Trinitarian and Anthropological Metaphysics

In the comments of a recent post, I was recently asked some challenging questions regarding Trinitarianism, Christology, and anthopology. In the past few years, I've mentioned several times the need for humility and balance when positing a doctrine of God (see here and pursuant links). On the one hand, I aim to do a better job of avoiding dogmatism on points of speculation. On the other hand, even in the case that answers to certain questions are underdetermined by biblical data, apologetic concerns warrant consideration of possibilities to prevent one's faith from being undercut. 

In what follows, my goal is to provide answers that are faithful to Scripture insofar as they are deducible from or coherent with it. Keeping in mind that this latter qualification - coherence - is a necessary but insufficient condition for truth, the questions I was asked will be indented:

I'm trying to also keep in my the Trinity, with the three persons united in one being. Being would be identical to nature (divine nature), would it not?

On the concept of "unity," this post would provide a helpful background for my own thoughts (excepting a few uncareful remarks in the final paragraph).

I don't think the Trinity are united "in one being" if that means persons are subsumed under nature. Don't get me wrong: natures don't exist without persons, and persons do not exist without natures. Yet insofar as "nature" or "being" discusses what is common to individuals, natures belong to and are predicated of persons, not persons to natures. "Enhypostasis" - nature is in the hypostasis. If persons were "in" natures, then Christ's having two natures would seem to imply Nestorianism.

Now, the members of the Trinity are consubstantial. In fact, I think the meaning of their being consubstantial is just the same as the meaning of you and I being consubstantial, although the manner of consubstantiality differs between Trinitarian members (eternal, necessary) and us as men (temporal, contingent). Regardless, they indeed are of the same nature. 

But I would balk at certain theories of divine simplicity that may be implicit in the phrasing of your question. That is, Trinitarian consubstantiality does not imply only one concrete nature. Recall that you mentioned mind is "indexed" to nature: if we subsumed the divine persons under or in a single, concrete divine nature, then, that would entail that there is just one divine mind. The problem with that - as you seem to recognize - is that it runs against biblical data suggesting the members have distinct, self-reflective thoughts (e.g. John 17). On that note:

So the mind of the Son would have self-referential propositions that the Father would not (e.g. "I am the eternally begotten one"), but that mind would not be coextensive with the person of the Son? What would be the remainder? Would it be something like the shared divine nature that extends beyond the self-referential thoughts of the mind?

While the mode of the Son's existence is eternal, He is also eternally begotten. Here is precisely where I think Clark, for example, went wrong: it is not merely that the Son thinks something of Himself that is different than His thought of the Father or Spirit; rather, this thought corresponds to something about the Son Himself. I argue Clark's rejection of the correspondence theory of truth in the 1940s led him to collapse persons into propositions/thoughts (link). I further argue I think Clark's reasons for rejecting it only pertain to a certain kind of correspondence theory of truth (link). 

What I am saying, then, is that the persons of the Trinity are not simply minds - and again, since you agree minds are "indexed" to nature, that would not constitute a differentiating principle between the individual Trinitarian persons anyway. Nor are the persons the thoughts of the mind (as if it is intelligible to suggest the divine persons are products of three minds?). On the contrary, the thoughts of the persons of the Trinity about themselves reflect or correspond to something unique about the way that they themselves are: unbegotton/originate, eternally begotten/generation, eternally spirated/process. Epistemological and ontological categories should not be collapsed. 

Also remember that in the original post on Clark and Nestorius, I was only attempting to provide a connotative definition of "person" in general. I was not talking individual persons/hypostases/subjects. For example, I think the Father, Son, Spirit, the angels, and humans are all "persons" because they have something in common: they each have a mind or minds. But this definition does not individuate any one individual "person" from any other. Well, that makes sense, for we agree that the having of a mind (or minds) is something properly belonging to the category of nature - not that we have the same nature as God, of course, but the overlap explains (at least partially) in what sense creaturely persons might be images of divine persons. 

So what individuates individual persons/hypostases/subjects? We might posit (as Clark did) that they can be individuated by their thoughts (of themselves). In a cursory analysis, this might be sufficient. But foundationally, note again that thoughts are products of thinkers. To the extent that an individual's thoughts of himself is relevant to this question, that to which the thoughts correspond - the individual himself - is all the more so. 

Let me suggest that an individual person is the correspondent of whatever may truly be predicated of him either timelessly (if His mode of existence is timeless, e.g. the Father) or at time t (if his given his mode of existence is temporal, e.g. an angel or human). What I "think" of myself is irrelevant, because my thoughts of myself are potentially false. Rather, true propositions about me (corresponding to my existence at time t) are those thoughts God thinks about me (corresponding to my existence at time t).

The above is perfectly intelligible to me. Even the case of Christ incarnate can be nuanced (example). Here is one catch, however: it suggests that the divine nature is concretized in the three persons. This should be obvious anyways if we accept a model of the Trinity on which each member of the Trinity has a distinct mind, but it should be noted. Not all (or even most) Trinitarian models would accept this. If we take Clark's definitions of thoughts/beliefs as involving volition, three concrete minds also entails three concrete wills.

Clark's own reasoning supports this, for he reject faculty psychology in the context of anthropology and Trinitarianism:

In the case of God, the simplicity of his reality should favor still more such a identification, rather than a development of divine faculty psychology. (April 3, 1937, Letter to J. Oliver Buswell)

A man is not a compound of three things, an intellect, a will, and an emotion. Each man is a single personality. (1943. On the Primacy of the Intellect. Westminster Theological Journal Vol. 5 No. 2, May. 182-195)

The question has to do with Ephesian 4 where it speaks of man’s mind being darkened. Well, I would include in the functions of mind the assent as well as the notitia, but I distinguish between the two functions. This is not faculty psychology, but it is two functions of the same spirit. (1977. A Defense of Christian Presuppositions in the Light of Non-Christian Presuppositions)

Just as in the post on "unity" I linked to above, these statements exhibit an internal inconsistency in Clark's thought. If the same spirit has two functions - assent and notitia or knowledge - then on what grounds could Clark affirm three distinct functions in one respect (self-knowledge) but not the other (assent)? If only the Son thinks "I am the Son," what does it mean to "think" if assent is not involved?

We can certainly differentiate the relationship between our persons to propositions we "know" (acquisitional, receptive) to the relationship between the Trinitarian persons and propositions they "know" (active, generative). In both cases, the objects of knowledge - truth-bearing propositions - are the same, although the psychological activity of "knowing" differs.

To reiterate, on the model I gravitate towards, the Trinitarian persons are consubstantial just as you and I are consubstantial. What it means for the divine nature to be "in" each person is the same, is true, and therefore corresponds to the existence of each person. There is just one "divine nature" that we conceptualize: all-wise, all-powerful, all-good, etc. Each member of the Trinity is all-wise, all-good, etc.

It's just that how consubstantiality cashes out is not in persons being found "in[side]" of a common nature but rather along the lines that a person who is a principle or "fount" (e.g. the Father; Adam) communicates his same nature to others who find their "origin" in him (e.g. the Son/Spirit; the rest of humanity). This bears on the unity of persons and explains the connection to traducianism, by the way, which I'll return to momentarily.

