The Theological Psychology of Gregory the Great

The Theological Psychology of Gregory the Great

Known best for the invention of the Gregorian chant, 800+ letters and tracts, and prolific Bible commentary, Gregory the Great wrote a short volume titled The Book of Pastoral Rule. I would not commend everything in the book, nor would I necessarily recommend it as an ideal pastoral handbook (he is the 6th c. Bishop of Rome after all).

But Gregory manages to open a window into pre-modern psychology. When I say “psychology,” I do not mean the stuff of Freud, Jung, or your therapist. I mean a theological psychology that takes for granted God, the immaterial soul, moral law, sin, and the gospel.

In discussing pastoral qualifications, Gregory glosses the psychology of curiosity, earthly cares, and shame. Below, I will look at what he has to say concerning each of these.

[For this article, I’ll be using a recent edition of The Book of Pastoral Rule, translated by George Demacopoulos. (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2007)]

Gregory covers much more than what we will look at here. This is but a glimpse. But with limitations acknowledged, I’ll begin with the psychology of curiosity.

What Gregory describes might be called “distraction.” He doesn’t use the term curiosity. That designation is most popularly used in the work of Thomas Aquinas about 700 years later. And I think it’s helpful to use the word “curiosity” since it refers to such a culturally accepted vice. What makes Gregory’s words about curiosity psychological is that he not only describes it, but he offers a causal explanation for why it occurs. He says:

For when the mind involves itself more than is needful with external things, it is like [a man] who is so preoccupied on a long journey that he forgets where he is going. As a result, the mind is such a stranger to self-examination that it does not consider the damage that it suffers and is ignorant of the extent to which it errs.[2]

Gregory does much more here than simply define curiosity. He denominates and explains.

He denominates, because he mentions a particular species of distraction or curiosity, namely, a distraction from the reality of one’s own spiritual (and moral) state of being. Today, we’d call this “a lack of self-awareness.”

If you’ve ever interacted with or counseled a narcissist, you likely found that they are keenly aware of the failures of others, but entirely (and conveniently) aloof when it comes to their own failures—moral or otherwise. This is a fatal form of curiosity because it draws the subject away from an important God-given priority in life, i.e. spiritual discipline.

Gregory not only describes the nature of the distraction but seeks to explain it. It happens “when the mind involves itself more than is needful with external things…”

There are two things here: excess (intemperance) and subordinate matters. When a man over-indulges in less important matters (lower priorities) he is bound to be pulled away from that which matters most. In this case, he is drawn away from his own spiritual well-being to other things. This happens to such an extent that a person in such a state cannot perceive their own sin. And a person who does not see his or her own sin has virtually no need for the gospel.

The psychology of curiosity, for Gregory, seems to be an intemperance concerning what really matters—like a man who would trade the welfare of his children for promotion at work.

Psychology of Earthly Cares

Gregory describes another kind of cognitive disorder—earthly care. A man lacks awareness of higher matters by virtue of being “weighed down” through habitual vice. Commenting tropologically on the Mosaic law and its prohibition of certain bodily maladies, Gregory puts it this way:

The “hunchback”,” then, is one who feels the burden of worldly cares to such an extent that he never looks up to what is lofty but instead focuses entirely upon what is tread upon at the most base level. For this one, whenever he hears something good about the kingdom of heaven, is so weighed down by the burden of perverse habit that he does not raise the face of his heart because he cannot raise the posture of his thought, which the habit of earthly care keeps face down.[3] (Emphasis added)

Man is a body-soul composite.

Within the soul, there is the intellect and will. The body then supplies animal or sensitive appetites, which may be employed for the good so long as those appetites are brought under the control of the intellect and will. However, more often than not, our intellect is led by the lower appetites rather than the other way around.

Sin makes us think like beasts rather than men.

The preoccupation with “earthly cares” is explained by “perverse habit,” which invariably entails a prioritization of lower passions. When a man fails to control his lower passions through virtue, he will be influenced by outward, earthly stimuli—e.g. riches, sex, food—more than anything else. He “loses his mind,” as it were.

The man consumed by earthly cares has an ensnared heart or soul. Originally created to contemplate and enjoy God, the sinful man’s soul is enslaved to bodily passions. He cannot “rise” above what most pleases his senses, i.e. earthly things.

