Tommy A. and the Western Split

In our recent post on Augustine and Neo-Platonism (see "The Wedding Cake Cosmos"), we saw how the doctrine of the Trinity began to be conceived apart from God's self-revelation in the incarnate Son and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. You remember don't you? Failing to understand the Cappadocian emphasis on the diversity of Persons in the Triune Godhead, Auggie turned inward to look for "vestiges" of the Trinity (vestigias trinitatis) inside his own head and developed an innovative approach to the doctrine of God that emphasizes the unitary essence or "substance" (ousia) of God largely considered apart from God's triune self-revelation in salvation history.

Centuries after the time of Augustine, the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 marked a milestone in trinitarian dogma in the Latin West due to its detailed, precise articulation of the nature of God (Olson & Hall, 2002:62). The council defined faith in God as belief in "only one true God, eternal, infinite (immensus) and unchangeable, incomprehensible, almighty and ineffable, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit: three persons indeed but one essence, substance, or nature entirely simple" (O'Collins, 1999:148). The council stood in the Augustinian tradition of trinitarian reflection by describing God as one divine substance, absolutely simple in every way, and unchanging, that is, unaffected by history (i.e., impassible). The council described the Triune Persons as "nothing more than distinct relations within the divine substance distinguished only by their differing relations of origin with regard to one another" (Olson & Hall, 2002:62, 63).

Latin theologians of the High Middle Ages, concerned with the "logical intricacies" of the immanent Trinity (i.e., God in God's eternal transcendent nature), sought to round out Augustine's trinitarianism by addressing intellectual questions that had been left unanswered (Grenz, 2004:10). The philosophy and logic of Plato and Aristotle were given equal place alongside Scripture in medieval speculation about the transcendent of God (cf. Olson & Hall, 2002:51, 52). Stop! You may want to read that line again! Apparently, God's triune self-revelation as attested in the history of Israel, the incarnation of the Son, and the gift of the Spirit (oikonomia) was little more informative than non-biblical Greek metaphysics in the Western doctrine of God.

Since Lateran IV, especially in the Latin West, there has been a tendency to begin with and emphasize the unity of the divine substance while neglecting the divine persons as a Triune community of reciprocal love. Some critics have argued that by placing a strong priority on the unity of God to the detriment of God's triunity, Lateran IV effectively dogmatized the division of the doctrine of God that would become standard procedure in the Latin West, beginning with one of the major players in the development of Western thought regarding the doctrine of God: the Dominican friar, Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274).

In order to understand where Tommy A. was coming from, we must realize that the Greek philosopher, Aristotle, had been newly rediscovered in the Latin West. Aristotle was all the rage in the High Middle Ages in Europe. Everyone was wearing T-shirts with his picture on them. At every cocktail party, theologians and philosophers, well-oiled with good Single Malt Scotch (pardon the redundancy), huddled near the fire, puffed their pipes and debated the fine points of Aristotelian metaphysics. In those days, if you didn't know the difference in "efficient" and "material" causality, you just weren't with it, Dude! This is the philosophical milieu in which Tommy Aquinas went to work. We're not here to put the brother down; we just want to note the kind of water he was swimming in.

In his Summa Theologiæ (1266-1273), a classic work of Western theology, Thomas split the doctrine of God into two parts: a thorough exposition of the one God (De Deo Uno) followed by a treatise on the Trinity (De Deo Trino). Methodologically, Thomas followed Augustine by examining first the unity of the divine "substance" (ousia: essence, nature, being), only afterwards to articulate the "deployment" of the divine substance in the Trinity of persons (LaCugna, 1991:146). Aquinas attempts to understand God, not by beginning with God's self-revelation in Jesus Christ (revealed theology), but by beginning with the unity of the divine substance considered in terms of the philosophy of Aristotle (cf. Allen & Springsted, 2007:103-110). Since Aristotle was everyone's hero at the time, I guess it just made sense to frame a "Christian" doctrine of God in terms of pagan metaphysics! Am I missing something?

Aquinas sought to "prove" the existence of God, as well as describe the general characteristics of the divine nature (ousia), via the "five ways," a series of rational (not revealed) cosmological proofs for the existence and nature of God initially derived from Aristotle (Aquinas, 1989:12ff; Moltmann, 1993:10ff; Allen & Springsted, 2007, 103ff). Thomas reasoned that 1) objects in motion ultimately require a Prime Mover to initiate the first move; 2) the existence of cause and effect requires a First Cause; 3) the existence of contingent beings requires a Necessary Being; 4) degrees of perfection require that which is ultimately Perfect, and 5) the design in nature can be explained only by a Designer (McGrath, 2001:245-247). The principle behind this method is that a cause can be known by its effects (Aquinas, 1989:11, 12). In other words, knowledge of God (cause) can be derived from observation of the created order or cosmos (effects) (Allen & Springsted, 2007:104). Aquinas' five ways of cosmological proof start from the general phenomena of the world and inquire about their ultimate foundation; that is, the cosmological proofs start from the finitude of the world and contrast this with infinite Being (Moltmann, 1993:12). After each proof, Thomas asserts "et hoc dicimus Deum" ("and this we call God") (cf. Aquinas, 1989:12-14; M^cGrath, 2001:245-247). Note that for Aquinas, it is the divine essence or substance (ousia), deduced from the five ways of cosmological "proofs," that is to be called God, not the Triune Persons.

Based upon the "five ways" derived from Aristotle, here is the description of God that Thomas ends up with: "The divine nature is the moving, causing, necessary, pure and intelligent Being for being that is moved, caused, possible, intermingled and ordered" (Moltmann, 1993:12). Wow! Now there's a God you can relate to. Not! As my homey theologian Baxter Kruger often says, who wants to hang with a God like that? By the way, did you notice anything missing in that description of God?

We may rightly question if Aquinas is correct to assert "and this we call God." Aquinas bases his conclusions about the nature of God on rational (not biblical) presuppositions of what it is "proper" for God to be like (dignum Deo) (Sanders, 2007:295, n29). According to Greek metaphysics, any deity worthy of the name must be immutable, impassible, omnipotent, etc. (We'll get more of this in the next post.) Unfortunately, conclusions about God based on pagan philosophical presuppositions are more descriptive of Aristotle's "Unmoved Mover" (the aloof, alone, arelational deity of Greek thought) than the scriptural portrayal of the dynamic, passionate, self-emptying God who engages and is affected by creation (cf. Pinnock, 2001:70, 71).

Moreover, the epistemology (How do we know?) and methodology (Where do we start?) of Aquinas' approach is subject to question. Thomas develops his ideas of what God must be like rationally, quite independently of God's threefold self-revelation in salvation history (oikonomia). In short, Thomas derives his description of God from reason rather than revelation (Pinnock, 2001:70). Thomas' cosmological approach is far different from the approach of our boys Athanasius and the Cappadocians, who started with God's threefold self-revelation in salvation history (oikonomia).

O.K. Hang on to your hats! We're coming to the part where Thomas does something entirely new in the Western doctrine of God: Drawing upon his starting point with the cosmological proofs of the existence and nature of God, Aquinas divides his doctrine of God into two parts: De Deo Uno (On the One God) and De Deo Trino (On the Triune God). He then writes first a lengthy treatise on the One God (De Deo Uno) wherein he articulates the essence of God (De Deo Uno) in terms of natural theology, that is, investigation into the divine nature solely in terms of human reason and empirical observation. When he finally gets around to his subsequent treatise on the Trinity (De Deo Trino), the description of the Triune Godhead is philosophical and abstract with little relation to God's self-revelation in salvation history (Rahner, 1997:16, 17; cf. LaCugna, 1991:145).Thomas is the first theologian to divide the doctrine of God in such a manner (Rahner, 1997:16, 17). Notice what's happening already: Thomas does not begin his articulation of the doctrine of God with the Triune Persons as revealed in redemptive history; instead, he begins with a rational explication of the unitary essence (ousia) common to all three persons (Aquinas, 1989:14ff).

In dividing the doctrine of God into two parts, wherein the unity of God is considered first, with the triunity of God explicated in preconceived terms of the divine substance, Thomas dubiously achieved what is frequently described as "the paradigm instance" of the separation of theologia (God in God's eternal transcendent nature) and oikonomia (God as revealed in salvation history in the incarnate Son and Spirit), thus hardening into dogma what had begun in Augustine (LaCugna, 1991:145, 147, 148). Get that point! Aquinas has split apart the doctrine of God; he has separated consideration of God's eternal transcendent nature from God's triune self-revelation in time and space! His method of beginning with the divine essence or substance is a clear departure from Scripture, early creeds, liturgy and Greek patristic theology (LaCugna, 1991:147). Aquinas' doctrine of God is neither historical nor Christological. It has the transcendent "essence" or "substance" of God as its subject, so that God's self-revelation in salvation history is not an essential dimension or the explicit foundation for knowledge of the Trinity. Hence, the entire structure of the Summa emphasizes the priority of theologia over oikonomia. Given Thomas' starting point in God himself (in se), the economy of redemption in salvation history is not the primary basis for his doctrine of God (LaCugna, 1991:147-150).

Let's sum up: Thomas begins with speculation on the abstract substance (ousia) of God, considered in terms of Greek metaphysics, not in terms of the biblical revelation of God as Father, Son and Spirit. He then writes first a major treatise on the One God (De Deo Uno), that is, the essence or substance of God wherein the divine nature is described rationally, that is, in terms of what humans may think is "proper" for God to be. (As if we would know!). Only after that does he get around to his treatise on the Trinity (De Deo Trino). Even then, his trinitarianism is abstract and philosophical and bears little connection to God's triune self-revelation in salvation history.

