Showing posts with label modalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label modalism. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

The Trinity: A Beginner's Guide

To read the published version of this article, with additional material, go to: http://www.ptm.org/13PT/fall/index.html#/36/ 

Years ago, when I was a family therapist in the counseling ministry of the local megachurch, a young couple recounted a hurtful, destructive argument that occurred when the young bride asked to put a “chair” in her husband’s office so she could be near him when he worked at home. Because his office was quite small, the young husband was irate and annoyed because there simply was not enough room for another “chair.” The young wife felt hurt and rejected because she thought her husband did not want her near when he was working. As the couple disclosed their feelings in counseling, the wife revealed that she had merely wanted to put a small straight-back chair in a tiny corner of the room, where she could read as her husband worked. With some embarrassment, the young husband admitted that he thought she wanted to bring in a large “easy ‘chair’” from the living room, one that would take up far too much space in an already overcrowded room. Even though they were using the same word, the couple had argued because they attached very different meanings to the word “chair.” 

Language matters; words are important. Moreover, the meaning attached to words is crucial if confusion and misunderstanding are to be avoided. Perhaps nowhere is language more problematic and the meaning of words more subject to misunderstanding than in the doctrine of the Trinity—the belief that the One God of the Christian faith eternally exists as three persons: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  

Recently, as I quickly flipped through the surplus of “Christian” channels invading my home via satellite, I stopped at an Australian broadcast when I heard the word “Trinity.” The host was asking her guest, an “expert” on the doctrine,” “How can God be one and three? How can one ‘equal’ three? she asked. “The ‘math’ just doesn’t add up,” she said. Her questions betray the common misunderstanding of the doctrine of the Trinity as a “mathematical” puzzle.
 
A few years ago, a survey was taken among a group of church members in London, who were asked, “How can God be three persons in one?” Showing their misunderstanding of the “oneness” of God, about one-third of the respondents replied that God was “one” in the sense of being “one person.” As one respondent typically affirmed, “The three are one person; they’ re all one person.”[1]  

To be sure, much confusion exists regarding the doctrine of the Trinity. The confusion is exacerbated by preachers who describe the doctrine of the Trinity as a mind-boggling mystery or an incomprehensible enigma far beyond the limits of human understanding. While it is true that we finite humans are incapable of fully comprehending the infinite God, it is not true, however, that the doctrine of the Trinity is beyond our understanding. A “doctrine” is simply an attempt to put into words what we do know about God based upon God’s self-revelation of himself in the history of salvation. The “doctrine of the Trinity” is an attempt to make sense of the fact that the “one God” of the Christian faith has revealed himself in the Holy Bible in “three persons”—Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The biblical narrative of the Father’s reconciliation of the world in Jesus Christ, as well as his bringing that work to fruition by the Spirit, implies a Trinitarian understanding of God (see 2Cor 5:18-20; Rom 5:1-5; Eph 1:3-14). 

The early Church was composed, at least initially, of Jews. In distinction to the cultures around them who worshipped many gods, the Jews worshipped one God. At the same time, the early Jewish Christians believed that God had come in the flesh and dwelt among them in the person of Jesus Christ (John 1:1, 14). They believed that Jesus is “Immanuel”: God with us (Matt 1:23).  Moreover, the early Christians believed that the crucified Christ remained present among them through the Holy Spirit (2Cor 3:17, 18). 

The believers of the early Church, many of whom were slaves who could neither read nor write, did not concern themselves with abstract speculation about the nature of God; yet, their worship and practice was distinctly Trinitarian in character. Following the commandment of Jesus Christ (Matt 28:19), the early Church baptized in the name of the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, even as they declared the love of God, the grace of Jesus Christ and the communion of the Holy Spirit (2Cor 13:14). Early second-century writings—including the 1) Didache, an early writing on Church order and practice; 2) Hippolytus’ Holy Communion prayer and baptismal formula, and 3) Justin Martyr’s early description of a Christian worship service and baptism—portray Christians baptizing and celebrating Holy Communion (or the Lord’s Supper) in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  

