Monthly Archives: March 2015

Word and Spirit: Paul’s Understanding of Revelation as External and Internal

23 Monday Mar 2015

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In the last post, I explained the gist of the paper that I am presenting for the upcoming EPS conference. Within the ETS portion of the conference, I am also presenting, “Word and Spirit: Paul’s Understanding of Revelation as External and Internal.”

In light of the selected theme of the upcoming meeting of the society, this paper examines the Apostle Paul’s understanding of one central element of the kingdom, that is, revelation. By tracing some of Paul’s pertinent arguments throughout his epistles, the paper asserts that, according to Paul, the idea of revelation contains both external and internal dimensions. In other words, revelation may refer to realities that occur (1) objectively to the human person in the form of a disclosure of information (the external Word of Scripture) and (2) subjectively to the human person in the form of an unveiling of perception (the internal Spirit of illumination).

This thesis is attained organically: first, by introducing Paul’s broader understanding of revelation in the natural world and human conscience; next, by explaining the relationship between revelation as the Holy Scripture (external word) and as the Holy Spirit (internal illumination); and finally, by explicitly detailing his understanding of the external and internal dimensions. At the end of the day, the paper suggests that both dimensions of revelation, Word and Spirit, ought to be held closely together. The former is necessary to have a saving knowledge of the gospel, and the latter is necessary to open our minds to perceive this saving knowledge in a personal manner.

While external revelation is extremely visible in Paul (e.g., Scripture, creation, etc.), the internal dimensions is often overlooked. However, he strongly avers that God reveals himself through his Spirit to his elect for the purposes of believing that Jesus is Lord (i.e., regeneration) and perceiving and understanding the veracity and applicability of Scripture (illumination).

In other words, internal revelation may at least refer to two realities within Paul: revealing the reality of Christ and Scripture to the believer. First, the Spirit reveals Christ to the believer. Namely, the Spirit unveils to the believer the true understanding of Jesus as Lord. As Paul carefully declares in his first letter to the Corinthians, “No one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except in [i.e., “by”] the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor 12:3). While there are a plethora of possible interpretations of this verse,[1] Paul’s salient point is that no one salvifically knows the identity of Jesus (as Lord) except for those who are in the Spirit. Gordon D. Fee aptly summarizes, “[O]nly one who has the Spirit can truly make such a confession because only the Spirit can reveal its reality.”[2] Indeed, Paul elsewhere can say that the Spirit helps believers to cry “Abba! Father!” (Gal 4:6; cf. Rom 8:15-16). Or, he writes, if “the Spirit of God dwells in you,” then Christ belongs to you (Rom 8:9). The Holy Spirit, as he internally unveils gospel understanding, is the sole causal agent of truly acknowledging and understanding Jesus.[3] It is he who brings salvation-knowledge; it is he who unveils Jesus Christ to the person through his regenerating grace.

Second, and naturally resulting from the first, the Spirit unveils Scripture to the believer. This process refers to illumination. In some sense, one might wonder why some kind of illuminative revelation is necessary: is not Scripture readable and clear? In a large sense, the answer to this question is yes. However, Paul often notes the failure of Scriptural revelation in light of the (mis)perception of the gospel in Scripture. His answer to the lack of understanding is simple: the necessity of God’s Spirit. Namely, in the Corinthian correspondence (1 Cor 2:10-16), Paul discusses the Spirit’s special mediation of divine wisdom. Paul’s words here deserve special attention. He begins, “No one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God (v. 11).” He then continues by claiming that God gave us his Spirit “so that we might understand the things freely given us by God” (v. 12). The Spirit, as Paul suggests, who alone knows the secrets of God, has been given to us so that we may know the secrets of God that he wills to reveal to his people. This action is clearly external revelation, as the Holy Spirit unveils the divine mysteries in scriptural words (v. 13); but such external revelation is not complete without the unveiling of understanding through the Spirit of God (i.e., internal revelation).[4]

Following his concise argument, Paul thereafter explains why the internal illuminative work of the Spirit is necessary to understand Scripture (vv. 14-16). Paul starkly suggests, “The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Cor 2:14). Paul herein argues two distinct ideas: (1) the unbeliever is not able to understand (or believe) the revelation of the gospel, and (2) it is only by the Spirit that one can understand these things. Paul then continues by contrasting the natural person from the spiritual person, that is, the person illumined by the Spirit (i.e., the Christian or believer). He says, “The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one. ‘For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?’ But we have the mind of Christ” (v. 15-16; cf. Isa 40:13). While Paul’s words here are packed, Leon Morris summarizes him concisely: “the indwelling Spirit reveals Christ” to the child of God.”[5] As Florian Wilk correctly asserts, the Spirit-filled person “is endowed with spiritual knowledge” that is only in Christ and through his Spirit.[6] In other words, believers have spiritual knowledge as the Spirit enables them to understand and to accept the realities of the gospel in Scripture.[7] Paul thus clearly refers to the illumination of Scripture by the Spirit. The Spirit internally unveils the truth of the gospel to people.

Later in the Corinthian correspondence, Paul elaborates the Spirit’s unveiling of Scripture to the believer by the contrast between the Mosaic and new covenants (2 Cor 3). While this section is not primarily aimed at an understanding of (internal) revelation, the passage contains several important implications. As Paul begins, he regards the Mosaic covenant as profoundly revelatory, but he claims that its people “were hardened” and so “when they read the old covenant, that same veil remains unlifted” (2 Cor 3:14). In other words, the Mosaic covenant lacked the unveiling power of the Holy Spirit. The new covenant, however, is a “stark antithesis,” as Ralph Martin aptly reflects, as it brings the revelation of the new covenantal realities.[8] Paul explains that in this latter covenant the “the veil is removed,” for “the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom” (vv. 16-17). Leonhard Goppelt’s comments clarify Paul’s words: Whereas the “structure of the Old Testament and its meaning were veiled,” now “to the one who had turned in faith to Christ” through the Spirit, it is unveiled.[9] What is “unveiled,” of course, is the whole corpus of the new covenant, which includes the internal illumination of the Spirit. Whereas the people of the Mosaic covenant were veiled in misunderstanding, the people of the new covenant, through the Holy Spirit, are unveiled to understanding. Therefore, Paul describes a real and distinct form of revelation that emphasizes, not the disclosure of information (as in external revelation), but the disclosure of understanding or perception.

Paul further clarifies his understanding of internal revelation in the new covenant as he continues in the following chapter (2 Cor 4:3-6). Paul explains, “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing,” that is, to “the unbelievers” (v. 3, cf. v. 4). As Harris summarizes, to people who are perishing, the gospel is “hidden from their understanding.”[10] The veil is not yet lifted from every human heart (cf. 3:14-15), nor has every person turned to the Lord (cf. 3:16). Indeed, Paul continues, “In their case, the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers” so that they cannot perceive “the revealed splendor of the gospel of Christ” (v. 4). Unbelievers, in other words, cannot recognize the glorious revelation of the gospel that proclaims “Jesus as Lord” (v. 5). Thereafter, Paul clarifies how this veil is removed: “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor 4:6). Because the truth of the gospel is not naturally discerned, God supernaturally enables people to understand the gospel through his Spirit’s regenerating and illuminating action. In the words of Calvin, “His [Paul’s] meaning, therefore, is that God has, by his Spirit, opened the eyes of our understandings, so as to make them capable of receiving the light of the gospel.”[11] Indeed, the gospel is not only externally proclaimed (in Scripture) but also internally unveiled (through the Spirit). In this manner, Paul again explains the special internal work of the Spirit that internally unveils the truth of the gospel to the believer.

Paul’s argument throughout 1 and 2 Corinthians also accounts for why he, at least in one instance, prays that believers have their hearts and minds opened through the illuminative work of the Holy Spirit. Namely, he prays for the Ephesian Christians that God . . .

may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened (“pefwtisme,nouj”[12]), that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe. . . . (Eph 1:17-19).

While Paul’s words here are dense, his main point is clear. Paul is not praying that the Ephesians receive further revelations beyond Jesus Christ and his Spirit. Rather, he is praying that they continue to receive, as Clinton E. Arnold reflects, “an illuminating work of the Spirit to impress already revealed truth about God into the conscious reflections and heartfelt convictions of the readers.”[13] Paul prays that these Ephesian Christians would have the eyes of their hearts enlightened, for this revelation is necessary to understand and believe the external letter of Scripture. He prays for their illumination.