To continue: For both Augustine and Aquinas, the one, common divine substance or essence of God was considered the foundation of the trinitarian persons and was, hence, logically primary in comparison (Moltmann, 1993:16). Augustine begins with the divine substance and only secondarily considers the triunity of God. For Aquinas, the divine substance, which could be abstracted from the triune persons, is what is to be called "God," not the three persons or any one of them (Moltmann, 1993:16). Thus, both Augustine and Thomas divide the doctrine of God by beginning with the unitary substance and only secondarily considering the doctrine of the Trinity in light of the preconceptions of substance ontology (i.e., "substantialist metaphysics). This methodological bifurcation of the doctrine of God has prevailed since in Western theology (Rahner, 1997:16).

The Augustinian-Thomist bifurcation of the doctrine of God has had considerable consequences for the doctrine of the Trinity in Western theology. In the textbooks of both Roman Catholic and Protestant theology, the doctrine of God has been divided into a treatise on the one God followed by a treatise on the Trinity (Moltmann, 1993:17). Only after the doctrine of the one God is fully explicated is attention given to God's triune self-revelation in salvation history. This methodological bifurcation makes it appear that everything that really matters in the doctrine of God is said in the first treatise on the one God while the treatment of the Trinity is locked away in "splendid isolation" and "devoid of interest" (Rahner, 1997:17). Don't make the mistake of thinking all this only happened in medieval Roman Catholicism: In Protestant circles, the systematic theologians Charles Hodge and Louis Berkhof both devote hundreds of pages to the explication of the existence and attributes of God before even considering the Trinity (Letham, 2004:4). Believe it or not, Charles Hodge, one of the great representatives of Calvinism, devotes only four pages to the doctrine of the Trinity in a work of systematic theology that comprises three volumes and nearly 2,300 pages (Grenz, 2004:229 n 55). Unreal!

As the bifurcation of the Western doctrine of God became rigid in medieval scholasticism, the treatise on the unitary substance of God (De Deo Uno) evolved into "natural theology," that is, philosophical speculation on the divine nature and attributes, based on pure reason, and developed rationally apart from revelation. As the Western doctrine of God was disconnected from God's self-revelation in salvation history, Christology and Pneumatology became irrelevant to the doctrine of God when the medieval philosophical speculation of natural theology was at its height (LaCugna, 1991:10, 11). Moreover, the treatise on the Trinity was relegated to secondary status and regarded merely as a formal treatment of intradivine processions, persons, and relations, so that, finally, in the seminaries of post-baroque Catholicism, the doctrine of the Trinity was hardly studied at all and regarded as not essential to Christian faith (LaCugna, 1991:167, 168). Moreover, the marginalization of the doctrine of the Trinity impacted not only theology but doxology as well. The complexities of medieval Latin theology helped to precipitate the demise of the doctrine of the Trinity in the West because the doctrine could no longer be related to the concerns of popular piety and religious experience (Grenz, 2004:13). Thus, one of the consequences of the medieval scholastic emphasis on the unity of God understood from natural theology was the marginalization of the doctrine of the Trinity in the Latin West (LaCugna, 1991:167).

Do you see what has happened? With the Augustinian-Thomist-Western emphasis on the unitary "substance" of God ("substantialist metaphysics") considered rationally in terms of human ideas of what is "proper" for God to be (immutable, impassible and generally unavailable), the doctrine of the Trinity fell along the wayside. God's Triune self-revelation in redemptive history was marginalized and no longer considered particularly relevant in the Western doctrine of God. By the time you get to more recent Protestant theologians like Berkhof and Hodge, the doctrine of the Trinity is still marginalized. The result of all this for most Christians is a fear and dread of the "hidden God" that lies "behind" God's self-revelation in salvation history. This is the God we are not sure of, the God we fear may not be like Jesus. The existential angst in the hearts of many Christians is the inevitable result of the Western bifurcation of the doctrine of God, wherein G-O-D (Baxter Kruger) has been considered apart from God's self-revelation in the incarnate Son and the Spirit. In short, the Western tradition has failed to allow Jesus to reveal the Father (cf. John 1:18).

Thomas Aquinas' bifurcation of the doctrine of God contributed to the relegation of the doctrine of the Trinity to the status of nothing more than an uninteresting, rather puzzling appendix to the doctrine that has little to do with theology or Christian piety. The situation remained thus until the early 20^th century when Karl Barth roared, "Nein!" Things are getting better, but we have a long way to go in restoring the doctrine of the Trinity to its proper place as the foundational doctrine from which all Christian dogmatics must be explicated.

P.S. Look for next major post April 30. I hope you can join me then!

References

Allen, D. & Springsted, E.O. 2007. Philosophy for Understanding Theology. Louisville, KY: Westminister John Knox. 267 pp.

Aquinas, T. 1989. Summa Theologiae: A Concise Translation (edited by T.S. M^cDermott). Allen, TX: Christian Classics. 652pp.

LaCugna, C.M. 1991. God for Us: The Trinity and Christian Life. San Francisco, CA: HarperSanFrancisco. 434pp.

M^cGrath, A.E. 2001. Christian Theology: An Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. 616pp.

Moltmann, J. 1993. The Trinity and the Kingdom (trans by M. Kohl). Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press. 256pp.

Pinnock, C.H. 2001. Most Moved Mover: A Theology of God's Openness. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic. 204pp.

Rahner, K. 1997. The Trinity: Introduction, Index, and Glossary by Catherine Mowery LaCugna. New York, NY: Crossroads. 122pp.

Sanders, J. 2007. The God Who Risks: A Theology of Divine Providence. Downers Grove, IL: IVP. 384pp.

The Wedding Cake Cosmos: Augustine & NeoPlatonism

See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception, according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world, rather than according to Christ.--The Apostle Paul (Col 2:8)

The Christian doctrine of God is a "hybrid of two organisms": Greek philosophy and biblical thought.--Colin Gunton (2003:2)

In many respects, the Christian doctrine of God is secular, constructed out of philosophy, not out of the self-revelation of God in Christ.--Catherine Mowry LaCugna (1991:3).

The Roman Catholic theologian, Karl Rahner (1970:10, 11), rightly lamented nearly forty years ago that most Christians are "mere monotheists," not in the sense of believing in one God, but in the sense of believing in a unipersonal cosmic "monad." He argued that the doctrine of the Trinity was practically irrelevant in the lives of most Christians. He went so far to say, I believe correctly, that "should the doctrine of the Trinity have to be dropped as false, the major part of religious literature could well remain virtually unchanged." That is a strong indictment of the relative unimportance of the doctrine of the Triune God in Western theology and piety. With today's post I want to begin a series of articles that trace the eclipse of the doctrine of the Trinity in the Western Church.

For sixteen hundred years, from the time of Augustine until the early 20^th century, the doctrine of the Trinity was little more than a relatively minor appendix to an already developed doctrine of the "One God." The relegation of the doctrine of the Trinity to minority status in the Western doctrine of God is directly related to the influence of pagan metaphysics on Christian thought. As my friend, theologian Robert Lucas, puts it: the Western doctrine of God is a confluence of two very different streams of thought: Greek philosophy and Holy Scripture, with the result that the "Christian" doctrine of God has been thoroughly polluted by an alien stream.

As Bloesch (1995:205) notes, "The history of Christian thought shows the unmistakable imprint of a biblical-classical synthesis in which the ontological categories of Greco-Roman philosophy have been united with the personal-dramatic categories of biblical faith." This synthesis of Greek and biblical thought was conspicuous in Augustine and Aquinas (Bloesch, 1995:206). The God of the classical-biblical synthesis is described negatively as infinite, immutable, impassible, incomprehensible and eminently as omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient. This is the distant, aloof, inscrutable deity that Baxter Kruger succinctly describes as the "omniGod," or simply G-O-D. 

Many Christians may be surprised to know that the omniGod developed, not from the scriptural attestation of God as Father, incarnate Son and Holy Spirit, but from Greek metaphysics. To be sure, Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus and others have been given equal place alongside Holy Scripture in formulating the Latin-Western doctrine of God.

As we shall see, Augustine, the Father of Western Christianity, was enamored with NeoPlatonism. Thomas Aquinas, another of the great "Doctors" of the Western Latin Church, developed his doctrine of God within the framework of the metaphysics of Aristotle. No malevolent intent is attributed to either of these Christian saints. They were simply swimming in the philosophical waters that surrounded them. Yet in developing a doctrine of God that is rooted in Greek metaphysics, they turned away from God's threefold self-revelation in redemptive history. In short, as Robert Lucas often says, they have failed to allow Jesus to reveal the Father. In so doing, they have left the Western Church with an uninvolved God who watches us from a distance―aloof, alone, and unmoved by our plight. The inscrutable omniGod of the Western-Latin tradition is very different from the self-abnegating, stooping (cf. Hosea 11:4), compassionate God revealed in Holy Scripture, particularly in its attestation to Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God and loving Savior of the world (see Pinnock, et al, 1994; Pinnock, 2001; Sanders, 2007).

So let's lighten up the tone a bit and travel back in time to the late 4^th century to see how the Good News of God's adoption of humanity into the joyful circle of Triune life, so passionately proclaimed by Irenaeus, Athanasius and the Cappadocians, was distorted into the awful proclamation of the omniGod. To do that, we must start with Augustine.

Augustine of Hippo (354-430) is known as the Father of Western Christianity. Like it or not, if you grew up in the Western Church, he's yo daddy! (You knew I couldn't stay serious forever!) Auggie is probably the major player in the development of the Western doctrine of God. His great work, De Trinitate (On the Trinity), written over a twenty year period (399-419), is not only a classic in Western trinitarian thought but also determined the course that Western trinitarian theology would follow, so that later differences between Western and Eastern trinitarian theology can be traced to this work (Gonzales, 1987:328).