Psychology of Shame

Not leaving the previous context, per se, Gregory switches a small gear to those who delight in sinful thoughts. He describes this person as one who “is not carried away by sinful deeds, [but] his mind is entertained by lustful thoughts without any stings of repugnance.”[4] Gregory would likely grant that all sinners, including true Christians, struggle with taking pleasure in sinful thoughts. So he adds a qualifier. This is a person who doesn’t have a “struggle.” This is a person who goes without “any stings of repugnance.”

He elaborates:

A person, then, is ruptured when all of his thoughts sink to the level of lasciviousness, and he bears in his heart the weight of wickedness; and although he does not actively engage in shameful acts, nevertheless they are not purged from his mind. Moreover, he does not have the strength to raise himself to the discipline of good works because he is secretly weighed down by a shameful burden. (Emphasis added)

The psychological consequence of delighting in wicked thoughts is ethical impotence. The road to perdition is more like a downward spiral. As this man delights in wicked thoughts, he is less and less likely to turn the train around. The more he travels into the darkness, the dimmer the light gets.

When he thinks about turning his life around and tries to occupy himself with good works, the shame of his sin brings despair. His strategy becomes, “Well, I’m already here, I may as well remain.” Sin, in thought or deed, disposes a person away from God and toward more of their sin. This is why drug addictions rarely stop at marijuana, or why alcoholism is never limited to 4 beers a night. It’s why a porn addiction may turn into a real-life one-night-stand or long-term affair.

Sin has momentum. And part of this momentum is shame.

Shame is the burden one feels as a result of sins they’ve committed. And so long as that burden remains, there is very little incentive to turn things around. A homeless man learns to live without much food and no shelter. He becomes content with his station. Climbing out of the hole seems like nothing more than wishful thinking.

The effect the gospel has here cannot be underestimated. Shame is alleviated in the penal substitutionary atonement of Jesus Christ—where our sin is transferred to Him and dealt with for good. With the cleansing of the conscience following faith in the gospel, a door to renewal is flung wide open.

Conclusion

In pre-modern figures like Gregory, we find a thorough analysis of the whole man. It’s diagnostic, yet it’s far from secular. It’s neither materialistic nor naturalistic. Scripture plays a central role in his approach. At the same time, he doesn’t merely regurgitate biblical data expecting the reader to crunch it like a calculator or a computer. He deals with various aspects of man’s soul. He deals with the whole man. And this is par the course for pre-modern figures.

Speaking in a broad sense, the work of theological retrieval has much to offer in the area of anthropology. More specifically, however, it may also have much to offer in the field of Christian counseling or even clinical psychology.

Resources:

[1] Frederick Wilhelmsen, Man’s Knowledge of Reality, (Brooklyn, NY: Angelico Press, 2021), 3. He writes, “There is no distinct science of epistemology in the Thomistic sense of science.”

[2] Gregory the Great, The Book of Pastoral Rule, (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2007), 34.

[3] Gregory, The Book of Pastoral Rule, 46.

[4] Gregory, The Book of Pastoral Rule, 48.

 

Shall We Worship Love? The Dilemma of Denying Divine Simplicity

Shall We Worship Love? The Dilemma of Denying Divine Simplicity

“For since ‘God is love,’ he who loves love certainly loves God; but he must needs love love, who loves his brother.” ~ Augustine, On the Holy Trinity, Bk. 8, Ch. 8

Contrary perhaps to a first glance, Augustine isn’t waxing redundant. If God is love, it certainly follows that this love must be loved more than anything or anyone else. It is a love that must be adored, pursued, and even worshiped.

In 1 John 4:8, the apostle writes, “He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” And again in v. 16, “And we have known and believed the love that God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.” These two substantive clauses identify the perfection of love with God Himself. To put it more technically, the divine essence just is love, according to the apostle. Hence, as Augustine observes, this love must be loved. This love must be loved and adored above all else — for God is love.

But this causes a dilemma for those who would deny the identity of divine love with the divine itself. If love in God is God, this love must be worshiped. If love in God is not God, it must not be worshiped.

Let me try to explain…

The Doctrine of Divine Simplicity

The doctrine of divine simplicity (DDS) states that God is not composed of parts. Any parts. No really… there are no parts in God. Zip. Zero.

