Maximus and the Damascene Against Dualisms and the New Age

Au contraire! John of Damascus, Maximus the Confessor et al. countered the persistence of the dualists into their own time; indeed, as they stood as Christian theologians of the East in the 7th and 8th centuries. For Augustine, in his pagan days, he partook of an early dualistic religion, known as Manicheanism. This type of dualism, indeed, as it was imbibed by the Gnostics, and even some so-called Christian Gnostics, gained a foothold into the life of the Church, the world, that would perdure even into our present in the 21st century. For the Confessor and the Damascene, they were fighting some heir-apparents of the earlier formed Manicheanism and Gnosticism simpliciter. In their day, respectively, these folks were identified as the Paulicians, and latterly (after Maximus and John), the Bogomils. In nuce, these dualistic systems attempted to identify two competing principles within the world, within the principle of all reality; such that, when applied to God, they saw Light versus Darkness as two equidistant primordial combatants. As a result, they posited two principles largess, rather than just the one that Christian trinitarian monotheism thought from. Even so, these heretical dualistic groups had enough purchase among the people, that people like Maximus, in his respective time, and John of Damascus in his, felt the need to counter them through Christian and biblical theological reasoning (which also entailed some metaphysics).

Jaroslav Pelikan describes the competition this way:

While maintaining against Judaism that the Shema did not preclude the doctrine of the Trinity, but rather, when correctly understood, included it, orthodox Christian monotheism simultaneously opposed any effort to modify the singleness of the divine nature through the introduction of a double principle [ἀρχή]. The Trinity did not imply any compromise in the fundamental axiom that the divine principle was one, and in opposition to the Filioque this axiom was reinforced. To the dualists the orthodox declared: ā€œFor our part, we do not follow your godless ways, nor do we say that there are two principles which are to be separated according to location. But, declaring that there is one Creator of all things and a single principle of all things, we affirm the dogma . . . of the Father and the Son.ā€ ā€œThe confession of two principles, an evil god and a good oneā€ was understood by the orthodox to be the ā€œfirst articleā€ of the Paulician creed, taken over from the Manicheans. From the Manicheans and Paulicians the notion of a multiple principle had in turn been taken over by later dualist groups, particularly the Bogomils. Biblical justification for it was found in such passages as Matthew 7:18, which said that there were two different sources for the two different kinds of deeds, or 2 Corinthians 4:3–4, which spoke of ā€œthe god of this world.ā€ Replying to such exegesis, the orthodox produced biblical evidence that the very rejection of the authority of God by the world was evidence for one principle rather than two; for Christ ā€œcame to his own home, and his own people received him not.ā€

Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā  Although in later theologians the proof from Scripture took a more prominent role, in the polemics of John of Damascus such proof was heavily reinforced by logic and metaphysics. When the Manicheans contended that the two principles ā€œhave absolutely nothing in common,ā€ he replied that if they both existed, they had to have at least existence in common. By their very use of the term ā€œprinciple,ā€ the Manicheans contradicted their own dualism, for a principle had to be single. As in mathematics the unit was the principle of every number, so it was in metaphysics. If there was an individual principle for each existing thing, then these many principles had in turn to have a single principle behind them. Otherwise there would not be only the two principles of God and matter, as the dualists taught, but a plurality of them throughout the universe. Not only was this an absurdity on the face of it, but it negated the meaning of the word ā€œprinciple.ā€ Good and evil were not to be explained on the basis of a dual principle, but rather ā€œthe good is both the principle and the goal of all things, even of those things that are evil.ā€[1]

Okay, that is all well and interesting. But what I want to do with this is to attempt to identify how this type of dualism is presently present within the 21st century world, whether that be in the sacred or secular.

My simple observation is this (and this is for Christian consumption, primarily): The devil himself loves nothing more than leading people into the delusion that in fact he is equiprimordial with the living and triune God. He likes to lead his kingdom of darkness, and even us Christians who are still, in principle, in it (but not of it), into the fantasy that his powers of darkness represent a real-life contradiction of God’s life and Light. It is easy, in our bodies of death as we are, to give into this satanic delusion; indeed, even as Christians. In this current world of chaos and disorder it might in fact appear that the devil and minions have an upper hand on God’s economy in the world in Jesus Christ. But just as the Paulicians and Bogomils logic of antiChrist proportions were defeated, indeed, imploded, by folks like Maximus and John of Damascus, in their own respective ways, that same theo-logic applies against the inherent dualisms of our day in the 21st century.