To summarize Paul’s understanding of internal revelation (in the books to the Corinthians), Calvin is again quotable: “[T]he Spirit of God, from whom the doctrine of the gospel comes, is its only true interpreter, to open it up to us. Hence in judging of it, men’s mind must of necessity be in blindness until they are enlightened by the Spirit of God.”[14] The Spirit, in other words, internally reveals the reality of Jesus Christ and Holy Scripture to the believer. It is no wonder that elsewhere Paul strongly encourages people to be filled with the Spirit (Eph 5:18) and warns against quenching and grieving the Spirit (1 Thess 5:19; Eph 4:30).

In the final analysis, this paper argues that Paul’s theology inherently assumes both an external and internal form of revelation. He speaks simultaneously of God being revealed externally through creation and Scripture, on the one hand; and internally through the human conscience and the Spirit, on the other. Paul begins by demonstrating that a natural or general revelation (through external creation and internal conscience) is not complete, for such revelation is culpably suppressed without the Spirit. Therefore, Paul makes it particularly clear that revelation does not end with general forms of revelation. Indeed, if it did, then all people would reject that revelation as we reject God (Rom 1:18ff.). Paul therefore continues to speak about the special revelation of God’s (external) Holy Scripture and (internal) Holy Spirit. The former is necessary to have a saving knowledge of the gospel, and the latter is necessary to open our minds to perceive this saving knowledge in a personal manner. At the end of the day, therefore Paul construes revelation both in an external and internal sense.

[1]For a list of them, see Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 918-925.

[2]Gordon D. Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 582; cf. Leon Morris, The First Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians: An Introduction and Commentary, TNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1985), 165.

[3]One might also think of Titus 3:5. Herein Paul claims that God saves us not because of our righteous works preformed but rather “by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:5). The Spirit, in other words, performs an internal or spiritual cleansing through regeneration that brings new birth and new life in Christ. Calvin argues this persuasively (Calvin, Commentaries on the Epistles to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, trans. William Pringle, The Calvin Translation Society [Reprint, Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996], 333-334). As Lea and Griffin assert, the Spirit performs an “internal, spiritual cleansing” (idem, 1, 2 Timothy, Titus, 324). The important phrase in v. 5 is dia. loutrou/ paliggenesi,aj kai. avnakainw,sewj pneu,matoj a`gi,ou (“through the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit”). Due to the presence of one dia., the text “clearly indicates that the phrase” refers to a single event (Lea and Griffin, 1, 2 Timothy, Titus, 323; cf. Schreiner, New Testament Theology, 479). While it is exegetically possible to understand the text to speak about a water baptism, it is best to understand the Spirit as the subject of washing and renewal (Ibid.). The words thus indicate that an internal cleansing is in view: loutro,n refers to physical washing that here takes on metaphorical import, paliggenesi,a, taking the genitive form, refers to the result of washing (i.e., “washing of regeneration”), that is, a spiritual new birth or restoration, and avnakai,nwsij is nearly synonymous with paliggenesi,a and refers to renewal (cf. Marshall, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Pastoral Epistles, 313-322; for an excellent discussion of the possible meanings, see Philip H. Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus, NICNT [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006], 782-784). In other words, Paul asserts that the Spirit performs an internal cleansing and renewal (Lea and Griffin, 1, 2 Timothy, Titus, 324; cf. Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus, 781-782). Indeed, Philip Towner rightly argues that this text, read canonically along with the new covenant texts within Jeremiah and Ezekiel, calls into mind the vivid images in which the promised Spirit is coming to renew and restore God’s covenant people. As he concludes, “Just as the tradition promised, God’s gift of the Spirit would change the way people live” (Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus, 784). In other words, as the Spirit re-births or regenerates a person, he also necessarily gives faith and thus unveils the salvific knowledge and truth of Christ to the person. In this sense, as the chapter has previously explored in the gospels, the Spirit’s work of regeneration entails internal revelation.

[4]Calvin elaborates this thought process most clearly: Paul “shows in what way believers are exempted from this blindness,” namely, “by a special illumination of the Spirit” (Calvin, Corinthians, 1:110). It is also noteworthy that, in this same instance, Calvin twice regards this illumination of the Spirit as “the revelation of God’s Spirit” (Ibid.; italics mine). Calvin continues, the Spirit introduces us to something “inaccessible to mankind,” and in so doing, he “makes us acquainted with those things that are otherwise hid from our view” (Ibid., 111). Therefore, the 1 Corinthians passage intends to teach that “the Gospel cannot be understood otherwise than by the testimony of the Holy Spirit” (Ibid., 111), for all spiritual knowledge “depends entirely on the revelation of the Spirit” (Ibid., 113). Calvin all throughout implicates that the work of the Spirit is here, as this dissertation terms it, an internal revelation, namely, an unfolding or unveiling of understanding or perception.

[5]Morris, 1 Corinthians, 60, italics mine; cf. Fee, 1 Corinthians, 117; Ambrosiaster, Romans and 1-2 Corinthians, 130-131.

[6]Wilk, “Isaiah in 1 and 2 Corinthians,” 140. Indeed, as Morris also comments, he says that because a natural person cannot avnakri,netai (i.e., scrutinize, examine, judge of, estimate, discern) the things of God, he or she is lacking something that must be unveiled to them by the Spirit (Morris, 1 Corinthians, 59; cf. Wilk, “Isaiah in 1 and 2 Corinthians,” 139; Peter Stuhlmacher, Biblische Theologie und Evangelium, 143-166).

[7]Therefore, it is important to understand Paul’s words correctly: he is not speaking about some deeper movement into spiritual life, as some elitist movements would hold; rather, he is speaking merely about the unveiling of the truth of the gospel to the person at hand (Fee, 1 Corinthians, 120). God illumines his words through his Spirit. As we are in Christ through the Spirit, we too can participate in this understanding or perception.

[8]Martin, 2 Corinthians, 202.

.

[9]Goppelt, Theology of the New Testament, 2:52; cf. 1 Cor 2:16.

[10]Harris, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians, 327. Moreover, it is important to note that, while the gospel is veiled, “it is not on account of him [Paul] or his conduct” (Seifrid, The Second Letter to the Corinthians, 194).

[11]Calvin, Corinthians, 2:200.

[12]This verb is a perfect passive participle, which suggests that something has been done and remains in effect.

[13]Clinton E. Arnold, Ephesians, ZECNT (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2010), 105. In this sense, Arnold suggests that the content of Paul’s prayer here is similar to Paul’s (formerly discussed) Corinthian correspondence (Ibid., 104). Arnold’s basic interpretation—that this prayer refers to spiritual illumination—is affirmed by Andrew T. Lincoln, Ephesians, WBC, vol. 42 (Dallas: Word Books, 1990), 55-61; and Peter T. O’Brien, The Letter to the Ephesians, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 129-137; among others.

[14]Calvin writes these sentences specifically in reaction to Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 2:14 (Calvin, Corinthians, 1:117). The renowned Jesuit scholar also suggests in this context that “divine revelation and the emergence of faith are the two sides of the same event” (O’Collins, Theology and Revelation, 48). The same Spirit who wrote Scripture also interprets, opens, and enlightens it to blind eyes.

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The Principia and Revelation – A Reflection of Revelation as External and Internal

20 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by in Principia, Revelation

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Next week I am presenting two papers at the ETS/EPS regional meeting in Lithonia, Georgia. I am also defending my dissertation two days before. It is a pretty crazy week.

As I am refocusing my thoughts on the paper presentations, I decided to lay out my major conclusions in the papers in the next two posts. This post will include my EPS paper.

My EPS paper is entitled, “The Principia and Revelation – A Reflection of Revelation as External and Internal.” The paper explores the twofold dimensionality of revelation (the topic of my dissertation) through the historic twofold principia, which are popular within Reformed theology.

While traditional formulations of the doctrine of revelation include its external dimension (e.g., Scripture), they rarely if ever include its internal dimension (e.g., illumination). My paper examines general and special revelation through the traditional delineations of the principia cognoscendi. By using the substructure of the principia, the paper argues that both the general sciences (general revelation) and theology (special revelation) include external and internal dimensions. In other words, they each include (1) an external or objective reality to be known and (2) the internal or subjective ability to know it.

The paper accomplishes this argument, first, by surveying the external and internal principia cognoscendi of the general sciences, and, second, by exploring the corresponding principia of theology. The paper then summarizes the principia cognoscendi of science and theology and parallel them to general revelation and special revelation, respectively. It shall finally conclude by discussing the unity of revelation through the principium essendi (triune God), who likewise holds the two principia cognoscendi together in his one organic act of revelation. In the course of argument, the paper appropriates resources from John Calvin, Herman Bavinck, Alvin Plantinga, and Esther Meek.