To put the doctrine of divine simplicity in the words of Herman Bavinck, “But in God everything is one. God is everything He possesses. He is his own wisdom, his own life; being and living coincide in him.”[1] To use the title language of James Dolezal’s helpful book, All That is in God Is God. The Second London Confession (1677) expresses the doctrine as follows, “The Lord our God is but one only living and true God; whose subsistence is in and of himself, infinite in being and perfection; whose essence cannot be comprehended by any but himself; a most pure spirit, invisible, without body, parts, or passions, who only hath immortality, dwelling in the light which no man can approach unto…” (2LCF 2.1; emphasis added)

According to DDS, any kind of partition or parthood in the divine essence must be denied. If mereology is the “study of parthood,” God does not have a mereology. Dolezal defines a “part” as “anything that is less than the whole and without which the whole would be really different than it is.”[2] Stephen Charnock expresses the same point, “the compounding parts are in order of nature before that which is compounded by them… If God had parts and bodily members as we have, or any composition, the essence of God would result from those parts, and those parts be supposed to be before God.”[3] In other words, if God had parts those parts would make Him who He is. He would be, in a sense, caused. To put it another way, God would depend on that which is more basic than Himself to be Himself. In sum, God would not be God if He were not simple.

Love in God, therefore, must not be thought to be anything other than God Himself. Hence, 1 John 4:8, 16, “God is love.” Love is not something God “has.” Love isn’t something God participates in with other beings. It’s not something more basic than Himself making Him to be what He is and without which He would be different.

The Dilemma of Denying the DDS

If God is love, we must love love, as Augustine observes above. But this means that the divine essence (God Himself) and love as it is in God must be the same. If this love were not God, it would be a gross error to love love as the highest good. It would be unthinkable to love, adore, and worship that which is not God Himself. To worship what is not God is to commit idolatry according to the first and second commandments. (Cf. Ex. 20) Thus, either love in God just is God, or it is not God. But if it is not God, it cannot be loved as the highest good, adored, and worshiped.

A denial of DDS (as stated above) would seem to imply a real distinction between God’s essence and the love that exists in God. But if this is the case, to worship and adore the love that is in God would be idolatry. Furthermore, the twin substantives in 1 John 4, i.e. “God is love,” would be nothing but poetic, if not hyperbolic, expressions. But this doesn’t seem likely given the identification of love with knowledge of God in v. 8. Nor would v. 16 easily permit flexibility in the language since it identifies the act of abiding in love with the act of abiding in God Himself, “And we have known and believed the love that God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.” Abiding in love just is to abide in God, but this would not necessarily be the case if love and God were really different “things.”

The denial of classical DDS seems to encounter a dilemma — worship love or not. If love is not God, it would be a sin to worship it. If love is God, it would be a sin not to.

Resources:

[1] Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 2, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2004), 174.

[2] James Dolezal, “Still Impassible: Confessing God Without Passions,” in Journal of the Institute of Reformed Baptist Studies, 132.

[3] Stephen Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God, vol. 1, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House Company, 1979), 186.

A Simple Definition of Virtue

A Simple Definition of Virtue

“… as His divine power has given to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of Him who called us by glory and virtue…” ~ 2 Peter 1:3

According to Thomas Aquinas, the Augustinian definition “comprises perfectly the whole essential notion of virtue.”[1] The definition is as follows: “Virtue is a good quality of the mind, by which we live righteously, of which no one can make bad use, which God works in us, without us.” Jonathan Edwards says virtue “is that consent, propensity, and union of heart to being in general, which is immediately exercised in a general good will.”[2] Virtues direct man to his first and primary end—God. And they are said to perfect man’s moral life or his moral operations. Virtues are those through which man pursues his summum bonum, which is none but God.

Resources

[1] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I-II, (Notre Dame, IN: Christian Classics, 1981), 821.

[2] Jonathan Edwards, The Nature of True Virtue, (monergism.com), 6. monergism.com/nature-true-virtue-ebook.

Which Way Western Man? Curiosity, Or Studiousness?

Which Way Western Man? Curiosity, Or Studiousness?

It’s 7 pm. The sun quickly hastens, hiding behind the horizon. My family and I sit in a restaurant just a few miles from home. As I look around at other tables, I observe something ominous, something sobering: Very few people speak to one another. Knecks angled down, eyes overshadowed by hair or brow, most people stare at their phones.