Development of the Doctrine of the Trinity 

From the “raw material” provided in the worship and practice of the early Church, Christian theologians began their construction of the “doctrine” of the Trinity. The starting point for Christian reflection on the nature of God is the relationship between God and Jesus Christ. The problem faced by early Christian theologians, as they pondered the New Testament witness to Jesus Christ, [2] was not whether Jesus was God, but how, within the boundaries of their inherited monotheism, could they maintain the unity of God while confessing the deity of one who is distinct from God the Father. That is, how could the early Church claim that Jesus is one with God while maintaining there is only one God?  

As the early Church began to proclaim the deity of Christ, they encountered opposition from those who distorted the New Testament witness to the Triune nature of God. In the second century, some incorrectly argued that the terms “Father,” Son” and “Holy Spirit” are merely different “names” for God, each designating a different “role” played by a “one-person” God, like a single individual who plays the roles of spouse, employee and soccer coach on a given day. Others wrongly argued that the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are distinct “individuals,” like the coach, quarterback and wide receiver on a football team. The first error, known historically as modalism, preserves the one “being” of God but loses the specific identity of the three persons of the Godhead by reducing the Father, Son and Spirit to one person. The second error, tritheism (or “pluralism”), stresses the “distinction” of the three persons of the Godhead at the expense of the “unity” of God and results in “three gods,” rather than “one God in three persons.” Quite importantly, both errors fail to express the essential Trinitarian element of relationship among the three persons of the Godhead. The first precludes relationship by reducing the Father, Son and Holy Spirit to “one person.” Less obviously, the second error precludes relationship, for though the three persons may function together in a limited way, they are not “one” in terms of sharing a common “being.”  

In the face of these distortions of the New Testament witness to the nature of God, early Christian thinkers struggled to accurately express God’s triadic self-revelation in salvation history as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, while stringently maintaining the unity of the one God of the Judeo-Christian heritage. 

Justin Martyr, the great “apologist” who defended the early second-century Church against false charges brought against Christians, invoked the image of light to capture the eternal relation between the Father and the Son. Justin captured both the equality and the distinction of the Father-Son relation by arguing that the Son is indivisible from the Father in the same way that light emitted by the sun is indivisible from its source. His metaphor became a favorite among the Church fathers and was later enshrined in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, where one of several phrases used to describe Jesus Christ is “Light from Light.” 

Irenaeus, an important theologian of the second-century, developed his Trinitarian insights in contention with the Gnostics, who erroneously thought of God as utterly transcendent and completely separate from the taint of the “evil” material world. To the contrary, Irenaeus argued that God the Father interacts with creation through his “two hands,” that is, the Son and the Spirit. For Irenaeus, the Son and Spirit belong intrinsically and eternally to the being of God, as the hands of a sculptor belong intrinsically to the artist and are the means of his or her creative expression. 

In the third century, the North African lawyer Tertullian coined the word “Trinity” (Latin: trinitas) and argued that Christians worship “one God in three persons.” For Tertullian, “being” or “nature” is the unifying principle of the Godhead, that is, what the three persons of the Trinity have in “common.” “Person” is the principle of “distinction” or “otherness”; that is, the Father is not the Son, the Son is not the Father, and the Father and Son are not the Holy Spirit. Rather, each person of the Triune God is “distinct” from the other.  

The fourth century was a time of great conflict among the theologians of the early Church. Since the time of Tertullian, confusion had existed between the Greek-speaking theologians of the eastern Mediterranean and the Latin-speaking theologians of the west regarding the proper translation of important Trinitarian terms such as “being” and “person.” To add to the confusion, these terms were often used interchangeably, much as today when a single individual may be described both as a “person” and as a human “being.” Prior to the fourth century, the universal Church simply lacked the conceptual and linguistic resources to express how God is both one and three. 

