Hilary of Poitiers, Incarnation, & Partitive Exegesis

Hilary of Poitiers, Incarnation, & Partitive Exegesis

by | Dec 27, 2023 | Hermeneutics, Historical Theology

God and man are, well… different.

This fundamental assumption is called the Creator/creature distinction and is the bedrock of doctrines such as creation, man, man’s fall, and Christ the Redeemer. This all-important distinction is what sets Christian theology apart from false theological constructs like Pantheism, where it’s thought God and creation are essentially the same thing.

This Creator/creature distinction ought to be assumed in our interpretation of the biblical text. Not only does it become clear in Genesis 1:1, “In the beginning God created…,” but it’s explicitly stated in places like Numbers 23:19, “God is not a man…”

Especially important is the consistent application of the Creator/creature distinction as we think about the incarnation of the Son of God. The doctrine of the incarnation is Scripturally expressed in places like Philippians 2:6-7, “being in the form of God… taking the form of a bondservant…” This scriptural truth is enshrined in orthodox creeds like the Nicene Creed, which reads, “For us and for our salvation [the Son] came down from heaven; he became incarnate by the Holy Spirit and the virgin Mary…” The Creator, God the Son, became a creature. The task of theologians, therefore, is to read and exegete Scripture in such a way that does justice to the meaning of the text — which principally teaches this Creator/creature distinction. We should avoid reading Christological texts as if this Creator/creature distinction isn’t taught elsewhere in the text. It must be allowed to guide our reading.

In light of the incarnation — where Creator and creature are united in a single Person — how do we read the text in such a way that we do justice to its other claims, i.e. that there most certainly is a Creator/creature distinction, that God is not man nor man God? We do not want to read Scripture in such a way that violates the very foundations upon which Christianity stands.

Thankfully, there is a 4th-century French theologian here to help — Hilary of Poitiers.

Hilary & Partitive Exegesis

Partitive exegesis is the act of biblical interpretation that seeks to read Christological passages in light of the Creator/creature distinction.

Hilary begins with two fundamental assumptions:

  1. In the Person of Christ, there are united two natures — divine and human

     

  2. This union is without conversion, confusion, or composition (an assumption that functions to preserve both divine and human natures united in His one Person)

He writes:

So the Dispensation of the great and godly mystery makes Him, Who was already Father of the divine Son, also His Lord in the created form which He assumed, for He, Who was in the form of God, was found also in the form of a servant. Yet He was not a servant, for according to the Spirit He was God the Son of God.[1]

He furthermore adds:

Being, then, in the form of a servant, Jesus Christ, Who before was in the form of God, said as a man, I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God. He was speaking as a servant to servants: how can we then dissociate the words from Christ the servant, and transfer them to that nature, which had nothing of the servant in it? For He Who abode in the form of God took upon Him the form of a servant, this form being the indispensable condition of His fellowship as a servant with servants. It is in this sense that God is His Father and the Father of men, His God and the God of servants. Jesus Christ was speaking as a man in the form of a servant to men and servants; what difficulty is there then in the idea, that in His human aspect the Father is His Father as ours, in His servant’s nature God is His God as all men’s?[2]

The “Dispensation” is a reference to the “fullness of times” (Eph. 1:10) in which the Son of God was made “a little lower than the angels.” (Ps. 8:5; Heb. 2:7, 9) It is this “Dispensation” wherein the Son assumes flesh that He is regarded as less than the Father. The Father is Lord of the Son only as the Son is considered according to His human nature. However, according to the divine nature, Father and Son — while distinct Persons in the Godhead — are but one Lord. (Cf. Athanaisan Creed)

This two-natured union in the Person of the Son occurs simultaneously (so to speak). Both divine and human natures are united in the Person of Christ without “conversion, composition, or confusion…” (2LCF 8.2) Hence, Hilary says, “For He, who was in the form of God, was found also in the form of a servant. Yet He was not a servant, for according to the Spirit He was God the Son of God.” Both deity and humanity are true of the Person of the Son, but according to two distinct senses or natures.

The influence of this doctrine cannot be missed in Hilary’s exegesis. In the second paragraph presented above, Hilary pulls from John 20:17 to show how it and similar passages must be understood in light of the hypostatic union. To set up his commentary, he says, “Being, then, in the form of a servant, Jesus Christ, Who before was in the form of God, said as a man…” In other words, John 20:17 are words spoken by Christ, not according to His divine nature but according to His human nature. Hilary approaches the text with this in mind. 

Doctrines undergirding such an approach are those such as immutability and omnipresence. According to His divine nature, the Son cannot move from one place to another since He does not change (immutability), nor can He travel to a place in which He’s already present (omnipresence). John 20:17, therefore, must be spoken according to a nature other than the divine — a nature capable of ascending from earth to heaven.