In the context of the Trinity, there is a necessary connection between the members. The property of the Father, the attributes of the divine nature He enhypostatizes, and mode of the communication of His divine nature to His Son and Spirit is such that the three persons 1) mutually depend on each other - for example, the Father is not who He is without His Son and Spirit - and 2) always act conjointly and agreeably. 

A comparison could reasonably be made between 1) three distinct knowers who distinctly and reflexively index the same, objective body of propositional meaning, and 2) three distinct operators or actors who necessarily produce one and the same conjoint operation or act (which, incidentally, includes the body of propositional meaning comprised of necessary and contingent truths).

A traducian friend of mine (Ken Hamrick) uses the language of "shared agency" to describe our participation in Adam's sin while the mode of "our" being was not yet (i.e. at the time of the Fall) as individuals but as the singular nature of Adam through which he sinned and out of whom we were not yet propagated as individuals (link). I agree with him, although how we think this analogizes to the Trinity differs. 

Ken would emphasize the numerical sameness of the spirit traduced to us and thereby argue for the numerical sameness of essence shared among the Trinity (link). I would emphasize that once we are propagated out of Adam, our possession of the same spirit is nevertheless concretely distinct and thereby argue that the Trinitarian persons exhibit an analogy to "shared agency" in the eternal communication of the divine nature through which the persons operate even as they are eternally individuated and individuals. As I mentioned at the outset, these are rather deep waters to stake out a dogmatic claim that one can confidently swim them. 

In either model - Ken's or mine - there is an analogy one could make between Trinitarianism and traducianism. There are also disanalogies in either case, of course. For Ken, whereas we have distinct, concrete natures (albeit inherited through our fathers once we are propogated out of them into a different mode of being, i.e. as individuals), the members of the Trinity would not. On my end, the manner of consubstantiality between the Father, Son, and Spirit would be eternal and grounded in their intrapersonal relations rather than temporal (such as my relation to my father). This interesting impasse at once suggests an argumentative parallel between Trinitarianism and traducianism regardless of which one of us is correct as well as that other reasons must be given for independent support for either of our positions.

I think my model goes some way in explaining biblical texts like John 17, the covenant of redemption, and the resonance between theology proper and anthropology. 

Further, on the subject of anthropology in general and traducianism in particular, I think this model (and Ken's) also avoids nominalism while affirming a realism in the contexts of original sin and justification which does not devolve into erroneous positions. For example, erroneous positions such as: 

1) one wherein Christ assumes a sinful nature (cf. uncareful statements of the doctrine of original sin), 

2) one wherein I am unjustly punished for sins which are really and completely alien to me (cf. representationalist theories of original sin), 

3) one wherein Christ assumes and glorifies a human nature under which all persons are said to be subsumed (cf. Eastern Orthodoxy and deification, despite the protestations of its apologists to believe that natures are in hypostases rather than the reverse), 

4) one wherein infused righteousness is argued as necessary for justification to be justly possible in this lifetime (cf. Roman Catholic apologists, although those who argue this are themselves inconsistent).

On several of these points, see here for more. Further potential advantages of this model are that it seems to cohere with other metaphysical ideas which have separate appeal: theistic propositional realism (i.e. divine conceptualism), a version of divine simplicity which allows for formal distinctions, an Aristotelian theory of universals, etc.

I've thought about this quite a lot, and while the above is not a full story, it's probably the best articulation I can come up with at the present. To your next question:

If by inheriting one's father's "spirit" means those immaterial attributes that he possesses (analogous to the material attributes one possesses), then I think I can get my mind around what "spirit" means. Just as our bodies are made from our parents's bodies without being identical to them, so our spirits are made from our parents's spirits without being identical to them.

But then what distinguishes mind and spirit, or are they the same?

I think they are the same. Christ assumed a body and a rational soul or spirit without assuming a person, so there is no Christological difficulty, at least. Ken has elsewhere suggested that the "spirit is the seat of the will regarding moral matters" (link), and I think this all dovetails with Clark's aforementioned thought that knowledge and assent are two functions of the same spirit.

Finally, I had written:

The separation of body and spirit is "death," and such is predicated of our persons; but so too is the separation of our spirit from the Spirit "death" also predicated of our persons... suggesting the relationship between man's body and his spirit is analogically related to the dependency of our spirit to God's Spirit?

Maybe all of this becomes simplified by looking at a case most Christians would agree with: Christians will be conscious in the intermediate state. Are these Christians still human? If so, then it appears that they just are, ontologically speaking, spirits. To say that the person experiences death is to say that his body has been separated from his spirit (i.e. himself). Men are not, ontologically speaking, composite beings, for although these spirits do normally have bodies, the separation of the normal unity between spirit and body does not ontologically change a person (spirit). Likewise, the separation of the designed unity between spirit and Spirit does not ontologically change a person (spirit). If physical death is not an ontological change, neither would be spiritual death.

Your question: 

As for the subsequent post wherein you discuss the intermediate state, have you considered also that our spiritual bodies may be of a different order than our physical bodies? Paul's statements about the natural body and spiritual body are puzzling. "Adam became a living being. The last Adam became a life-giving spirit." The first man was made of the earth from dust, the last man is from heaven. Is it not safe to say that even in our present state we not "fully human" but are "incomplete" because the body we were given (even Adam's sinless body) was only the seed of what will only be completed in the resurrection? So, it may be the case that there is no ontological change since the separation of the spirit from the body in death is part of the planned transformation from natural body to spiritual body (like the seed germinating).

Did you mean to ask whether it's possible that "even in our present state we [are] not "fully human" but are "incomplete""? If so, did the incarnate and yet-be-glorified Son assume a fully human nature? Further, when this Son died and was buried (prior to His resurrection), was He fully human or not? Surely the former. 

I would also keep in mind the question of whether or not the reprobate are fully human: they will experience a bodily resurrection too, but their spirit remains severed from the life-giving Spirit of God and, thus, experience a second death. These points cumulatively suggest that death entails no change in nature.

Now, my original comment was about whether is ontological change at the time of death. Here, on the other hand, I am here emphasizing that there is never a change to the human essence each of us has. Ontology is indeed a broader category than humanity, I just wanted to answer your specific questions by distinguishing between an eschatological telos and a change in nature.

East of Eden

Some time ago, I answered a question on what might draw nominally Reformed Christians to Eastern Orthodoxy. Other points could also be made, but this provides some perspective for those thinking about how to engage with Eastern Orthodoxy and its apologists:

1. Ecclesiastically, Eastern Orthodoxy is less centralized than Rome yet still has a hierarchy, meaning there isn't as much of a barrier to entry to the former as to the latter.

2. Because Eastern Orthodoxy is less centralized (and, in the U.S., less prominent), it is less apparent to outsiders how the inside truly looks or operates, warts and all. This is all the more true when I hear of Eastern Orthodoxy congregations which experience functional segregation due to distinctive cultural backgrounds of said congregants (read: Galatians 2). It is easy to romanticize the unfamiliar.

Further, Rome's councils and popes are constantly in the news as going the way of modernism. I don't read much news, but from what I see, Eastern Orthodoxy isn't as exposed. Former insiders to Eastern Orthodoxy (e.g. Joshua Schooping; see his free ebook here) are relatively unknown - at least, they unknown prior to one's converting to Eastern Orthodoxy - and becoming aware of such insiders after one converts might be too late (rationalizations set in). This is not unique to Eastern Orthodoxy, but they are not immune to it either.