Its conclusion is simple: as the paper correlates revelation with the principia cognoscendi of the sciences (i.e., general revelation) and theology (i.e., special revelation), it thus argues that divine revelation or the principia ought to be expressed in its external and internal dimensions (see Figure 1).[i]

Figure 1.

The Principia within their Spheres

Spheres
General Sciences Theology
Principia External Creation Holy Scripture
Internal Mind Holy Spirit/Faith

On the one hand, the principia cognoscendi of science include external creation and the internal mind. These twofold principia are generalized and available to all people—to more or less degrees. Unbelievers do not share regeneration (and thus faith) as the internal principium, but they do have cognition. As the paper asserts, it is helpful to view both of these, creation and mind, as derivative of the Holy Spirit, lest one forgets that both are supernaturally given and governed.

On the other hand, the theological principia basically reduce to Scripture and illumination. By these principia, the person is enlightened, able to apprehend salvific knowledge, and thereby perceive the spiritual connections between such knowledge. In other words, after the internal principium of the Spirit regenerates and illumines, people perceive and accept the gospel (which they heretofore rejected) and thus understand and apply those gospel realities to the world around them. This new insight does not include more information than is disclosed in Scripture or the natural world; rather, the action rectifies or resurrects human cognition.

In summation, the paper avers that both science and theology include a principium cognoscenti externum and a principium cognoscenti internum, the former of which refers to the material cause and the latter of which corresponds to the instrumental cause of the subject. These two principia, forever united, Word and Spirit, are the basis of science and theology and the means of understanding the full doctrine of revelation. The Word basically corresponds to the external principium, because it is the objective source or material cause of knowledge in science (creation) and theology (Scripture). The Spirit corresponds to the internal principium, for it is the subjective source or instrumental cause of knowledge in science (reason) and theology (illumination).

In other words, following the articulations of Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventure, the eminent Roman Catholic theologian, René Latourelle, summarizes, “There is the combined activity of the external announcing and the interior attraction.”[ii] Accordingly, Kuyper’s conclusion regarding the necessity of both dimensions in the principia is pertinent:

From the finite no conclusion can be drawn to the infinite, neither can a Divine reality be known from external or internal phenomena, unless that God reveals Himself in my consciousness to my ego; reveals Himself as God; and thereby moves and impels me to see in these finite phenomena a brightness of His glory.[iii]

The paper finally concludes by looking at the principium essendi. Indeed, the former discussions left unaided may lead to the wrong impression that the two coterminous dimensions of revelation/principia (cognoscendi) are unrelated or otherwise detached from one another. Nothing could be farther from the case. While the former section elaborated the epistemological substructures (principia cognoscendi) of revelation, it remains to discuss the ontological groundwork, that is, the principium essendi. This section will argue that the triune God is the principium essendi and likewise holds the two principia cognoscendi together in his one organic act of revelation.

The principium essendi is the fundamental source, ground, or cause from which being, existence, and knowledge proceeds. The principium thus refers to the triune God himself, the fountain of all things.[i] Therefore, as Francis Turretin reminds his readers, “The question properly is not of principles (principiis), but of things principiated (principiatis).”[ii] In other words, the purpose of the principia is not to abstract knowledge or revelation down to its most fundamental components (i.e., external or internal); rather, the purpose is to “set your mind on things above,” that is, God in Christ, “in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Col 3:2, 2:3). Indeed, it is God who principiates (i.e., makes foundational) the rest of knowledge through his being and works. And thus, it is God who is the principium essendi.

As the principium essendi, the triune God speaks in one, united communicative act. God is Trinity and, in some sense, he is also Speaker, Speech, and its Spokenness.[iii] Borrowing terminology from Speech Act Theory, God is likewise Locution, Illocution, and Perlocution.[iv] He speaks a locution (by the Father), and his speech carries an objective, concrete meaning or illocution (by the Son as Logos), and this speech is ultimately and effectively received and appropriated as a perlocution (by the Spirit). In the same way that one cannot separate the intended meaning of a statement (illocution) from its intended result (perlocution), one cannot abstract the principium cognoscendi externum of the Word from the corresponding principium cognoscendi internum of the Spirit. The twofold principia cognoscendi consists of two sides to the one coin of the principium essendi. This idea accounts for why Irenaeus distinguishes the triune communicative act as God’s singular accomplishment by his two personified hands, the Word and Spirit.[v] It also accounts for why numerous theologians assert that revelation includes both components. The triune God organically unites his revelation. Just as there is one triune God, so also there is one triune communicative act.

Therefore, linking this discussion back to a theology of revelation, one can say that revelation, as its source is within God (essendi), corresponds to both the principium cognoscendi externum and the principium cognoscendi internum. On the one hand, the principium cognoscendi externum is the external speaking itself. God speaks locutions, and by these locutions, he intends the illocutionary force. These truly and properly reveal God in the external sense (e.g., Scripture and creation). On the other hand, the principium cognoscendi internum is the internal appropriation. Language has not yet fulfilled its intention until the listener actually internally hears and responds to the external word. This result occurs through the Word’s perlocutionary power, which is the Holy Spirit and its corresponding human result in faith. The external-internal distinction thus helps to incorporate both dimensions of revelation. As Vanhoozer writes, “The Son is the form and content of the divine discourse, the Spirit its energy and persuasive efficacy.”[vi] Revelation likewise may be understood as the external act of God’s self-disclosure and the internal perception that actually results from such divine action. Both are inexorably tied and cannot be separated. The Word without the Spirit is empty; the Spirit without the Word is blind.

When both poles of revelation are present, revelation is a powerful force. As the author of Hebrews assures, “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb 4:12). The Scriptures alone do not accomplish this robust result, as if mere words salvifically reveal to sinful human hearts apart from the illumination of the Spirit. As John Webster perceptively observes, “Reading Scripture is inescapably bound to regeneration.”[vii] Nor, however, does the Spirit affect this result apart from the Bible. Rather, revelation is external words with internal import. Revelation may be compared to an illumined sentence from which we move forward and backward to attain a better understanding of the whole.[viii] Extending the metaphor, revelation includes a revealed meaning (locution) through its intended (illocutionary) force that then affects the feelings, thoughts, and actions (perlocutions) of the speaker/listener. Namely, it is when the external revelation (i.e., the Bible) is read and the internal revelation (i.e., the Spirit) regenerates and illumines the reader’s mind and heart—or understanding and will—that the reader can say that the Bible is not a mere book and that the Spirit is in him or her. It is at this point that revelation fully and finally does its job in bringing the Word of God “out there” (external) to the Word of God “in here” (internal).[ix] This consequence is, in fact, merely an implication of a truly Reformed theology.

In this sense, revelation is multidimensional. It is an organic act of God whereby he personally confronts the whole individual—his or her mind, heart, and will. Revelation is internal and external communication. It entails communication of propositional truth via the revelations of Christ, the Bible, and creation, so that revelation indeed includes an external component. It also entails an internal component, where Christ encounters the individual by the Spirit. As John Webster again summarizes, “Revelation is thus not simply the bridging of a noetic divide (though it includes that), but is reconciliation, salvation, and therefore fellowship.”[x] Because revelation has both an external and internal component, it can be articulated in words and propositions but it is also a redeeming experience of divine encounter.[xi] Revelation therefore manifests itself through God’s Word—creation and Scripture—and by his Spirit—in regeneration and illumination. It thus encompasses all the self-presentation and self-communication of the triune God to humans, both externally and internally, from creation through redemption unto eternity.

[i]As Scripture says, the fear of the Lord is the principle (tyviare, i.e., beginning, foundation) of wisdom (Ps 111:10) or of knowledge (Prov 1:7); or rather, Jesus Christ is the principle (avrch,, i.e., beginning, foundation) of creation (Col 1:18; Rev 3:14). Therefore, the source or cause of all things is the triune God himself. See also Bonaventure, Breviloquium, 27: theology “deals principally with the First Principle—God, three in one. . . .” Some theologians in the early church argued that God the Father is technically the principium essendi. Augustine, for example, asserted that the Father is “the principle of the whole divinity” (lit. principium totius divinitatis, Augustine, On the Trinity, 4:20) which means, in other words, the principle of being or existence of the Godhead. However, it is more helpful, following John Calvin, to view each person of the Trinity as autotheos, and thus, the Trinity as a whole is the principium (Calvin, Institutes, 1:13.25, 29; cf. B. B. Warfield, Calvin and Augustine [Phillipsburg: P & R, 1980], 283-284).

[ii]Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, 2:15.33.

[iii]The language here echoes Barth’s Revealer, Revelation, and Revealedness (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, ed. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance [Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1961], 1.1.361).