Hilary further presses when he asks a rhetorical question, “How can we then dissociate the words from Christ the servant, and transfer them to that nature, which has nothing of the servant in it?” Not only would it be heterodox to transfer that which is proper only to the creature to the Creator, but it would also be utterly nonsensical. If there is “nothing of the servant” in God, how could texts like John 20:17 apply to the divine nature? If there were something of the servant in the divine nature, to what avail is the incarnation? Why would God assume humanity if humanity was already in God?

Conclusion

Concluding the matter, Hilary writes, “Jesus Christ was speaking as a man in the form of a servant to men and servants; what difficulty is there then in the idea, that in His human aspect the Father is His Father as ours, in His servant’s nature God is His God as all men’s?” Partitive exegesis allows Hilary (and us) to locate the proper place of subordination. Is the Son eternally subordinate? Or is He only subordinate according to His human nature? The latter must be the case upon a theological reading of the issue. Additionally, a partitive reading of Christological texts preserves both divine and human natures in their substantial integrity — avoiding the ever-present danger of blurring the Creator/creature distinction.

Resources:

[1] Hilary of Poitiers. On the Trinity. Kindle Edition. Loc. 5582.

[2] Hilary. On the Trinity. Loc. 5589.

The Analogy of Scripture

The Analogy of Scripture

by | Aug 19, 2023 | Confessionalism, Hermeneutics

What is the analogy of Scripture?

We’ve all probably heard the phrase, “Scripture interprets Scripture.” When we say “Scripture interprets Scripture,” we are talking about the analogy of Scripture. Second Timothy 2:15 says, “Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.”

In order to “rightly divide the Word of truth” we need to have recourse to God. God must teach us how to rightly divide His Word. Apart from a divine standard of interpretation, we will always foist our culturally conditioned assumptions and prejudices into the text. We need an ultimate Interpreter, and this ultimate Interpreter is God Himself through His Word.

The Second London Confession 1.9 reads, “The infallible rule of interpretation of Scripture is the Scripture itself; and therefore when there is a question about the true and full sense of any Scripture (which is not manifold, but one), it must be searched by other places that speak more clearly. (2 Peter 1:20, 21; Acts 15:15, 16)”

Clearer texts further our understanding of more ambiguous or less clear texts. So, when it comes to less clear texts, e.g. Rev. 20:4-10 (millennium), and 1 Cor. 7:14 (holy children), we need the rest of the Bible—the clearer texts therein—to better understand them.

Richard Muller, in his Dictionary of Latin and Greek Theological Terms (one of the most important books of our century), defines the analogy of Scripture (analogia Scripturae) in this way, “[it is] the interpretation of unclear, difficult, or ambiguous passages of Scripture by comparison with a collation or gathering, of clear and unambiguous passages or “places” (loci) that refer to the same teaching or event.”[1]

Resources

[1] Richard Muller, Dictionary of Latin and Greek Theological Terms, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2017), 25.

An Account of Credobaptism From Matthew 8

An Account of Credobaptism From Matthew 8

by | Jul 19, 2023 | Biblical Theology, Confessionalism, Hermeneutics

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been preaching through Matthew 8 at Victory Baptist Church. And let me just say, it’s a stunning chapter.

It has everything. 

Life, death, resurrection. Fear, faith, and fruitfulness. It’s a microcosm of the overall redemptive arc of our Lord’s incarnate ministry. From Capernaum, through the trial of storm, landing in the nether regions on the other side of Galilee (and Jordan). 

It’s a colorful chapter, no doubt.

But one theme I tried to maintain while preaching through Matthew 8 was discipleship.

Beginning in vv. 18-22, our Lord feeds a hard-to-swallow pill to two wannabe disciples. Then He actually takes His real disciples and draws a vivid and historically real picture of what discipleship looks like—trial, death, victory at the end of it all. From life in Capernaum, to trial at Sea, to death in the tombs, and at long last re-emergence unto life in Matthew 9:1—a return to Jesus’ “own city.”

Recently, as I was once more chewing the gum of Matthew 8 between the teeth of my mind, something emerged that I had not yet noticed:

Jesus’ real disciples follow Him onto the boat. In v. 23, there is a clear connection between an active, outward following of Christ with what it means, fundamentally, to be a disciple.

The Text, Discipleship, & Following Jesus

In vv. 18-22, the emphasis of the chapter turns to discipleship.

This become abundantly clear when we consider v. 19, “Then a certain scribe came and said to Him, ‘Teacher, I will follow You wherever You go.’” The scribe introduces the enduring emphasis from this point on. Our Lord’s response aims at the utter and unapologetic realism of discipleship, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” (v. 20) Discipleship is an “unforgiving” environment by worldly standards.

In v. 21 “another of His disciples” asks Him if he can “first go and bury [his] father.” To which Jesus responds, “Follow Me, and let the dead bury their own dead.” (v. 22) 

Given that “disciple” (μαθητής) describes one who learns or follows, it is appropriate to connect that term here with Jesus’ imperative “follow” (ἀκολουθέω), which is to join or accompany someone. A disciple naturally follows his teacher. 

Furthermore, the context clearly sisters these terms together.