Hence, there is no absolute dualism between the living God, and the minions of darkness. As the Apostle Paul triumphantly declares: ā€œWhen you wereĀ deadĀ in your transgressions and the uncircumcision of your flesh, HeĀ made you alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our transgressions,Ā having canceled outĀ the certificate of debt consisting of decrees against us, which was hostile to us; andĀ He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross.Ā When He hadĀ disarmed theĀ rulers and authorities, HeĀ made a public display of them, havingĀ triumphed over them through Himā€ (Colossians 2:13–15). Jesus as the Theanthropos came and destroyed, not an abstract evil, but a concrete one as that has polluted the human being, from the inside/out. Even though evil and sin remain consequential things in this ā€˜evil age,’ they eschatologically have already been put to death by the Godman, Jesus Christ. He currently is reigning at the Right Hand of the Father, which so contraposes the so called god of darkness, that the apparent war can be said to have never even really gotten off of the ground for the satanic horde’s parasitic ā€œnothingnessā€ economy.

And so, our Lord, contra the dualistic-delusion exhorts: ā€œThese things I have spoken to you, so thatĀ in Me you may have peace.Ā In the world you have tribulation, butĀ take courage;Ā I have overcome the world (John 16:33).ā€ He has not left us as orphans, or as defeated ones. What can death do to us? The same thing it did to Jesus. Though we die, yet shall we live. The forces of this current world order have been defeated; death has been put to death; the scourge of sin has lost its power; and we in fact are the victorious ones as we stand in the Victor of God’s grace for the world in Jesus Christ. This doesn’t necessarily make our daily lives easier, per se, but it does let us know that even though we might feel like we are drowning in the scuz of this world system, even within our own bodies of death, we know as Christians that the power of God, the Gospel funds our lives in Christ by the Holy Spirit, to the point that we can stand in victory. Even if such victory, to the dark-system, looks like defeat (like weakness and foolishness).

Dualism is a wicked evil in our world. Most Westerners are caught in its clutches by their submission to New Age theatrics and demonism (this is ironic because New Ageism is based broadly in Eastern monism—I need to flesh this out more fully since New Age ostensibly denies dualisms::I don’t think they actually achieve that though). But as we have already visited, these types of dualistic movements have been present throughout the world order since at least Genesis 3. And yet, even before these fake-power-plays came into existence in the natural world order, God had already pre-destined Himself to be for the world, to not be God without, but with us in Jesus Christ. The Enemy, the darkness has never had an eschatological chance in hell to get beyond the boundary of hell God had always already determined for it in His free life as the Deus incarnandus (the God to be incarnate).

[1] Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine: The Spirit of Eastern Christendom (600—1700), Volume 2 (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1977), 219–20.

The OT and NT God are One in the Same

It is artificial and anachronistic for people to look back at the economy of God in the Old Testament, and presume that God Himself is subject to our modern ethical sensibilities (whatever those might be). The Old Testament took place in the Ancient Near East (ANE). And God’s dealings with humanity at that time were in those conditions (sitz im leben). Often modern and postmodern people look back at the OT, and its ā€œviolence passages,ā€ especially the ones where God commands His covenant people to wipe out whole people groups and nations, and wince. They try to explain it away somehow, as if the OT God is really just a projection and construct the Jewish people created, in order to justify their bloodlusty ways (e.g. Peter Enns et al.). But this is antiChrist (it is also functional, Marcionism). This is to impose our own self-projections onto God, in an attempt to conform Him into our own self-perceived images. God is God. As Samuel says: ā€œGod gives life, and He takes it away.ā€ God is and His way is much greater than our self-possessed wills would ever allow for. God is not our domesticated house cat. Repentance is constantly in order.

Accepted to Aberdeen for a PgDip in New Testament and Early Christianity

I was just accepted into the Postgraduate Diploma, PgDip (aka Master’s degree) program in New Testament and Early Christianity at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland. It is a taught program which I will do fully by distance. I will begin, Lord willing, January 20, 2025. Relatively speaking it is quite affordable at approx. Ā£7,000 ($9,360 usd) for the total program. I am looking into the possibility of getting a scholarship through the school; not sure if that is possible. Also, if you would like to be a donor and help me out with this send me an email at growba@gmail.com. That would be really appreciated. Finances have always posed a stumbling block for me to pursue these types of studies, formally; and I already have lots of student debt (been paying on it) for my BA and MA degrees from back in the late 90s early 2000s. Anyway, I am really excited about this opportunity to study at such a historic school (which also is ranked #1 in the UK for theological studies). We’ll see if the Lord will provide further. I applied as a step of faith; one step at a time.