3. Eastern Orthodox apologists and theologians largely stake their position on appeals to ecumenical councils or theologians whose theology is said to ground statements by ecumenical councils (Athanasius, the Cappadocians, Cyril of Alexandria, Maximus, John of Damascus, and Palamas being most prominent, if I am not mistaken).

Examples of fallacies to watch out for: because they are called ecumenical councils, they must be biblical councils. Equally fallacious: because some ecumenical councils are biblically grounded, one must accept that all others are too.

On the point of tradition, church history, etc., just like anyone else, people who claim to be Reformed can fall suspect to attempts to excuse their prior ignorance. For example: "church history is not in monolithic support of Reformed theology; I must have been ignorant/tricked; there must be a true monolith that is different from my prior (Reformed) conception." This is a non sequitur, but more importantly, the reason the fallacy occurs in the first place is because people have a false, a priori impression of how church history is supposed to look (monolithic). This assumption is the root of the problem; a symptom is to elevate historical theology above exegetical theology.

Of course, Reformed theology as such isn't anti-historical, although Reformed individuals could do a better job of having awareness of and emphasizing important events in church history on which we might find agreement with Eastern Orthodoxy (e.g. Christology, Trinitarianism). In principle, however, these are not distinctives which mark off Eastern Orthodoxy. Rather, I find those distinctives which do mark off Eastern Orthodoxy to be problematic (e.g. anthropology and theology proper; cf. link).

4. I have noticed recently that Eastern Orthodox apologists are willing to copy, for example, Reformed presuppositionalism. Despite the fact they are inconsistent when they do so (link), such will appeal to the "have your cake (apologetic) and eat it too (monolithic church history)" audience.

Another illustration of this is a recent trend in which Eastern Orthodox apologists are willing to suggest that penal substitution is, in some sense, true. Here is one video to this effect. As I pointed out in a comment I left on this video (to which I have no reason to expect an answer forthcoming), there is a seeming inconsistency in this appeal. If the Eastern Orthodox apologist really thinks Jesus tasted the penalty of sin for all men [without exception], how is it just for the damned to nevertheless experience the same penalty? 

Likewise, the Eastern Orthodox apologist in the video mentions that in the garden of Eden, Adam and Eve experienced alienation "from each other." But surely - and conspicuously left unmentioned by the Eastern Orthodox apologist - the principal alienation they experience is alienation from God! Surely this is the death of which God spoke even prior to Eve's creation in Genesis 2:17. If Jesus participates in "the deepest experience of our alienation," does that mean the Eastern Orthodox apologist thinks Jesus likewise experience this alienation - alienation from His own Father? I am unaware of any Eastern Orthodox apologists who admit this. The usual claim is that penal substitution is Nestorian (link). To the extent that Eastern Orthodox apologists shortchange the penalty Christ undertook on our behalf, they don't really accept penal substitution after all. Nuances like this might easily go unnoticed by converts.

5. Reformed theologians have - by and large - polemically ignored Eastern Orthodox theologians. Sure, there may be an article here or single chapter there that in a journal or book that gets lost in the mix of what the focus of a publication really is. Rarely have I seen a prominent Reformed theologian or pastor debate or engage in a book-length treatment of Eastern Orthodoxy. Compare this to the many popular polemical works against Roman Catholicism.

Obviously, there is a history that somewhat dictates a larger interest in justifying Reformed separation from Rome. On the other hand, in the next century, I could easily see it turn out that Eastern Orthodoxy poses a bigger poaching threat to Reformed churches than Rome. In that respect, it would be better for our apologetics to look to future threats instead of looking back at old ones.

Then again, this is admittedly tricky. What you don't want to have happen is something like what happens in the 1880s-1890s with higher criticism, where The Princeton Review gave a platform to heretics to debate their false doctrines and thereby legitimate/popularize them. 

Of course, this is somewhat reductionistic - there were other reasons for the increase in popularity of higher criticism, e.g. that seminaries were sending candidates oversees to Germany for training in the first place - but I don't see any reason to invite a heretic to a debate on my home turf. The best that could be hoped for is that people become more confident or assured that Reformed theology can handle heretics - it can, but a verbal debate isn't the only mode of communication to show that (let alone the best mode). The worst that can happen is that more people become intrigued with a faulty religion held by a fraction of the population.

Along these lines, it was wise of Bahnsen to debate Stein - in a secular university where he was in the minority and when was able to ably defend his position. In that context, it's really only Bahnsen who could hope for the popularization of his view. So would it be wise of a Reformed theologian to debate an Eastern Orthodox? In my mind, it depends on context. 

Perhaps publications (or, less plausibly, conferences) are safer in terms of established ways of getting information out. Written works are more likely to have less pomp and circumstance and more usefulness in the long-run. In any case, resources on Eastern Orthodoxy by Reformed Christians are scarcer to the layman than resources on most other heresies (even ones smaller in number). Again, this reduces the barrier to entry.

6. I think there are legitimate questions of Reformed theology that are more deserving of robust answers than are currently available. For example, the question of artistry in the church. Is it wrong to desire a beautified church? I don't think so. Was it wrong that the temple was beautified? Is there a typological case for a beautified church, an adorned bride (link)? Is there something to the idea of wearing one's "Sunday best"? 

Obviously, I'm not talking about venerating icons, whether images of Christ can be created, etc. I'm talking about whether the physical construction and layout of a church can be deliberately made attractive. I think this is a legitimate question, even if it is not a legitimate desire. I myself have never heard a good reason why it is an illegitimate desire.

If a congregant has this question, how often is it that his pastor (who, let's say, thinks it is an illegitimate desire) is giving a good answer to this question? Is it a good answer to simply appeal to what Puritans thought without also expressing their reasons (let alone whether those reasons are biblical)? Is it a good answer to say that the purpose of a "simple" church layout is to avoid distractions? This sounds as if I were to tell my students I can't decorate my classroom because they would be too immature to handle it when I'm lecturing.

I'm not judging churches whose attention has never considered its décor. In fact, my own classroom actually happens to be simple. There are ecclesiastical (and work-related) priorities, after all. Over time, though, one might expect the church to answer how God's people should present themselves: humbly yet aware of its clothing of glory in Christ. Externals should match internals. There may be an implicit eschatology in these points.

Just like Eastern Orthodox apologists are becoming more aware of and willing to copy presuppositional arguments, they are also becoming more aware of Protestant resources on biblical theology - including but not limited to the more rampant speculations of federal visionists - and pivoting the same arguments to the need for a "higher liturgy." Yes, we must avoid the errors of federal visionism, but we must also understand the motivations for the questions they raised before we throw out everything they say. That includes understanding the need for a developed hermeneutic of typology that avoids the extreme of Marsh's dictum on the one hand and runaway typology on the other. Does such exist? 

That I even ask this question suggests a lacuna, although I could well be ignorant: perhaps Reformed Christians have given good answers to these sorts of questions. Then again, that is sort of the point: if I'm ignorant, I can understand why others might be as well. 