The man desiring to bury his father is presumably a disciple. He is called such in v. 21. But he wants to put his goal—following his Master—on hold in order to do something else. This is unacceptable so long as someone considers himself a disciple. A disciple follows, most fundamentally. No matter what value another occupation may seem to have.

In v. 23, something subtle, but pivotal, happens.

Jesus climbs aboard the boat first. The same boat He had allegedly mentioned according to v. 18. The order is important. The Lord goes first. He goes before His disciples. Naturally, of course, His disciples follow Him into the boat, “Now when He got into a boat, His disciples followed Him.” (v, 23) This is the second time, along with vv. 22-23, where discipleship is expressly connected to an active life of following Jesus.

The Text, Discipleship, & Baptism

Having established the connection between discipleship and following Jesus, we can now move to the general maritime trajectory of Jesus and His disciples.

The disciples follow their Lord into a boat. The boat sailed directly into a Galilean squall, which Matthew compared to an earthquake (seismos is the Gk. word used to describe the effects of winds and waves). The waves cover the boat according to v. 24. And their destination is southeast from Capernaum, the “other side” of Galilee—and consequently—the other side of Jordan, i.e. the place of the dead.

The geographical significance cannot be missed. Jesus and His disciples “go down” into the place of the dead, i.e. the tombs of the Gergesenes. (cf. vv. 28-34)

And they do so through water. Water that covers their vessel! And water from which only the Lord Himself delivers them, i.e. “Then He arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was great calm.” (v. 27)

At this point, the reader is invited to consider the relevance of such a watery deluge on the Sea of Galilee to Jonah, the Flood of Noah and, finally, to baptism—all of which point to redemption from sin and death in Jesus Christ. Again, several layers are no doubt at play in this scene. But it certainly appears as though the Hebrew mind would want to connect the Galilee storm with, at least, Jonah. After all, both Jonah and Jesus are found sleeping on a boat in the midst of a storm. And while the responses of the main characters differ, their surrounding circumstances are nearly identical—down to not only the storm itself, but the responses of the men accompanying them.

But if the other narratives, such as Jonah and Noah, may be connected as parallels to the storm on the Sea of Galilee (and I think they easily can be), then it apparently follows that the storm on the Sea of Galilee is a functional metaphor for baptism. Consider the parallels:

  • Noah and his family are delivered by an ark through the water (1 Pet. 3:20, 21)
  • Jonah is delivered by a fish through the water (Jon. 1:17ff; Lk. 11:30)
  • Jesus’ disciples are delivered by Jesus Himself through the water (Matt. 8:26-28)

If the storm on the Sea of Galilee is a metaphor for the waters of baptism, the natural question ends up being: What immediately preceded that storm? What was the disposition of the disciples before the storm on the Sea?

The answer is found in Matthew 8:23, “Now when He got into a boat, His disciples followed Him.” The disciples were determined to follow their Lord leading up to their “immersion” in the Sea of Galilee, which is, not insignificantly, an extension of Jordan, e.g. where our Lord was baptized.

The prerequisite to the “baptism” in the storm on the Sea of Galilee was that the disciples be actual disciples. That is, that they determine to follow Jesus by faith “onto the boat,” so to speak. Apart from this determination, they would have never entered into the storm.

Just as we determine to follow Jesus through a petition to enter the church leading to baptism, so too did these disciples determine to follow Jesus through stepping onto that boat leading, as it were, to baptism.

Conclusion

I understand that this isn’t a knock-down argument for credobaptism.

But the emphasis upon following Jesus as a disciple leading up to their mutual baptism in the Sea of Galilee seems like a noteworthy image related to how we think of the sacrament of baptism. If the image bears any significance upon how we think of baptism, it would seem like we would need to take into account the manner in which the disciples entered upon the Sea and sailed through the storm.

They did so through determining, by faith, to follow their Lord.



Two Reasons In Favor Of Subordinate Authorities (Norma Normata)

Two Reasons In Favor Of Subordinate Authorities (Norma Normata)

by | Dec 21, 2022 | Confessionalism, Hermeneutics, Practical Theology

The doctrine of sola Scriptura is a declaration of Scriptural sufficiency. But as of late, one would think it also serves as a statement on man’s sufficiency. The doctrine of Scripture alone is often used to make provision for left-field interpretations of the text leading to heterodox conclusions. But the Christian was never designed to interpret the Bible in a vacuum. In fact, there are two main reasons why he should not try to do so. His own natural cognitive limitations and his remaining sin nature are two reasons why he must seek help from others, whether that be from creeds, confessions, or helpful biblical commentaries. Let me explain.

Man’s Cognitive Limitations

While Scripture itself is sufficient, the individual reader is not. Both natural cognitive limitation and sin explain why this is the case. Prior to discussing cognitive limitation, it is important to note the context. In this essay, the term “reader” intends a Christian (1) under the state of grace, (2) with remaining sin, and (3) having not reached the state of glory. And in this state of grace, the Christian is cognitively limited. For he has not the intellectual fortitude to apprehend the whole counsel of God to the same extent of the people of God over the last two millennia.