[iv]Namely, language includes a “locutionary act” (the basic meaning and reference of a statement), an “illocutionary force” (the semantic cogency that the speaker intends to accomplish in the locution), and a “perlocutionary force” (the statement considered by its effect upon its recipient). These three are delineations from J. L. Austin, the founder of this theory, who wanted technical terms to explain the content, intent, and result of language (cf. J. L. Austin, How to Do Things with Words, ed. J. O. Urmson and Marina Sbisà, 2nd ed. [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1975], 1-164). Vanhoozer has also correlated Speech Act Theory with the three persons of the Trinity in a similar manner (cf. Vanhoozer, First Theology, 227-8).

[v]Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 1:22.1; 2:30.9; 5:1.3; cf. James Beaven, An Account of the Life and Writings of S. Irenaeus: Bishop of Lyons and Martyr (London: J. G. F. & J. Rivington, 1841), 88, 89; John Behr, Asceticism and Anthropology in Irenaeus and Clement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 38; John Lawson, The Biblical Theology of Saint Irenaeus (London: Epworth, 1948), 125.

[vi]Vanhoozer, Remythologizing Theology, 366. Therefore, the internal principium corresponds to the Spirit’s interior working in the Testimonium et Illuminatio Internum Spiritus Sancti (“Testimony and Illumination of the Spirit”). Vanhoozer also acknowledges this without using the same language (Ibid.). He says, “What finally makes the call effectual is its content—the story of Jesus—as ministered by the Spirit.” (Ibid., 374). This is the difference between “externally authoritative” and “internally persuasive” discourse (Ibid., 365).

[vii]Webster, Holy Scripture, 89. This is why A. W. Tozer is so severely critical of those who believe that “if you learn the text you’ve got the truth,” for they “see no beyond and no mystic depth, no mysterious heights, nothing supernatural or divine. . . . They have the text and the code and the creed, and to them that is the truth” (A. W. Tozer, “Revelation is Not Enough,” Presbyterian Journal 28:41 [Feb 1970]: 7-8).

[viii]Cf. Niebuhr, The Meaning of Revelation, 61, cf. 93.

[ix]This does not mean, however, that objective revelation (i.e. the Bible) without subjective revelation is not revelation at all (cf. Barth, Brunner, Niebuhr, Bloesch, and Webster). The mistake of these proponents is that they improperly assume that the ontology of revelation necessarily includes its function, and thus when the function of the Scriptures is unfulfilled—that is, the purpose to bring people to saving faith—they wrongly assume that revelation is not present (see for example Webster, Holy Scripture, 14, 16). It is better to say that both are revelations regardless of the fulfillment of the purpose.

[x]Webster, Holy Scripture, 16.

[xi]In this sense, one may take issue when Webster declares that “revelation is not to be thought of as the communication of arcane information or hidden truths” (Ibid., 14). Depending upon what he means by “arcane” and “hidden,” one wonders how revelation can exist without information and truth. In this sense, Webster is misguided to suggest that revelation is simply “God’s own proper reality” (Ibid.).

[i]The Reformers, for instance, could not speak of knowledge or revelation accept as they correlate with both the Word (creation) and Spirit (illumination) (see Chapter 4, “Reformation and Post-Reformation Eras”).

[ii]Latourelle, Theology of Revelation, 383. He thus argues for the “twofold dimension of the Word of God” (Ibid.). Namely, “Its efficacy as external word is joined by a particular efficacy which comes from the divine activity penetrating the very heart of all of the activity of our intellect and will, predisposing us for the response of faith” (Ibid., 385).

[iii]Kuyper, Principles of Sacred Theology, 343. As he argues, this kind of truth would apply even if humanity had not sinned. Therefore, “neither observation nor reasoning” would be enough; rather, one needs a direct, personal revelation from God (Ibid.). See also Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, 1:207, 497; Morris, I Believe in Revelation, 70-71, 122.

A Look at Thomas Keating: The Benefits and Pitfalls of His View of Contemplation

16 Monday Mar 2015

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In order to dispel confusion on the topic of contemplation, today’s post will clarify certain benefits and problems inherent in some forms of the ancient practice. In order to accomplish this goal, I will use as an example Thomas Keating’s quaint book, Open Mind, Open Heart (1986). The title itself may beckon cheesy chick-flicks or, even worse, a Lifetime movie special on the horrors of unrequited love. In actuality, however, the book is refreshing and contains many great nuggets of truth. It is worth the buy. (You can do so here.)

Keating’s book also sometimes purports less desirable forms of contemplation. I say, “less desirable;” and not, “anti-gospel.” There will be no finger pointing today. I simply want to contrast an evangelical form of contemplation from Keating’s Roman Catholic and sometimes mystical perspective. I also realize that Keating, while an influence for the last 60 years, does not speak for all those who contemplate. The purpose of the post is simply to explain Keating’s view of contemplation, which contains both strengths and weaknesses, in order to learn from them as evangelicals.

Throughout many of my previous posts, I have mentioned that contemplation is somewhat content centered, that is, centered on the gospel of Jesus Christ. I also mentioned that contemplation is the quiet, restful, and ruminating side of communion with Christ. Keating also assumes these realities at times: “Jesus in his divinity is the source of contemplation,” as, for example, in the case of the transfiguration (16, cf. 17 for an elaboration).

But he can also say that the real problem confronting contemplators is not their sin but rather their thinking: “The chief thing that separates us from God is the thought that we are separated from him” (44). I can certainly appreciate some of Keating’s sentiment if he refers only to believers in Christ, who are already washed in his blood but struggling through sanctification; yet, Keating’s words undoubtedly demonstrate a low view of sin, which is all too common in various strands of contemplation. One does not need to scour the history books to find examples of mystics affirming Keating at this juncture. (This is a later blog to be developed.)

Perhaps Keating’s following analogy clarifies what he means:

“Contemplative prayer is a way of awakening to the reality in which we are immersed. We rarely think of the air we breathe, yet it is in us and around us all the time. In a similar fashion, the presence of God penetrates us, is all around us, is always embracing us. Our awareness, unfortunately, is not awake to that dimension of reality. The purpose of prayer, the sacraments, and spiritual disciples is to awaken us” (44-45).

And: “God’s presence is available at every moment, but we have a giant obstacle in ourselves—our world view. It needs to be exchanged for the mind of Christ, for his world view. The mind of Christ is ours through faith and baptism . . . but to take possession of it requires a discipline that develops the sensitivity to hear Christ’s invitation: ‘behold I stand at the door and knock; if anyone opens I will come in and sup with him and he with me’ (Rev 3:20). It is not a big effort to open a door” (45).

In a large sense, I agree with Keating here and elsewhere: a major problem that confronts human people is their own distorted worldviews. However, again, to say that flawed thinking is the “chief” problem misses the larger issue. The fundamental problem is not so much epistemological (thinking, worldview) as ontological (sin, separation, etc.). Keating’s analogies are insightful, even brilliant, but his metatheology sometimes misses the mark, at least from an evangelical vantage point.

Moreover, Keating helpfully identifies the importance and reality of the inner spiritual life of the believer. As he rightly notes, the heart of the monastic life was not so much its structures but rather its interior life in contemplation (29). He also effectively summarizes the lectio divina in several places: (1) the reflective part is meditation, which consists of pondering the words of Scripture; (2) the spontaneous part is affective prayer as one responds to the reflections; and (3) the contemplative part is where the reflections and acts of will are simplified as one moves into rest in the presence of God (20). Furthermore, he makes contemplation practical for people in new and insightful ways. He explains at least three steps: (1) silence, calmness; (2) focus on a “sacred word;” and (3) rest in God. I especially like his focus on “intention” and not “attention” in contemplative prayer.

Lastly, Keating rightly identifies God’s work in contemplation: “In contemplative prayer the Spirit places us in a position where we are at rest and disinclined to fight. By his secret anointings the Spirit heals the wounds of our fragile human nature at a level beyond our psychological perception, just as a personal who is anesthetized has no idea of how the operation is going until after it is over. Interior silence is the perfect seed bed for divine love to take root” (45). While his suggestion here faces some of the same objections I previously noted, he carefully notes God’s spiritual work, which functions as a scalpel in our hearts as we silently rest in him.

