowingly) Ah, yes. I see the confusion. You've forgotten that "man" is both "a human being" and "an adult male human." The latter is marked, or specific; the former is unmarked, or generic. So, clearly, when I'm saying "for us men" I'm including everyone.
First female speaker: Not me.
Second female speaker: Me neither.
First male speaker: But that's what "man" here means. It's merely a matter of linguistic principles and usage. "Man" means you, you, me . . . all of us.
Second female speaker: It doesn't mean that to me.
First male speaker: (Exasperated) This is silly! (Stops himself) All right, then, what do you propose?
First female speaker: Say: "who for us men and women"
Second female speaker: That's right.
First male speaker: But then you've made it "an adult male human" when it originally meant "a human being." That changes the meaning of "man" in the text.
First female speaker: That's right. No more patriarchy.
First male speaker: Patriarchy? There's no patriarchy here. It's language. It's a generic word.
Second female speaker: It's not my generic word.
First male speaker: This is supposed to be a prayer service, not a political meeting.
Child speaker: "And children"!
First male speaker: (Shakes his head)
First female speaker: That's right. We mustn't exclude children.
First male speaker: (With flagging energy) But children are included.
Second male speaker: Say, there, when you say "men" before "women and children," you probably ought to add "officers," too. God didn't just come to save enlisted troops, you know. We officers are included, too.
Second female speaker: (Forgetting herself) But you're military--!
Second male speaker: (Quizzically) Yes . . . ?
First female speaker: (Elbowing Second female speaker and giving her a severe look; speaking to officer, but looking at Second female speaker) Of course, officer, we don't want to exclude anyone, do we?
First male speaker: Look, this is ridiculous. If we have to keep adding nouns to the list, we'll never end. Let's just keep "men," understanding that it's a generic usage of an unmarked noun, inclusive of everyone--which is what the text both says and means--and continue. We would have finished this prayer service by now.
First female speaker: There you go, oppressing us with your authority.
First male speaker: "Oppressing you" . . .?!
Second male speaker: Now, ladies, I'm with you here. But I think he has a point. We can't just keep adding nouns.
Second female speaker: Why not? "For us men, women, children and officers" seems reasonable.
Second male speaker: Well, that's all fine and all, but when you say "men" do you mean "male" men as opposed to women, or do you mean "enlisted" men as opposed to officers, 'cause "enlisted men" could be a man or a woman.
First female speaker: Good point.
Second female speaker: Hmph. More patriarchy, I say.
Second male speaker: Ma'am, the military's trying. We got you women fighting and dying on the front lines, now, so we're making some progress.
Second female speaker: All right. How 'bout this? "For us men, women, children, enlisted men and women, and officers."
First female speaker: That sounds fair.
Third male speaker: I don't know. That takes so much longer to say than just "men." (Pauses) I know! How 'bout "for us humans"? (All smile and nod their heads excitedly, murmuring their agreement.)
First female speaker: That's brilliant!
First male speaker: (Still trying) But "man" is "human"! Why should we change it?
Second male speaker: Well, 'cause these women here feel excluded, and as an officer, so do I.
First male speaker: (Has a thought) If you came upon a fence which had on it a sign that read, "Beware of man-eating tiger!" would you women think it perfectly safe to go inside?
Second female speaker: Of course not!
First male speaker: (Addressing Second male speaker) And would you as an officer feel that since this tiger apparently only eats enlisted troops that you, too, could safely go inside?
Second male speaker: Don't get sarcastic!
First male speaker: Yes, well . . . So my point is, none of you would feel excluded by a "man-eating tiger" sign. (All remain silent) So why, in this context do you feel excluded?
Second female speaker: Because we women have been oppressed for centuries. When we come to pray, we should not feel excluded from God's loving presence.
First male speaker: But who told you you were excluded?
Second female speaker: Isn't it obvious?
First male speaker: No.
First female speaker: (To Second female apeaker) Of course not. He's a man, as in the specific marked sense. (To First male speaker) Since you're not a woman you wouldn't understand.