Here's the deal about Auggie. For whatever reasons, he initiated a new approach to the doctrine of the Trinity. While there's nothing wrong with originality, when it comes to the doctrine of God, we do well to pay attention to what our predecessors had to say. Auggie, however, didn't do that. Rather, he failed to appropriate many of the developments in trinitarian thought that had preceded him as far back as Origen in the early third century (Gunton, 1997:39). In fact, Auggie was largely blind to the achievements of Athanasius and the Cappadocians (Jenson, 1997:111). I think Auggie rejected Athanasius and the Cappies because he didn't understand what they were saying. Part of the problem may be that Auggie spoke and wrote Latin and was not well-versed in Greek. You think!
Anyway, grab hold and follow this: Augustine did not fully comprehend the Cappadocian formulation, mia ousia, tres hypostaseis (one substance, three persons) never quite understanding what the Cappadocians meant by hypostasis (Jenson, 1997:111). Instead of translating the term as "person," Augustine translated it as substantia (substance) (Gonzales, 1987:330). In De Trinitate (Gonzales, 1987:330 n11; cf. Augustine, 1991:196), Augustine writes of the Cappadocians:

They indeed use also the word hypostasis; but they intend to put a difference, I know not what, between ousia and hypostasis: so that most of ourselves who treat these things in the Greek language, are accustomed to say, mian ousian, tres hypostases, or, in Latin, one essence, three substances [unam essentiam, tres substantias].

The essential point to note is that Auggie failed to fully comprehend the Cappadocian distinction between ousia (substance) and hypostasis (person). Look again at what he said: they (the Cappies) intend to "put a difference, I know not what, between ousia and hypostasis." So Brother Auggie wrongly translates hypostases as "substances" (substantias) and gets the notion that the Cappies must have been a bunch of wild-eyed polytheists who believed in three gods (three "substances"). I'm not putting Brother Auggie down here; there was a lot of confusion in those days in translating technical terms back and forth between Latin and Greek. Nevertheless, Auggie fails to fully appreciate the Cappadocian distinction of personhood within the deity itself, for in his translation (wherein hypostasis is equivalent to substantia), to do so would amount to tritheism (Gonzales, 1987:330). In short, Auggie seems at a loss as to how to articulate the distinctions in the Godhead. In fact, as he himself said, he merely uses the word "person" in order not to remain silent (Augustine, 1991:196).

Auggie seems stuck on the idea of the indivisible unity of God, and as a NeoPlatonist, he would have to be (see below). So whereas our boys the Cappies tend to take as their point of departure the diversity of the persons, or hypostases, and from there move to the unity of essence or ousia, Augustine begins from the essential unity of God and moves to the distinction of persons (Gonzalez, 1987:330). Some, perhaps many, would argue that Auggie never quite gets there and leaves the Western Church with an essentially modalistic view of God (God as one person, not three). Let me say all that more simply: the Cappies start with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; Auggie starts with the unitary substance of God and, arguably, never really makes it to the Triune Persons.

But what really separates Auggie from his predecessors is that he refuses to grant the importance that the diversity of persons had for the Cappies. Auggie's manner of understanding divine unity and simplicity leads him to reject every attempt to speak of God in terms of what he must have regarded as a triple being (Gonzales, 1987:330). Thus, unlike his trinitarian predecessors, Augustine insists on starting with the unity of the divine substance rather than the diversity of persons, as revealed in the economy of salvation as Father, incarnate Son, and Spirit. Augustine's failure to appreciate the Cappadocian distinction within unity is the result of his unfailing commitment to the Greek philosophical presupposition that the Deity is metaphysically simple; that is, no sort of self-differentiation can be posited in the Godhead (cf. Jenson, 1997:111). Read all that again, my homeys, this is BIG! Auggie's method of starting with the unitary substance (essence, nature) rather than the Triune Persons would become standard practice in the Western doctrine of God.

So what is going on with Brother Auggie. Why is he so committed to emphasizing the unity of God while only secondarily considering the diversity of personhood within the Triune Godhead that was so clearly appreciated by Big Basil and the two Gregs, not to mention the gunslinging Athanasius? To answer that question, we gotta' light our pipes (cigars if you are female), pour a brandy, kick back and do a little philosophizin'. And that brings us to none other than NeoPlatonism (finally!), the revival of Platonic philosophy represented especially by Plotinus (ca. 205–270), the last of the great Platonic philosophers.

Plotinus is big-time important to a discussion of Augustine's doctrine of God, for although Auggie was committed to the Lord Jesus Christ, he was deeply influenced by Neoplatonism, which, even in his mature years, he used to interpret the Bible (Pinnock, et al, 1994:80; Pinnock, 2001:69). As the Roman Catholic philosopher Étienne Gilson (2002:47) notes, Augustine boldly undertook to solve the problem of how to express the God of Christianity in terms borrowed from Plotinus. Look at that again. Already in the late 4^th century, the "Christian" doctrine of God is being packaged in a pagan wrapping, and that unseemly gift has been slipped under all our Christmas trees.

Plotinus referred to the Divine (the ultimate transcendent principle) as the "One," an impersonal, simple, absolute unity without the shadow of plurality (Allen & Springsted, 2007:57) and to which no multiplicity or division can be ascribed (Copleston, 1962:465). (Wake up, Brothers and Sisters! The lights ought to be coming on already!) In order to maintain the Greek philosophical insistence on an ontological gap between the One and the created order, Plotinus posited a series of emanations, wherein each succeeding "level" of emanation possesses less ontological significance, that is, less "being," than the prior level (Allen & Springsted, 2007:50). The material world, existing in time and space at the "lower" end of the emanational chain of being, possesses the least degree of ontological significance and is regarded as evil (Tarnas, 1991:85). (Don't miss that last point: the world is evil, per Plotinus!). As part of the material world of multiplicity, human beings have less ontological significance (less "being" or "reality") than the One. The essential point is that, in the Neoplatonic philosophy that underlies Augustine's thought, the greater the unity, the greater the "being" or "reality." Thus, as an indivisible unity, the One has greater being or reality than the distinctions (the many) that emanate from it.

Let's unpack all that high-browed talk for a moment. We've talked before about the ubiquitous ontological divide that characterizes Greek thought, the spiritual-material dualism of the ancient world. You remember: God is "way up there," aloof, alone, arelational and uninvolved; we're "way down here" and "never the twain shall meet" cause God don't dirty his hands with dirt; or so said the Greeks! So how do you get from God to the world? You posit a bunch of layers between the divine and dirt (the Gnostics did the same thing), "layers of being" that actually emanate from the One. You've seen the layers on a wedding cake. That's how Plotinus envisioned the cosmos. God is at the top layer and you "descend downward" through other layers, called "Nous" (mind) and World Soul, before you finally get to dirt where we are. Note that with each descending "layer" in our cosmic wedding cake, there is less "ontological significance." In other words, each succeeding lower level has less "reality" than the preceding level, so by the time you get to us all you have is a relatively unimportant world of impermanence, change and flux. With the cosmic wedding cake model, Plotinus keeps the unchangeable divine from being contaminated by our dirty world, insulated from us by the intervening levels of the wedding cake. So the "One" keeps its hands clean and remains unchanged (immutable) and unaffected (impassible) by what goes on down here.

Now let's catch a breath and recap: The One is simple, without the shadow of plurality. So what's the big deal? It means Plotinus and the other Greek philosophers have taken relationship right off the table in their concept of God. Do you get it? Divine simplicity d'q's (disqualifies) diversity of personhood from the git-go. In addition, this means not only is there no diversity (multiplicity) in the Godhead, the divine is also uninvolved with the world (impassible). The divine must remain aloof, alone, arelational and uninvolved, else it would somehow be conditioned by the cosmos and thus no longer immutable. In short, if the God of the philosophers were to engage creation, it would be changed and thus no longer perfect, for change in a perfect being can only be for the worse. You can see what's comin' can't you? How in the hell are you going to develop any decent doctrine of the Trinity with that kind of framework? Gimme a break!

Back to Auggie: In line with the Neoplatonic presupposition that divine unity is ontologically prior to all manifestations of multiplicity (whew!), Augustine begins his articulation of the doctrine of God with the unitary being of God, that is, the essence or substance (ousia) of God, rather than the threefold manifestation of God as Father, incarnate Son, and Spirit revealed in Scripture (Pinnock, et al, 1994:83, 84; cf. Letham, 2004:3, 4). According to Sanders (Pinnock, et al, 1994:84), "Augustine makes divine substance [essence, nature] rather than the tripersonal God the highest ontological principle. The substance of God is what is ultimately real, not the relationships between the Father, Son and Spirit—let alone the relationships between the triune God and creatures." For Augustine, in strict accordance with Neoplatonism, God is understood as a simple, unitary substance. Again, this paragraph is very important. Do you begin to see how the Triune Persons―Father, Son and Spirit―are going to get lost in all this emphasis on the unitary being of God?

In addition, there is a distinct anti-material bias in Augustine's thought. Augustine does not believe that the world is the kind of place where God's presence can be revealed, even in the humanity of Jesus (Gunton, 1997:33-38). Augustine's suspicion of the material world is reflected in his Christology, wherein he tends to emphasize the divinity of Jesus over his humanity (Gunton, 97:34). This suspicion of the material world is natural for one influenced by the Neoplatonic view of creation as the realm of evil. In his development of analogies of the Trinity (see below), Augustine finds the material world to be the least adequate source of assistance. Book XI of De Trinitate is an argument for the inferiority of the outer world as distinct from the inner rational world to serve as an analog of the Trinity (Gunton, 1997:37). Given the fundamental Greek dualism between the world of spirit and the world of matter, it would be difficult for Augustine, as a Neoplatonist, to imagine the material world as the bearer of the Divine. Hence, under the pressure of the anti-material bias of his philosophical presuppositions, Augustine would be more inclined to articulate his doctrine of God in terms of the metaphysics of substance rather than in terms of the concrete manifestation in space and time of the incarnate ("enfleshed") Son.