Nevertheless, Keating often identifies the inner life of the human in contemplation in odd and perhaps unbiblical manners. In one instance, he peculiarly states that the object of contemplation is to “deepen our contact with the ground of our own being” (46). If he refers to introspection here, then his sentiment is understandable; but it seems odd to say “our own being.” Is not the object communion with God in Christ by the Spirit? (Other times he does suggest this reality.) In another instance, while he rightly notes that our thoughts and feelings must be resting on something (34-35), he then elaborates, “They are resting on the inner stream of consciousness, which is our participation in God’s being” (35). Granted that all things, including our thoughts, are ultimately held together in Christ (Col 1:15); yet his view tends to associate too quickly our thoughts and our participation in God’s being. I cannot help but discern an implicit mysticism and even pantheism in some of these statements. Perhaps I misunderstand.

The point of this post is in no way to demean Keating’s work; it is also not to set up the proverbial whipping boy. I greatly respect and appreciate his insights. Rather, recognizing the distinct possibility for theological problems in the controversial subject of contemplation, this post has sought to show how my understanding of contemplation is similar and different from another view, namely, Thomas Keating’s view. Hopefully, the post has related the positives of Keating’s view throughout; hopefully, it has demonstrated some potential pitfalls as well. (I am sure that my view has as many pitfalls.)

In short, Keating’s work is excellent and practically relatable, yet it sometimes misplaces or ignores the theological foundations of contemplation, namely, those related to the seriousness of sin and the centrality of the cross. (For a more coherent treatment of theological foundations, see Kyle Strobel’s excellent article, “In Your Light They Shall See Light” in the Journal of Spiritual Formation & Soul Care.)

How should one contemplate? By reading Scripture, meditating it, remembering God, and thus moving into a quiet, humble posture of resting in God (cf. Augustine, Calvin, and the Psalms).

(For a more expansive overview of Keating’s work, see James C. Wilhoit’s article, “Contemplative and Centering Prayer” in the Journal of Spiritual Formation & Soul Care.)

Aquinas and Plato walk into a bar, and everyone thinks, “wait a second, this isn’t right” – Thomas Aquinas, the Forms, and Intellect

12 Thursday Mar 2015

Posted by in History of Ideas, Intellect, Thomas Aquinas

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Thomas Aquinas’s relationship to Platonic philosophy and his incorporation of it into his system. The saying goes, as I have often heard, that Thomas basically (and even, simply) appropriates Aristotle in his stance on, say, the passive and active intellect. On this reading, the active intellect is a capacity of the soul and not in any way something transcendent to it; thus, following the logic of Aristotle, there is no “universal” form of intellect but rather only particular forms in matter. (I realize that there are competing interpretations of Aristotle at this juncture.)

The objection often raised against Aristotle at this stage is the following: if there is no universal form apart from instantiated form, then universals could not exist (which of course contradicts Aristotle’s program). It is not the purpose of this blogpost to solve all these problems. Rather, I want to show how Thomas employs Platonic ideas via Augustine in order to solve Aristotle’s problem. The post thus accentuates a Platonic Thomas as much as an Aristotelian one. This research is now new, but is rather a personal response and rumination that was spurned by a discussion with a friend. (Bear in mind that I am no Thomas Aquinas scholar.)

Thomas shows his cards early in the Summa as he discusses the divine intelligence.[1] Indeed, the divine intelligence, as Thomas says, must be attached to the perfections of God, which are the logical assumption of the rest of theology.[2] He thereafter continues to elaborate the idea of the good in general, God’s goodness, infinity, existence, immutability, and eternity.[3] His philosophy/theology thus must be traced back to God himself, or more specifically, the divine intelligence.[4]

God created the world intelligently, that is, not by chance but according to God’s exemplary idea. In other words, the “ideas” (cf. Plato, Augustine) are in the divine mind. Thomas writes, “As then the world was not made by chance, but by God acting by his intellect . . . there must exist in the divine mind a form of the likeness of which the world was made.”[5] Or, as he more succinctly suggests earlier: necesse est ponere in mente divina ideas (“It is necessary to posit ideas in the divine mind”).[6] He continues, “Hence by ideas are understood the forms of things, existing apart from the things themselves.”[7] In this way, Thomas is able to incorporate the thoughts of both Plato and Augustine—a noticeable feat, indeed—by suggesting that the universal ideas are in the mind of God. (Of course, he also rightly criticizes Plato for postulating the existence of ideas apart from a [divine] mind.[8] By the way, this is where Plotinus picks up Plato by suggesting that the latter’s conception of the Good [or Beauty] is the abstract form that is contained within the Nous of the One, thus completing and perfecting Plato’s own unfinished system. This is another story….)

Importantly, Thomas avers that the exemplary idea is Christ himself. While it is true that Thomas does not explicitly say that the ideas are in the Son, the implication of his theology leads to this reality in two ways. First, just as Thomas before argues that the ideas are in the intellect of God (see above), so also by calling Christ, among other things, the emanation of the intellect, he suggests that the ideas are in Christ by extension. As he writes, using Aristotle and Augustine, the Word corresponds to the “concept of the intellect” within God; or, Christ is the “emanation of the intellect,” and, by way of this emanation, he “is called the Son”.[9] Second, Thomas often associates the Son with the mind of God. Namely, just as the “exterior vocal sound is called a word from the fact that it signifies the interior concept of the mind,” so also “first and chiefly, the interior concept of the mind is called a word.”[10] In other words, as the Son is called the Word, the biblical witness means to point us to the reality that he is himself the intellect of God. Therefore, again by extension, Thomas suggests that the ideas are in the Son. While at the beginning of his theology, he may be faulted for being less that Christocrentric,[11] he later overturns this problem.

The above argument grounds his later (more prominent) argument that a person, using an a posteriori method, can discern the existence and (basic) nature of God in the natural world. Thomas is attempting to clarify how general revelation in the natural world discloses God’s “power” and “nature” (Rom 1:20). The world reveals God, as the ideas of God found in the world are comprehended by the intellect of a person.[12] Furthermore, in a similar manner to God’s revelation in the natural world, Scripture reveals God through words.[13] As in the natural world, there must be correspondence between the ideas in Scripture and the ideas in the knowing person. In other words, in the natural world, God’s revelation is through “things,” that is, events; whereas in Scripture, revelation is through “words.”[14]

The manner in which Thomas argues for this revelation in the natural world and Scripture is both technical and dense. While this post cannot comprehensively elaborate his arguments here, it shall explain, first, the knowledge that may be gleaned from sensible objects and, second and more pertinently, the revelation-knowledge that may be gleaned from immaterial or spiritual objects, i.e., God’s revelation in creation or Scripture. While the argument that Thomas Aquinas uses a Platonic conception—via Augustine—to justify the reality of ideas in the divine mind should already be clear, the following discussion should explain it further.

First, Thomas holds that, while the concrete particular is always in view in knowledge,[15] the direct object of such knowledge is the form or universal within the concrete body: “So, then, our intellect understands the universal itself directly through the intelligible species, whereas it indirectly understands the singulars that the phantasms are phantasms of.”[16] The point of knowledge for him, therefore, is for the mind to abstract the universal form from the individualizing matter. In this manner, following Aristotle, he is able to say simultaneously that the mind has knowledge of the particular and the universal. Namely, “the sensory power has direct cognition of them [contingent things] and the intellect has indirect cognition of them, whereas the intellect has cognition of the universal and necessary aspects of contingent things” so that “some scientific knowledge has to do with necessary things and some has to do with contingent things.”[17] Notice, therefore, that Thomas’ epistemology leads him to implicate a sort of tabula rasa of the mind as sense-perception is the only source of knowledge. Reminiscent of Aristotle, he writes that “our natural knowledge begins from sense [i.e., perception]. Hence our natural knowledge can go as far as it can be led by sensible things.”[18] (Neither, of course, falls into the Humeian trap.)