Second male speaker: I'm not a woman.
First female speaker: (Stammering) Oh, yes, of course not. I just mean that he hasn't had to experience the social and political struggle we women have faced, especially in terms of religion and faith.
First male speaker: (Understandingly) Ah, I see. So this is a political matter. You would change the Church's prayer over politics?
Second female speaker: Of course not! But this is a matter of love and justice.
First male speaker: Whose?
Second female speaker: God's, of course.
First male speaker: So it's still politics. Just politics that uses God's name.
First female speaker: Let's pray it's not in vain.
Second female speaker: Amen.
First male speaker: Indeed. (Turns to leave)
Child speaker: Hey, mister, where ya goin'? Prayer's not over yet.
First male speaker: (Lovingly places a hand on the child's head) I'm sorry, child. But it is.
END
Today I worshipped at Matins and the Divine Liturgy at All Saints Orthodox Church. I brought with me two icons to be blessed: one of the Resurrection and one of the Transfiguration. When icons are to be blessed, they are taken to the altar, where, during the service, prayers of blessing are prayed over them and they are "painted" over with a large brush dipped in holy water. These icons remain on the altar through the epiclesis (or the invocation of the Holy Spirit to make the elements of bread and wine the Body and Blood of our Lord) and so share in the prayer of the elements of bread and wine.
This morning I was in something of a blue funk. I'd been convicted about some areas of sin and failure in my life, most notably not going to worship for a month, and brought that all in with me. When the priest read the matins Gospel for today (John 21:15-25), three heavy blows were struck on my heart: Do you love me more than these?
After the Lord's Prayer, the priest turns to bless the people, and normally does so with the traditional gesture of blessing: his hand upraised, thumb and third finger forming a circle. Today, however, I was blown away when I recognized that Fr. Patrick was holding the icon of the Transfiguration in his hand. This icon which I have kissed and venerated these past several months, most every morning, was that with which the priest was, in God's grace, blessing the people!
Finally, just before Sunday School, I came up to get my icons from Fr. Patrick. With a smile, he handed me the icons, took my hand, and, stilll smiling, said, "Don't miss service again."
My personal experience of God in wosrhip and prayer, can only be done in and through the Church. But the prayers of the Church must also be prayed in my personal experience daily. In a very tangible way today, I brought home the prayers of the Church. First thing on getting home, I venerated the two icons, kissed them, and prayed with them.
The personal and the Body. Two natures in one Person. Without change, confusion, separation or division. Incarnate Christianity, empowered by the Holy Spirit in God the Father.
Although we all should be continuing to pray for a peaceful resolution to the Iraq situation, it seems we should also be preparing for war. How should we respond to a war with Iraq? I've come across a couple of websites that are helpful.
Here's a website on The Just War Theory. It gives a very helpful overview of the topic, including arguments for and against.
It also links to a passage from Aquinas' Summa, and to a couple of encyclicals Pacem in Terris and Gaudium et Spes.
In the forthcoming issue of the Stone-Campbell Journal should appear my book review of Fr. Kevin Giles' The Trinity and Subordinationism. I cannot reproduce that review here, though if there is a link to it online, I'll update this blog. However, I can give a brief indication as to its content. Essentially, Fr. Giles is arguing that the eternal subordination of the Son to the Father is a heresy (it is) and that those who would found arguments for the subordination of women to men based on the eternal subordination of the Son to the Father, are wrong (and they are). Fr. Giles also reveals the inconsistencies in the hermeneutical argumentation of proponents for the subordination of women to men as these relate to analogies to hermeneutical argumentation for slavery (admittedly, this is a necessary criticism he must make, but it is less substantial than the arguments related to the Trinity because even in the terms of those he criticizes, such an argument is much more tangential).
Had Fr. Giles stopped there in his argument, he would have provided a powerful resource for all those concerned for the Church's teaching on the relationship between men and women and how this relates to matters of ordination to leadership ministry and other roles of women in leadership. Regrettably for his own argument and the resultant injury to the quality of his work, he does not.