This confusion in terminology climaxed in one of the greatest theological conflicts in the history of the Church. Arius, a deacon from Alexandria, argued that the “one being” of God cannot be “divided,” for such would result in more than one God and compromise the inviolate principle of monotheism. For Arius, therefore, Jesus Christ cannot participate in the “being” of God; that is, he is not fully divine; rather, he is “subordinate” in being to God. Much like modern-day Jehovah’s Witnesses, Arius argued that Jesus is a created being, that is, an exalted “creature,” like an archangel, who is less than fully God. The great Athanasius, one of the most important theologians in the history of the Church, stalwartly defended the deity of Jesus Christ against the subordinationism of Arius. As Athanasius understood, if Jesus is a “created” being, he cannot be the “eternal” Word of God “incarnate,” that is, God in human flesh (John 1:1, 14). For Athanasius, this was no mere academic theological squabble; to be sure, nothing less than human salvation was at stake, for if Jesus Christ is not fully God, then we are still in our sins, for only God can save.  

In what has been called the most important theological statement since the New Testament, Athanasius argued that the incarnate Son of God, Jesus Christ, is “of one being with the Father.” That is, Jesus Christ is fully God, just as the Father is God. Athanasius’ defense of the full deity of Jesus Christ was enshrined in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed (381 A.D.), where, in accordance with the apostolic witness recorded in the New Testament, the Church fathers declared that Jesus Christ is “God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, Begotten, not made, Of one being with the Father.” At the same time, the fathers asserted the full deity of the Holy Spirit. [3] 

With the assertion of the full deity of Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit against distortions of the New Testament witness to the triadic nature of God, the way was cleared in the late fourth century for the classic, orthodox statement of the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, formulated by a trio of theologians—Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory Nazianzus—known collectively in Church history as the “Cappadocian Fathers.” By precisely defining important Trinitarian terms such as “being” and “person,” these Greek-speaking theologians were able to conceptually express the unity (“one-ness”) and diversity (“three-ness”) of the Triune Godhead in a way similar to that of the Latin theologian Tertullian of a century earlier. In view of the triadic pattern of God’s self-revelation in salvation history as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the Cappadocians argued that God exists as “one being” (i.e., “nature,” “essence”) in “three persons,” where “being” is the principle of unity and “person” is the principle of distinction or diversity. As the Cappadocians argued, the divine persons of the Trinity share a common “being”; at the same time, they are three distinct “persons.” In other words, “what” Father, Son and Spirit are is the same; “who” each is is distinct and unique.[4] 

It is important to note that the terms “being” and “person,” as used by the Cappadocian fathers, are not interchangeable. If we say God is “three beings,” we commit the error of “tri-theism.” If we say God is “one person,” we commit the error of “modalism.” The Cappadocian formula—“one being, three persons”—preserves both the “unity” (one-ness) and the “diversity” (three-ness) of the Godhead, while articulating the Trinitarian grammar that would allow the Church to speak of God as “one being in three persons”—One in Three, Three in One. 

In addition, it is essential to note that the Father, Son and Spirit cannot be thought of as independent, autonomous “selves,” as the modern use of the term “person” suggests. For Athanasius and the Cappadocian fathers, the term “person” inherently includes relationship, for the terms “Father” and “Son” are necessarily relational. There can be no “Father” apart from the “Son”; there can be no “Son” apart from the “Father.” Thus, the divine persons in relationship constitute the “being” of God. At the same time, each divine person is unique in terms of “origin.” In Trinitarian language, the Father is “un-begotten,” the Son is “begotten” and the Spirit “proceeds.” The language of relationship captures the “unity” of the persons of the Holy Trinity, while the language of origin captures the distinctiveness or “diversity” of the divine persons. 

Finally, at the heart of the Holy Trinity, the Cappadocians saw an interpersonal communion (koinonia) or “fellowship,” where each divine person is intimately related to the other two in reciprocal joy and delight. The internal relatedness of the divine persons is expressed in the Trinitarian concept, perichoresis (Latin: “coinherence”), where the divine persons are said to mutually “indwell” and permeate one another in a divine “dance” of intimate fellowship and communion.  