Further, the principle of this point is that regarding some questions, I think we would do well to respond with a measure of pause and grace. If this so happens to be a question that has an obvious answer, there are still other questions and questioners which and who don't deserve a slam-dunk response. Most people don't like getting dunked on, even with the truth.

7. A final point that dovetails with what I just said: it's okay not to have all the answers at the time these questions are raised. Answers to questions often are discovered over time. Contrary to the claims of Eastern Orthodox apologists, Scripture is materially and formally sufficient to defend the doctrine of the Trinity, sola fide, etc., but until such heresies arise that require sharper focus in how we answer them, it is often the case that questions that go unasked also go unanswered.

These considerations are not all equally easy to see or deal with. Until people are settled enough in their assurance of Reformed theology to believe that - and to tactfully and truthfully project that confidence in the presence of others who are not - it is objectively unsurprising (if personally unsettling) that the whiff of a new wind of a new doctrine or question might carry some away from the faith.

Clark and Nestorius

John McGuckin writes that Cyril of Alexandria

“…was appalled by the way Nestorius kept referring to the different prosopa as well as to the prosopon of the union… The problem was that Nestorius was using one and the same technical term to connote the disparate concepts of differentiation and convergence: there are two prosopa (Jesus and the Logos) and only one prosopon (Christ). There is of course, no sensible context whatsoever that would allow one to speak of three prosopa. It may well be that this economy of language in Nestorius led to a fatal weakness in the coherence of his theory, as Cyril argued, but it is clear enough that the caricature of his teaching that described it as no more than a repetition of the old Two Sons theory is an uneven reading of his intent. To this extent Cyril’s synopsis of his opponent was inaccurate. But Cyril had nonetheless put his finger on the key matter and his criticism still had force in the way he argued from Nestorius’ explicit statements to his necessary implications. In this regard Cyril had posed the essential question and voiced fears of many others when he asked whether such a theory had done enough to secure a concept of unitive subject in Christ.” (pgs. 149, 159)

If true, Cyril makes an excellent point. Indeed, one can read Nestorius make this exact sort of statement in the Bazaar of Heracleides:

…the union of the prosôpa took place for the prosopon and not for the ousia and the nature. It is not indeed that one ousia without hypostasis should be conceived, as if by union into one ousia and there were no prosôpon of one ousia, but the natures subsist in their prosôpa and in their natures and in the prosôpon of the union. For in respect to the natural prosôpon of the one the other also makes use of the same on account of the union; and thus [there is] one prosôpon of the two natures. The prosôpon of the one ousia makes use of the prosôpon of the other ousia in the same [way]. For what ousia seekest thou to make without a prosôpon? That of the divinity? Or that of the humanity? Therefore thou wilt not call God the Word flesh nor the flesh Son.

This statement by Nestorius is troubling and why I find a graphic shown here to be misleading. Nestorius says that the prosopon (defined by McGuckin as the “observable character, defining properties, manifestation of a reality,” pg. 138) of the divine ousia (essence) and the prosopon of the human ousia are united in one prosopon.

Two prosopa somehow unite such that one prosopon results. And yet, for Nestorius, even given the resultant prosopon, there are still two prosopa, each making “use” of each other. How is this intelligible? McGuckin goes on to argue that Nestorius grounded the union in God’s will: the prosopa of the Logos and the man Jesus are extrinsically related rather than ontologically grounded. Thus, when Nestorius rhetorically asks, “what ousia seekest thou to make without a prosôpon? That of the divinity? Or that of the humanity?” it seems that Nestorius is denying an enhypostatic-anhypostatic distinction - not that I think human nature can exist apart from a hypostasis but that Christ's human nature is enhypostatized by the divine Son, not a distinct individual/subject/person/hypostasis.

Another implication would be that for Nestorius, the prosopon who was glorified with the Father before the world existed (John 17:5) cannot be the same prosopon as the enfleshed Christ whom the Father sent (John 17:3). Along these lines, I can understand better now the Chalcedonian concern regarding “theotokos” (on which, see below).

Now, the same author who used the graphic I linked to above goes on to conclude, “It is recorded that Nestorius agreed with Leo of Rome in regards to Chalcedonian Christology.” The author then cites a statement Nestorius made in The Bazaar of Heracleides: “I was content to endure the things whereof they accused me, in order that while I was accused thereof, they might accept without hindrance the teachings of the Fathers.”

This appears a little too quick. Driver and Hodgson, who wrote an introduction to The Bazaar of Heracleides, qualify this:

The book must have been written by Nestorius in the year 451 or 452, seeing that there are references to the death of Theodosius II in 450, and to the flight of Dioscorus of Alexandria. Dioscorus was at the Council of Chalcedon in 451, but though formally deposed by the Council in October of that year was not condemned to banishment until the following July. On the other hand, Nestorius, though speaking of the triumph of the orthodox faith of Flavian and Leo, does not seem to be aware of the formal decisions of the Council of Chalcedon. It appears, therefore, that Dioscorus must have fled when the Council decided against him, and that when Nestorius wrote he must have heard of his flight, but not of the formal decision of the Council or of the imperial decree by which sentence of exile was pronounced upon him.

Even if Nestorius knew of the council’s decisions and that there was a great deal of each side talking past one another, there certainly were substantial disagreements. Christology is very technical. It should not be surprising that the progressive, historical outworking of Christology was complex... let alone our second-order, contemporary reflection on this historical outworking. In any case, one should not look to Nestorius for a proper understanding of Christology.

With the above in mind, I recently alluded to the way in which elder Gordon Clark's gradual, metaphysical synthesis (link) may have contributed to the two person theory that he proposed in the last book he penned, The Incarnation. Clark wrote:

It seems absurd that the Second Person of the Trinity would have gone to Gehenna, and certainly peculiar if he had gone to Hades, this last because the Second Person could not die. He was the eternal, immutable Son of God. Hence since “the man Christ Jesus” is the only other possibility, the one who died on the cross was a man, he had or was a soul, he was a human being, a person. 

Note how late this particular change in Clark's mind must have been. In 1982, a Trinity Review article on Traducianism was published. This was taken from Clark chapter on The Atonement in Clark's unpublished systematic theology, completed some time around 1978. The Atonement itself was posthumously published in 1987. This suggests that Clark approved the publication of Traducianism in 1982 - at the very least, there is no record that Clark had any problems with its publication. Why is this point relevant? In the article, Clark writes:

J. Oliver Buswell, Jr. defends creationism in a most unfortunate way. In his A Systematic Theology of the Christian Religion (Zondervan, 1962, Vol. I, 250-252) he speaks three times of Christ having been born with a sinless body: “The body of Christ was perfectly sinless.” Nothing is said about a sinless soul. This is peculiarly strange, for, contrary to orthodox doctrine, Buswell teaches, “He, that is, his personal eternal being, his soul, became a human person, a human soul, without in any way ceasing to be a divine person, a divine Soul” (251). But this seems to be Nestorianism unless Buswell means to annihilate the divine Person, and other creationists would not be pleased with this defense of their doctrine.