Does this sound like a familiar situation?

Whether we’ve noticed it in ourselves or others, if you’re not living under a rock, chances are you’ve experienced something similar. Mindless scrolling. Cheap laughs. No interpersonal communication. It’s a sad state of affairs. And it would be even sadder if there weren’t an explanation. But there is an explanation. Ready for it?

Studiousness has been exchanged for curiosity. 

This has always been a problem in society, even prior to the modern age. But our technological achievements have unfortunately favored curiosity rather than studiousness with endless videos, audible reading, podcasts, news feeds, and so on. These things aren’t bad in and of themselves. And I’ll say something more about their proper use in a moment. But the vicious habit of curiosity is virtually the default mode of education today. And this is a major problem.

So, what do we do about it?

Before we answer this question, we have to first understand what curiosity is and how it differs from studiousness. We also have to understand something of the extent to which curiosity fails to yield the same fruits as studiousness.

“Curiosity Killed the Ca…” Man!

Curiosity is deadly. But why?

As Eve gazed upon the mysterious forbidden fruit, the Serpent worked his sales pitch. “Did God really tell you not to eat this?” he asked. (Gen. 3:1) He even went so far as to register a baldfaced lie in total contradiction to God’s own words. “You won’t die!” the Serpent added. Eve’s interest peaked. The Bible says the “woman saw that the tree was good for food, that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree desirable to make one wise…” (v. 6)

Whatever was involved in Eve’s decision-making process, curiosity was certainly at the forefront. But how? Isn’t curiosity harmless? Not quite. Thomas Aquinas gives an expansive fourfold definition of curiosity which just adds some additional descriptive power to what essentially took place in the Garden and continues to characterize our now-fallen situation. Thomas says that curiosity consists of a wrongly ordered desire to know the truth. And there are four marks he offers by way of description.

First, when someone decides to study something less profitable than that which they are more obliged to study. For example, I’m a pastor. I have an obligation to study and to show myself approved, and this is for the edification of the sheep. However, if I’m consumed by scrolling social media rather than fulfilling the work of the ministry, I am engaging in curiosity. On this point, Jerome wrote, “We see priests forsaking the gospels and the prophets, reading stage-plays, and singing the love songs of pastoral idylls.” (ST.II-II.Q167.A1.C.3)

Second, when man studies something which he is not supposed to know. For example, when man tries to discern the future or speak with the dead through a medium. Thomas calls this “superstitious curiosity.”

Third, when someone desires to know the truth about the world or anything in the world without referring all his knowledge to its proper end which is, ultimately, the knowledge of God. If the knowledge of created things does not bring a person to reflect upon God and His glory, then man engages in curiosity. Knowing something without doing so to God’s glory is, perhaps, the clearest expression of curiosity.

Fourth, when man tries to study that which lies beyond his own intellect, and so then engages in fruitless speculation, he is engaging in the sin of curiosity. In this case, the distinction made in Deuteronomy 29:29 is blurred, “The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but those things which are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law.”

In Eve’s case, all four kinds of curiosity are present. First, she desired to know something that was less profitable to her than what she had been created to do. Second, she was forbidden from eating the fruit, and so this was knowledge off-limits to her. Third, she obviously did not want to glorify God in such knowledge, but only to glorify herself. Hence, the Serpent’s enticement, “You shall be like God.” And fourth, she pursued knowledge that was beyond her capacities, that is, she wanted to do the impossible—become her own God. And this led only to folly.

Curiosity killed the man and with him the whole human race!

Studiousness Is Life-Giving

Proverbs 19:8 reads, “He who gets wisdom loves his own soul; He who keeps understanding will find good.” Studiousness and curiosity can look the same. Both involve the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. However, what differentiates the two is the purpose for which knowledge and wisdom are sought.

On the one hand, curiosity induces one to vanity in (1) the study of something inferior to what one needs to study, (2) the study of something forbidden, (3) the study of the world for the world’s sake rather than God’s, or (4) the prideful study of that to which we cannot attain.

On the other hand, studiousness is a virtuous study of (1) the truth we need to know and are most obligated to know, (2) the truth commended for us to know by God, both through the natural world and Scripture, (3) study of truth unto a higher knowledge of God and divine wisdom, and (4) the humble study of that which we have the capacity to learn, i.e. not trying to study that which clearly lies beyond our grasp.