Putting all this together, we can say that the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, mutually indwelling one another in an intimate communion of love, is the “one God” of the Christian faith. As the Cappadocian father Gregory Nazianzus put it, “When I say ‘God’, I mean the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” The Cappadocian formula—“one being, three persons—with its regard for the importance of “relationship” as an integral aspect of the “being” of the one God, is enjoying renewed appreciation today among leading contemporary Trinitarian theologians.  

God is Love 

In light of what may appear to be theological hair-splitting about the nature of God, does the doctrine of the Trinity really matter? Does it make any difference whether God is “one being in three persons,” as the doctrine of the Trinity asserts, or simply one person who plays three roles (i.e., “modalism”) or even three different gods pursuing their own ends (i.e., “tritheism”)? In regard to the last point, if Christians are really polytheists who worship three “gods,” rather than “three persons in one God,” then we can never be certain that God is like Jesus. The Church fathers’ assertion that Jesus is “of one being with the Father” concisely expresses the biblical truth that the loving heart of Jesus is a window into the inner heart of the Holy Trinity. The unity of “being,” as well as the unity of will and purpose between the Father and the incarnate Son (John 5:30) assure us that there is no dark, inscrutable god hidden behind the back of Jesus Christ,[5] but only the God who has loved us to the uttermost in sending his Son to be our Savior. Thus, it matters whether the Holy Trinity is three “gods,” each independently seeking his own ends, or “one God in three persons,” who enjoy unity of being, harmony of will and singleness of purpose in creating humanity to share in the life and love of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  

Moreover, if God is only “one person” who plays three different “roles, then the apostolic witness to the nature of God is called into question. According to the apostle John, “God is love” (1John 4:8, 16). For John, love is not one characteristic among many that we “attribute” to God; rather, God is love. Yet, what is godly love like? In his memorable treatise on love (see 1Cor 13), the apostle Paul writes that love is patient and kind. It does not envy or dishonor others. Love is not self-seeking. It keeps no record of wrongs. Note that Paul describes love in interpersonal terms; that is, he describes love in terms of relationship. To be sure, godly love is relational, for by its very nature, love requires another 

In regard to the doctrine of the Trinity, “Father” and “Son” are terms of relationship. God is not an “in-itself,” apart from others, but is “the epitome of love in relation.”[6] God is not alone, in isolation from relationships, but is eternally related within the Holy Trinity as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The one God of the Christian faith eternally exists in a Triune communion of relationship whose nature is “love”: the Father loves the Son in the Holy Spirit; the Son loves the Father in the Holy Spirit.  

On the other hand, if God is unitarian rather than trinitarian, that is, “one” divine person who plays three different “roles,” then God cannot be eternally love; rather, God becomes love when he creates another. In that case, we cannot be certain of God’s purpose in creation, for a one-person god isolated in eternal “alone-ness” may create from a need for fellowship. If so, then creation is not God's free and gracious act for us but is, rather, a self-fulfilling act designed to fill the one-person-god’s need for community.  

Happily, because scripture reveals that God is a divine communion of love, eternally existing as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we can be certain that there is no lack or necessity in God. God did not create us to fill a void or need in the Godhead; rather, God created us as an act of overflowing love, for by its nature godly love cannot be contained; it reaches out in self-giving for us. God created the world in order to share his divine life and love with all humanity. That is why we were born: to be included in the divine life and love of the Holy Trinity, to participate in and enjoy the eternal communion of fellowship shared by the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. 

Eternally Father, Son and Holy Spirit 

The doctrine of the Trinity is the Church’s attempt to express within the limitations of human thought and speech the biblical witness to the eternal nature of God whom the New Testament describes as “love.” God’s self-revelation in the history of salvation as Father, Son and Holy Spirit is finally God’s self-witness to his eternal, loving purpose for the whole world. Most importantly, the doctrine of the Trinity is the Christian assertion that God is antecedently and eternally the same God who has revealed himself in the history of human salvation as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. In short, we know who God is from what he does. There is no other God than the loving Father who has loved us to the uttermost in the sending of his Son and the gift of the Spirit—all for us and for our salvation. “May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all” (2Cor 13:14).