This is consistent with another remark Clark makes in his in book, The Trinity (which was originally another chapter in his aforementioned systematic theology):

As a prelude to the discussion of this Athanasian Creed, and all the more of later argumentation, certain terminological difficulties require attention. Some of these terms occur in the creed; others have come into use from other sources. Over the centuries discussions on the Trinity have utilized the words nature, essence, being, substance, subsistence, and the very unfortunate Latin term person. These are hardly ever defined with precision. For example, one would ordinarily think that a person must have a will. But the orthodox doctrine allows the three persons of the Trinity to have one will only, while surprisingly the incarnate Jesus has two wills, one divine, one human; and yet even with a human will, and “reasonable soul,” he is not a human person. Nestorianism, with its assertion that Christ was two persons, though plausible on the ground of this psychology, is nonetheless, on the ground of the mediatorial atonement, a heresy. (Gordon Clark, The Trinity, chapter on The Athanasian Creed)

Thus, in 1978 - and probably in 1982 - Clark rejected Nestorianism. Even in his book on The Incarnation, he denies association with Nestorius on the basis of having provided definitions for key terms. Clark thought Nestorius did not provide any such definitions (McGuckin might disagree, although I'm unsure on this point). Nevertheless, his admission to John Robbins in a 1985 that "it is hard to avoid Nestorianism" suggests that on this matter, Clark was of two minds(!)

Now, definitions are important. But how we formulate theological definitions is even more important, for these must accord with God's own self-disclosure in His word. With that in mind, the point Clark makes in his book on The Trinity is pertinent: Nestorianism is a heresy because its two-person Christology leads to a rejection of one Mediator. It is be strange that so specific and excellent a criticism should have been left unanswered by Clark himself upon his change of mind in The Incarnation. Of course, Clark passed away before completing the book to his personal satisfaction.

Much of this is recounted in Doug Douma's book, The Presbyterian Philosopher. But what might also be pointed out is that it is hard to see how Clark's understanding could avoid the charge that the Son of God is not the Son of Man:

Luke 22:69 But from now on the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the power of God.
70 And they all said, “So You are the Son of God?” And He said to them, “You say correctly that I am.”

Do two [per]Sons sit at God's right hand? Even Nestorius insisted that it is "not as though again two sons were sitting but one, owing to the union with his flesh." Nestorius verbally denied two that there were two Sons. Whether Nestorius' position is consistent with such a verbal denial is another question.

Instead, the point I wish to make is that despite elder Clark's protestations against comparison to Nestorius, his position begs the same questions: who sits at God's right hand? Is there one mediator between God and man, or are there two? Who intercedes for us: God, man, or the God-man? Is the Son through whom God spoke the same Son whose throne is forever and ever (Hebrews 1:3, 8)? Etc.

For the same reasons, we should not hesitate to affirm that Mary was "theotokos." I've spoken with Protestants (and not only those who read Clark) who have had reservations about affirming this. But in his book on The Trinity, Clark said, "theology cannot be divorced from church history" (chapter on Athanasius). Well, did any patristic or theologian in church history who affirmed "theotokos" also affirm that Mary gave birth to the divine nature? Of course not. Any hesitation on this point seems to be a needless worry, whereas accidentally affirming Nestorianism is a real worry.

Take an analogy: would the same people who have reservations about affirming Chalcedon's reference to Mary as "the mother of God" also hesitate to affirm that "the Father is God," "the Son is God," and "the Spirit is God" because they don't want to be confused with tritheists? Wouldn't they rather affirm each statement and just qualify them appropriately (such that monotheism is also affirmed)?

Or take Matthew 1:23. Mary is prophesied as the one who will give birth to Immanuel. She will give birth to "God-with-us." Should we have reservations about affirming this Scripture just to avoid a position that no important theologian in history has ever affirmed? These are fair challenges to those who refuse to accept orthodox doctrines and inferences.

Now, as with his Trinitarian model, I would like to think Clark's attitude regarding his theory of personhood was something along the following lines: 

The discussion of the main problem in the doctrine of the Trinity may now be called completed, even if it is not complete. Other students and scholars may add to, subtract from, modify, contradict, or otherwise alter the foregoing. Such responses would be a great improvement over the present almost universal neglect of the doctrine. (chapter on Individuation)

Charity towards Clark would, I think, read him as primarily encouraging thoughtfulness regarding metaphysical conundrums. However, there can be little doubt that Clark's own thought has inhibited some people from accepting orthodox Christology. That's the charitable way to put the matter. One might reasonably be more blunt. Even so, it remains for us to take up Clark's challenge:

...if someone does not like these definitions, he is free to present his own for consideration. (The Trinity, Bavinck and Van Til).

I have offered a definition of the term person. Most people will find it queer. Most theologians will find it unacceptable. Well and good, let them formulate and propose a different definition. That is the honest and logical thing to do. Then there will be an intelligible subject of discussion. One can reasonably suppose that it could be a better definition than mine. (The Incarnation, Conclusion)

A Nestorian Christology of any flavor is biblically untenable. Clark's view causes worse problems than it aims to solve. But unless we are content with apophaticism, some positive theory must be given. 

The problem for Clark was when he defined a person as "his mind or soul" (The Trinity, chapter on Some Conclusions). In fact, for Clark, a single person always has a single mind because a single person just is his mind... not to mention that he is also the objects "he" thinks (I go into more detail about this ontological collapse here). This too strict equation of a single person with a single mind led Clark to believe that Christ incarnate was two persons because Christ incarnate has two minds. That is the problem stated. 

What follows is a solution - a positive theory which coheres with the foregoing analysis. I do not argue my solution is the most coherent one possible. But I take it as prima facie acceptable insofar as it can account for the Scriptural data while avoiding a few of the conundrums Clark mentions. I mentioned it a long time ago, and as it's held up in my mind over time, I'll attempt to outline it in a little more detail below.

A helpful way to begin a formulation of a definition for "person" is to point out that Jesus Christ is the single subject of many biblical propositions. Whatever explains the unity of Jesus Christ as a single subject might also help us to explain what persons are.

That is, suppose one wrongly accepted some version of Nestorianism (Clark's or otherwise). That person would still tend to make statements such as, “Jesus Christ is a human person and divine person.” But this still implies a single subject, Jesus Christ, which or who the Nestorian thinks is the unity of two persons. Well, how would the Nestorian unite the two persons in a single subject? 

Just as importantly, if and once such an explanation is provided, why can't that explanation about how Jesus Christ is a single subject also help us to explain how Jesus Christ is a single “person” in the first place (rather than two persons)? Christ is one subject. Therefore, is it not plausible that He is one person? However one attempts to explain that Christ is one subject can also be used to help explain how He is one person. I take this to be a good start.

Pushing the matter a bit further, I think any thorough solution should recognize that Christ incarnate does indeed have two minds. Thus, the definition of "mind" is not identical to the definition of a person. Instead, a mind is that by which a person can think. Note that this does not suggest that the relationship between persons and minds is one of one-to-one correspondence (see below).

Now, in certain cases, minds think self-referentially. Take an example: "Ryan is a male" is a true proposition. Because I am Ryan, I am also able to truthfully think, "I am a male." This thought reflexively indexes the true proposition "Ryan is a male." Other persons (like females) cannot truthfully use the reflexive indexical "I" to think the proposition that I think in the mode that I think it. Females would only be able to truthfully affirm the true proposition, "Ryan is a male," not the self-referential thought which indexes the proposition to myself.