Dr. John Webster summarizes the problem well when he writes, “A second worry generalizes this emergency measure into a wholesale rejection of any shaping interpretation by the church’s accumulated exegetical learning, but makes its appeal not to the clarity of the Word but to the clarifying powers of the standardly rational reader.”[1] To clarify, the tendency Webster notes entails a rejection of subordinate authorities, e.g. the witness of the church, in favor of a supposed unadulterated reliance on Scripture. But really, should the individual reader reject the influence of his peers, he’s left with a reliance not upon Scripture alone, but upon his own cognitive abilities to interpret Scripture.

The cognitive periphery of the historical church is much wider than that of the individual. Hence, even John Calvin places more weight upon the decisions of councils than upon individuals.[2] Of course, as Baptists, we would acknowledge general assemblies to be more preferable than councils. A “council” tends to denote a bishopric hierarchy which Baptists would reject. But Calvin’s point is that there is more interpretive reliability in the whole rather than in the part abstracted from the whole. The more eyes on the text the better.

This should not be taken as an attempt to undermine sola Scriptura, but an application of humility in relation to the Christian’s natural limits. Having come to terms with his cognitive insufficiency, the Christian reader of Scripture may now humbly acknowledge his need for interpretive help. And that help will come from subordinate authorities bearing faithful witness to the meaning of Holy Scripture. Where a single mind fails, many minds succeed. Where cultural bias fails, the transcendence of the church’s historical witness succeeds.

Man’s Remaining Sin Nature

Not only is the Christian limited by cognitive abilities due to his relative finitude, he is also afflicted by a remaining sin nature. Whereas the first problem is ontological, consisting in man’s natural limitation, this second problem is ethical and raises the issue of the Christian’s inevitable disobedience in the state of grace. The Second London Baptist Confession (henceforth, 2LBCF) states:

When God converts a sinner, and translates him into the state of grace, he freeth him from his natural bondage under sin, and by his grace alone enables him freely to will and to do that which is spiritually good; yet so as that by reason of his remaining corruptions, he doth not perfectly, nor only will, that which is good, but doth also will that which is evil. (9.4; emphasis mine)

Given salvific grace and the operation of the Holy Spirit in the life of the Christian, the Christian still sins. As Thomas Boston notes, regeneration is “but an imperfect change.”[3] Misinterpretation and misapplication of Scripture are two ways in which sin continues to manifest in religious life. Scripture itself even goes so far as to assign ineffable depths to our sinful hearts in places like Jeremiah 17:9, “The heart is deceitful above all things, And desperately wicked; Who can know it?” And in Romans 3:23, speaking to Christians, the apostle Paul writes, “ for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God…” The present reality of sin invites the Christian to seek meaningful forms of accountability, all of which would be characterized as norma normata, or subordinate authorities. Subordinate authorities, such as a friend, a pastor, a congregation, creed, or confession are means of doctrinal accountability.

Furthermore, biblical interpretation ought to be seen as a moral act in subjection to the various modes of moral accountability ordained by God for the good of His people. Though the modern tendency is to compartmentalize biblical interpretation from human morality, Scripture itself makes the handling of Scripture a moral issue. Paul writes to Timothy, saying, “Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” (2 Tim. 2:15) The root term for “ashamed” (Gk. αισχρος) may translate to “dishonest,” or, “dishonorable.”[4]

In other words, if the worker has no need to be ashamed, it means he is honest or honorable. And in this case, the worker’s honorability is marked by his work in “rightly dividing the word of truth.” Proverbs 30:6 rebukes addition to the Word of God by saying, “Do not add to His words, Lest He rebukes you, and you be found a liar.” The way the Christian reader reads and handles Holy Scripture is a moral duty.

If the Christian must subject himself to moral accountability, and he must, then biblical interpretation is one thing among many concerning which he should seek help from others. This help comes from as many as would offer it. Proverbs 11:14 states, “Where there is no counsel, the people fall; But in the multitude of counselors there is safety.” Wherever the truth is available that is where it must be sought. This is especially the case with regard to the right interpretation of Scripture. Creeds, confessions, biblical commentaries, etc., are subordinate authorities intended to provide a true and accurate witness to the meaning of Scripture, and in so doing they provide a moral safeguard for Christians aspiring to sound biblical conclusions.[5]

Conclusion

Scripture is sufficient. There is no doubt as to this very fact. But man, in the state of grace, is both cognitively limited and continues to possess a remaining sin nature. For this reason, the individual Christian is much better off subjecting himself to trusted subordinate norms useful for helping him understand the sense of the text. God has ordained teachers in the church for this very reason. And the Proverbs admonish us to maintain a “multitude of counselors.” The Christian, as an individual can know Scripture as an individual, but by himself he is not ordinarily capable of understanding Scripture to the extent he might if he were to read Scripture with the rest of Christ’s people.

Resources

[1] John Webster, The Domain of the Word, (New York: Bloomsbury T & T Clark, 2012), 23.