[1] In Fiddes, P.S. Participating in God: A Pastoral Doctrine of the Trinity. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000), pp. 4-5.
[2] See, for example, John 1:1, 14; 10:30; 14:9; Col 1:16, 17; 2:9; Heb 1:3
[3] Regarding the divinity of the third person of the Godhead, Scripture describes the Holy Spirit as one who is a “personal, encountering, interacting Thou” clearly distinguishable from the Father and Son. The Spirit speaks in the first person (Acts 10:20; 13:12), teaches (Jn 14:26), stands as witness (Rom 8:16; 1Cor 1:22; 5:5; Eph 1:13, 14), sends (Acts 13:2), grieves (Eph 4:3), struggles with other persons (Gen 6:3; Isa 63:10) and gives gifts (1Cor 12:4-11; Eph 6). Moreover, the names (Acts 1:8; Jn 4:24; 14:21; 15:26; Rom 8:14), attributes (Heb 9:14; 1Cor 2:10-12; Lk 11:20; Rom 15:18-19) and works (1Cor 2:10; Acts 5:30-32; 28:25; Titus 3:5; 1Cor 6:19) of God are ascribed to the Spirit. See Oden, T.C. Systematic Theology, Volume One: The Living God. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2006), p. 199.
[4] As an aid to memory, we might say that, in the Holy Trinity, there is one “what” (“being”) and three “who’s” (“persons”).
[5] This phrase was commonly used by the great 20th century Scottish theologian, T.F. Torrance.
[6] Sanders, J. The God Who Risks: A Theology of Divine Providence. (Downers Grove: IVP, 2007), p. 148.
 

Monday, November 17, 2008

Athanasius contra mundi!

They called him the "Black Dwarf." But he stood treetop tall back in the fourth century. If he hadn't, we'd all be cycling two by two, passing out tracts and attending churches with no windows. Here's what happened:

The Arian controversy was not settled at the great convention in the balmy resort city of Nicæa (AD 325). Even with more than 300 conventioneers present, and despite a couple of months of all day meetings followed by casual conversations in the bar, sipping colorful drinks topped with paper umbrellas and orange slices, some of the boys still weren't satisfied with the (now orthodox) assertion that Jesus is homoousios to Patri: "of one substance with the Father." You remember: God of God, Light of Light, Of one substance with the Father . . .

The problem was the modalists. That's right, the ones that said God is one person who wears three different hats depending on the mood he's in. The modalists decided to "spin" homoousios and make it say, not same substance, but same person: in other words, the Father and Son are one person, not just one substance. That kind of spin wasn't hard to do in those days because the Greek words for person and substance were often used interchangeably. (That would get straightened out later).

Some of the other boys who had attended the convention didn't think much of what the modalists were up to. They didn't like the three-hat scenario. So they decided the best way to flank the modalists was to change same substance to "similar" or "like" substance." That way they could get around the modalist spin on homoousios (same substance) and say, "See! They're not one person 'cause their not the 'same'; they're similar." Here's how it works in the Greek language: they wanted to change homoousios (same or one substance) to homoiousios (similar or like substance). Only one little letter different. Did you catch it? Just one little-bitty "i" right there in the middle. But man, does it make a difference.

Constantine, who wanted to keep everybody happy to avoid more riots in the streets, decided to go along. Even though the emperor himself had contributed the word homoousios (same substance) to the convention (that's a popular rumor but I doubt it's true), he agreed to change the word by that one little letter "i" to homoiousios as the "official" assertion of the relationship between the Father and Son. This was a kind of "semi-Arian" compromise; maybe just enough to satisfy the Arians who said Jesus wasn't divine like the Father and, at the same time, satisfy those who were afraid of modalism. The compromise seemed so reasonable that pretty much everybody decided to become semi-Arians and adopt the new word, homoiousios.