Athanasius as an Antidote to Federal Theology

I often speak ofĀ T. F. Torrance’s view of the atonement as theĀ ontological view,Ā which is inextricably related, for Torrance to theĀ IncarnationĀ (which is why his most recent posthumously published booksĀ Incarnation & AtonementĀ came in theĀ orderĀ that they did — there is a theo-logical and even, dare I say it, necessary relation between the two). Well I just wanted to quote Athanasius directly, so that folks won’t think that Torrance fabricated such things out of whole cloth. Here’s Athanasius discussing the apparent dilemma God has set before Him given the reality of the ā€œFallā€ (and the non-existence or non-being that it brought humanity separated from Him), and the fact that not just a ā€œlegalā€ kind of relation had been violated between God and man through the ā€œFall,ā€ but in fact an actual corruption of man Himself and the loss of grace as an intricate aspect of man’s relation to God had occurred — man’s very ā€œnatureā€ and even ā€œheartā€ had been broken to the point of death (non-being and separation from God). Athanasius is sketching the only way the onlyĀ dĆ©nouementĀ possible for God to remain consistent with Himself as the Creator of man in His image; he writes:

. . . Yet, true though this is, it is not the whole matter. As we have already noted, it was unthinkable that God, the Father of Truth, should go back upon His word regarding death in order to ensure our continued existence. He could not falsify Himself; what, then, was God to do? Was He to demand repentance from men for their transgression? You might say that that was worthy of God, and argue further that, as through the Transgression they became subject to corruption, so through repentance they might return to incorruption again. But repentance would not guard the Divine consistency, for, if death did not hold dominion over men, God would still remain untrue. Nor does repentance recall men from what is according to their nature; all that it does is to make them cease from sinning. Had it been a case of a trespass only, and not of a subsequent corruption, repentance would have been well enough; but when once transgression had begun men came under the power of the corruption proper to their nature and were bereft of the grace which belonged to them as creatures in the Image of God. No, repentance could not meet the case. What — or ratherĀ WhoĀ was it that was needed for such grace and such recall as we required? Who, save the Word of God Himself, Who also in the beginning had made all things out of nothing? His part it was, and His alone, both to bring again the corruptible to incorruption and to maintain for the Father His consistency of character with all. For He alone, being Word of the Father and above all, was in consequence both able to recreate all, and worthy to suffer on behalf of all and to be an ambassador for all with the Father. [Athanasius, On The Incarnation, §7, 32-3]

Rich stuff. Now if you’re into the ā€œkindā€ of Covenantal/Reformed/Federal Theology that Michael Horton & co. (who seems quite popular now-a-days, see here) articulates, then you might as well throw Athanasius’ insights, just quoted, in the burn pile. Here’s why. Horton style Covenant theology offers a ā€œJuridically-Forensicallyā€ based view of the atonement — the kind that would actually fit into the ā€œrepentance-onlyā€ model that Athanasius says NOĀ to — that frames what takes place on the cross as a Divine transaction between the Son and the Father. The ā€œLawā€ (eating of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil cf. Hos. 6.7) has been broken (Covenant of Works), and the Father-Son agree to a pact (Pactum Salutis or Covenant of Redemption) wherein the Son will become a man, die on the cross for particular people (elect), ā€œpayā€ their penalty (or fee), and give them back to God (Covenant of Grace). On the face that might sound good, but let’s think with Athanasius. All that has occurred in the Hortonian view of salvation is essentially to deal with an ā€œexternalā€ issue and payment (which is akin to Athanasius’ point on repentance). The fundamental problem with this approach, as Athanasius so keenly points out, is that the issue isn’t primarily an external issue wherein a legal repentance will do; the issue is an issue ofĀ nature.Ā Man’sĀ natureĀ was thoroughly corrupted and even lost. The only remedy is for the image of the Father (the Son) to literally become humanity; penetrate into the depths of our sinful souls through His redemptive grace; take that corrupted nature/heart from the manger to the cross to the grave; and resurrect/recreate it into the image of the Father which can only be realized as we areĀ vicarious participants in Christ.Ā The issue is not primarily an issue of a broken ā€œLaw;ā€ the issue is that we have broken ā€œHearts,ā€ and only God’s grace in Christ in the Incarnation can reach down into those depths and recreate us in Him. Horton’s approach to salvation does not allow for such thinking. It doesn’t deal with the heart, and thus we are left in our sinsĀ non-being.

**repost, originally posted on February 14, 2011.

Getting Beyond an Optical God: The Father-Son as the Pattern

Torrance is discussing the impact that dualisticĀ HellenismĀ has had upon Western-thought-forms; namely the precedence thatĀ classicalĀ thought has given to theĀ opticalĀ mode of thinking and verification (so the obsession withĀ empiricism, etc.). TFT is highlighting the impact that this methodology and epistemology can have upon our construal of God’s ā€œFather-hoodā€ and ā€œSon-hood,ā€ and how Christian/Patristic theology, primarily through Athanasius’ influence, eschewed this ā€œHellenizingā€ effect by reifying it through Christian ontology.