In normal cases, when we talk about one, singular person, we usually associate him or her one mind. Thus, Clark's faulty definition of persons is natural, if dangerous. However, given the unique case of Christ, we should allow for the possibility that a single person can have multiple minds. A better definition of "person" than Clark's, I think, is one which is not too far removed from it: a person is a mind or minds capable of reflexive indexation. Perhaps the underlined portion is redundant, but at any rate, here's an example of how this cashed out in the case of Christ incarnate:

The human mind of Christ incarnate thinks, "I grow in wisdom."
The divine mind of Christ incarnate thinks, "I am all-wise."

In both cases, the "I" has the same referent, a singular subject, individual, or hypostases: Christ incarnate. Thus, one can truthfully affirm that "Christ incarnate grew in wisdom" and that "Christ incarnate is all-wise." This is not a contradiction, because Christ incarnate does not grow in wisdom in the same sense that He is all-wise. He grows in wisdom by His human mind and is all-wise by His divine mind. On this definition of "person," we can avoid the error of Nestorianism.

Accepting this definition would mean one would have to reject elder Clark's metaphysical synthesis. But I think this turns out to be a case of addition by subtraction: the less one relies on Clark's metaphysics, the better.

Now, I have seen the following citation float around which might seem to pose a problem for the view I've expressed. In his book Paradox in Christian Theology, James Anderson writes:

If claims about Jesus possessing two distinct ranges of consciousness, two distinct sets of experiences, beliefs, etc., are to be coherent then it must be possible to refer to those mental features without those features being necessarily owned by any particular person. Yet this is precisely what our concept of a person rules out. If experiences are necessarily individuated with respect to persons, then at the most fundamental logical level it makes no sense to speak of one person with two distinct consciousnesses (in the sense that each consciousness might in principle be ascribed to a different person that the other)...

If persons and not minds are the logically primary subjects of experiences and other mental states then it makes no more sense to say Christ believe that water is H2O with respect to his divine mind but did not believe that water is H2O with respect to His human mind than it does to say that Christ broke break with respect to his hands but did not break bread with respect to his feet. A person either breaks bread or he does not; likewise, a person either believes that water is H2O or he does not. To try to isolate two distinct minds or consciousnesses within one person, as Morris seeks to do, is to kick against the goads of the very concepts needed to formulate the christological problem in the first place. (Paradox in Christian Theology, pgs. 97-98)

Frankly, I personally don't see a problem with the statement that Christ broke break with respect to his hands but did not break bread with respect to his feet. Despite his seeming incredulity, does Anderson think that this statement is false? In what way does this conflict with Anderson's argument that "If particular experiences are to be meaningful, they cannot be logically isolated from the subjects of those experiences"? Subjects are not attribution-less particulars. To say that there is a distinction between the subject or person of Jesus and His divine and human minds does not seem to entail that Jesus' divine mind (in particular) is not "necessarily owned" by the person of Jesus. 

Here is an analogy: "if claims about the person of the Father possessing two distinct attributes is to be coherent, then it must be possible to refer to those attributes without those attributes being necessarily owned by any particular person." Does Anderson really think that [the divine] attributes are not "necessarily owned" by the Father? Or would Anderson suggest some sort of extremely strong, Plotinic view of divine simplicity on which God has no attributes? I wouldn't think so, as I recall Anderson had some relevant criticisms of Dolezal's book on divine simplicity (link).

In fact, Anderson himself accepts theistic conceptual realism. He thinks that God's thoughts are identical with propositions. Insofar as propositions are distinct, God's thoughts must also be distinct. So here's another, even better analogy: "if claims about the Father's possessing two distinct thoughts is to be coherent, then it must be possible to refer to those thoughts without those thoughts being necessarily owned by any particular person." Would not Anderson deny that this follows? If so, that would mean his original argument doesn't follow either.

One final thought: a separate objection to the definition I've proposed for what a "person" is might be that it is contrived. Well, in some sense, I grant that this is true: the incarnation is a special case, after all. The language of "personhood" is one the church did contrive to deal with heresies and of which the church should take the data of special divine revelation in account when formulating a coherent Christology. This is less a criticism and more so an obvious statement of a historical reality.

The Tortoise Is Unfair

I was asked about this video in which the justification for deductive reasoning is put in question. The person who asked me to comment on it mentioned that followers of Van Til's brand of apologetics had forwarded him the video. 

Now, it is unclear to me what the purpose of that could be. Do these persons reject deductive reasoning despite Jesus Himself using it (Matthew 22:23-33)? Or are they perhaps suggesting that circular reasoning is acceptable (if so, see here)? Or perhaps they intended to use parity of reasoning to compare the way in which inductive reasoning is justifiable to the way in which deductive reasoning is possible? In this last case, I think "counter induction" (mentioned by the presenter around the 8 minute mark) provides a relevant problem for inductive reasoning that does not appear for deductive reasoning (see below).

Of course, one point of the video seems to be to question whether there is a problem for deduction relevantly similar to the problem of induction. One point made can be summarized as follows: if one can't use inductive reasoning to circularly justify inductive reasoning, it would seem one can't use deductive reasoning to circularly justify deductive reasoning. 

Well, I agree with this. But around the 13 minute mark, the presenter mentions that a form of deductive reasoning he calls "modus morons" (affirming the consequent). Now, if "modus morons" is alleged to be a problem for the justifiability of modus ponens similar to how counter induction is a problem for the justifiability of induction, I think point made around minute 25 illustrates a relevant disanalogy: "modus morons" leads to the principle of explosion and trivialism. 

If anything is derivable on "modus morons," this just means "modus morons" is self-admittedly self-defeating, unjustified, etc. This is not the case for the principle of counter induction (even though it might be counter-intuitive). Why, then, should anyone entertain that "modus morons" could be "justified"? What would that mean? The presenter says towards the end of the video that he still thinks "modus morons" could be meaningful but fails to expand on whether he thinks meaningfulness is a sufficient condition for justification.

Likewise, if one who accepts inductive reasoning as "justified" goes on to say that conclusions of inductive arguments could be false, I have to wonder what sort of "justification" is being advocated. And this should be considered the central takeaway of the video: regarding the "justification" of anything (deduction or otherwise), one must define what he means for something to be "justified"! Whether or not this invokes a problem of the criterion, without clarity regarding the sort of justification one is after, it will remain unclear when exactly one is justified in believing a certain form of reasoning.

For example, is the sort of "justification" in which one is interested infallibilistic? If so, then as mentioned above, that would constitute a relevant distinction between inductive (fallibilistic) and deductive reasoning (infallibilistic) in terms of self-consistency: inductive reasoning does not always lead to true beliefs, so use of inductive reasoning to justify inductive reasoning does not necessarily lead to a true belief. By contrast, use of deductive reasoning does always lead to true beliefs if one's premises are true.

In turn, this leads us to ask what structure of justification one accepts: foundationalism, coherentism, infinitism, or positism? The presenter fails to mention that it just may be the case that deductive reasoning is itself [or legitimated by something which is itself] noninferentially, intrinsically, or foundationally justified.