Because he achieves an essentially Neoplatonic understanding of God (cf. Bloesch, 1995:205), one may rightly expect a severe bifurcation of theologia (God in his eternal transcendent nature) and oikonomia (God threefold self-revelation in redemptive history) in Auggie's doctrine of God. In brief, Auggie develops his doctrine of the eternal God apart from God's self-revelation in the incarnate Son and Holy Spirit. To be sure, Auggie did not look to the material world to articulate his doctrine of the Trinity. Don't miss the point: Auggie turns away from God's historical self-revelation in time and space (the world of dirt) in order to develop his doctrine of God. Rather than inquiring into the nature of the transcendent God as revealed in Jesus Christ and the sending of the Holy Spirit, Auggie turns away from God's threefold self-revelation in salvation history to look for analogs of the Trinity in the human mind or soul (LaCugna, 1991:10; cf. Grenz: 2004:9).

In De Trinitate, Augustine articulates a "psychological analogy" of the Trinity that pointed the way Western trinitarian thinking would follow (Gonzales, 1987:334; Grenz, 2004:9). Drawing upon the scriptural revelation of man as created in the image of God (Gen 1:26), Auggie looked for traces or "vestiges" of the Trinity (vestigia trinitatis) in the human mind or soul. In order to show how something can be both one and three, he sought to articulate a doctrine of the Trinity by arguing that the human mind, with its threefold structure of memory, understanding, and will in a unitary whole, mirrors the Trinity (Gonzales, 1987:333, 334). Augustine's predilection for looking to the inner relations of the mind or soul is natural for one influenced by Platonism, wherein the human mind is regarded as a limited reflection of the Divine mind (Allen & Springsted, 2007:74).

In De Trinitate, Augustine develops a method for the self-reflexive contemplation of the image of the Trinity in the human soul (LaCugna, 1991:83). That is, to know God, one turns inward to contemplate the Trinity within. The obvious result of this inward turn, however, is a turn away from God's self-revelation in the saving acts of Christ (Grenz, 2004:9). By positing analogs of the Trinity in the human mind, Augustine develops a conceptual structure of the Trinity that is independent of God's self-revelation in salvation history. This conceptual structure is then used to interpret the doctrine of God as revealed in Scripture (Torrance, 1980:148, 149).

Let's be sure and get that last paragraph: Drawing upon the presuppositions of NeoPlatonism, Auggie turns inward to the human mind or soul to develop analogies for the Trinity. Hence, his conceptual structure for his doctrine of God is developed independently of God's self-revelation in history. He then uses that independent structure to interpret God's self-revelation in history! And no doubt, he and a lot of others who followed in his wake could cherry-pick any number of scriptures to support a doctrine of God largely developed from pagan metaphysics. AAAAGGGHHHH!!! Why didn't somebody tell me this decades ago!

OK. Let's calm down and get back to Auggie. Here's the bottom line: Auggie makes a major epistemological and methodological blunder. Think about it. If I want to know about God, where do I start looking? Inside my own head? No! I look at Jesus! But if I am a NeoPlatonist with a grudge against the material world, I won't be inclined to look toward the flesh and blood Son. Ugh! Instead, I'm gonna develop my thinking about God by turning away from the world of dirt and guts and look inside my own head, where I may dispassionately contemplate the divine mystery. Not only that, as a NeoPlatonist, I am going to emphasize divine simplicity and unitary substance to the point that the Triune Persons get lost in the ontological soup, like three bits of potato sunk in the vichyssoise. Do you see how all this works?

Let's give Catherine Mowry LaCugna, a Roman Catholic scholar, the last word. Augustine's method of turning inward to contemplate the image of the Trinity completely alters the theoretical basis for the economy of salvation by relocating the economy within the human soul rather than in the threefold pattern of God's self-revelation in redemptive history (LaCugna, 1991:10). Even though Augustine may have never intended it, his legacy is an approach to the Trinity (theologia) that is largely divorced from God's self-revelation in salvation history (oikonomia) (LaCugna, 1991:102; cf. Grenz, 2004:9).

And that, Brothers and Sisters, has been the problem ever since in the Western doctrine of God. By turning away from God's threefold self-revelation as Father, Son and Spirit, the Western Church, under the influence of pagan metaphysics, has developed a doctrine of the One God that is independent of, and completely overshadows, the Trinity, leaving God's Triune self-revelation as a mere appendix to the doctrine of the omniGod. Instead of allowing Jesus to reveal the Father, the Western-Latin tradition has left us with the inscrutable, immutable, impassible, omnipotent cosmic monster of absolute, unrelenting sovereignty that fills many Christians with dread and terror.

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References

Allen, D. & Springsted, E.O. 2007. Philosophy for Understanding Theology. Louisville, KY: Westminister John Knox. 267pp.
Augustine. 1991. De Trinitate (edited by J.E. Rotelle; translated by E. Hill). New York, NY: New City Press. 472pp.
Bloesch, D.G. 1995. God the Almighty: Power, Wisdom, Holiness, Love. Downers Grove, IL: IVP. 329pp.
Copleston, F. A History of Philosophy (vol 1). New York, NY: Doubleday). 521pp.
Gilson, E. 2002. God and Philosophy. New Haven, CT: Yale Nota Bene. 147pp.
Gonzalez, J.L. 1987. A History of Christian Thought (vol 1). Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press. 400pp.
Grenz, S.J. 2004. Rediscovering the Triune God: The Trinity in Contemporary Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress. 289pp.
Gunton, C.E. 1997. The Promise of Trinitarian Theology. London: T & T Clark. 220pp.
Gunton, C. E. 2003. Act & Being. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.
Jenson, R.W. 1997. Systematic Theology (vol 1). Oxford: OUP. 244pp.
Letham, R. 2004. The Holy Trinity. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing. 551pp.
Pinnock, C.H. et al. 1994. The Openness of God: A Biblical Challenge to the Traditional Understanding of God. Downers Grove, IL: IVP. 202pp.
Pinnock, C.H. 2001. Most Moved Mover: A Theology of God's Openness. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic. 204pp.
Rahner, K. 1970. The Trinity. New York, NY: Crossroads. 122pp.
Sanders, J. 2007. The God Who Risks: A Theology of Divine Providence. Downers Grove, IL: IVP. 384pp.
Tarnas, R. 1991. The Passion of the Western Mind. New York, NY: Ballantine. 544pp.
Torrance, T.F. 1980. The Ground and Grammar of Theology: Consonance Between Theology and Science. Edinburgh: T & T Clark. 256pp.

That's a lot of references for a blog post! I need to get a life. I think I'll go possum huntin' tonight!

A Cup o’ Cappadocian (part 2)

Greetings everyone! Have you had your cup o' Cappadocian today? I thought not. Then sit back and relax while I fire up the espresso machine and steam the milk (2%, of course). And by the way, I'm gonna add a heapin' tablespoon of sugar for one or two of you, 'cause you need it!

Last time, we started talking about those wild and crazy Cappadocians. You remember those brothers, don't you? There's three of 'em: Big Basil and the two Gregs, sometimes known as Basil the Great, Gregory Nyssa and Gregory Nazianzus. These dudes were pretty smart. They described the Triune God as one ousia (substance, nature, essence) in three hypostases (persons). They used the term ousia (oo-SEE-uh) to capture the oneness or unity of the Godhead, that is, what is common to the divine Persons; then they grabbed hold of the Greek word hypostases (hi-PASTA-seez) to capture the diversity or distinctions within the Triune Godhead (the Father is not the Son; the Son is not the Father . . .). According to the "Cappadocian Settlement" of the Trinitarian controversies of the 4^th century, God eternally exists as mia ousia, treis hypostaseis (one substance, three persons). Man, the Cappies knew how to spit out a mouthful in a few words!

But we haven't even started appreciating how smart these brothers were. I guarantee you, all three of them graduated the 6^th grade! If we really want to appreciate their work, we gotta wrap our minds around some Greek philosophy. I know we'd all rather talk about fishin' or football or making biscuits, but we gotta do what we gotta do. So, like it or not, we need to know a smidgen ("a little bit" ) about the philosophical milieu (say what?) in which these boys lived and worked. So pay attention and try not to fall sleep.

In the Hellenistic (Greek) thought of the day, the divine (what the TV preachers call "Gawd") was regarded as an absolute unity, simple in its essence (substance) without characteristics of any kind and not subject to change (immutability). The divine was way up there, all by its lonesome: aloof, distant and unaffected by this world of dirt down here (impassibility). Furthermore, the divine was considered impersonal and arelational (lacking relationship), for relationship in the Deity was a "no-no," because it would compromise the all-important Greek insistence on divine simplicity (more in next post).

Against the philosophical milieu (there's that word again!) of their day, our boys the Cappies launched a philosophical revolution by countering the prevailing tendency of Greek thought, which was to view the divine as a simple undifferentiated essence. Because they began their thinking about God with God's redemptive acts in the economy (oikonomia) of salvation as revealed in the incarnate Son (and the gift of the Spirit), the Cappies found it necessary to clearly articulate the exact nature of the Father-Son relationship (LaCugna, pp. 60ff). In articulating the eternal relationship between the Father and the Son, they challenged the established view of Greek philosophy by giving ontological primacy to person over nature (i.e., substance, essence) (Schwöbel, pp. 52, 53). This may not sound like a big deal, but it is. Don't miss this point: In exact opposition to Greek philosophy, the Cappies give person (multiplicity!) greater ontological significance than unitary essence. This is important; it matters! It means we can start talking about God in terms of persons in relationship rather than in the then prevailing Greek notion of God as unitary (undifferentiated) substance. We don't have to retreat into "substantialist metaphysics" (sounds high falutin' don't it!), lost in deep philosophical contemplation of the divine essence considered apart from God's triune self-revelation in salvation history (oikonomia).

You see, the Cappies didn't think about God as simple, arelational substance (Augustine and Aquinas, however, would buy into that big time!). They understood that the Father-Son relationship is an eternal relationship characteristic of God's transcendent Being, not merely a temporary economic (historical) manifestation of the Godhead. Thus, they began their thinking about God in the very un-Greek way of persons in relationship. According to John Zizioulas (a big time Greek orthodox type):

If, therefore, we wish to follow the Cappadocians in their understanding of the Trinity in relation to monotheism, we must adopt an ontology which is based on personhood, i.e. on a unity or openness emerging from relationships, and not one of substance (Schwöbel, p. 52).