The contrast between Christianity and Hellenism could hardly be greater than at this fundamental level, where biblical patterns of thought governed by the Word of God and the obedient hearing of faith (υπακοη της πιτεως) conflict sharply with those of Greek religion and philosophy. The issue came to its head in the Arian controversy over the Father – Son relation at the heart of the Christian Gospel. Are the terms ā€˜father’ and ā€˜son’ to be understood as visual, sensual images taken from our human relations and then projected mythologically into God? In that event how can we avoid projecting creaturely gender into God, and thinking of him as grandfather as well as father, for the only kind of father we know is one who is son of another father? To think of God like that, in terms of the creaturely content of images projected out of ourselves, inevitably gives rise to anthropomorphic and polymorphic notions of deity and in fact to polytheism and idolatry. However, if we think from a centre in God as he reveals himself to us through his Word incarnate in Jesus Christ, then we know him as Father in himself in an utterly unique and incomparable way which then becomes the controlling standard by reference to which all notions of creaturely fatherhood and sonship are to be understood. ā€˜God does not make man his pattern, but rather, since God alone is properly and truly Father, we men are called fathers of our own children, for of him every fatherhood in heaven and earth is named.’ Unique Fatherhood and unique Sonship in God mutually define one another in an absolute and singular way. As Athanasius pithily expressed it in rejection of Arian anthropocentric mythologising: ā€˜Just as we cannot ascribe a father to the Father, so we cannot ascribe a brother to the Son’.[1]

[1] T. F. Torrance, The Trinitarian Faith, 69-70.

Irenaeus as a Christ Conditioned Theologian

The following is taken from my final exam from my Patristic Theology class in seminary (circa 2003); we had to answer three out of five questions in essay form. This essay highlights the person and theology of Irenaeus. I will provide a brief description of Irenaeus first, and then get into the essay. This was before I ever started reading either Barth or Torrance in any depth. But you might see how once I did, I was already predisposed to their respective theologies vis-Ć -vis informing theologies like Irenaeus’ represents.

Irenaeus (ca. 130-200) was Bishop of Lyons. Most likely he grew up in Smyrna, where as a youngster he was able to listen to Polycarp. It is probable that he studied and taught at Rome. This all happened before he moved to Lyons. He also served as an important link between the Eastern and Western branch of the Church.

Irenaeus first promoted the doctrine of recapitulation, although he claimed that he received this view (in a germinal sense) from Justin Martyr. Recapitulation basically is the doctrine that states: Adam was originally created to walk in obedience with God. He disobeyed, thus all of humanity, as represented in Adam (seminally), disobeyed God with him. This obedience thrust all of humanity into a cursed life of sin. Resulting in a destroyed and alienated humanity.

Irenaeus, as derived from Romans 5, shows that Christ came as the second Adam; essentially representing all humanity. In a sense, this is a do over; Adam got it wrong, while Christ did it over and walked in perfect obedience to God. Irenaeus points out that Christ can legitimately represent all of humanity, as he uses the Luke 3 genealogy to show Christ’s line going all the way back to Adam. Therefore Christ can legitimately represent each successive generation of people, all the way from the beginning.

Christ’s perfect obedience was epitomized by his obedience unto death at the cross. He secured a restored relationship unto God because of his obedience. Therefore anyone found in Christ would have a restored relationship with God. The notion of corporate solidarity is taught here; i.e. one man representing all humanity. This teaching has been associated with the physical theory of the atonement. The idea of seminal representation. Some people oppose this idea saying that it focused on the incarnation as being redemptive, and not the actual death of Christ as redemptive. This assumption is wrong though, for in all reality the incarnation is the presupposition of the ultimate goal, which eventuates in the crucifixion — and thus redemption for all humanity (i.e. these are inter related realities).

Nevertheless, what Jesus did according to this doctrine was inaugurate a new way of life. The idea of seminal representation and corporate solidarity can be seen in the teaching of Tertullian and Augustine who both believed in original sin, and that as a result of our real representation in Adam, humanity has inherited the tainted seed from Adam. Recapitulation had an impactful effect on the teaching of the atonement, as just noted.

How Torrance Handles ā€˜Persons’ Language and The God Given For Us in That Reality

In the Tradition ā€˜person,’ or in the Greek, hypostasis (į½‘Ļ€ĻŒĻƒĻ„Ī±ĻƒĪ¹Ļ‚) is appealed to when referring to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. For some this poses a problem; for Barth in fact. There are a variety of reasons why Barth does not prefer to use this word for describing the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; primary of which is the context he found himself in, and the way person had come to be understood under existential pressures. Not to mention the fact that even early on in the Patristic development the language itself also was less than amenable for many of the theologians. Nevertheless, this is the language that came to be used when referring to the ā€˜persons’ of the Godhead. Barth opted for his ā€˜mode of being’ language in place of person, but most have not followed that.