Now, I say that less as a criticism of the presenter himself (since I'm sure he had his own reasons for the video) than I do as a criticism of those (perhaps certain Van Tilian apologists) who suggest deduction and induction are in the same justificatory boat. Nevertheless, I do wonder whether the presenter (since he styles himself as a skeptic, although to what extent is unclear) believes in epistemic neutrality, as if all positions are on equal epistemic footing and we are all capable of completely criterionless judgments. This would be silly.

Finally, I've read Lewis Carroll's tortoise story before (link). It is amusing, but it has never particularly bothered me. For starters, just because the tortoise doesn't accept the conclusion of a deductive argument doesn't mean Achilles is obliged to indulge him. If one presents a necessary truth and another rejects said truth, we can't compel that person to believe it. Our engagement may provide an occasion for the Holy Spirit to work, but how much effort one expends to persuade another who initially balks at truth is a matter of conscience, not obligation.

Supposing one rejects the reasoning in this post, for example, I might attempt a few further remarks to persuade him, but at some point, I will simply recognize that I am not dealing with a fair individual. The root of the problem in such people is ethical, not rational (Romans 1, cf. Hebrews 10:26, etc.). They may reason validly, but they reason in vain because they would rather avow false premises and rebelliously refuse to submit their consciences to the foundational truth of God's word than to admit that valid reasoning is impossible apart from a Christian worldview.

Clark's Gradual, Metaphysical Synthesis

A recent question was asked about Clark's theology proper which allowed me to collect thoughts that I have been meaning to put into words for some time. The question was as follows:

Clark was known to have translated John 1:1 so that the Logos was rendered as "Logic". Along these lines, Clark would argue to the effect that logic is the manner or characteristic of God's thinking.

How or where does Clark deal with the objection where logic is the art which orders discursive thought (something of which God does not have)? In other words, how can logic (as that which applies to reasoning from premises to conclusions) be said to be the characteristic of God's thinking if God's thinking is non-discursive?

This is an excellent question in that it draws out some implications of Clark’s view that may not be immediately obvious to the ordinary reader. 

Several people who responded to this question pointed out that an answer to it might depend on what the questioners thinks characterizes “discursive” reasoning. Clark himself used the word "discursive" to mean different things in different contexts.

For example, does “discursive” reasoning in the context of the above question involve a temporal succession and/or dependent process? If so, Clark would reply that God’s knowledge is not "discursive" in this sense:

The Complaint admits that Dr. Clark distinguishes between what may be called the divine psychology and human psychology in the act of knowing. God’s mode of knowing is intuitive, while man’s is always temporal and discursive. This distinction, the Complaint claims, is insufficient; a further distinction is needed. It is obvious therefore that the complainants hold to a two-fold theory of something in addition to a two-fold theory of the act of knowing. (Winter 1946/1947. Studies in the Doctrines of the Complaint. PCA Archives and SDCS)

Or does "discursive" merely suggest (in the context of the above question) that one’s thinking is syllogistically ordered? If so, Clark would reject the questioner's premise that God’s thinking is not "discursive":

God's knowledge is sometimes called intuitive rather than discursive. These terms are unfortunate, because if discursive means “syllogistic,” then God thinks in syllogism (Rom 4:2-3), and because men also presumably have intuitions. (1972. In Encyclopedia of Christianity. Philip E. Hughes, ed. Marshallton, Delaware: National Foundation for Christian Education. Feuerbach, Ludwig A.)

For Clark, however, for God to think "in syllogism" does not mean that there is some so-called fundamental truth or truths from which God must deduce all others. That would mean there would be more fundamental parts of God than others since, for Clark, God just is truth itself. I'll return to this point below, but by way of anticipation, I think Clark does implicitly provide answer to the questioner's confusion (although in such a way that it still leaves problems with Clark's larger theology). 

I'll put it another way: for humans, Clark says the law of contradiction is a test that requires supplementation – God’s word – in order for knowledge to be possible. For God, this is not so:

The substantive point needing discussion is whether the law of contradiction is the one and only test of truth.

Ideally or for God this seems to be the case. Since there is nothing independent of God, he does not conform truth to an alleged reality beyond truth and beyond him. Since there is no possibility of “vertical” (to use Carnell’s terminology) coherence, the “horizontal” test, or, better the horizontal characteristic of logical consistency seems the only possible one.

Weaver correctly notes that I do not claim for human beings the ability to apply this test universally. In this sense it is a “negative” or, better, an incomplete test. For this reason it must be supplemented some way or other...

Undoubtedly I hold that truth is a consistent system of propositions. Most people would be willing to admit that two truths cannot be contradictories; and I would like to add that the complex of all truths cannot be a mere aggregate of unrelated assertions. Since God is rational, I do not see how any item of his knowledge can be unrelated to the rest. Weaver makes no comment on this fundamental characteristic of divine truth.

Rather, he questions whether this characteristic is of practical value, and whether it must be supplemented in some way. It is most strange that Weaver here says, “I must agree with Carnell,” as if he had convicted me of disagreeing with Carnell by providing no supplementation whatever. Now, I may disagree with the last named gentleman on many points, but since it is abundantly clear that I “supplement” consistency by an appeal to the Scripture for the determination of particular truths, it is most strange that Weaver ignores my supplementation.// (Clark and His Critics, 2009, pgs. 287, 290)

A shorter statement by Clark to the same effect is as follows:

One who believes in the unity of truth may still believe that the false system entails contradictions; but to prove this is the work of omniscience. (Historiography: Secular and Religious, 1971, pg. 370)

Now, the following is very important: Clark held to a coherence or consistency theory of truth.

This gentleman distinguishes between logical consistency and a coherence view of truth. Since he stresses the latter rather than the former, he might think that Nash rates me too highly by asserting that I hold to coherence. However, neither Professor Nash nor I acknowledge this distinction, and while I now prefer the word consistency for clarity’s sake, I have no objection to Nash’s statement at this point. (Clark and His Critics, 2009, pg. 142)

For that reason, I believe, Clark came to reject that there could be multiple propositional systems that are completely coherent or consistent. If truth is coherence or consistency, there must be only one completely consistent or coherent system. Clark considered this even as early as 1952. From the Introduction to his A Christian View of Men and Things, he writes:

Now, there is a theory that the ultimate test of truth is coherence, and on this theory it would be impossible to have two self‑consistent, mutually contradictory philosophies. A false statement, so it is said, will always, if pursued far enough, imply its own falsity. If this coherence theory of truth should be established, then we could rely with confidence on this application of the law of contradiction. Its sufficiency would be inherent in the nature of truth. The mere fact that the coherence theory of truth would eliminate a final impasse might even be reason enough for adopting it. One might hold that all other theories of truth lead to skepticism, and that therefore the coherence theory alone is coherent and true. Possibly all this is so, but surely it needs some more talking about. And in talking about it, there can be no logical objection to using the law of contradiction as far as it will go.

Over time, I think his acceptance of a coherence theory of truth pushed him to accept necessitarianism (see here). There is necessarily only one coherent or consistent system of propositions, and God necessarily just is this system.