Everybody but one that is. Enter the stalwart defender of Nicene orthodoxy: the Black Dwarf—six guns blazin', white hat gleaming in the desert sun—none other than the great Athanasius, the new senior pastor from Alexandria. Athanasius stood alone against the world (contra mundi). (Get ready. Here comes the serious stuff:J) Athanasius stubbornly refused to go along with the popular compromise to the Nicene language. He understood that the implementation of homoiousios ("like substance") was tantamount to asserting that Jesus is not God. As Athanasius realized, the difference between homoousios and homoiousios is the difference between the divine and the creaturely. The former says that the Son is God; the latter that the Son is merely like God (Olson, 1999:165). For Athanasius, the good news of human salvation was at stake with the reintroduction of the pre-Nicene subordinationism implied in the word homoiousios (i.e., Jesus as only similar to God is "less divine" than the Father; hence, ontologically subordinate). According to Athanasius, the Son must be God, not merely a creature, for only God can unite creatures to God. Salvation is not possible through a hierarchal chain from the Father through the intermediate Son, for an intermediary divides as much as it unites (Olson, 1999:164, 165). If the Son is not God in the same sense that the Father is God, then we are not saved, for only God can undo sin and bring us to share in the divine nature (Olson, 1999:169; cf. Gonzales, 1987:298; Torrance, 1995:149).

Athanasius rejected the "Arian disjunction" between the being of the Son and the being of the Father and confirmed the Nicene homoousion as showing that the Son belongs on the divine side of the Creator-creation relationship (Torrance, 1995:86). (NOTE: To get at what Torrance is saying, draw a vertical line with divinity on the left side and creation on the right. Where do we put the Son? Arius says on the right because, according to him, the Son is a created, not eternal, intermediary between the world-transcending Father and us. Athanasius, on the other hand, says put the Son on the left, because he is the eternally begotten (not made) Son who is "of one substance with the Father" (homoousios to Patri)). According to Athanasius, the Nicene homoousion asserts that God has become man in such a way as to give us access through the Son and Spirit to the Father himself (Torrance, 1995:130; cf Eph 2:18). The phrase homoousios to Patri ("of one substance with the Father") expresses the fact that what God is toward us, in the midst of us, and for us through the eternal Word made flesh, God really is in himself. In other words, God is, in the internal relations of his eternal being, the same Father, Son, and Spirit that he is in his redemptive activity for us in the incarnate Son and the gift of the Spirit (Torrance, 1995:130).

Moreover, Athanasius recognized the importance of relationality in the doctrine of the Trinity. For Athanasius, the fatherhood of God belongs eternally to God and defines the being of God (O'Collins, 1999:128). While God has not always been Creator, God is eternally Father (Torrance, 1995: 87). Athanasius articulated the fundamental trinitarian principle that the Father-Son relationship defines, at least in part, the word God (O'Collins, 1999:128). Following the Nicene creedal affirmation that the Son is "begotten, not made," Athanasius distinguished the divine operations of generation and creation to assert that God is inherently relational and generative. Against Arius, he argued that the denial of the eternal existence of the Son is a denial of the eternal fatherhood of God. Moreover, Athanasius asserted that one can know or say nothing of any one person of the Godhead in isolation from the other two (O'Collins, 1999:129, 130). The Athanasian (and Cappadocian) emphasis on relationality in the Godhead is markedly different from the Augustinian-Thomist-Western emphasis on the impersonal "substance" of the Godhead.

As the fourth century progressed, Athanasius was exiled numerous times by Constantine and the emperors that followed. Yet the Black Dwarf refused to compromise the Good News that Jesus is the revelation of God. Jesus is not merely like God; Jesus is God, the eternally begotten Son who has reconciled all things to the Father (2Cor 5:19). As theologian Roger Olson (1999:161) notes, without the steadfast determination of Athanasius to defend the full divinity of the Son, the Christian doctrine of God would closely resemble that of today's Jehovah's witnesses.