Similarly, John Sanders writes:

[The Cappadocians] emphasized divine relationality in their debates with Eunomius, [a neo-Arian bishop] who claimed that God was a simple essence (not composed of any parts) and so the Son and Spirit could not be fully God: God is devoid of internal relations [per Eunomius]. In response, the Cappadocians claimed that the terms "Father" and "Son" referred to the relation between the Father and Son. In so doing, they held that person, not substance, was the ultimate metaphysical category and thus claimed that God was supremely relational. 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 (Sanders, pp. 147-148. Here Sanders closely follows LaCugna, pp. 14, 63-66).

Do you see? Let me recap: Rather than develop a metaphysics of substance based on the Greek philosophical presupposition that God is utterly simple and arelational, the Cappadocians asserted that person is the supreme ontological principle and, in so doing, they understood the Godhead as eternally and supremely relational . Unlike the philosophers, they did not regard substance (ousia) as an abstract principle to be considered apart from the concrete particularities of the divine persons: Father, Son, and Spirit (LaCugna, p. 69; also see previous post). Rather, they saw that the divine persons in relationship among themselves constitute the "Being" of God (Gunton, p. 86). In the Cappadocians' trinitarian ontology, the Triune Persons exhaust the Godhead without remainder. As LaCugna notes, "[T]here is no ousia apart from the hypostases." Gunton (p. 86) asserts , "[T]ogether the persons in relation to one another constitute the 'being' of God. So the 'being' of God is simply what the persons are one to another." God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. There is no fourth "something," no unknown substance, no substratum, hidden behind or lying beneath the Triune Persons.

To fully appreciate the Cappadocian contribution, we gotta compare their approach to the Augustinian-Thomist-Western approach to the doctrine of God. (We'll get more of the Augustinian-Thomist approach in future posts). Nowadays, just about everyone knows that the Eastern (Greek) theologians begin their articulation of the nature of God with the Triune Persons (diversity) and move from there to the essence (unity) of the Godhead. The Western (Latin) approach is just the opposite: Western theologians, following Augustine (who was deeply influenced by Neoplatonism) and, later, Thomas Aquinas (influenced by Aristotelianism), begin their articulation of the doctrine of God with the unitary substance (essence, nature) of God and from there work toward the Triune Persons (some would argue that they never quite get there). We'll explore why this is so in an upcoming post.

In relation to the Latin emphasis on the unitary substance, Western theology tends to speak of the Godhead as "three 'relations' subsisting in the 'Being' of God" (Gunton, p. 86). I have often tried to picture what the Latin theologians are getting at. To risk the absurd, it sounds like they are describing three eggs. Have you had a fried egg sandwich lately? I'll think I'll have one for lunch. Here's what you do: You break out the salt, pepper, mayo and Bunny Bread, slick down the cast iron skillet with bacon grease, then heat it up till the grease starts smelling oh so fine! Next, you crack three eggs on the edge of the kitchen counter, being careful not to let the egg white drip into the cutlery drawer, then you carefully drop the eggs into the skillet and sort of let them run together and become one big egg with three yokes staring up at you. Notice that the yokes are in the egg but they don't constitute the whole thing. There's a lot of egg white left over, surrounding the yokes. It seems to me that's how Western trinitarian theologians, following Augustine, describe the Trinity. The Persons do not constitute the Being of God; rather, they are just somehow in there ("subsisting" in the Being of God). The problem may be obvious to those of you who remember the previous post. Describing the Godhead as three "subsistences" in the Being of God seems to suggest that the Being of God is something more than the Triune Persons, a fourth "something" that underlies the divine Persons. According to Gunton (p. 87), "If you say that the persons are subsistences in the 'being' of God, then you are implying that the 'being' of God is different from the 'persons'. If something 'subsists' in God then what is this 'being'?" In Western (Latin) theology, it appears that the "real" Being of God remains hidden, lying somehow beyond God's Triune self-revelation in salvation history (oikonomia). That thought causes me to shudder, because it means that the "deepest truth" (Baxter Kruger) about God is not fully and accurately revealed in Jesus.

Not to worry, however! Let's look at the Eastern (Greek) approach as articulated by the Cappies, building on Athanasius. If we start with God's self-revelation in salvation history (oikonomia) as Father, Son and Spirit, we are immediately thrown into the arena of relationship, for "Father" and "Son" are relational terms: the Father loves the Son in the Spirit; the Son loves the Father in the Spirit. As Baxter Kruger has said often, "To say the name of Jesus is to say the Father's Son." And then we are right into the middle of the Triune Godhead, who eternally exists as Father, Son and Spirit. For the Cappies, the Triune Persons, in their perichoretic interrelatedness (relationship!), are the Being of God. The Triune Persons constitute the Being of God, so that there is no unrevealed fourth "something" left over, no "deep truth" about God that is hidden from us. Remember the Nicene assertion that Jesus is homoousios to Patri, that is, "of one substance with the Father." The Nicene Creedal language encapsulates the supremely assuring truth that when we look at Jesus, we see God as God is. Jesus is the self-revelation of God. As he himself said, "Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father." There is no God hidden behind the back of Jesus (Torrance).

So here is a brief comparison of the Western (Latin) and Eastern (Greek) approaches to the doctrine of God:

• The West begins with speculation on the unitary substance of God , cast in terms of the substantialist metaphysics of Greek philosophy (speculation on the substance or being of God considered apart from God's self-revelation in salvation history), and subsequently construes the Godhead as three "subsistences" in the Being of God. Hence, Being appears to underlie the Triune Persons. Arguably, by starting with the unitary Being of God, the West never quite makes it to the Triune Persons and ends up with modalism (God as a unipersonal monad). As Colin Gunton (p. 87) says, "[I]f you scratch the surface of many Western theologians you find modalism."

• The East begins with the Triune Persons in relationship and subsequently understands the Being of God as constituted by the Triune Persons without remainder. Thus the Being of God cannot be considered in the abstract apart from the concrete particularities of the Father, Son and Spirit in their perichoretic interrelatedness; there is, therefore, no unknown God hidden behind the back of Jesus. Furthermore, in the Eastern approach, the doctrine of God is intimately united to God's salvific self-revelation in redemptive history in the incarnate Son and the gift of the Spirit (this is especially true of Athanasius, whom the Cappies followed). Note: For a doctrine of God to be biblical, it must be explicated in terms of God's salvific acts for us in the incarnate Son and the gift of the Spirit; that is, God as revealed. Hence, Theology Proper (the doctrine of God) must be united to Soteriology (the doctrine of salvation). This vital connection has been lost in the Western doctrine of God with frightening implications.

By giving "person" ontological priority over "substance" (being, essence), the Cappies (following Athanasius) turned upside down the Greek world with its distant, aloof, impersonal and uncaring deity. By beginning with God's Triune self-revelation, Big Basil and the two Gregs developed their doctrine of God in terms of the Father's relationship with the incarnate Son, who is homoousios to Patri. Thanks to Athanasius, the Cappies, and many others, we can rest in the profound assurance that in the infinitely loving, compassionate eyes of Jesus, we peer deeply into the heart of the Triune God, who is eternally God for us! Hurray for the Cappadocian Fathers! That's what I'm talkin' 'bout! P.S. We'll be getting to NeoPlatonism, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas and substantialist metaphysics in upcoming posts. I know you can't wait!

References

Gunton, C.E. 2007. The Barth Lectures. Transcribed and edited by P.H. Brazier. London: T & T Clark. 285pp.

LaCugna, C.M. 1991. God for Us: The Trinity and Christian Life. San Francisco, CA: HarperSanFrancisco. 434pp.

Sanders, J.E. 2007. The God Who Risks: A Theology of Divine Providence. Downers Grove, IL: IVP. 384 pp.

Schwöbel, C. (ed). 1995. Trinitarian Theology Today. Edinburgh: T & T Clark. 176pp.

A Cup o’ Cappadocian (Part 1)

How do you like your Cappadocian? Decaf or leaded? Whole milk or skinny? Whipped cream on top or naked? How about a shot of hazelnut syrup to sweeten us up a bit today? You look like you could use it! Chocolate chip cookie with that? Now we're talkin'! That'll be $6.75 please.

As good as that sounds, the kind of Cappadocian we'll be talking about today ain't available at Starbucks. Fact is, we gotta go back to the pre-Starbucks days, all the way back to the fourth century to learn about the theological trio known as the Cappadocian Fathers. In case you didn't already know it (And of course most of you do. Not!), Cappadocia was located in Asia Minor, or modern day Turkey. There were three Cappadocian Fathers: Big Basil, his little brother Greg and their cousin Greg (Basil the Great, Gregory Nyssa and Gregory Nazianzus). These dudes were major players in those days. In fact Gregory Nazianzus presided over the Second Ecumenical Council at Constantinople (381 A.D) where they put the finishing touches on the Nicene Creed.

To appreciate what the Cappies did, you gotta get into a fourth century mind set. Remember, this was a time of great theological turmoil regarding the doctrine of God. Everybody was working late, burning the candles low, trying to figure out a way to talk about God that made sense of the biblical revelation. Face it: what would you do, Bubba? On the one hand, we've always believed in one God; yet on the other hand, God has lately fully revealed himself as Father, Son and Holy Spirit? I mean, give me a break! One? Three? What's going on here? How do we put this together in a way that half-way makes sense?

Not to worry though. We've got several options already making the rounds out there. There are always the subordinationists. They say the way to protect the unity (oneness) of God is to make the Son and Spirit junior gods, something less than the real thing. That way the Father can remain all alone in his unique oneness and we'll make both the Jews and the Greeks happy. These folks thought they had a winner. Then, of course, there were the modalists. You remember them, don't you? They've been around since the second century. They were saying that God is really just one person, not three. So what's the big deal about all this one and three stuff? (For the answer to that question, see my previous post entitled, "One or Three?"). Finally there were the tritheists who said, "What the heck. Let's call it three gods and let it go at that." But not many took them seriously. So basically, we've got to figure out a way to steer between the subordinationists on one hand and the modalists on the other. In other words, we've got to protect the oneness (unity) of God; we've got to account for all three persons of the Godhead (diversity), and we've got to keep everybody equal to avoid subordinationism and to keep Athanasius from comin' down on our heads!