Instead, Fr. Giles has an agenda. He wants to promote the belief that women should be admitted to roles of leadership, especially, for his concerns, positions of ordained leadership ministry. To do this, and this is where his argument falters, he must stress the unity of the Godhead at the expense of its diversity. It is here that we see most clearly the implications that Trinitarian beliefs have for practical Christian living.
Fr. Giles rightly points out that an imbalanced focus on the persons of the Trinity (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) leads to tri-theism. So he wants to stress the homoousios of the Son with the Father--which of course, all Christians should do. But to do so, Fr. Giles has recourse to the filioque clause--which states that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son--inserted by the West into the Nicene Creed, and also on the so-called Athanasian Creed which depends on the filioque and has similar tendencies. It is precisely here that Fr. Giles' argument falls apart.
For all Fr. Giles' brilliant analysis of the problems of the heresy of eternal subordination, his mind becomes clouded with his agenda. He must prove the validity of the ordination of women to the priesthood, therefore he must stress the unity of the Godhead.
This imbalance leads him to fail to adequately maintain the distinctions of persons in the Trinity. By use of the filioque he turns a trinity into a duality: Father-Son and Holy Spirit. Instead of the eternal subordination of the Son, we have the eternal subordination of the Holy Spirit, which makes of the Holy Spirit something less than fully God.
In stressing the common essence (ousia) of the Godhead, he sacrifices the balance of the distinction of the persons. He rightly stresses the single action of begetting which Father and Son share, but fails to adquately maintain that as Father, God is begetter, and as Son, God is begotten. One essence, two (insofar as the activity of begetting is concerned) persons. Similarly, for the Holy Spirit, the Spirit and the Father share in the activity of procession. But they are distinct in that the Holy Spirit, as God, processes, and the Father, as God, originates that procession. (And this is precisely why the Spirit cannot be said to process from the Son, this confuses the distinction of the persons of the Father and the Son, and makes of the Holy Spirit something different than Father and Son.)
Instead, a proper Trinitarian understanding of the Godhead accomplishes two things: it establishes the equality and common worth of men and women (ousia), while limiting the roles that men and women may rightly assume (person, or, more technically, hypostasis). Ephesians 5.21ff is perhaps the most clearly analogous. The so-called haustafel passage begins with "submit to one another" (ousia) then follows with (hypostasis) "wives [submit] to your husbands as to the Lord," "husbands love your wives as Christ loved the Church." (Note: I have bracketed the word "submit" in the imperative to wives because literally the word is not there. It reads literally "wives, to your husbands as to the Lord." The reason for this is that the imperative in the immediately preceding verse, "submit to one another," grammatically covers the imperative to the wife. This is not interpretation, it's Greek grammar, as any responsible exegete will admit.) One can also discern this same sort of structure in 1 Peter 3.1-7; Colossians 3:18-19, 1 Timothy 2:8-3:13; Titus 2:1-8; etc.
In other words to "deny" (which is a prejudicial word already coloring the argument with presuppositions) the validity of women's ordination, contrary to Fr. Giles' assertion, is not to succumb to heretical notions of the Godhead. Rather, it is to affirm, in part, precisely the sort of orthodoxy about the Trinity that Christians must affirm.
This is only one piece of the issue. Those concerned with these matters must also pursue Christian anthropology through the lenses of Christology. But certainly the Trinity is an important beginning point. We are made in the image of God. And so men and women share a common nature, while maintaining unique distinctions. This is why Jesus did not need to be both a woman and a man, to save all of humankind. As a man, he shared the same essential nature men and women share. Salvation is not effected by distinction of human persons. But the distinction of persons is not immaterial, and we humans, as icons of God, must image God with our distinctions. And this means we image God within the limitations given to us as persons. Aquila never gave birth. And Priscilla was never ordained to the priesthood. Yet both were saved and valued in their humanity.