Curiosity leads to all sorts of dead ends. The truth may be apprehended, but it will never be known for the proper end nor appropriately applied by the understanding. Furthermore, curiosity often leads to a drought of knowledge altogether, since it sometimes attempts to know what is beyond the knower’s capacity. In this case, it’s vulnerable to imbibing falsehoods similar to those Eve entertained from the mouth of the Serpent.

Studiousness is the properly ordered pursuit of knowledge unto the glory of God. And it’s really studiousness that serves as the proper disposition according to which we might know and learn Christ. Curiosity lends itself to the apprehension of historical faith if that. But studiousness is the fruit of saving faith and is thus to be desired by all Christians.

Back to That Restaurant We Were at Earlier

Dropping all the above into our contemporary context…

As we look around at the zombified restaurantgoers obsessed with their phones, Would we say our society is mostly occupied with studiousness or with curiosity?

I’ll let you be the judge of that. But for my part, the speed of information, the perpetual immersion of society into its smart devices, along with a culture virtually identified with its social media status has me answering: Curiosity.

Don’t get me wrong, much of our technology has great potential to be used for the glory of God. Phones might be used to check up on loved ones. Social media can be used for the transmission of the gospel and for various forms of networking. There are countless ways in which we could transcend the many vulnerabilities of our technological age. But in order to do that, we have to be able to identify curiosity, avoid it, and instead employ our technology in a way that fruitfully serves a habit of studiousness.

Of the Human Nature of the Son

Of the Human Nature of the Son

What does it mean to say, “Christ assumed human nature?” Sure, assumption comes into view, but what did Christ assume? The question of nature is an important one, for two major reasons. First, we’re a generally metaphysically illiterate generation. Substance, essence, and nature are all words we’ve heard and used, but are typically ignorant as to their significance. Second, “nature” is a central concept in at least three foundational Christian doctrines: the doctrine of God, the doctrine of creation, and the doctrine of Christ. To misunderstand and misappropriate the concept of nature is to risk serious errors (if not heresies) regarding each of these doctrines.

To get started, we might define nature as the “what” of a thing. When we ask, “What is an automobile?” we inquire into the nature of automobiles. When we ask, “What is man?” we ask the question of humanity or human nature. Bernard Wuellner offers the following definition relevant to our purposes here, that nature is “the essence or substance considered as the intrinsic principle of activity and passion or of motion and rest.”[1] Nature, in this case, explains why this thing is the way that it is and why it does what it does. The nature of an elephant distinguishes it from a giraffe, an alligator, and so on. Things differ in their natures. Things differ because of their natures.

Human Nature

When we speak of an elephantine nature, we speak of something different than a birdly nature. Why? Because the essential properties of an elephant distinguish it from birds. Elephants and birds have different properties that distinguish their species. When we speak of human nature, we speak of that which distinguishes man from beast. What is human nature as distinct from an elephantine nature? The essential properties differ. The essential property of man distinguishing him from all lower life forms is his intellectual soul. The intellectual soul, or the intellect and will of man, is what sets man apart as the highest of God’s creatures, second only to angels.

Concerning this intellectual or rational soul, Peter Van Mastricht lists three things it entails, “In the rational soul is intellect, will, and free choice.”[2] The intellect is the reason, in which we find self-awareness and the power of discursive reasoning, i.e. the ability to reason from one fact to another and to see things in relation to the whole. Van Mastricht refers to it as the power of “apprehending the true.” Judgment pertains to the intellect, affirming and denying propositions, suggestions, or actions as either true or false, either just or unjust.

The second faculty is the will. Animals also possess wills, but their wills are led along by what is called a sensitive appetite. They only will what is required to satisfy their sensitive appetite, and this results in survival. Man, on the other hand, has not only a sensitive appetite, but also a rational appetite, or the intellect, which the will should follow.