But I know what you're thinking. Some bright folks are wondering: But what about Tertullian? All the way back in the second century he was saying that God was una substantia, tres persona (one substance, three persons). True enough, Bubba. But Tertullian was way over in western Africa writing in Latin, so he hadn't really caught on over in the eastern, Greek speaking part of the empire where the fireworks were really happening.

So here's the deal: This is what the Cappies were up against. How do we maintain the biblical revelation that God is one while also maintaining the equally biblical revelation that God eternally exists as Father, Son and Holy Spirit? Many of us today could probably give a reasonable answer to that question. But remember, in the fourth century no one had clearly articulated a theology that maintained both the unity and diversity of the Godhead. This is what Big Basil and the two Gregs brought to the table (building on the work of Athanasius). Their formulation of the doctrine of the Trinity is known as the "Cappadocian Settlement." Despite the influence of Augustine (who went off on his own track), so much of what we say about the doctrine of the Trinity today is rooted in the work of the Cappadocians. So pour a cup, kick back and relax, 'cause we're gonna be here a while. Here we go!

Based upon their understanding of the triune pattern of biblical revelation, the Cappadocians argued that God exists as one substance, essence, being or nature (Gr. ousia oo-SEE-ah) in three persons (hypostases hi-PASTA-seez) (Gonzales, 1987:287; cf Olson, 1999:174ff). For the Cappadocians, ousia (substance, essence, being or nature) is the unifying principle of the Godhead; hypostasis (hi-PASTA-sis, person) is the principle of distinction (cf Jenson, 1995:105). The Cappadocian formula (one ousia, three hypostases) preserves both the unity (oneness) and the diversity (threeness) of the Godhead. Thus, the Cappadocians articulated the trinitarian grammar that would allow the Church to speak of God as one substance or essence (ousia) in three persons (hypostases)—One in Three; Three in One. (The formal Cappadocian statement in Greek is mia ousia, treis hypostaseis, one substance, essence or nature; three persons). Cool!

Articulating a fine distinction between hypostasis and ousia to defend the ontological equality of the divine persons, the Cappadocians asserted that the Son is distinct from the Father in terms of hypostasis but equal in terms of ousia (substance or essence) (LaCugna, 1991:70). Did you get all that! The Cappadocians are boo-coo smart. Ousia gives us unity and equality. The Triune Persons are the same in ousia; hence, equally God. (They are all homo-ousios, "same substance." Remember our last post?) At the same time, the Triune Persons are distinct in terms of hypostasis (person). The Father is not the Son; the Son is not the Father. That gives us the multiplicity or diversity of the Godhead. So there you go. Goodbye subordinationism. Goodbye modalism. Hello trinitarian orthodoxy.

Let's sum it up real simple like:

• ousia (substance, essence, being, nature) accounts for the unity and equality of the Godhead. "Hear O Israel, The Lord is one."
• hypostasis (person) accounts for the diversity of the Godhead. The Father is not the Son; the Son is not the Father . . .
• We maintain unity, equality and diversity by saying that the Son is equal with the Father in terms of ousia, yet distinct in terms of hypostasis. The Father and Son are one substance or essence (ousia) but distinct persons (hypostases). Ditto with the Spirit.

Simple! Only took a few centuries to work it out!

Nevertheless, because of the Cappies' assertion that there are three distinct hypostases (persons) in the Godhead, some of the folks started hollerin' "Foul!" They thought Big Basil and the two Gregs were actually closet tritheists (believing in three gods, not one). So the Cappies had to get down to the real nitty gritty in their thinking. Here's what they came up with:

The distinction between substance (ousia) and person (hypostasis) does not mean that the three divine persons can be thought of as independent autonomous beings (Schwöbel, 1995:50). Rather, at the heart of the Trinity, the Cappadocians saw an interpersonal communion (koinonia) or fellowship, wherein communion is a function of all three persons of the Godhead. Hence, the being of God is interpersonal, that is, internally relational with each person related to the others in "reciprocal delight" (O'Collins, 1999:131, 132). In the Cappadocian doctrine of God, we see the incipient concept of perichoresis, that is, the "being-in-one-another" of the persons of the Trinity. "In a unique 'coinherence' or mutual penetration, each of the trinitarian persons is transparent to and permeated by the other two" (O'Collins, 1999:132). The concept of perichoresis precludes the charge of tritheism in Cappadocian theology with its inherent affirmation that the divine persons must be understood, not in terms of individual subjectivity, but in terms of intersubjectivity (O'Collins, 1999:132).

Wow! We gotta give that wild Irish Jesuit O'Collins some big time credit for that statement. The triune persons are not three separate Gods out there, each doing his own thing. Rather the three divine Persons exist in an eternal fellowship of "reciprocal delight" and harmony of will, intent, and purpose. In other words, the fellowship in the Godhead is a communion, not of individual subjectivity, but of INTER-subjectivity. Way to go, O'Collins! Cool stuff! (P.S. Much more needs to be said about perichoresis, but we'll leave that for another day. O'Collins captures the essential point).

As Zizioulas (Schwöbel, 1995:47) notes, the Cappadocians further avoided the charge of tritheism by suggesting that ousia was a general category that could apply to more than one individual. For example, humanity is a general category that applies to Larry, Mo and Curley, who are three hypostases (persons) that share a common ousia or nature (humanity). LaCugna (1991:67) develops the analogy further, noting also that Gregory of Nyssa compares the substantial unity (consubstantiality) of the divine persons to the consubstantiality of human persons. The word "humanity" can refer to more than one individual person. Larry, Mo and Curley are all humans, yet they remain distinct and unique individuals. While each person (or "stooge" in this case) retains his uniqueness and diversity, all three stooges share the same ousia (essence, nature, or substance). Their common ousia is humanity (anthropos). Because they possess the same ousia, the three hypostases—Larry, Mo and Curley—are homoousios (of the same substance). Similarly, the Father, Son, and Spirit are three distinct hypostases who share one common ousia (theos or Godness); that is, they are three divine Persons who share the same essence, nature, or substance (they are homo-ousios). All are theos; that is, all are God. Said another way: What Father, Son and Spirit are is the same; who each is, is unique and distinct. [As an aside, Olson (1999:194) provides a simple but useful way to understand the Cappadocian formula, wherein "what-ness" (ousia) and "who-ness" (hypostasis) are distinguished. The Godhead may be described as three "who's" in one "what."]

Simply stated, the Cappies are trying to avoid the charge of tritheism by showing that three distinct "somethings" can share one nature, just as three people share the same human nature. That's great as far as it goes. But analogies are never perfect, and this one is fraught with difficulties. To be sure, many scholars have noted the problems, even dangers, in the Cappadocian analogy of three humans sharing a common nature. As Zizioulas (Schwöbel, 1995:48, 49) notes, the analogy of Larry, Mo and Curley is problematic because it refers to three people, whereas the Trinity is not three Gods, but one God. Moreover, human nature both precedes and continues after the existence of an individual human being. In other words, human nature exists apart from Larry, Mo and Curley. It existed before the Stooges took the stage and it continues after the last pie in the face is thrown. LaCugna (1991:69) warns, therefore, against the mistake of thinking of ousia in abstract terms, divorced from the three hypostases. For example, one may think of human nature in general, abstract terms apart from the concrete particularities of Larry, Mo and Curley, as when one says, "It's just human nature . . ." This kind of thinking, however, does not apply to the divine ousia. Unlike human beings, with God it is impossible to say that nature (substance, essence, being) precedes person or exists apart from it because the three persons of the Trinity do not share a pre-existing nature but rather coincide with it. In Cappadocian theology, ousia expresses concrete, not abstract, existence. "Each divine person is the divine ousia; the divine ousia exists hypostatically, and there is no ousia apart from the hypostases" (LaCugna, 1991:69).

Folks, I cannot overstate how important that last point is. We gotta get this if western Christianity is ever to fully return to the ancient catholic faith articulated by Irenaeus, Hilary, Athanasius, the Cappadocians and many others. So let's unpack LaCugna's last statement, "There is no ousia (substance, nature) apart from the hypostases (persons)." In plain speak, there is no unknown, mysterious, abstract essence of God (ousia) that exists apart from the Father, Son and Spirit as revealed in salvation history (oikonomia). If the ousia (substance, essence) of God existed apart from the Triune Persons, then the ousia of God would be a "fourth something," as Colin Gunton puts it, that exists in addition to the Triune Persons. And that is a major "no-no" because that would mean that the "deepest truth" (Baxter Kruger) about God is something other than what has been revealed in God's threefold self-revelation in salvation history as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Against the speculative theology of Thomas Aquinas and subsequent medieval scholasticism, there is no divine ousia to be considered in the abstract apart from the Triune Persons. The Triune Persons in their perichoretic interrelations are the ousia of God! The fellowship of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, dwelling eternally in reciprocal delight, is the ousia of God, and there is no ousia to be considered apart from that divine fellowship.

But wouldn't you know it, so much of the horrid awful-ness of the western doctrine of God comes right out of the tendency, inspired by Greek philosophy (the bane of the western doctrine of God), to talk about the ousia of God in abstract terms apart from God's threefold self-revelation in salvation history as Father, Son and Spirit. Yet if we talk about the essence of God as if it were something other than what has been revealed in Christ and the Spirit, we invariably end up with a god very different from the all-loving, self-sacrificing Triune God revealed in Jesus. In short, we end up with the immutable, impassible deity of Greek philosophy. If we follow Augustine and Aquinas and start with "substantialist metaphysics" (philosophical speculation on the substance or nature of God considered apart from God's triune self-revelation in salvation history), we end up with what Baxter Kruger calls the "omni-God," or what I call the "cosmic ogre" or "monster God." You remember him don't you, the all-powerful (omnipotent), all knowing (omniscient), ever present (omnipresent) pissed off deity who can't wait to send you to hell! But alas! I digress. More on this in future post.