There has been some concern, following von Harnack’s ā€˜Hellenization thesis,’ that the Greek world was uncritically imbibed by early Christians resulting in the morphing of some of the early Christian theological developments into a hybridized version of the biblical reality. Classical theists push back at this, but some like Thomas Torrance took some of that thesis to heart; in so doing, he offers an alternative account, and thus response, to the Harnackian thesis, by attempting to demonstrate that what happened wasn’t a wholesale appropriation of Hellenic philosophical conceptual patterns being imposed on Christian revelation; but instead, he argues that the early church Fathers, while taking much of the Hellenic language, retexted it in such a way that its grammar was given new conceptual orientation under the pressure of God’s Self-revelation in Christ. Peter Leithart calls this the ā€˜evangelization of metaphysics’;[1] at a level I agree with that. Here is how TFT reasons this through:

The basic term used in this development was the word hypostasis (į½‘Ļ€ĻŒĻƒĻ„Ī±ĻƒĪ¹Ļ‚) taken over from the New Testament reference to Christ the Son of God as ā€˜the express image of his being (χαρακτὓρ τῆς į½‘Ļ€ĪæĻƒĻ„į½±ĻƒĪµĻ‰Ļ‚ αὐτοῦ)’. Then within the context of the Church’s deepening understanding of the Gospel the word hypostasis was adapted to express the objective self-revelation of the Son and Word of God made flesh in Jesus Christ full of grace and truth who encounters us and speaks to us face to face as the incarnate ā€˜I am’ of the living God. But it was only when this was further thought out in the light of the three-fold self-revelation of God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit that the specific concept of ā€˜Person’ took shape, and then only within the inter-personal relations of the Holy Trinity as one Being, three Persons. In the course of this development the term hypostasis was filled out through association with ā€˜name’ or ὄνομα used in its concrete sense, ā€˜oneself’ or Ī±į½Ļ„ĻŒĻ‚ and especially ā€˜face’ or Ļ€ĻĻŒĻƒĻ‰Ļ€ĪæĪ½, to refer to self-subsistent self-identifying subject-being in objective relations with others. In its theological deployment, therefore, the term hypostasis was not taken over from Greek thought unchanged, but was stretched and transformed under the impact of God’s trinitarian self-revelation through Christ and in the Spirit to such an extent that it became suitable to express the identifiable self-manifestation of God in the incarnate economy of divine salvation as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – that is, as three distinctive hypostatic Realities or Persons. This change from a Hellenistic impersonal to a Christian personal way of thinking is very evident in the penchant of early Church theologians to qualify words for ā€˜God’, ā€˜Word’, ā€˜being’, ā€˜life’, ā€˜authority’ etc., by attaching to them the expression for ā€˜oneself’ or Ī±į½Ļ„ĻŒĻ‚, as for example αὐτοθέος, Ī±į½Ļ„ĪæĪ»ĻŒĪ³ĪæĻ‚, Ī±į½Ļ„ĪæĻ…ĻƒĪÆĪ±, αὐτοζωή, Ī±į½Ļ„ĪæĪµĪ¾ĪæĻ…ĻƒĪÆĪ±, in order to stress the intensely personal nature of God’s interaction with us through the presence and power of his Word and Spirit. Thus Logos, far from being some impersonal cosmological principle, is identified with the Son or Word of God, the divine Šį½Ļ„ĪæĪ»ĻŒĪ³ĪæĻ‚ incarnate in Jesus Christ who reveals himself to us fact to face Ļ€ĻĻŒĻƒĻ‰Ļ€ĪæĪ½ κατά Ļ€ĻĻŒĻƒĻ‰Ļ€ĪæĪ½, and speaks to us in the Holy Scriptures directly in person, ἐκ Ļ€ĻĪæĻƒĻŽĻ€ĪæĻ…, or Ī±į½Ļ„ĪæĻ€ĻĪæĻƒĻŽĻ€Ļ‰Ļ‚.[2]

I don’t know about you, but I rather like the way Torrance reasons his way through this. What we end up with, as we always do with Torrance, is an emphasis on the personal reality of who God is. Not in a contrived, existentialist, or modern sense, but in the revealed and biblical sense of what it means to be personal as that is given in and for us in the antecedent life of God pre-destined for us in the Son of the Father by the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit.

But you see the way Torrance disentangles this issue, which frankly, is a rather knotty issue in the history, by reasoning from the inner-theo-logic itself, as that is given in the Self-revelation of God in Christ, and allowing that to be the material reality that then goes on to shape the grammar adopted from the Greeks? Some people charge Torrance with hagiographically reading the Fathers by imposing his own style of personalist reading onto what they in fact did with the Hellenic pool of grammar they were working with. Personally, whether or not he does engage in this sort of liberty, does not ultimately bother me; what we end up with, material-theologically from Torrance is where the cream is. Yes, we want to be as accurate as possible with the way we engage with the history of ideas, and the history itself. But the greatest gift a constructive theologian, par excellence, like Torrance can give us, is the reasoning he did about God’s filial life for us; for the church catholic and the world for whom He gave His life in flesh and blood.