The will of man is to chiefly follow the intellect, according to knowledge. And this ought to result in holiness and righteousness. Hence, knowledge, holiness, and righteousness are the three virtues according to which man images God, “After God had made all other creatures, he created man, male and female, with reasonable and immortal souls, rendering them fit unto that life to God for which they were created; being made after the image of God, in knowledge, righteousness, and true holiness…” (2LBCF, 4.2)

Fallen Human Nature

Human nature, considered by itself, is good—having been created by God who is goodness. Upon the entrance of sin, however, that nature is said to be depraved, that is, the good of human nature has been corrupted, perverted, or twisted from its original constitution. In this corruption, both the intellect and will are darkened, or lack the light with which they were originally created. But this fallenness is by no means essential to man. In other words, this fallenness is not an essential property of humanity. It’s not part of the original human nature. Man can be conceived of without a sinful nature. Indeed, man’s first state did not include the fallen nature. And his final state will not include the fallen nature. Yet, he will nevertheless remain human.

When we say, then, that our Lord “assumed a human nature,” we mean to say that He assumed all that pertains essentially to humanity, with the obvious exception of sin. (Heb. 4:15) And this brings us to our final and central consideration—

The Human Nature of Christ

I quote the whole of 2LBCF 8.2—

The Son of God, the second person in the Holy Trinity, being very and eternal God, the brightness of the Father’s glory, of one substance and equal with him who made the world, who upholdeth and governeth all things he hath made, did, when the fullness of time was come, take upon him man’s nature, with all the essential properties and common infirmities thereof, yet without sin; being conceived by the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin Mary, the Holy Spirit coming down upon her: and the power of the Most High overshadowing her; and so was made of a woman of the tribe of Judah, of the seed of Abraham and David according to the Scriptures; so that two whole, perfect, and distinct natures were inseparably joined together in one person, without conversion, composition, or confusion; which person is very God and very man, yet one Christ, the only mediator between God and man.

There are several observations we should make. First, the Son is a divine Person. He is essentially God. There is no real distinction between the Person of the Son and the divine essence. The Son is “very and eternal God…” This means the Son is “of one substance and equal with him who made the world…” Though the Son is distinct from the Father in His manner of subsistence, i.e. begottenness rather than unbegottenness. Yet, neither are distinct from the essence. For this reason Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are said to be consubstantial, that is, of a numerically single substance, one essence, or of the same nature.

All that may be said of God must be said of the Son. In fact, excepting only the peculiar properties which distinguish their manner of subsistence, all that may be said of the Father may be said of the Son and Spirit. Why? Because they are a single divine essence. Their what (nature or essence) is the same, though they are distinguished in view of the threefold way in which that one essence eternally subsists.

Second, the Son “when the fullness of time was come, [did] take upon him man’s nature…” This clause describes the notion of assumption. Dr. James Dolezal, in his paper ‘Neither Subtraction, Nor Addition: The Word’s Terminative Assumption of a Human Nature’, delineates three distinct types of assumption: divestive assumption, augmentative assumption, and terminative assumption. Divestive assumption entails kenotic theory, where it is said the Son divested Himself of His deity in the assumption of human nature. In other words, the Son loses something proper to His deity. Augmentative assumption would entail the addition of humanity to His deity. He added something He did not have before.

Regarding terminative assumption as the more adequate doctrine, Dolezal writes, “The principal claim is that the person of the Word terminates—in the sense of completing or perfecting—the assumed human nature by bringing it to his own subsistence and thereby supplying to it the personhood it requires for its existence.”[3]

This is not an essay on terminative assumption. However, I survey the concept only to say: The Son assumed the fullness of human nature, and He did so terminatively. He did not lose, suspend, or lay aside anything proper to His divine nature. Neither did He augment His deity by adding something to it. As technical as the above sounds, it is but the doctrine of immutability consistently applied in Christology.

Third, because our Lord did truly assume a human nature, He assumes with it all the essential properties of human nature. As the Confession states, “…with all the essential properties and common infirmities thereof, yet without sin…” This entails a human body, but it also entails a rational soul, with its intellect and will. In answer to Q. 25 of the Baptist Catechism, we read, “Christ the Son of God became man by taking to himself a true body (Heb. 2:14, 17; 10:5), and a reasonable soul (Mt. 26:38); being conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit in the womb of the Virgin Mary, and born of her (Luke 1:27, 31, 34, 35, 42; Gal. 4:4), yet without sin (Heb. 4:15; 7:26).”