Here's the essential point: Our speech about God must begin with God's self-revelation, not with our own speculative ideas about the Godhead. Methodologically, we always start with Jesus (or, as the Irish say, "JAY-sus!") and move from him to the Father and right into the heart of the Triune Godhead. That way we don't get distracted with speculative, "cosmological" proofs about the nature of God based on an unbiblical framework like Aristotilean metaphysics. Sorry, Thomas Aquinas. Brilliant saint that you are, I wish you had paid closer attention to Athanasius and less to Aristotle. Let's move on.

Regarding the problems in the Cappies' analogy of three human beings sharing a common nature: In the Triune God, the one (ousia) not only does not precede the many (hypostases) but, to the contrary, requires the many for its existence. It is, therefore, impossible to say that in the Triune God any one of the three divine persons exists apart from the others. As Zizioulas (Schwöbel, 1995:48) argues, "The three constitute such an unbreakable unity that individualism is absolutely inconceivable in their case. The three persons of the Trinity are thus one God, because they are so united in an unbreakable communion (koinonia) that none of them can be conceived apart from the rest." In short, the unity (ousia) and multiplicity (hypostases) of the Godhead are like two sides of a coin, wherein it is impossible for one to exist without the other. Unlike humanity, multiplicity in God does not involve a division of the divine nature nor does the unity of the Godhead (ousia) exist logically prior to or apart from the three divine persons (hypostases). Goodbye tritheism.

The Cappadocians, and their older contemporary Athanasius, contributed immeasurably to the settlement of the trinitarian controversies of the fourth century. As a result of their work, the second great ecumenical council at Constantinople (381 A.D.) added language to the creed developed at Nicæa to provide what is known to Christians throughout the world as the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed. The council included the key Nicene affirmations regarding the deity of the Son and added language regarding the third person of the Trinity to assert that the Holy Spirit is Lord and giver of life and to be worshipped with the Father and Son (Jenson, 1995:107). The creed established the formal doctrine of the Trinity as worked out by Athanasius and the Cappadocians and is regarded as the orthodox summary of the faith by all major branches of the Christian Church (Olson 1999:173).

P.S. There is much more to be said about the Cappadocians and the philosophical revolution they launched by countering the prevailing Greek thought of the day. See you in Part 2 for another "Cup o' Cappadocian!"

References

Gonzalez, J.L. 1987. A History of Christian Thought (vol 1). Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press. 400pp.

Jenson, R.W. 1997. Systematic Theology (vol 1). Oxford: OUP. 244pp.

LaCugna, C.M. 1991. God for Us: The Trinity and Christian Life. San Francisco, CA: HarperSanFrancisco. 434pp.

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.

Schwöbel, C. (ed). 1995. Trinitarian Theology Today. Edinburgh: T & T Clark. 176pp.

God of God: One Substance with the Father

In the fourth century, amidst great theological controversy, the Church Fathers hammered out the foundational assertions of the Christian faith in the creed articulated at the first ecumenical council at Nicaea (AD 325) and reaffirmed and elaborated at the second council at Constantinople (AD 381). The Creed, known today as the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed (or simply the Nicene Creed), is accepted by all branches of Christianity, including Roman Catholic, Protestant, Evangelical, and Eastern Orthodox. The Nicene Creed is trinitarian in its structure, addressing first the Father, then the Son and Spirit.

In regard to Jesus Christ, the Fathers went to great length to state in precise terms the New Testament witness that Jesus Christ is God. Carefully choosing their words, the Fathers asserted in the Creed that Jesus is "the only begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father (Greek: homoousios to Patri homo-oo-SEE-us toe PA-tree) . . ." The phrase, "being of one substance with the Father" (homoousios to Patri) means that Jesus is the same in being, nature, essence or substance as the Father. Just as our children are as fully human as we are (they share equally in our humanity), Jesus, the eternally begotten Son, is "just as God" as the Father; he shares equally in the Godness of the Father. To say that Jesus is "one substance with the Father" (homoousios to Patri) is to assert against the Arians that Jesus is not less than God. It is to assert against the semi-Arians (see previous post) that Jesus is not merely "like" God. To the contrary, Jesus is God—of the same essence, nature, or being as the Father. To be a bit more technical, the Father and Son are one in being (ousia) while distinct in personhood (hypostasis). In short, while Jesus is personally distinct from the Father (against modalism), Jesus is no less divine than the Father (against Arianism). Against all forms of ontological subordinationism, Jesus is fully divine, the eternally begotten Son of the Father, "God of God."

The Content of revelation

In sending his only begotten Son into the world, the Father does not send us mere information about himself. Nor does he send only a moral example, that is, a good man who shows us how to live a godly life. Rather than leave us floundering, lost in our darkness, trying to discover who God is, our loving Father sends the Son who is homoousios to Patri: the same in nature, essence, and being as the Father. Jesus Christ is nothing less than God toward us, God in our midst, and God for us! Revelation is the act of God's self-communication, wherein the Revealer and the Revelation are one. It is both God who reveals and God who is revealed. To say that Jesus is homoousios to Patri is to say that the content of God's revelation is God himself. In short, Jesus is The Revelation of God.

Because Jesus is "one substance with the Father," we have real and accurate knowledge of God, for God has revealed himself from a point within his own eternal Triune Being. Against the Greek philosophers who based their knowledge of God on rational speculation; against Augustine, who, under the influence of NeoPlatonism, looked inward to the human mind or soul to find "vestiges" of the Trinity (vestigias trinitatis); and against the medieval Dominican friar Thomas Aquinas, who used Aristotelian metaphysics to articulate "proofs" of God based on the observable, empirical phenomena in creation, God has revealed himself in accordance with his own nature by sending his divine Son, who is of the same essence or being as the Father (homoousios to Patri). Moreover, in sending his Son into the world, God has revealed himself in a form comprehensible to human understanding. The eternally begotten Son has come among us as a human being like us: the Son of Mary, Jesus of Nazareth. To know God, we look to Jesus, for only the Son knows the Father (Mt 11:27). He is the express image of God (Heb 1:3), the fullness of God in bodily form (Col 2:9).

Revelation and reconciliation

After asserting the ontological (having to do with being, essence, nature) oneness between the Father and the Son, the Creed immediately articulates the soteriological (having to do with human salvation) implications of homoousios to Patri. In accordance with the New Testament witness to Christ, the Creed describes Jesus as the one "Who for us men, and for our salvation came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary and was made man, and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate." The Apostle Paul tells us that in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself (2Cor 5:19; Col 1:20; Eph 1:9,10)). According to Colyer (2001:78), "Throughout reconciliation, in all that Jesus Christ is and does for us, there is an unbroken homoousial relation in being and activity between the incarnate Son and God the Father." Not only are the Father and Son one in being, they are also one in agency, that is, in their creative and redemptive activity for us. The Nicene phrase, homoousios to Patri, clearly asserts that not only is there no division between the being of the Son and the being of the Father, but also there is no division in the acts of the Son and the acts of God (Torrance, 1995:137). The saving and reconciling acts of Jesus are nothing less than the very salvific acts of God "for us men and our salvation." According to Torrance (1996:5), we can never think accurately of God apart from God's saving and redemptive activity in Jesus. Torrance writes: "It is of course because God actively loves us, and actually loves us so much that he has given us his only Son to be the Saviour of the world, that he reveals himself to us as the Loving One, and as he whose Love belongs to his innermost Being as God. . . . It is precisely as this living, loving, and acting God that he has come to us in Jesus Christ and unites us to himself by his one Spirit . . . all in order to be our God and to have us for his people" (Torrance, 1996:5). "It is in the Cross of Christ," Torrance continues, "that the utterly astonishing nature of the Love that God is has been fully disclosed, for in refusing to spare his own Son whom he delivered up for us all, God has revealed that he loves us more than he loves himself" (Torrance, 1996:5; italics added).

Furthermore, the Nicene homoousion ("of one substance") applies not only to the ontological oneness of the Father and Son; it applies also to Jesus as the Son of Man. If Jesus is not of one substance with the Father (homoousiois to Patri), then his redemptive acts are not the acts of God and have no salvific effect, for only God can save. On the other hand, if Jesus is not homoousios (of the same substance) with us, that is, fully human as we are, then his saving actions do not reach us in the depths of our fallen humanity. As Colyer (2001:81) notes, following Torrance, if Jesus were not fully human like us, "All that Christ has done would have no connection with our side of the chasm between humanity and God created by human sin, guilt and alienation. To be mediator, Jesus Christ has to be as fully human as he is homoousios with God the Father." In the one person of Jesus Christ, both divinity and humanity are joined together in reconciling union. Jesus himself encompasses both sides of the relationship between God and humanity. As the Second Adam, Jesus has recapitulated (lit. "re-headed") the human race. He has reversed the Fall and undone the work of Adam (to borrow Baxter Kruger's phrase). By bringing his divine nature to bear upon human flesh, Jesus has sanctified humanity and presented us, redeemed and reconciled, to the Father. In the incarnate Son of God, who is both fully divine and fully human, the one who is the express image of the Father and the revelation of the Triune God, both revelation and reconciliation are one. In the incarnate Person of Jesus, revelation is reconciliation.