For my money, we need to know that God loves us, and still recognize at the same time that God is God and we are not. This is what Torrance does for us in a masterful way. He honors the Creator-creature distinction, while, in an Athanasian key, emphasizing God as He is in Himself as a prius, in the eternal bond-age of Self-given love as Father of the Son, Son of the Father in the koinonial fellowship of the Holy Spirit. Christians need to know that this is the God with whom we have to do. It is in this that we can avoid the moralistic therapeuticizing deity who dominates most of the minds of the evangelical churches (in North America and the West); and at the same time walk in an intimate hand-in-hand relationship with the wonderous and ineffably triune God of eternal life who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

[1] In his book on Athanasius.

[2] Thomas F. Torrance, The Christian Doctrine of God: One Being Three Persons (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2016), 156.

 

Reading Scripture with the Christological and Trinitarian Grammar

This is from chapter 4 of what I presented for my PhD dissertation to Concordia Academic Theology Consortium. As many of you know I gave back that PhD. I am still working on the dissertation (to refine and add to it further), as it looks like it will be considered for another PhD (possibly) at an accredited school. Anyway, here’s a little excerpt:

. . . I contend that since all orthodox Christians, in every place, operate with these conciliar categories—two natures/singular person—with reference to Jesus Christ, that it is this fortification, these grammatical loci, that fundamentally give hermeneutical shape to the way that even the most low-church evangelicals think Christ. As a subsequent implication then, this tacit Chalcedonian grammar, is, or should be the explicit way Christians interpret all of Scripture (both Old and New Testaments). More crudely put: since the conciliar Christ is fundamental to how orthodox Christians think Christ, and if Scripture is, at a first-order level, intensively and principially in reference to Christ, if Scripture is the sign (signum) to its greater and ontological reality (res), Jesus Christ, then all Christian exegesis of Holy Scripture will be and must be regulated by this sort of catholic (universal) Christological standard. That is to say, if Christians are going to think who Christ is through the Chalcedonian grammar, in an essential, but proximate way (vis-Ć -vis eschatological reality), eo ipso they will interpret Scripture through this rule insofar that Scripture refers to Jesus and the triune God as its inherent and life-breathing reality.

Learning to Read Scripture as if Jesus is its Meaning and Context: Along with Athanasius and the Fathers

We all interpret. Whether it be while driving down the street, and stopping at a stop sign, or reading the various sections of a newspaper. We bring readerly expectations and conditions to our daily lives that inform how we arrive at our interpretive conclusions. But for some reason when it comes to biblical interpretation many people in the churches place that into a special mystical, even magical category; as if said people can simply open the text, read it, and receive it as is without interpretation. But this is false of course. We are all faced with interpretive dilemmas, particularly when it comes to the text of Scripture.

At the very beginning, when a confessing Christian opens the Bible to read they are approaching it from an a priori (prior) interpretation, and thus confession (as orthodox Christians). They are approaching Scripture from the context that it is Holy and the place where God has ordained to speak to His people, and to the world. That is, based on an interpretation of the Bible that not all share, of course! Atheists don’t approach Scripture as if it is the triune God’s Word for humanity. The atheist, clearly, approaches Scripture through a negation, through skepticism, through unbelief; and so because of their approach (interpretation) they visit its reading with different readerly expectations than an orthodox biblical Christian does.

Once it is has been established that Christians read Scripture itself from a confession, based on an interpretation, it should be easier to persuade the reader of what I hope to throughout the brief body of the following post. Confessional Christians ought to read Scripture through God’s interpretation and reality for Scripture in His Self-revelation in Jesus Christ. This is what the early church fathers presumed; viz., that Scripture was about Jesus, and the triune God He revealed. They further believed that because of this Christological condition of Scripture that it required that as the church, as God’s confessional people, that they attempt to interpret Scripture with reference to articulating its reality in the who of Jesus Christ and the triune God. This motivation was propelled with greater urgency in the face of many of the early heretics who were present within the church’s walls (think Arius, Eunomius, Pelagius et al.) And so through a series of various circumstances church councils were convened in order to develop and codify grammar wherein who Jesus was, as both God and Man, could be articulated in such a way that would ally the heretics and edify the faithful at the same time. We see these conciliar articulations, and thus theological grammar develop in such key councils as: Nicaea, Constantinople, Ephesus, Chalcedon, so on and so forth. These councils led to what came to be understood as the limiting grammar for how to think of the singular person of Jesus Christ as both fully God and fully human (i.e., the hypostatic union and homoousios). For our purposes what I want to press is the way the fathers went about interpreting Scripture in this instance.