[2] John Calvin, The Institutes of the Christian Religion, (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2008), 777.

[3] Thomas Boston, Human Nature in Its Fourfold State, (Carlisle: Banner of Truth, 2015), 209.

[4] Joseph Henry Thayer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament: Being Grimm’s Wilke’s Clavis Novi Testamenti (New York: Harper & Brothers., 1889), 17.

[5] It is not my purpose here to delineate or defend what I believe to be the most faithful confession. Rather, the argument is here in favor of the general use of such subordinate authorities. The issue of which subordinate authority to use is downstream from this argument. It must first be established that subordinate authorities are acceptable and that’s what I’m seeking to do here.

The Sufficiency of Scripture, the Insufficiency of Man

The Sufficiency of Scripture, the Insufficiency of Man

by | Nov 1, 2022 | Confessionalism, Ecclesiology, Hermeneutics, Practical Theology

Scripture, tradition, and the relationship between the two—it’s a conversation that needs to be had.

But the present manifestation of this conversation includes two sides talking past one another in a big way. One reason for this is the emerging divergence between two very different epistemologies. Presuppositionalism, broadly speaking—with its idealist DNA—makes Scripture the epistemological starting point of the Christian individual. Man’s idea of Scripture and Scripture itself are nearly the same. And this results in very little attention paid to man’s insufficiency once Scripture is presupposed as sufficient. It is generally assumed that the individual Christian has sole right in determining the proper interpretation of any given verse, chapter, or book of the Bible. Hence, the disdain of some for the tradition.

The classical Reformed position, on the other hand, understands there to be a distinction between Scripture as a source for our theology and our theology as it exists in the fallible mind. In other words, the fount of man’s theology is the text of Scripture, the principium cognoscendi, and man’s theology derives from that principle in an imperfect manner. (1 Cor. 13:12) This means Scripture is presupposed, but it is presupposed as a principle that leads to conclusions drawn by the fallible intellect. Naturally, therefore, we can admit these theological conclusions drawn from biblical exegesis to be fallible as well, while the source itself, Scripture, is infallible. Subsequently, a team effort in biblical interpretation becomes a needful service.

Scripture & the Tradition

Given the above explication, we should be readily able to see why the presuppositional milieu seems so allergic to the ministerial authority of tradition. Man presupposes the Scriptures in such a way that there’s functionally no difference between Scripture and man’s knowledge of Scripture. This cashes out in an infallible presupposition, or an infallible idea in man. In this one area, the knowledge of man is raised to an apostolic quality of infallibility. If Scripture is infallible, and there is no distinction between Scripture itself and man’s idea of it, man’s idea is infallible. And thus, it is no longer subject to peer scrutiny, say, from the tradition. It’s a simple matter of applying the law of identity and following the implications.

On the other hand, if classicalism is true, and Scripture acts as a perfect reservoir for our  imperfect theological knowledge, it follows that we might maintain Scripture’s unique attribute of infallibility while at the same time admitting man’s fallibility. And this leads us to the good and necessary use of secondary authorities. If man is fallible, he needs help to understand the infallible Scriptures aright. Biblical interpretation is not purely an individual exercise. It requires the Holy Spirit, as He works in the individual, but also as He has worked in believers past and present. Francis Turretin writes:

When we dispute at any time from the fathers against our adversaries, we use them only as witnesses, to approve by their vote the truth believed by us and to declare the belief of the church in their time. We do not use them as judges whose opinion is to be acquiesced in absolutely and without examination and as the standard of truth in doctrines of faith or in the interpretation of the Scriptures.[1]

In other words, while the fathers are not determinative of biblical meaning, as Rome conceived of them, they are witnesses unto the truth. They are the Democracy of the Dead. The peer review of theological discourse.

But not even this minimalized view of tradition may be granted if indeed our presupposition of the Scriptures is one and the same with the Scriptures themselves. If this is the case, to criticize the presupposer is to criticize what is presupposed. If Scripture and our idea of Scripture are identical, then subjecting ourselves to the voice of history is as bad as subjecting Scripture itself to the voice of men! In this scheme, to make man accountable to other men is to make Scripture accountable to man.

The Protestant View of Tradition

During the Reformation, two different views of tradition were forcefully advanced. There was “tradition 1” (T1), which taught the magisterial authority of Scripture, the meaning of which is witnessed by ministerial authorities, like creeds, confessions, the early church fathers, and biblical commentators. But “tradition 2” (T2) taught that there were two magisterial authorities, Scripture and tradition—the latter being able to create doctrines not found in the former. In the modern discourse, a “tradition 3” (T3) seems to emerge which rejects the place of tradition in theology entirely. Charitably, we might credit the (T3) position with maintaining a use for tradition, but what that use is is not abundantly clear. On (T3), tradition may be interesting, but it isn’t authoritative in any measure, and it rarely maps to the church’s contemporary situation.