Second, because all knowledge necessarily stems from sensible particulars (see above), he continues to define just how a person knows invisible or immaterial objects (which include God’s revelation through the natural world and Scripture). His basic argument is this: a person’s idea (from the natural world or Scripture) is true insomuch as it correlated with the divine idea (in the natural world or Scripture). Namely, while we cannot sense immaterial objects, we have an “active intellect” that allows us to see God in natural objects.[19] Indeed, as he suggests, the primary object of the intellect is being.[20] Incorporating some insights from Plato, Aristotle, and Augustine, he continues to explain, however, that there is a difference between our sensory and intellectual capacities: the former roughly correspond to material objects, whereas the latter correspond to spiritual objects.[21] In this manner, he answers his original question—how then does a person know the immaterial, spiritual, or divine?—by turning to intellectual cognition. As he states, “It seems that intellectual cognition is not taken from sensible things.”[22] In other words, part of the rational faculty of people includes the ability to induce God through analogy from the natural world and Scripture. Therefore, as sensible cognition is not the sum of a person’s mental capacity, “it is nothing to be astonished at if intellectual cognition extends further than sensible cognition” so that we may have a sort of “knowledge of invisible things.”[23] While the mind cannot apprehend the being of God directly, it can do so indirectly through the world because “sensible objects, as finite and contingent, reveal their relation to God, so that the intellect can know that God exists” and something about his nature.[24] He applies this same principle to Scripture because, as he argues, “It is appropriate for spiritual things to be proposed by means of likeness drawn from corporeal objects.”[25] In the end, he explains that, in the natural world, we can know God through nature “by cause, by way of excess, and by removal of” (lit. ut causam, et per excessum, et per remotionem [1:84.7, 3]); and, in Scripture, God can be known through the fourfold senses of his Word.[26]

In the end, the fondness of Thomas for Aristotle is usually overblown. This post has been long and technical, but it has sought to show that Thomas appeals to divine ideas as a ground for his understanding of the intellect. While he was a hylomorphist—conceiving of being as a compound of body and soul—he also avers that being is ultimately exemplified in the divine ideas (within the mind of God). Such a conclusion is hardly a blind following of Aristotelianism. He is rather following the logic of Augustine, whose incorporation of Plotinus perfected the incomplete system of Plato before him. Ideas are ultimately grounded in the divine mind. (How he connects his hylomorphism to his understanding of the divine ideas is unclear to me at this juncture.)

Fredrick Copleston is right to suggest that, while Thomas incorporated Aristotelian vocabulary and concepts, the theologian “was no blind worshiper of the Philosopher.”[27] Frederick Christian Bauerschmidt argues similarly.[28] Thomas often either attempts to explore and explain Augustine through the Aristotelian categories, or he interprets Aristotle in a manner that is consonant with Augustine. Lydia Schumacher concludes, “In affirming all of this, I implicitly challenge the longstanding assumption that Aquinas’ philosophy is essentially Aristotelian, at the expense of being Augustinian.”[29]

[1]Norman Kretzmann explicitly argues for this logic. Cf. Norman Kretzmann, The Metaphysics of Creation: Aquinas’ Natural Theology in Summa Contra Gentiles II (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), 33-35.

[2]Thomas of Aquinas, The Summa Theologica, trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province, rev. ed. (New York: Benziger Brothers, 1920), 1:4.

[3]Ibid., 1:5-10.

[4]For a comprehensive logical or topical overview of the Summa Theologica itself, see Martin Grabmann, Introduction to the Theological Summa of Thomas Aquinas (St. Louis: B. Herder, 1930). For a more chronological approach, see Edward J. Gratsch, Aquinas’ Summa: An Introduction and Interpretation (New York: Alba House, 1985).

[5]Ibid., 1:15.1.

[6]Ibid.

[7]Ibid.

[8]Ibid.; see also Thomas, Truth, trans. Robert W. Mulligan (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1954), 2.1, 3.1; cf. Copleston, A History of Philosophy, 2:359-360. For his defense of the (plural) ideas in the mind of God along with God’s own simplicity, see 1:15.1-3; idem, Contra Gentiles, 1:53-54. Therefore, while finite minds and their language compel us to speak in terms of subject and predicate, and while we apprehend the divine intellect in piecemeal, no such distinction exists in the simple mind/nature of God (idem, Summa Contra Gentiles: On the Truth of the Catholic Faith, trans. Anton C. Pegis (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Company, 1955), 1:31).

[9]Summa, 1:34.1, 2; cf. idem, Truth, 4.1, cf. 3.1.

[10]Ibid., 1:34.1.

[11]Cf. Ibid., 1:1-26, 44-119.

[12]He fundamentally argues this notion by appealing to his doctrine of analogy for knowledge (Summa Theologica, 1:13.5; cf. Bauerschmidt, Holy Teaching, 68). Regarding the existence of God, he induces the necessity of God’s existence via the five ways: from (1) motion, (2) efficient cause, (3) possibility and necessity, (4) gradation, and (5) governance (Ibid., 1:2.1-3; cf. 1:12-15; idem, Summa Contra Gentiles, 1:13.1-35). Regarding the nature of God, he suggests that God’s perfections may be induced from the natural world “by cause, by way of excess, and by removal of” (lit. ut causam, et per excessum, et per remotionem [1:84.7, 3]). He thereafter posits the nature of God in terms of his perfections, goodness, infinity, existence, immutability, eternity, oneness, knowledge, truth, life, will, love, justice, mercy, providence, predestination, power, and beatitude (cf. 1:4-26). To bring Thomas’ thought together, it seems that the world reveals to us (1) the kind of relationship that God has with the world, (2) that God is not part (but rather cause) of the world, and (3) that God’s not being in the world is a result of his transcendence and not imperfection (Ibid., 1:12.12; cf. Bauerschmidt, Holy Teaching, 62, fn. 5). For an excellent discussion of the natural theology inherent within Thomas’ discussions here, see Bruce D. Marshall, “Quod Scit Una Uetula: Aquinas on the Nature of Theology,” in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, ed. Rik Van Nieuwenhove and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 1-35.

[13]Theology or sacred doctrine, Thomas writes, “properly uses citations from the canonical Scriptures when arguing from necessity, whereas it uses citations from other doctors of the Church as if arguing from what is properly its own, though with probability. For our Faith is based on the revelation made to the Apostles and Prophets who wrote the canonical books and not on any revelation that might have been made to the other doctors” (idem, Summa Theologica, 1:1.8; cf. Dulles, Revelation Theology, 41). As he continues, “Holy Scripture” reveals God through words so that “spiritual truths are fittingly conveyed with bodily metaphors” (Ibid., 1:1.9). As Bauerschmidt summarizes, the point of the Scriptures is “for God to teach us” and “like any good teacher, God adapts his methods to the requirements of his students” (idem, Holy Teaching, 40, fn. 34; cf. Thomas, Summa Theologica, 1:1.8-10; 1:13.5). While Thomas’ understanding of Scripture and relation to theology is notoriously difficult and complex, it is important to note that, for Thomas, Scripture, tradition, and theology are overlapping and interdependent concepts. As Valkenberg notes, “my modern question ‘how do you use Scripture in your theology?’ would have been redundant in his [Thomas’] view” (Valkenberg, Words of the Living God, 11; cf. Christopher T. Baglow, “Sacred Scripture and Sacred Doctrine in Saint Thomas Aquinas,” in Aquinas on Doctrine: A Critical Introduction, ed. Thomas G. Weinandy, Daniel A. Keating, and John P. Yocum [London: T & T Clark, 2004], 1-25; cf. Bauerschmidt, Holy Teaching, 37, fn. 24). For an excellent treatment of Thomas’ relationship between faith and reason, see Frederick Christian Bauerschmidt, Thomas Aquinas: Faith, Reason, and Following Christ, in Christian Theology in Context, ed. Timothy Gorringe, Serene Jones, and Graham Ward (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). For Thomas’ own “biblical theology,” or at least the closest he comes to laying out one, see Thomas, Summa Theologica, 3:27-59; cf. Valkenberg, Words of the Living God, 20. Especially within Protestant circles, Thomas’ commentaries have been overlooked in favor of his philosophical theology in his two Summas. For a helpful introduction to his exegesis, see Thomas G. Weinandy, Daniel A. Keating, and John P. Yocum, eds., Aquinas on Scripture: An Introduction to his Biblical Commentaries (London: T & T Clark, 2005); Thomas Prügel, Thomas Aquinas as Interpreter of Scripture, in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, ed. Rik Van Nieuwenhove and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 386-415.

[14]Ibid., 1:1.10; cf. Bauerschmidt, Holy Teaching, 43, fn. 41.

[15]Cf. his contrast between the concrete/particular of something and its concept/idea (Ibid., 1:5.2).

[16]Aquinas, Treatise on Human Nature: The Complete Text (Summa Theologiae I, Questions 75-102), trans. Alfred Freddoso (South Bend, IN: St. Augustine, 2010), 1:86.1.

[17]Ibid., 1:86.3.

[18]Ibid., 1:12.12; cf. 1:84.7; 1:88.1; Bauerschmidt, Holy Teaching, 40, fn. 33; Copleston, A History of Philosophy, 2:392, cf. 388-393.

[19]Ibid., 1:88.1.

[20]Ibid., 1:79.7; 1:5.2.

[21]Ibid., 1:84.6.

[22]Ibid., 1:84.6.

[23]Ibid., 1:84.6.

[24]Copleston, A History of Philosophy, 2:393-394.

[25]Ibid., 1:1.9.

[26]Ibid., 1:1.10; cf. Bauerschmidt, Holy Teaching, 43, fns. 41-44.