To help us wade into this massive locus let me introduce us to a thought Peter Leithart has on the reality of theological interpretation of Scripture. He points to Athanasius as a particular and early example of a church father who definitively engaged in the type of biblical interpretation I have been calling our attention to previously. He writes:

Theological interpretation of Scripture thus involves respect for the premodern interpretation, attention to the doctrinal tradition of the church, recognition that Bible scholarship takes place within the church and exists for the edification of the church, and acknowledgment that interpretation is not a clinical scientific enterprise but a form of piety and properly preceded and followed by prayer, praise, and worship. Athanasius is among the precritical interpreters of Scripture whom contemporary theological readers of Scripture seek to emulate. Lessing’s ditch was unknown to him, as was Benjamin Jowett. Of course, so too was the Nicene tradition to which Reno appeals. Athanasius does appeal to the authority of the ā€œfathersā€ at Nicaea, but he is one of the key formulators of the Nicene tradition, rather than an heir of it. His biblical interpretation is therefore of peculiar importance, since by following his lead we can discover some of the paths by which he moved from Scripture’s narrative, law, gospel, and epistle to the metaphysical claims inherent in Nicene theology.[1]

Leithart recognizes the inherent reality of interpretation of the biblical text as we approach it as confessional Christians; that is, that we do so from an already vantage point that we have definitionally as Christians. He points us to Athanasius, the great stalwart for christological orthodoxy at the Council of Nicaea in 325 ad. Athanasius understood, 1) that Scripture’s reality was funded by Christ (cf. Jn 5.39); 2) that Scripture itself, while funded by the reality of Christ, didn’t explicitly, but only implicitly taught what we have come to know as dogma or sacra doctrina today; 3) thus, Athanasius knew, as Leithart underscores, that in order to speak explicitly about the divinity and humanity of Christ together, just as sure as Scripture is oriented by both realities singularly, there would have to be some sort of intelligible grammar developed in order to make clear what was, explicitly present in the text, but left in implicit and inner-theological ways. He along with many others, as they were engaging what came to be understood as heretical christologies, gave the church the theological grammar the orthodox churches deploy to this day. As such, when confessional Christians think about Jesus, and the triune God in the 21st century, if they are orthodox, are thinking from these early theological grammars developed by the fathers with reference to who Jesus is vis-Ć -vis the triune God. This shouldn’t be taken for granted (as it so often is!)

My basic point in this post is to confront the idea that people simply read Scripture as if tabula rasa; i.e., as blank slates who re-create and re-interpret the biblical interpretive wheel as if magic fallen from the heavens as fairy-dust. Orthodox (little ā€˜o’) Christians are part of a continuous history established by God in Christ, just as sure as He has established His church. That is, we receive by listening to the past. For many Christians in the 21st century they are only interested in receiving from the Post-Enlightenment past, thus, and again, reading Scripture from rationalist, naturalistic lenses wherein their personal experiences and rationality becomes the standard by which Scripture is interpreted. But in fact, confessional Christians, as Leithart noted for us, read along with the ā€˜faithful’ from all periods; particularly as that has been funded by the conciliar past, and the christological and theological proper grammars developed thereat.

My hope is that the reader walks away from this post with the recognition that there is more going on with the text of Scripture than simply knowing the languages (while very important), or understanding literary and narratival theory, or simply understanding biblical grammar and philology. All of that is important towards being a good exegete of Scripture, but what is most important is to approach Holy Scripture as if it is Holy; which is to say, to approach Scripture as from the confessional standpoint that the early Christians and church fathers did. That is, to approach Scripture as if its ultimate context and thus determinative for meaning is indeed Jesus Christ and the triune God. If we don’t read Scripture this way, just as the fathers did, then we will imbue ā€˜our’ meanings and contexts into the text, and allow our ā€˜responses’ to determine its meaning and theological conclusions. We will make Scripture an instance of self-projection wherein it fits our desires and wishes (which would help Feuerbauch with his case), rather than allowing it to be enflamed with God’s voice, as we encounter it with each page turned; wherein the Spirit brings the risen Christ’s face into ours and says both Yes and No. But I would argue that the orthodox Christian cannot and should not read Scripture apart from its orthodox frame as presented by the conciliar fathers. We can receive the limits they presented, and positively and constructively build off of those, but they should never be left behind. If we are going to be catholic (universal) Christians, we will affirm said orthodoxy, and the type of confessional and devotional heart and mindset that was formed by that, and allow who Christ is as the meaning of the text to inform the way we proceed in our exegesis and thus conclusions about what the text is saying for us today—and we will receive that from the Right Hand of the Father as that has been given formation, afresh anew, through the corridors of the church’s history. We will Listen to the Past as Stephen Holmes has so sagaciously alerted us to.