REFERENCES

Gonzalez, J.L. 1987. A History of Christian Thought (vol 1). Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press. 400pp.
O'Collins, G. 1999. The Tripersonal God: Understanding and Interpreting the Trinity. New York, NY: Paulist Press. 234pp.
Olson, R.E. 1999. The Story of Christian Theology. Downers Grove, IL: IVP. 652pp.
Torrance, T.F. 1995. The Trinitarian Faith: The Evangelical Theology of the Ancient Catholic Church. London: T & T Clark. 345pp.

Monday, October 20, 2008

One Person or Three? Does it Matter?

One of the early distortions of the doctrine of the Trinity was modalism, a view of the Godhead articulated by Noetus and Praxeas in the second century and Sabellius in the third. Modalism (rhymes with commode-alism, a severe stomach malady) asserts that God is one person (not three) who plays different roles in his interaction with creation. In other words, the one-person God wears three different masks, like an actor in a Greek drama playing three different roles, or like a single actor in vaudeville playing Larry, Mo, and Curley all by himself. You get the idea, don't you? Sometimes God wears the Father mask; at other times, the Son or Spirit mask, and like that.

The more technically minded among our readers will want to know that there are two variants of modalism (McGrath, Christian Theology: An Introduction, 328, 329): 1) Functional modalism (associated with Praxeas). In this version, the three "persons" of the Godhead are merely three roles played by the one God at any given point in time. So the one person God switches masks as the need arises. (Could get confusing don't you think?) 2) Chronological modalism (associated with Sabellius): God plays successive roles at different times in salvation history. It's like he's the Father for a few centuries or so, then he's the incarnate Son for a relatively short while, and then he's the Spirit. (Talk about identity crisis!) In either case, the "three persons" of the Trinity are really just different aspects of the activity of the one-person God. That's the main point: for the modalists, God is one person, not three.

There is an obvious problem with modalism, however, and I know you astute readers out there have already figured it out (except for one or two, and you know who you are!): Modalism makes it look like Jesus was praying to himself in the Garden, like he was some sort of split-personality type. So what did he do? Answer himself by lowering his voice? The modalists have a problem there. But it gets even worse: Since modalism portrays God as one person playing three roles with no real distinction between the Father and Son, the ghastly but inevitable corollary is patripassianism, the heretical notion that the Father, incarnate in Jesus, suffered on the cross (O'Collins, Tripersonal God, 86). And that throws the Gospel passion story all out of whack!

Patripassianism notwithstanding, however, what's the problem with modalism anyway? Were the modalists bad men who wanted to start a cult? Or did they have legitimate, though mistaken, reasons for their assertions? Here's the deal: Because they were big on monotheism, the modalists feared that to assert the Son was a distinct person from the Father would sound like Christians were wild-eyed orgiastic polytheists who believed in more than one God. Not only that, the modalists wanted to guard the "unity" or "one principle" (mone-arche, "monarchy") of the Godhead by eschewing (huh?) any hint of division in God. In the Hellenistic philosophical milieu of the day, God was considered simple; hence, any suggestion of a division of the divine essence was verboten (Did you notice that I used a French word and a German word in the same sentence?) In other words, the modalists didn't like the idea that God was more than one person because that was like saying the divine "substance" (Greek: ousia or "essence") of God could be divided up, just like when you slice a 12-inch pizza into palm-sized pieces. To equate God with a cosmic pepperoni was not cool for the modalists.

Now you may think that modalism is an out of date, old-fashioned heresy that happened long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away; but there's where you're wrong Chewbacca! Fiddes (Participating in God, 4) cites a 1984 study in Great Britain wherein participants were asked, "How is it that God is three persons in one?" The typical answer for one-third of the sample surveyed was that "the three are one person: they're all one person." So you see, modalism is still with us. As preachers and teachers we have to wonder how many of our congregants are modalists without even realizing it.