The very God-ness and very man-ness of Christ is confused in many modern conceptions of Christology. Many Christians do not know how to speak of the hypostatic union in such a way that they preserve both natures—divine and human. The hypostatic union entails the following: All that may be said of God must be said of Christ, and all that may be said of man (except for sin) must also be said of Christ. If Christ is truly human, then He truly possesses a human body, a human soul with a human intellect and will. All of this He has in union with His undivested and unmanipulated deity. His deity remains the same, “without conversion, composition, or confusion…” to or with His humanity. So, the Person of Christ is both very God and very man—two perfect and complete natures united in the second Person of the Holy Trinity.

The doctrine of the hypostatic union prevents us from confusing the deity and humanity of Christ. We must remember that deity does not pray, eat, or suffer. Thus, the Person of the Son assumed a nature capable of these kinds of actions, i.e. a human nature. That which is proper to deity belongs to His divine nature while that which is proper to humanity belongs to His human nature. When our Lord tells us that He is “I AM,” He is using language proper only to His divine nature, that is, as Yahweh—though He speaks as a man. Conversely, when our Lord prays, eats, or suffers He does these things according to the nature capable of suffering—His humanity. When we fail to properly parse the two natures of Christ, we blur the Creator/creature distinction—assigning creaturely traits to deity, and divine traits to humanity. But we must confess that pantheism remains untrue, even in the Person of Christ.

Conclusion

Nature refers to the what-ness of a thing. We might say that the one Person of Christ has two “whats,” or two natures—divine and human. These natures remain distinct, yet united. When we speak of Christ, we predicate things concerning His Person that are proper to one or the other nature. That Christ is omniscient is not proper to His humanity, but only to His deity. That Christ mourned and prayed is not proper to His deity, but only to His humanity. Ignoring this distinction leads to a confusion of the two natures, God with man, which is nothing less nor more than pantheism. Christ, therefore, was truly man. All that which is proper to a human nature may be predicated of the Person of the Son—a human body, a human soul, a human intellect and will. All of this is true while He is yet very God.

Resources:

[1] Bernard Wuellner, Dictionary of Scholastic Philosophy, (MIlwaukee, WI: The Bruce Publishing Co., 2012), 79.

[2] Peter Van Mastricht, Theoretical-Practical Theology, vol. III, (Grand Rapids, MI: Reformation Heritage Bookks, 2021), 257.

[3] James Dolezal, ‘Neither Subtraction, Nor Addition: The Word’s Terminative Assumption of a Human Nature’, https://www.academia.edu/63681891/Neither_Subtraction_Nor_Addition_The_Words_Terminative_Assumption_of_a_Human_Nature

Persons or Subsistences? Trinity In Theological Perspective

Persons or Subsistences? Trinity In Theological Perspective

The Confession (1677/89) states the doctrine of the Trinity as follows:

In this divine and infinite Being there are three subsistences, the Father, the Word or Son, and Holy Spirit, of one substance, power, and eternity, each having the whole divine essence, yet the essence undivided: the Father is of none, neither begotten nor proceeding; the Son is eternally begotten of the Father; the Holy Spirit proceeding from the Father and the Son; all infinite, without beginning, therefore but one God, who is not to be divided in nature and being, but distinguished by several peculiar relative properties and personal relations; which doctrine of the Trinity is the foundation of all our communion with God, and comfortable dependence on him. (2.3)

With a great deal of intention, the Confession employs the term “subsistence,” a noticeable change from the language used by the Westminster Confession, which instead reads, “In the unity of the Godhead there be three Persons of one substance…” (2.3, Emphasis added) Explaining this significant change in language, Dr. James Renihan states: 

More significantly, when introducing Trinitarian terminology, the text changes the WCF/Savoy language from persons to subsistences. Richard Muller has composed a lengthy article on the Latin term persona and its perceived liabilities in the history of Trinitarian discussion, asserting that subsistentia came to be a preferred term by some theologians, such as John Calvin.[1]

The term subsistence tends to avoid the confusion caused by the word person which, in addition to its historical obscurities, has of late taken on a unique psychological connotation binding the term to human features, e.g. reason, will, conscience, etc. As a result, modern social trinitarianism and tritheism tend to distinguish the persons along the lines of distinct centers of consciousness or distinct wills.