We will close with someone who understands the significance of engaging the ā€˜drama’ of Scripture in the way I have been describing previously:

In sum, the Gospel is ultimately unintelligible apart from Trinitarian theology. Only the doctrine of the Trinity adequately accounts for how those who are not God come to share in the fellowship of Father and Son through the Spirit. The Trinity is both the Christian specification of God and a summary statement of the Gospel, in that the possibility of life with God depends on the person and work of the Son and Spirit. The doctrine of the Trinity thus serves both as an identification of theĀ dramatis personaeĀ and as a precis of the drama itself. ā€œHe is risen indeed!ā€[2]

[1] Peter J. Leithart,Ā Athanasius,Ā 28.

[2] Kevin Vanhoozer, The Drama of Doctrine, 43-44.

Great Theology Requires Great Heretics

A post I wrote in 2010 for another blog.

I am afraid ā€œEvangelicalsā€ have come to expect something when they readĀ systematic theology,Ā and that is that there will be a nice and neat presentation of pre-digested, pre-codified truths andĀ theoremsĀ about God and such. Indeed, we should expect a certain ordering and systematizing of such things when we read ā€œsystematic theology;ā€ but what is often forgotten isĀ howĀ our beliefs today came to be in the first place. The early Christians (ā€œThe Patristicsā€ or ā€œChurch Fathersā€) were presented with a whole host of issues to try and hash out; primarily trying to articulate the nature of God and Christ. Some of the ideas that were held then, early on, would later and now be considered heresy; but that is what happens sometimes when we try and speak about an ineffable God who is worthy of worship. I juxtapose these two poles of theology (the ā€œfinished productā€ — systematic theology and the ā€œhashing out processā€ — constructive theology) to remind us that theology is a ā€œrelational endeavorā€ (and this only flows from the reality that God is a relational/trinitarian God); this being the case, just when we think we’re finished (systematic theology) we are turned back upon our own inadequacies to actually capture God in all His grandeur, we are turned back to the hashing out process (constructive theology) to try and ā€œfine-tuneā€ (if possible) our thoughts about our God. Here is what J. N. D. Kelly says about such things (in the context of speaking about the ā€œChurch Fathers’ā€ approach):

If he is to feel at home in the patristic age, the student needs to be equipped with at least an outline knowledge of Church history and patrology. Here there is only space to draw his attention to one or two of its more striking features. In the first place, he must not expect to find it characterized by thatĀ doctrinalĀ homogeneityĀ which he may have come across at other epochs. Being still at the formative stage, the theology of the early centuries exhibits the extremes of immaturity and sophistication. There is an extraordinary contrast, for example, between the versions of the Church’s teaching given by the second-century Apostolic Fathers and by an accomplished fifth-century theologian like Cyril of Alexandria. Further, conditions were favourable to the coexistence of a wide variety of opinions even on issues of prime importance. Modern students are sometimes surprised at the diversity of treatment accorded by even the later fathers to such a mystery as the Atonement; and it is a commonplace that certain fathers (Origen is the classic example) who were later adjudged heretics counted for orthodox in their lifetimes. The explanation is not that the early Church was indifferent to the distinction between orthodoxy and heresy. Rather it is that, while from the beginning the broad outline of revealed truth was respected as a sacrosanct inheritance from the apostles, its theological explication was to a large extent left unfettered. Only gradually, and even then in regard to comparatively few doctrines which became subjects of debate, did the tendency to insist upon precise definition and rigid uniformity assert itself.[1]

This illustrates my points above, and in fact pulls them back in a bit as well. Theology is a relational ā€œlearningā€ enterprise, it is humanity’s attempt to ā€œspeak with Godā€ about God in Christ through the illuminating Holy Spirit. Sometimes if we are going to do this we must run the risk of heresy, isn’t worshipping in ā€œspirit and truthā€ worth this risk? Furthermore, I said Kelly ā€œpulledā€ some of what I said above ā€œbackā€ a bit because at first blush some of what I was communicating previously may have sounded like I was saying that we need to ā€œre-hashā€ all that has gone before us (so that we end up with something completely new); but this really wasn’t what I was intending to say, instead it is what Kelly has said. That we need to recognize the ā€œsolid gainsā€ made by ā€œour fathers,ā€ and then build and work out the implications of what ā€œour spiritual parentsā€ have said before — sometimes this ends in discarding certain ancient trajectories, and other times it means we discover great seeds of truth that only now begin to blossom as we continue to water the seedlings of our rich heritage (make sense?).

 

[1] J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, 3-4.