For example, in a recent journal article, James White writes:

Just as in the days of the Reformation, citations and counter-citations of earlier church writings appear in the battles of our own day, whether in reference to the positions of Rome, Eastern Orthodoxy, or any other system that claims to honor both Scripture and other external sources of authority (whether those sources are necessary for the interpretation of Scripture or whether they exist as co-equal or even superior authorities alongside of Scripture). But it is here that we must insist upon this maxim: Let the early church fathers be the early church fathers. That is, we must allow them to speak in their own context, to their own battles, in their own language. We cannot demand that they answer our questions and engage in our conflicts, nor can we assume that the battles back then were identical in form and substance to ours today. It is far, far too easy to abuse historical sources in the service of a cause or a movement. Rome has done this, and has done so authoritatively, by claiming her dogmas have been the “constant faith of the church” down through the ages. But Protestants, free of the dogmatic constraints of Rome’s infallible pronouncements, can still emphasize a particular lens through which the statements of earlier generations and previous centuries are filtered, giving a distorted view of earlier theologians’ actual beliefs. Ironically, such modern lenses are often constructed with carefully selected citations of the fathers by contemporary historians who insist that they are, in fact, simply walking in the tradition that has come down to them.[2]

Apparently, there is a severance between our time and their time. The issues they dealt with were their issues, and the issues we deal with are ours. The implication is startling. Their doctrinal conclusions were formed from issues unique to their time. And this leaves the reader scratching his head, asking, “Are their doctrinal conclusions to be left behind, as unique to their own day, as were their theological disputes?” Of course, Ecclesiastes 1:9 tells us there is nothing new under the sun. So, one has to wonder what White intends to achieve by seemingly isolating the fathers and their problems to their historical context.

Furthermore, White’s engagement of his interlocutors simply fails to remark upon crucial aspects of (T1) and the Reformational doctrine of Sola Scriptura as the norma normans over subordinate authorities, norma normata. The “contemporary historians,” though not named in the above quote, presumably includes the historians and theologians White has been interacting with over the last year—a year which no doubt contextualizes the entire journal issue in which White’s article appears. And those particular historians and theologians, as far as I can tell, do not accept White’s presupposition that historical figures are adopted as idealistic “lenses” through which Scripture must be filtered. It has been unequivocally stated that Scripture is the source and principle of true theological knowledge, and that this source of knowledge is a document read by the Holy Spirit-filled individual with Holy Spirit-filled voices from the past. To use Turretin’s language, employment of the creeds, confessions, and historical commentary is the employment of “witnesses”—other minds which demonstrate that we ourselves are not going it alone.

The Insufficiency of Man

This brings me to what should be an elephant in the room: the insufficiency of man. Fundamental to the task of theology is the theologian’s humble acknowledgment of his own inadequacy. He has a keen awareness of Romans 3:23, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” noting especially the present tense of his fallenness in that text. He confesses that his heart is accurately diagnosed by Jeremiah when he writes, “The heart is deceitful above all things, And desperately wicked; Who can know it?” (Jer. 17:9)

Because of man’s inadequacy, the Holy Spirit turns the Christian to his fellow man, “Without counsel, plans go awry, But in the multitude of counselors they are established.” (Prov. 15:22) Through consort with his brothers, he gains a wider periphery. A single man can see, but many men can see more. He also gains accountability, and is less likely to chart his own, novel path. Heretics, though claiming love for the Scriptures, gain nothing but their own innovative opinions leading to their spiritual shipwreck. A helmsman needs a navigator to chart the sea.

Conclusion

Once we acknowledge the difference between the primacy and adequacy of the Scriptures versus our own inadequacy, we will clearly begin to see the need for a “multitude of counselors” when it comes to biblical interpretation and theological formulation. So long as Scripture and our commitment to it are seen as one and the same (some corners of presuppositionalism), man’s insufficiency figures less into the exegetical picture. So long as Scripture and man’s idea of it are the same, Scripture’s adequacy and man’s adequacy are one and the same. The result is an unfalsifiable, individual Bible interpreter that sets himself above the collective voice of the historical church. A self-made pope.

For these reasons, it would be best to understand Scripture as sufficient, man as inadequate, Scripture as chiefly authoritative, and tradition as a ministerial aid to man’s intellectual and ethical handicaps.

Resources:

[1] Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, vol. I, (Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 1992), 163.

[2] James White, “What Is Sola Scriptura,” Pro Pastor,Vol. 1, No. 1, FALL 2022, A Journal of Grace Bible Theological Seminary, 3-4.

Covenant Theology IV | The Covenant of Works

Covenant Theology IV | The Covenant of Works

by | Aug 22, 2022 | Biblical Theology, Covenant Theology, Hermeneutics

So far, we’ve addressed exegetical assumptions which lie behind covenant theology in general. These did not get us to the key differences between 1689 federalism and paedobaptist federalism, but they did help us to contrast our hermeneutics with those of Henebury’s. We have also looked, briefly, at the covenant of redemption. In the event Henebury is writing an explainer rather than a critique, his material on the covenant of redemption fell far short on what would have been considered sufficient. He dealt incompletely with his interlocutors and, in doing so, was unable to produce for his readers a clear picture of what the covenant of redemption is along with its exegetical groundwork. I want to be clear, I am not accusing Henebury of purposeful omission. It is just my honest opinion that he lacked thoroughness.