[27]Copleston, A History of Philosophy, 2:323.

[28]idem, Holy Teaching: Introducing the ‘Summa Theologiae’ of St. Thomas Aquinas [Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2005], 14, 21-22.

[29]Schumacher, Divine Illumination, 155. For an excellent translation and survey of biographical documents surrounding Thomas’s life, see Kenelm Foster, trans. and ed., The Life of Saint Thomas Aquinas: Biographical Documents (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1959).

Academic People: Here’s a solution to all your problems. (Not really, but it’s pretty cool.)

10 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by in Academics, C-Pen, Digital Hilighter

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C-pen 3.0

C-pen 3.0

Do you dread copying quotes from books? Do you hate holding down a book with one hand and typing with the other? Of course you do. It’s pretty annoying. If you want to save some time and energy, then this product is for you.

It is a digital handheld scanner called the C-pen 3.0. At $120.00 or so, it is not cheap. You can find it here or here. The maker has also come out with a 3.5 model. I missed the boat on that one.

The reason I bought this digital highlighter was simple: I really like to quote people…I mean, all the time. While I suppose that I can write some things relatively eloquently, there is always someone else who is smarter and better with words. After I wrote my dissertation, I realized that a lot of the time spent writing involved merely holding down a book while I tried to copy a quotation or bibliographic information. (Of course, 100,000 of my 200,000 words were footnotes, but that is another story.) I never liked to do these things. This scanner has made my life a lot easier. And I just got it yesterday.

Okay, so I am definitely exaggerating, but I do like it.

If you are interested in something like this portable scanner, I will show you what it can and cannot do in this post. I decided to use Charles Hodge’s second volume of Systematic Theology (Hendrickson reprint edition, 2003). Not only is he likable and above controversy in every way all the time (*cough*), but also he often uses multiple languages throughout (English, Latin, and Greek). He is a great option to showcase the C-pen.

The C-pen is especially good at scanning straight English text. In fact, even as a beginner, I was able to scan about 5 inches a second and still obtain surprisingly accurate results.

Here’s an (unedited) example:

“The doctrine which makes all sin to consist in selfishness, as it has been generally held, especially in this country, considers selfishness the opposite of benevolence agreeably to the theory which has just been considered. There are others, however, that mean by it the opposite to the love of God. As God is the proper centre of the soul and the sum of all perfection, apostasy from Him is the essence of sin ; apostasy from God involves, it is said, a falling back into ourselves, and making self the centre of our being. Thus Miiller,^ Tholuck,^ and many others, make alienation from God the primary principle of sin” (148).

The pen made only three mistakes (a surprising feat considering the unbendable binding of the book): (1) a semicolon was misplaced by one space, (2) in the place of two footnote markings, the pen inserted “^”, and it misspelled Müller as Miiler. These are pretty minor errors considering it only took me 20 seconds to scan the text.

After I redid the scan, I realized that the pen can scan “Müller” correctly, but it will almost never perceive a footnote number correctly. Oh well.

The C-pen also accurately scans Latin and Greek, as long as you enable these languages on your pen. The pen apparently recognizes some 250 languages.

Greek/Latin Examples:

“Ambrose says, ‘ Manifesturn itaque in Adam omnes peccasse quasi in massa : ipse enim per peccatum corruptus, quos genuit omnes nati sunt sub peccato. Ex eo igitur cuncti peccatores, quia ex ipso sumus omnes.’”

And: “Πάντες ούν oi e^ Αδα/χ γενο/χενοι εν αμαρτίαις συλλαμβάνονται ttj του ττροττάτορος καταδίκη — δεικνυσιν ως €^ άρχης ή άνρθρωπων φύσις υπό την άμαρτίαν πεπτωκεν υπό τ^ς iv Ενα τταρα βάσεως, και υπό κατάραν η yivvησις yeyovev.”

Here is another example of Greek on the first try: “ενδυσά/χενοι τον νέοι/, τον άνακαινου/χενον εις επιγνωσιν κατ εικόνα του κτισαντος αυτόν.”

The pen is certainly not perfect, but it is relatively accurate, especially considering several words were split by trailing hyphens. Oh, by the way, the pen will read and understand what a trailing hyphen is and then remove it and put the word together in text. It is pretty nifty.

However, the pen has more difficulty constantly switching between languages. Here, Greek, English, and Latin are included together:

“Clemens Alexandrinus says: τό yap έζαμαρτάνζιν πασιν ΐμφντον και κοινον. Justm says, To yevo<s των άνθρώττων άττο τον Άδά/Λ νττο θάνατον καΐ ττλάνψ τψ του οφεως ΐττζπτωκΐί, although he adds, τταρά την ιδίαν αΐτίαν €κάστου αντωνπονηρευσαμέι^ον. Origen says, “ Si Levi …. In lumbis Abrahae fuisse perhibetur, multo magis omnes homines qui in hoc mundo nascuntur et nati sunt, in lumbis errant Adse, cum adhuc sunt de Paradiso.” Athanasius says,* Πάι/rcs oiv oi e^ Αδα/χ yevofi€voi €v άμαρτίαίζ συλλαμβάνονται rjj του ττροττάτορος καταδίκη — δεικνυσιν ω? E^ άρχης η άνρθρωπων φύσις υττο την άμαρτίαν ττέπτωκ^ν νττο της iv Ένα τταρα βάσ€ωζ, και νττο κατάραν η yivvησι<I yeyovev.

While it reads fairly accurately (kind of), I had to move the pen a lot slower in this example. It should be noted that the pen perhaps would pick up a newer, more modern Greek font better than the font that Hendrickson uses. (Also, note that the Greek text is skewed a bit by the font in WordPress.)

Moreover, the pen is unable to read accurately text that has been previously underlined. The problem makes sense, but it is unfortunate nonetheless. Here is an example of underlined text. It is pretty horrific:

^^ opPi^sition^to alLthe.fon^^           or the doctrine of a threefold substancejn the^nstitution ofmn^2imay^£rremarked, (10 That it is opposed to the account oftH^^^pg^^tj^Qf man as given in Gen. ii. 7. Accordmg^t^^ out_ofjthe]Just οΓϊΒβ eartETand breathed into him the treath of life, and he became’ π;ΐΐ”~^ *; ^;’ * f^^^^glrm^?. I3””ntt?^) I” whom is a living soul.

Yikes, the C-pen is not even worth the hassle in these cases. It can only handle clean and unobstructed text.

Lastly, just for grins, the following example shows what happens when I moved the pen as fast as possible. Surprisingly, it is relatively accurate:

“This theory is founded on the following principles, or is an essential element in the following system of doctrine : (1.) Happi¬ iss is the greatest good. Whatever tends to promote the greatest amount of happiness is for that reason good, and whatever he opposite tendency is evil. (2.) As happiness is the only and ultimate good, benevolence, or tne disposition or purpose to pro¬ mote happiness, must be the essence and sum of virtue. (3.) As God is intinite, He must be infinitely benevolent, and therefore it must be his desire and purpose to produce the greatest possible amount of happiness.”

Notably, as the makers say, the pen can also do more. Or so they say…. They say it can translate whatever you scan into another language. But because the dictionaries cost money, and because the reviews said that it did not work well, I did not bother to try this feature. It is better to learn the language anyway. There are also several other add-ons, including a dictionary that gives the definition of a word after it is scanned. I personally could not see myself using this feature. I use google to look up words, and it works just fine. I suppose the scanner’s more immediate feature is great for people with poor vocabularies. Just kidding.

Here’s a list of pros and cons, as I see them thus far:

Pros:

  1. It is excellent for scanning quotes. If you are the type of person who likes to read a book and copy the quotes later, this pen is certainly for you. It makes taking notes and copying quotations simple and streamlined. While the pen is best with “typical” characters in English, French, and German, it also does a good job with Greek.
  2. It saves time. You can’t argue with that.
  3. It is easy to use. Most of the features were learned in minutes. This surprised me.
  4. It is light and handheld. It’s actually pretty elegant.
  5. It makes you look hip and technological.

Cons:

  1. It is technology. Technology makes you stupider over time. That’s science.
  2. The C-pen seems a bit frail and easily breakable. I will get back to you on this one.
  3. No battery options in my model. Some models have this. Many pens also come with Bluetooth options. Mine did not.
  4. Get accustomed to writing in the margins. It cannot read text that has been underlined. You will need to get out of this habit if you buy the pen.
  5. It cannot recognize Hebrew. But who reads the OT anyway, right?
  6. It is one more thing to be snarky about. First pogs, then coffee, and now this?