For Clark, the idea of multiple propositional systems that are coherent or consistent would not only have posed an epistemic difficulty for God but also a metaphysical one since, for Clark, God just is truth. Clark himself says: "Truth is God... God is truth." (1984. In the Beginning. The Trinity Review Nov.-Dec.). This dovetails with his theory of personhood in which persons just are that which they think:

As there is no temporal priority, so also there is no logical or analytical priority. Not only was Logic the beginning, but Logic was God. If this unusual translation of John’s Prologue still disturbs someone, he might yet allow that God is his thinking. God is not a passive or potential substratum; he is actuality or activity. (1980. God and Logic. The Trinity Review Nov.-Dec.)

God thinks truth; therefore, God is truth. Returning to an earlier point, for Clark, the unity of truth (God) is such that any single, true proposition will mutually entail all others, whereas a false proposition will always lead to systematic inconsistency. God has no need for axiomatic truths (unlike us), for He is in no need of "supplementation" (unlike us) to apply the law of contradiction to Himself - or, what is equivalent, to His own knowledge - with complete sufficiency. God just is the singly coherent, consistent, necessary, logical system: truth itself. God is this truth actually and actively. There is no potential for God to have been another system of so-called truths. 

Roughly, then, one can argue that epistemological beliefs Clark became committed to in the 1940s-50s - e.g. man's knowledge is univocal with God's; coherence theory of truth; anti-empirical means of knowledge - shaped his later, metaphysical views. For example:

- Clark's theory of truth was such that in order for Clark to account for knowledge of persons (e.g. man's knowledge of God or God's knowledge of men), he believed he had to change his views (cf. his earlier anthropological views here) by collapsing personhood into 1) propositions or 2) thoughts. 

[As an aside, these two positions might be distinct (link). In particular, the second position - i.e. persons are what they think - might seem to require what Clark calls elsewhere a "subjective, psychological act" (link), implying something seemingly distinct from propositional objects yet corresponding to them: i.e. thinkers. 

An interesting question is whether Clark believed these positions were distinct. It does not appear so, for in his book The Trinity, he says in the same chapter ("Individuation") that persons are a "collection of thoughts" and that his wife is "merely a set of propositions." He appears to equate positions 1) and 2), at least in terms of his own, proposed definition of personhood.

So did Clark think propositions can think themselves? Is this intelligible? And contrary to contemporary philosophers, did Clark think propositions have causal powers? Combined with his quote from the "God and Logic" article above, it does indeed appear Clark thought such to be the case! Of course, an obvious, unfortunate product of this position as held by elder Clark is a two-person theory of the incarnation (two thinkers = two persons).

On the other hand, even if our "subjective, psychological act" of believing might itself be a proposition, Clark does nevertheless seem to introduce something distinct from propositions elsewhere in accepting Clark's acceptance of a "Platonic-Philonic" dualism (link). But this then begs the question as to whether one must know phenomena qua phenomena or if it suffices to know the noumenal, suprasensible world. Likewise, Clark's theory of language trades on nonpropositional "symbols" which, in Clark's own words, correspond to propositions (link). 

This would be problematic unless the following assertion Clark made to Buswell in 1948 is false: "The correspondence theory would require us to compare an idea we have in consciousness with some utterly unknown object." But if it is false (as I've argued, link), it demotivates Clark's reason for accepting the coherence theory of truth and, in turn, the many metaphysical views Clark was led to as a result.]

- Likewise, Clark's theory of time as a "succession of ideas" suggests yet another collapse of a metaphysical category into an epistemic one. 

[Another aside: I wonder if this may function to explain why Clark waffled on the age of the earth prior to the creation of man. Clark did believe angels had successions of ideas; I suppose only the hypothesis that angels were the first creations would prevent one from asking Clark "how much time elapsed between the creation of the heavens and the creation of angels?" This question might be problematic if no angels existed to have a succession of ideas according to which the elapse between the creation of heaven and the creation of angels might be measured.]

- Returning to Clark's metaphysic of persons, one might suggest that whereas Thomistic divine simplicity is subject to comparison to Plotinus' One, Clark's version of divine simplicity is more subject to comparison to Plotinus' Divine Mind (link). To the chagrin of adherents to these versions of divine simplicity, I think the comparisons are warranted.

To expand on Clark's view, it is fairly apparent that Clark's affirmation of univocal knowledge plays a part in his unique understanding of divine simplicity. If Clark can be categorized as a classical theist - for he did accept divine simplicity, immutability, timelessness, and impassibility - he is certainly an odd one! On the other hand, that a comparison to Plotinus might nevertheless be made to Clark's views might lead one to theorize that Clark had a tendency to overly depend on ancient philosophers (with whom Clark was so familiar).

- In support of this thesis, 1) Clark's view of time depended on Augustine; 2) elder Clark seemed to deny the possibility of an infinitude of knowledge in The Incarnation, a denial which Steve Hays once point out presupposes a pre-Cantorian definition of "infinity" and simultaneously demonstrated Clark's ignorance of mathematics (cf. Personal Recollections, pg. 117); 3) elder Clark's acceptance of necessitarianism is somewhat similar to Plotinian necessitarianism. In this last case, however, I would say his view is rather more similar to that of Leibniz, which is nevertheless striking in that so far as I am aware, elder Clark never responded to his own, proleptic criticism (written in 1957) of his later acceptance of necessitarianism: 

If all truths are to be deduced by logic alone from the being of God, this world cannot be the best of all possible worlds because there are no other possible worlds. Are the theorems of geometry the best of all possible theorems? The question is meaningless, for there are no other theorems. God, therefore, exercised no choice in causing the world; he is its cause in precisely the same sense in which the axioms of geometry are the cause of the theorems. (Thales to Dewey, pg. 327, 1957)

Clark wrote other criticisms of necessitarianism he also neglected to address when he later came to accept the position (cf. Karl Barth’s Theological Method, 1997, pg. 36).

- One final metaphysical category that seems driven by Clark's epistemic beliefs pertains to causation. I've suggested that elder Clark's acceptance of occasionalism (link) was due to his anti-empirical epistemology. Clark might have feared that an alternative account of causation would support his critics, who perpetually asked if Clark had to read his Bible in order to know its contents. 

Now, I've also argued there was no reason for Clark to have had this fear (if he did; link). It is possible for propositional truths to correspond to nonpropositions - and even for the truth-values of contingent propositions to be determined by nonproposition[s] (for God Himself is not a [set of] proposition[s], link) - without devastating a revelational epistemology. Additionally, in the context of the specific critique regarding the reading of one's Bible, it is possible Clark conflated the basing relation in epistemology (or something like it) with causation simpliciter.

These are the beginnings of an interesting story one might tell about how Clark's unique thought developed and converged over time, a story I eventually hope to narrate in a more ordered form. 

As a perhaps unnecessary outro, I don't agree with Clark on several of these points. Nor were his views on several points I've outlined above always the same. For example, as I point out in one of the above links and quotes, one will find statements earlier in his life in which he (correctly) rejects necessitarianism. 

However, I think there is a gradual, metaphysical synthesis in Clark's thought that implies his awareness of such problems as the one posed at the beginning of this post. Even though I think Clark gets quite a few things wrong, his attempted synthesis is nonetheless impressive. Clark's following speech "from the grave" was a little too humble: "Clark never had much to do with ta meta-ta-phusica."