In his fourth and fifth articles he attempts to deal with the covenant of works. I will take this opportunity to address both in one. In his fourth article, he concludes by saying, “I shall continue next time by looking more at what CT’s say about the covenant of works before looking at what the Bible has to say about it.” However, in the fifth installment, there is very little interaction with Scripture. I would urge those reading both his and my posts to pay careful attention to Henebury’s appeal to Scripture, whether there is one, and whether or not such appeals offer exegetical demonstration or are simply claims about what the text says.

An Innovative Hermeneutic

This is as good a time as any to discuss what Henebury calls the “Rules of Affinity.” He calls these rules a “grid of category formulations.” This is fascinating, especially since one of Henebury’s charges against covenant theology is its inherent reliance upon deduction. It’s also interesting for the very fact that it’s apparently brand new. Where are these rules in the history of the church? In the Bible itself? Has the church missed it for 2,000 years? We should exercise extreme caution when it comes to interpretive and theological innovations. Christianity is very old. New is rare, and when something new is discovered, it’s not by a single individual. The Bible was written to the elect (plural), not an elect individual. We must do theology in community for the sake of accountability.

Henebury proposes five a priori categories for guiding the interpretive task. I will not write at length to explain these categories, but they are listed below:

C1: a doctrinal proposition based on a straightforward quotation of Scripture.

 

C2: a proposition based on a strong inference from the witness of several C1 passages combined, thus producing an inevitable doctrinal conclusion.

 

C3: a doctrinal proposition based upon a plausible inference from the shared witness of the cumulative direction of C1 and C2 texts of Scripture.

 

C4: a proposition based on a theological inference usually from another doctrine instead of any plain statement of Scripture.

 

C5: a proposition based on a theological inference which itself based on other theological inferences without reference to plain statements of Scripture.

These categories represent an a priorism in Henebury’s method which, by definition, requires deduction. An a priori category, or assumption, is that which comes prior to conclusions one may hold as a result of said assumption. Furthermore, since Henebury, I believe, has misunderstood the hermeneutical axiom of “good and necessary consequence” (or inference), his (C2) is essentially a restatement of “good and necessary consequence” as it has been historically understood. There isn’t a formal difference between (C2) and the confessional notion of inference. Regardless of this apparent inconsistency, I can appreciate our agreement on this point.

A necessary conclusion is a conclusion which follows necessarily from two or more premises. In this case, the premises would be explicit data points in Scripture necessitating a certain doctrinal conclusion not explicitly stated. This is stronger than plausibility. A plausible conclusion is one that seems reasonable and lacks compelling force. A necessary conclusion is one that follows from premises, and, given the truth of the premises, cannot be false. An example of a doctrine gleaned from good and necessary consequence is the doctrine of the Trinity—that God is one essence subsisting in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We would, hopefully, not venture to say the doctrine of the Trinity is merely plausible, but necessary for a Christian to be, well, a Christian.

My purpose is not to spend too much time here. It is only to once again point out the fact that Henebury has his own a priori assumptions he makes in drawing interpretive conclusions. This, in itself, is not wrong. Again, the question is: Does he make true assumptions? I would say that he does not, for the simple reason that biblical interpretation is not always reducible to plausible conclusions, given the laws of logic and the principle of causality. But this is not the place for a full-blown examination of the “Rules of Affinity.” Moving on.

What Is the Covenant of Works?

Quoting Brown & Keele, Henebury defines the covenant of works as follows, “God’s commitment to give Adam, and his posterity in him, eternal life for obedience or eternal death for disobedience.” He offers a secondary definition from O. Palmer Robertson:

The creation bond between God and man may be discussed in terms of its general and its focal aspects. The general aspect of the covenant of creation [aka “works”] relates to the broader responsibilities of man to his Creator. The focal aspect of the covenant…relates to the more specific responsibility of man arising from the special point of probation or testing instituted by God.

Brown & Keel’s definition is sufficient for our purposes here. In substance, all that is meant by “covenant of works” is the divine imposition of conditions upon man in the garden with blessings for obedience to those conditions and curses for failing to obey. The Second London Baptist Confession of Faith (1677/89) puts it this way, “…God created man upright and perfect, and gave him a righteous law, which had been unto life had he kept it, and threatened death upon the breach thereof…” (2LBCF, 6.1) While there is disagreement as to the nuances of Adam’s eschatology, the definitive core of the covenant of works concerns the above—a law, blessing for obedience, curse for disobedience. This is distinct from the new covenant (covenant of grace) which is not conditioned upon our obedience. Adam broke covenant with God, received the penalty for himself and his posterity. Christ keeps covenant with God, recevies the blessings of obedience for Himself and His posterity (those who are born again).