The Evangelical significance of the homoousion

As Torrance (1995:132) asks, what would it mean if Jesus were not homoousios to Patri? If Jesus were not "one substance with the Father," it would mean that God has not revealed himself in accordance with his own nature. It would mean that God remains inscrutable, unknown because unrevealed. It would mean that we cannot be sure that God is for us. According to Torrance (1995:133), "If what God is in himself and what he is in the Lord Jesus Christ were not the same, there would be no identity between God and the content of his revelation and no access for mankind to the Father through the Son and in the Spirit. Hence we would be left completely in the dark about God." If Jesus were not homoousios to Patri, God would appear to us something like what Dallas Willard called "an unblinking cosmic stare." As Torrance (1995:134) notes, if Jesus were not the revelation of God, our talk about God would be mere mythology, not theology. We would be left with nothing more than the remote, static, disengaged Unmoved Mover of Aristotle and Aquinas. Moreover, and far more disheartening, if Jesus were not homoousios to Patri, there would be no ontological (having to do with being) or epistemological (having to do with how we know what we know) connection between the love of Jesus and the love of the Father.

Thankfully, our loving Father is the God who chooses to reveal himself. He is the God who, in his sovereign freedom, determines to be God for us (God pro nobis)! In sending Jesus, God reveals himself as God eternally is. According to Torrance (1995:135), "The homoousion asserts that God is eternally in himself what he is in Jesus Christ, and, therefore, that there is no dark unknown God behind the back of Jesus Christ, but only he who is made known to us in Jesus Christ." As Jesus himself said, "Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9) and "I am in the Father and the Father is in me" (Jn 14:11) and "I and the Father are one" (Jn 10:30). There is no other God than the God revealed in Jesus; there is no inscrutable deity whose purposes for us are uncertain. To know God, we must look to his Son, for Jesus is the self-definition of God. God is not different in his eternal being than in the loving, saving activity of Jesus for us. In short, the Father and Son are one in being and act. Thus, the evangelical significance of the homoousion is the incredibly good news that in the loving eyes of Jesus—the healer of the sick, the friend of sinners and outcasts, the Lamb of God who has taken away the sin of the world—we peer deeply into the very loving heart of the Triune God, for the heart of the Father is not different from the heart of the Son. Halleluiah!

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References

Colyer, E. 2001. How to Read T.F. Torrance: Understanding His Trinitarian & Scientific Theology. Downers Grove, IL: IVP. 393pp.

Torrance, T.F. 1995. The Trinitarian Faith: The Evangelical Theology of the Ancient Catholic Church. London: T & T Clark. 345pp.

Torrance, T.F. 1996. The Christian Doctrine of God, One Being Three Persons. London: T& T Clark. 260pp.

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.

Arians are Not Skinheads

Hey, everyone. Before we get started with the new post I wanted to mention something. Since this blog started, some friends and relatives have subscribed who have other things to do than study theology. So what I'm going to do is use the fancy theological lingo for the budding theologians among us and then translate it into street-speak for the normal people. So here we go!

In the fourth century, a real ruckus broke out between the popular deacon Arius, and his bishop Alexander. The fireworks started down around Alexandria (Egypt, not Louisiana). Like so many of the day, Arius wanted to protect the monarchy of the Father (mone-arche, "one principle"). That is, there is only one divine principle of Deity in the Godhead, and that is the Father. To say that the Son was divine would split up the Godhead, or so they thought, so they naturally agued that the Son was less than fully divine, sort of a subprime version of deity. Arius argued that the Son was a creature, a created being like the rest of us, yet he gave the nod to the Son's greatness by conceding that he was the first and greatest among creatures. To sum up his insistence that the Son was created and hence did not eternally exist, Arius maintained that "there was a time when he was not." Arius must have been very popular, for in Alexandria, riots broke out as his followers marched in the streets, carrying signs saying, "There was when he was not." (I'm not making this up!) Even in the pubs, people made up drinking songs in tribute to Arius' teaching. You have to give Arius credit: How many of us preachers and teachers have had people write drinking songs about what we have to say?

Now, I don't want to make the Arians out as bad guys. I doubt they were. The traditional text book view of them, however, is that they were Jesus-haters who couldn't accept his divinity. But recent scholarship says that ain't so. Arius' concern was primarily soteriological (having to do with human salvation). He thought that in order to be saved, we had to submit to the will of the Father in the same way the Son did. In other words, for Arius salvation meant imitation, doing what Jesus did just the way he did it. In order for that to be possible, the Son had to be a creature (a created being) like the rest of us, else we didn't stand a chance of imitating his submission to the Father's will. Where Arius got off on the wrong foot, however, is that he saw salvation as a matter of performance (imitation). We get saved if we perform well. Apparently, grace was something he did not understand, so he advocated a salvation by works. So that let's us in on the soteriological concerns that drove the Arians. Face it: His followers didn't riot in the streets because they were concerned with theological hair-splitting. They mistakenly thought their salvation hinged on the incarnate Son being a less than fully divine creature capable of imitation. But let's move on.

What were the philosophical and theological presuppositions that drove the Arians (and to a certain extent, the orthodox party)? Here's the deal: At the root of the Arian controversy was subordinationism, the view that Christ and the Spirit, in deriving their deity from the Father (as was the prevailing idea of the time), were in some way ontologically (having to do with the essence or being of something) subordinate to the Father. In short, they were less divine than the Father. Subordinationism was all over the place in those days, and here's why: The whole thing was based on Greek (read: pagan) philosophy. Remember, this whole Arian thing got started in Alexandria, one of the premier centers of Hellenistic (Greek) culture. According to Greek philosophers from Parmenides to Plato to Plotinus, the Divine is "immutable," which means, simply, that God does not change (Don't go quotin' script-cha out of context, now.). On the surface that sounds alright, but Baby, there are boo-coo problems with that idea (more in future posts). In academic jargon, the Greeks posited a dualism, an ontological gulf, between Deity and materiality (I like to wax academic occasionally. Ain't it fun!) Although the rest of us live in an imperfect world of constant change, according to Greek thought, Deity is remote, aloof, unmoved (unchanging), and utterly transcendent (way up there all alone by itself). In its static perfection, Deity is immutable; it does not change. Change in the Deity was ruled out from the beginning by Plato's maxim that any change in a perfect being could only be for the worse (We need to talk about that one Plato Baby). That means that the Divine can have no interaction with creation, for to do so would make it somehow conditioned (changed) by creation.

Alright, enuf! To the point: So what's a remote, unchanging Deity to do? You send a less than divine intermediary to deal with that world of dirt down there! So here it comes: The Greek notion of divine immutability, with its correlate that Deity can have no interaction with the world, led some Christian thinkers to assert that the Son (and later the Spirit) is a subordinate deity, that is, a less than fully divine intermediary between the world-transcending Father and creation, sort of a cosmic go-between, if you get my drift. See how that works? If the Big Guy, as fully divine, cannot dirty his hands with materiality (for that would induce change), then he sends the less than fully divine Logos (the preincarnate Son) to do the work for him. In short subordinationism allows the world-transcending Father to keep his hands clean while the ontologically subordinate (less than fully divine) Logos acts as intermediary to engage creation.

Here's another thing, and this is straight from Arius. If the Logos is divine, then the incarnation and suffering of Jesus would mean change in God, and that is a no-no. Therefore, the Logos is not divine. (Unfortunately, the orthodox party held a similar view and the way they handled the problem was not cool. More later.) And one more thing, Arius said that if the Son is begotten of the Father's substance (ousia: being, essence), then the being of God can be divided up (changed). See how it all gets back to the Greek notion of divine immutability? And one more one more thing, Arius argued that if the Son is "begotten" he must have a beginning in time. Hence, the slogan, "There was when he was not." (He didn't get the idea of eternal generation.) So the long of it is this: according to Arius, the incarnate Logos is a less than fully divine, created intermediary between God and the world. The short is this: Jesus ain't God. (Take heart, little ones; Arius was dead wrong!)

Catherine Mowry LaCugna, a Roman Catholic theologian, says that Christian thinking (both orthodox and not) in both the fourth century and today has been severely constrained by the philosophical presuppositions of Greek (pagan) thought. (BTW, many theologians today decry the Greek pagan influence on the "Christian" doctrine of God. Barth, Torrance, Gunton, Jenson, Kruger, Bloesch, Pinnock, Sanders, and many others say the same thing.) 

Moving on: All this fuss, including rioting in the streets of Alexandria (Can you believe it?) threatened the stability of the empire. So Constantine, who was no political dummy (he saw Christianity as the glue that could hold the empire together), convened a great council to settle the Arian controversy, and take care of a few other issues at the same time. That's right: You guessed it, Bubba. I'm talkin' 'bout the first great ecumenical council held at Nicaea in 325 A.D. This is where the Arian party and what would become the orthodox party went at it. To make a long story short, the Arians did not fair well at the convention. Fact is, they were shouted down by the many present who were appalled at some of their teaching. Under the leadership of Alexander of Egypt, and his young but brilliant compadre Athanasius, the Nicene theologians hammered out the words routinely read in churches all over the world. Jesus is God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, Of one substance with the Father (homoousios to Patri), Begotten not made (a direct jab at the Arian assertion that the Logos was created). In short, the Nicene theologians asserted the now orthodox view that Jesus is fully God; he shares the divine substance (ousia) equally with the Father. Thankfully, the orthodox party did not allow Greek philosophy, with its notion of divine immutability, to rule the day. Instead, they relied on the biblical witness where Jesus himself says, "I and the Father are one," and "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father." The Council of Nicaea proclaimed the Good News that Jesus really is the full revelation of God. He is not somehow less than or different from the Father. He is not merely like God; he is God. In short, he's the real deal!! In the loving eyes of Jesus, the very one who has united you, me, and the entire cosmos in eternal union with God, we peer deep into the very loving heart of God. Hooray!!

So let's end this post here. Here's the thing to remember: the Arian argument that Jesus was a subprime deity was rooted in the pagan presupposition of divine immutability. The world-transcending God can have no commerce with creation, so he sends a less than fully divine intermediary, the Logos to do the dirty work. The Nicene party (the good guys), however, held to the biblical revelation, relying on the words of Jesus himself rather than the presuppositions of Greek thought, to assert that the incarnate Son is very God. Jesus is the real enchilada!!

P.S. The Arian controversy did not end at Nicaea. It took a lot of work from Athanasius and those wild and crazy Cappadocians to finally put it to rest. But we'll get to that in a later post. Adios!