My concluded opinion: it is worth the $120, if you have it. The C-pen will buy itself through the shear time it saves. While it is not as adaptable and flexible as I would like, it serves its purpose well. I think most academics would find this pen valuable. You don’t need the pen by your side 24/7, but it comes in handy after you markup a book or have a bunch of information to write down.

Enjoy.

Gazing God (part 2): Contemplation, Remembering, and Seeing

09 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by in Contemplation

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The previous post argued that contemplation is epistemologically based upon revelation in both its external (e.g. Scripture) and internal (e.g., illumination) senses. This statement includes and inevitably leads to a practical theology of contemplation.

Today’s post will look at two specific examples wherein David contemplates God (that is, “gazes God”) in a personal manner. The first example involves David beholding God’s face (Ps 17), and the second example involves him contemplating God in his mighty works (Ps 77). In both examples, David searches history (whether personal or corporate), seeking God’s face in the present life through searching the past. David teaches us a simple point: beholding God is personal and transformative.

In Psalm 17 David desires to behold God in a personal way. He cries out to God in his distress and asks for justice: “Hear a just cause, O Lord; attend to my cry!” (Psalm 17:1). Having established his anguish, weakness, and torments (vv. 2-12), he then emphatically points to the hope that is his, as it is grounded in God’s covenant: “As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness” (in v. 15; cf. 24:6; 44:24).[1] These are strong words, indeed.

While only Moses knew God face to face (Deut 34:10; Num 12:8), the author asks for this privilege for himself. As Kidner reflects, David “leaves these earthy preoccupations behind” in the former verses, and he boldly requests the judicial and transformative experience of seeing and knowing God, pointing towards the final promise of seeing God as he is and being like him (1 John 3:2; cf. 2 Cor 3:18).[2] As Calvin notes, while v. 15 ultimately reflects the final resurrection, one must not limit it to that time frame: “but as the saints, when God causes some rays of the knowledge of his love to enter into their hearts . . . David justly calls this peace of joy of the Holy Spirit satisfaction.”[3] While David struggles to sense God, he is assured that one day he will in fact behold him closely. He wants to contemplate God again in his righteousness.

Another example of this personal and transformative contemplation may be found in Psalm 77. Herein the psalmist faces a deep inner struggling and depression in the face of not seeing God in his life. While he believes God is there and exists, it seems as if God does not care (vv. 1-9). The psalmist’s downcast nature is so marked that, he writes, “When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints” (v. 3). In his pain, the psalmist considers and contemplates God and his works. He remembers the mighty deeds of God in the exodus, these “wonders of old,” and he ponders and meditates upon these “mighty deeds” (vv. 11-12, cf. 23-15).[4] As he remembers these mighty deeds, he recalls that the holy and great God “redeemed your people” through the exodus from Egypt (v. 15), recalling his Christian readers to consider also the second exodus.[5] Afterwards, the psalmist vividly considers the majestic actions of God in splitting the waters of the sea. As the poet ponders and captures these tremendous events in his mind, he conveys them for the sake of encouragement. These actions show not only the holy and majestic power of God but also his gracious and caring shepherding: “You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron” (v. 20). He thus contemplates God as shepherd, pointing towards Christ as the good shepherd.

The psalmist thus shows that contemplation is a means for the believer to grow and experience God in one’s walk. When one feels awry, one only needs to remember.

We must remember God; much more, we must remember God well, not merely considering him through our selective memory. Here, again, the importance of contemplation may be discerned in its gospel remembrance.

The point of these previous two posts is simple: contemplation is based upon revelation; as it is so based, contemplation seeks to remember God and behold him for the sake of personal knowledge and transformation according to the gospel of Christ. Paul explains this well: “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Cor 3:18). Paul’s words are a reality for every new covenant believer. As he or she “turns to the Lord, the veil is removed” (v. 16-17), namely, through the more complete revelation in Christ (external) and the unveiling of perception by the Spirit (internal).

Contemplation is a key way in which believers experience communion with God in Christ. This post has added to the discussion by explaining two ways in which contemplation may be practiced: by (1) prayerfully desiring to behold God in his righteousness and (2) thoroughly remembering the mighty works of God in the past.

[1]Cf. Kidner, Psalms 1-72, 104.

[2]Kidner, Psalms 1-72, 107.

[3]Calvin, Psalms, 1:254.

[4]See also Kidner, Psalms 73-150, 309.

[5]Boice, Psalms, 2: 641-644.

Gazing God (part 1): Contemplation Grounded in (external and internal) Revelation

02 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by in Contemplation, Revelation

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In the next two posts, I want to consider a couple other important traits of contemplation: contemplation as (1) revelation grounded and (2) personally purposed. Today’s post will describe contemplation as gazing God in his revelation (which is both external and internal); the next post will suggest that contemplation likewise gazes God through remembering him in his past deeds and seeing him presently in one’s life in a gospel-centered manner.

Contemplation is grounded in revelation. (This point is implicit in previous posts before, such as here and here.) In order to demonstrate further this point, I will use Psalm 119.

Revelation can be understood in both an external and internal sense, reflecting what the Reformers considered to be the principium cognoscendi externum and the principium cognoscendi internum, namely, the Word and Spirit. In other words, revelation is external and internal, whether a revelation occurs objectively to the human person in the form of a disclosure of information (external) or subjectively to the human person in the form of an unveiling of perception (internal). Following Psalms 1 and 19, Psalm 119 beautifully describes the love of the law of the Lord (external) and the necessity of the illumination of the Lord (internal).

While the purpose of this discussion is not to give a detailed account of this psalm, it is important to establish what this psalm has to say or imply about contemplation. Kidner reflects the overall picture of the psalm: “The mood is meditative; the poet’s preoccupations and circumstances come to light in prayers and exclamations, not marshalled in sequence but dispersed throughout the psalm.”[1] As the poet describes in many ways, Scripture (e.g., law, testimonies, precepts, statutes, commandment, ordinances, word, promise) is the joyful basis of the poet’s reflection. “I cling to your testimonies, O LORD; let me not be put to shame!” (v. 31). He does not simply contemplate God in his being but rather God as he revealed himself. As the poet does so, he acknowledges that, by seeking God in his word, the poet is liberated from sin (v. 133), guided by light (v. 105), given new life (vv. 37, 40), and given hope and stability (vv. 49-50), among other things.[2] To know God is to know God in his revelation. The psalm thus reminds us that gospel contemplation is grounded in Scripture meditation. This notion accounts for why the lectio divina begins by “biting” Scripture (i.e., reading it) and ends by “ingesting” it (i.e., contemplating it). Contemplation is ultimately grounded in God’s revelation.

The psalm also shows that the believer requires a special inner revelation in order to perceive the word. The Mosaic law, no matter how high and wonderful a revelation, is simply not complete. David prays, “Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law” (Ps 119:18). David thus prays that God might “open” his eyes so that he can actually perceive what is in the law. One insightful commentator, Leslie C. Allen, rightly deduces: the text shows that the “Torah represents God” and the “hiding of God’s face in standard psalm usage is replaced . . . by hiding the Torah.”[3] Because the Torah is “hidden,” in other words, the psalmist asks for a personal, internal revelation (i.e., “open my eyes”) to perceive or understand correctly. Reflecting upon the meaning of revelation, Colin Brown concludes, “In this way Samuel [in Sam 3:7] and David [in Ps 119:18] are able to hear God’s instructions and promises.”[4] In some sense, then, God’s revealing activity happens in both an external (covenantal speaking) and internal (covenantal hearing) sense. Contemplation thus requires the special illumination of the Spirit.

Contemplation fundamentally involves gazing God in his revelation, and this requires the work of the Spirit. Contemplation is thus ultimately based upon the revelation of God (in this case, Scripture), and it requires the illumination of God by the Spirit. The next post will use Psalms 77 and 17 to show that “gazing God” is a profoundly personal matter.

[1]Kidner, Psalms 73-150, 452. For a most detailed explanation of the setting, tone, and structure of the psalm, see Allen, Psalms 101-50, 180-192.

[2]For a more comprehensive list, see Kidner, Psalms 73-150, 456-457.

[3]Leslie C. Allen, Psalms 101-50, rev. ed., Word Biblical Commentary, vol. 21 (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2002), 186.

[4]Brown, “Revelation,” 3:311. Regarding the meaning, John Calvin perceptively writes, “Having acknowledged, that power to keep the law is imparted to men by God, he, at the same time, adds, that every man is blind, until he also enlighten the eyes of his understanding.” In other words, God must “remove the veil from our eyes” (John Calvin, Commentary on the Book of Psalms 93-150, trans. James Anderson, The Calvin Translation Society [Reprint, Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996], 413).