To be sure, there are boo-coo (Cajun for the French "beaucoup") problems with modalism. Bloesch (God Almighty, 172) says that the modalists could affirm an economic Trinity, that is, a threefoldness in God's relationship to the world (aka oikonomia). They could not, however, affirm an ontological Trinity, that is, a threefoldness in God's eternal being (aka theologia). To put it in a bit more high-browed fashion, modalism asserts that God's revelation in salvation history as Father, Son, and Spirit is threefold only in relation to us and is not, therefore, indicative of the eternal being of God (I like that last phrase.). In plain speak, the modalists understood that God has revealed himself in time and space, that is, in salvation history (oikonomia), as Father, Son, and Spirit. Yet they couldn't bring themselves to believe that that's how God really and truly is in his eternal, intradivine nature (theologia). So the modalists ended up with a Trinity of names, but not a Trinity of persons.

Modalism leaves us with no knowledge of who God is eternally while it undermines God's faithfulness, for we cannot be sure God truly is as he has revealed himself in Christ. In short, modalism severs the vital connection between theologia (God in his eternal, intradivine relations) and oikonomia (God as revealed to us in salvation history). Let's do that again: Modalism severs the connection between God in se and God pro nobis. One more time: Modalism severs the connection between God ad intra and God ad extra. WARNING: Do not repeat these words to your spouse unless you are prepared to be taken as a fruitcake. I should know!

Now let's get down to the real nitty-gritty. There is a major, major problem in modalism. I expect many of you readers have already figured it out, but there's one or two of you that I know pretty well who ain't got it yet (you know who you are and so do I). So here's the deal. Let's start with the Apostle John's beautiful description of who God is. John says, "God is love." For John, love is not something God does, nor is it an attribute (characteristic) or accident (in the Aristotelian sense) of God's nature. God is love. The very essence of God is love. Love is who God is. Period. (And I don't want to hear any strident screams about "holiness" defined legally. Forget about it! Most of the readers of this blog will know what I mean.) But I digress.

Now then, what is love? There's no better place to find the answer to that question than in the apostle Paul's memorable treatise on love (1 Cor 13). According to Paul, love is patient, kind, gentle, does not seek its own, does not keep any record of wrongs. Notice that Paul is describing love in interpersonal terms (I have to thank my homey, theologian Robert Lucas, Ph.D., for that one). No wonder Paul describes love in interpersonal terms, for love, by its very nature, requires another. If God were only one person, as the modalists say, then God's love would be self-love, and that we call narcissism, not love. 

Moreover (you can tell I'm getting serious now), if God is a unipersonal monad, God cannot be eternally love; rather, God becomes love when he creates, thus making love an accidental quality of God rather than constitutive of the divine nature (I love that phrase!). Not only that, we cannot be certain whether creation exists merely to fill a need in God. If God is unipersonal, he may create out of a need for community. In that case, creation would not be God's free and gracious act for us but rather a self-fulfilling act in order to fill the one-person God's need for community. 

Finally, if God is aloof, remote, isolated, and alone (as Greek philosophy maintains) then we cannot be certain of God's purpose in creating us. Said another way, there are soteriological consequences to the modalists' assertion that God is unipersonal rather than tripersonal. Because God is a tripersonal fellowship of love, we can rest assured that God is favorably disposed to his creation. We cannot have that certainty if God is unipersonal rather than a triune fellowship of love. So you see, whether God is one person or three makes a difference—a lot of difference. I think our eternal destinies depend on the difference.

Let me close with a beautiful quote from John Sanders (The God Who Risks, 148) that bears upon our topic: "The Father can beget the Son because the Father, as personal, has self-emptying love for another. God is then not alone, in isolation from relationships, but eternally related within the Godhead as Trinity. God is then not an 'in-itself,' apart from others, but the epitome of love in relation." Wow! 

Thank you Father, Son, and Holy Spirit! Your threefold self-revelation in salvation history (oikonomia) allows us to rest in the assurance that all your triune activities toward the world derive from your compassionate heart of love. Amen.

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New books available from Amazon

 Greetings Everyone, I have two new books available from Amazon: 1) The Holy Spirit: Message and Mission and 2) Jesus and the Old Testament....