Kyle Claunch notes this in relation to the subordinationism of Bruce Ware and Wayne Grudem. He writes, “they are making a conscious and informed choice to conceive of will as a property of person rather than essence. This model of a three-willed Trinity then provides the basis for the conviction that structures of authority and submission actually serve as one of the means of differentiating the divine persons.”[2] It appears the modernist assumptions behind the term person have led to a conception of trinitarian relations as distinct intellectual beings—since they each consists of substantially different things, e.g. minds, wills, consciousness, etc.

Conversely, Cornelius Van Til arrives at the awkward language of, to paraphrase, “God the one person in three persons.” He writes, “Over against all other beings, that is, over against created beings, we must therefore hold that God’s being presents an absolute numerical identity.”[3] This is true as far as it goes. But Van Til misses out on some important language and distinctions, concluding, “[God] is one person.” He goes on to correctly note, “When we say that we believe in a personal God, we do not merely mean that we believe in a God to whom the adjective ‘personality’ may be attached. God is not an essence that has personality; he is absolute personality.”

Van Til obscures the manner of distinction between essence and subsistences by identifying essence and subsistences as a numerically single person. He is correct to say that “personality” is not something that God has, but something that God just is. However, he is incorrect to imply the elimination of personal properties by declaring the numerical singularity of personality in God. That God is one essence subsisting in three distinct modes or relations seems to be a consideration lost on Van Til, though seemingly implied in other areas of his work. While the essence and subsistences are substantially identical, there are yet personal properties distinguishing each Person one from another. Such a consideration would prevent the Van Tillian from collapsing the three Persons into one persona.

Renihan helpfully provides the missing piece in much of these contemporary discussions when he writes, “In his Marrow of Sacred Divinity, William Ames uses [subsistence] in these two ways. Prefixed to the front of the book is a brief glossary of terms. It defines subsistence as ‘the manner of being.’”[4] (Emphasis added) Francis Turretin likewise states:

Thus the singular numerical essence is communicated to the three persons not as a species to individuals or a second substance to the first (because it is singular and undivided), nor as a whole to its parts (since it is infinite and impartible); but as a singular nature to its own act of being (suppositis) in which it takes on various modes of subsisting. Hence it is evident: (1) that the divine essence is principally distinguished from the persons in having communicability, while the persons are distinguished by an incommunicable property; (2) that it differs from other singular natures in this—that while they can be communicated to only one self-existent being (supposito) and are terminated on only one subsistence (because they are finite), the former (because infinite) can admit of more than one.[5] (Emphasis added)

Hence, the language of the Confession, “In this divine and infinite Being there are three subsistences, the Father, the Word or Son, and Holy Spirit, of one substance, power, and eternity, each having the whole divine essence, yet the essence undivided…” (2.3) In other words, Father, Son, and Spirit just are the one divine essence. As the Athanasian Creed points out, “Thus the Father is God, the Son is God, the Holy Spirit is God. Yet there are not three gods; there is but one God.” The one and undivided essence subsists in three ways distinguished by personal properties—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Each of these relations are explained by way of origination: the Father is unbegotten, the Son is begotten of the Father, and the Spirit proceeds from both Father and Son. As the Confession likewise states, “the Father is of none, neither begotten nor proceeding; the Son is eternally begotten of the Father; the Holy Spirit proceeding from the Father and the Son…”

The Athanasian Creed states, “The Father was neither made nor created nor begotten from anyone. The Son was neither made nor created; he was begotten from the Father alone. The Holy Spirit was neither made nor created nor begotten; he proceeds from the Father and the Son.” Further, the Nicene Creed also says of the Son, “We believe… in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, begotten from the Father before all ages, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made…” And regarding the Spirit, the same creed says, “He proceeds from the Father and the Son…”

Resources:

[1] James Renihan, To the Judicious and Impartial Reader: Baptist Symbolics, Vol. II, (Cape Coral, FL: Founders Press, 2022), Kindle Edition, Loc. 2260-2265.

[2] Kyle Claunch, “God Is the Head of Christ,” in One God in Three Persons, ed. Bruce A. Ware; John Starke, (Grand Rapids, MI: Crossway. Kindle Edition), 88-89.

[3] Cornelius Van Til, Introduction to Systematic Theology, (Phillipsburg, NJ: P & R Publishing, 2007), 364.

[4] Renihan, To the Judicious and Impartial Reader, Loc. 2259.

[5] Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, vol. I, (Phillipsburg, NJ: P & R Publishing, 1992), 282.