Is the Covenant of Works Built Upon Mere Conjecture?

While Henebury claims that all this sits upon inference after inference, this is not the case. God certainly does give Adam a law, “And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, ‘Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.’” (Gen. 2:16-17) The Hebrew term for “command” (swh) is the same term used within the context of the giving of the Mosaic covenant in Exodus 19:7, “So Moses came and called for the elders of the people, and laid before them all these words which the LORD commanded him.” Furthermore, God gives a blessing, “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat…” “Every tree” certainly includes the tree of life. God also issues a curse in the event of disobedience, “for in the day that you eat of [the tree of the knowledge of good and evil] you shall surely die.” This is all that is required for a covenant of works in the garden. The curse in Genesis 3 exposes more details about what is entailed here. All men die in Adam; hence, our federal theology. (cf. 1 Cor. 15:22)

Henebury does not interact with any of this. Instead, he says:

As there are zero examples of oaths taken in respect to the covenants of redemption, works, or grace in Scripture, what we have is yet another inference taken from reading the biblical covenants (Noahic, Abrahamic, Mosaic, Priestly, Davidic, and New) and supposing that the “covenants” of CT do the same thing as those clear covenants stipulate.

Of course, such a statement takes for granted his very own deduction, namely, that every covenant must include a formal oath given that some covenants in Scripture do. But where does the Bible itself require this of every covenant? We know oath-making is a feature of covenants among men, “For men indeed swear by the greater, and an oath for confirmation is for them an end of all dispute.” (Heb. 6:16) And we know that God has made a covenant with an oath, “Thus God, determining to show more abundantly to the heirs of promise the immutability of His counsel, confirmed it by an oath…” (Heb. 6:17) But such an oath was by way of confirmation, something wholly unnecessary for men prior to the fall. For Adam had certain knowledge of God and His will apart from any doubt. He wasn’t in a state of misery rendering him needful of a guarantee, which is the very purpose of oaths in the first place—to offer assurance to the vassal party of the Suzerain’s faithfulness.

In his fifth article, he writes, “In my view the biblical doctrine of the atonement does not require a doctrine of Christ’s ‘active obedience.’ The fact of the matter is that the Bible does not say that Christ’s perfect life atones in any way for either Adam’s sin or for our failure to live righteously.” Depending on how Henebury is using the term “atone,” this statement is disconcerting, and it shows us the consequence of failing to “get the garden right.”[1] If Christ did not live perfectly for us under the law, all humanity is doomed. His active obedience is directly related to our right standing before God. The necessity of Christ’s perfect life lived unto God under the law is made clear in texts like Romans 5:10, “For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by His life.” 

One might be tempted here to reduce “life” to Christ’s resurrection. But Christ’s resurrection would be impossible apart from His active obedience. Furthermore, Jesus Himself says, “A little while longer and the world will see Me no more, but you will see Me. Because I live, you will live also.” (Jn. 14:19) Here, the verb in the phrase, “Because I live,” is in the present tense. The whole of Christ’s life is here in view, including that which the disciples were then in the process of experiencing prior to His resurrection. 

Philippians 2:8-9 shows us that Christ’s exaltation, of which His resurrection was a part, was the conclusive result of His active and passive obedience, “And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross. Therefore God also has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every name…” Romans 5:14 explicitly compares Adam with Christ, construing the first Adam as a type, or pattern, of the one who was to come, “Nevertheless death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over those who had not sinned according to the likeness of the transgression of Adam, who is a type of Him who was to come.” But if Adam is an imperfect pattern of our Lord, then his responsibility before God anticipates the responsibility of Christ before God in the stead of Adam’s sinful posterity. And this just means that getting Adam wrong is to risk getting the gospel itself wrong.

Henebury goes on to say:

As for the biblical merits of the Covenant of Works it has to be said that they are slim. The arguments that are constructed for it out of Scripture and reason are all propounded on the basis of eisegesis. That is to say, the texts of Scripture are not being expounded to see what they say in the places where they say it, but are being located and dug-out of their contexts…

However, if Christ came as the antitypical fulfillment of the first Adam, as Romans 5:14 declares, a covenant of works appears necessary. Christ came to merit the life Adam himself failed to obtain for his posterity. “For since by man came death, by Man also came the resurrection of the dead.” (1 Cor. 15:21)

Conclusion

In light of the above, which is only the tip of the iceberg, I hope it can be seen that the “biblical merits of the Covenant of Works” are anything other than slim. Apart from quoting another author questioning the biblical warrant for a covenant of works in the garden, Henebury never actually interacts with any of the exegesis used in support of the covenant of works from “our side.” To claim the covenant of works is the product of “eisegesis,” Henebury at least needs to show this to be the case. He does not do this. The lack of biblical engagement gives the impression that Henebury effortlessly writes off his interlocutors simply because they disagree with his preconceived system.

Resources

[1] Richard Barcellos, Getting the Garden Right, (Cape Coral: Founders Press, 2021).