Further Problems with Clark's Metaphysical View of Persons

I've explained elsewhere why Clark's metaphysical theory of personhood leads to his two-person theory of the Incarnation (here). This two-person theory is flawed because it is manufactured by an illusory problem that it doesn't even solve. If it is a problem for Jesus to be one person, is it not a problem that Jesus is one subject? Or if you can explain why the latter fact isn't a problem, don't you in principle have an explanation for why the former theory needn't be problematic?

I've also explained elsewhere why Clark's theory of persons would imply the unbiblical view that God is metaphysically dependent on creation (here).

Others have pointed out problems with Clark's theory (for example, see here).

I'm going to note a few more problems. But firstly, it isn't clear whether Clark consistently held the same metaphysical view of persons throughout his life. For instance:

Aristotle admitted that individuals cannot be known. Hegel’s fault, or one of them, was to make the concept rather than the propositions the object of knowledge. But a concept is as unknowable as an individual. “Pen” is neither true nor false. Only a proposition can be true. “The pen belongs to Herr Krug” may be true; it may be false; but a concept in isolation is not an object of knowledge. Truth always comes in propositions.  

Two quotations from Leibniz enforced the application of this principle to persons. In fact the citations will do double work. They will show that knowledge of a person is propositions (and thus they bear on what several of my critics consider paradoxical, to wit, persons are propositions), and at the same time they will bring home the lesson from Plotinus that knowledge of oneself is no easy, off-hand, immediate experience, but of all things immensely difficult...  

Far from my making it impossible for God to know human beings, it is rather Professor Nash who does so. His view of the self is that of some Ich-an-sich. Leibniz suggests that the ego is a complex definition, including the life history of the person, and no doubt his state in a future world as well. This definition is not unknowable in essence, and God knows it because he determined what it should be. On the other hand, it is something that the person himself does not know, at least in this life. (Clark and His Critics, 2009, pgs 148-149)

On this view, persons are just propositions. Clark is here silent as to whether or not they are propositions they think, as he argued later in his life:

Accordingly the proposal is that a man is a congeries, a system, sometimes an agglomeration of miscellany, but at any rate a collection of thoughts. A man is what he thinks: and no two men are precisely the same combination. 

This is true of the Trinity also, for although each of the three Persons is omniscient, one thinks “I or my collection of thoughts is the Father,” and the second thinks, “I or my thoughts will assume or have assumed a human nature.” The Father does not think this second thought, nor does the Son think the first. This is the qualitative theory of individuation, as opposed to the space-time theory: No two leaves in the forest are exactly alike, and Leibniz’ Alexander the Great is defined by his history. Even if trees could be individuated by space and time, the persons of the Trinity, as said above, could not; nor could human souls or other spirits.  

Several romantically inclined students, and a few professors as well, have complained that “this makes your wife merely a set of propositions.” Well, so it does. This suits me, for I am a set of propositions too. And those who complain are as they think. (The Trinity, 2010, pg. 129)

The last paragraph does say that persons are propositions, but a problem is that it's a bit too fast. Thoughts don't have to be propositions. We can think about questions or commands, both of which Clark distinguished from propositions yet admitted are necessarily capable of being “understood,” “known,” and “intellectually grasped.” Clark argued that “every declarative sentence – in fact, even questions and commands – are examples of logic” (Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Volume 24, June 1981, pg. 168). So then which is it? Are we (and the Trinity) merely sets of propositions, or are we also the commands and questions we think?

Let's forget about that for now. Let's say we are what we think - specifically, the propositions we think. But sometimes, we think falsely as well as truly. Clark admits as much himself, including the false propositions we think in our individual, personal definitions as well as the true ones: 

Therefore, since God is Truth, we shall define person, not as a composite of sensory impressions, as Hume did, but rejecting with him the meaningless term substance, we shall define person as a composite of truths. A bit more exactly, since all men make mistakes and believe some falsehoods, the definition must be a composite of propositions. As a man thinketh in his (figurative) heart, so is he. A man is what he thinks... Whether the propositions be true or false, a person is the propositions he thinks (The Incarnation, 1988, pgs. 54-55).

However, given Clark's statements that “No one more than I insists on the necessity of a single self-consistent worldview” (Today’s Evangelism: Counterfeit or Genuine? 1990, pg. 111), doesn't that mean that, metaphysically speaking, we are contradictions? If there is a single, self-consistent worldview, any false thought we have must be contradictory to any true thought we have. The result is that either God doesn't know us or God is a dialetheist, which is about as far removed from Clark's "consistency" theory of truth (Clark and His Critics, 2009, pgs. 142-145, 290-291, etc.) as one could get.

Of course, if one bites the bullet and argues God doesn't have to know us, then Clark's whole motivation for persons metaphysically being propositions in the first place is gone. God either doesn't need to know us or, as I think, we don't have to metaphysically just be propositions in order for God to know us, for what we metaphysically are was determined by God to correspond to some truth which God knows.

Now instead, let's say we are just a set of propositions and disregard what it is that we think. We are a complex definition that God has determined, per the above exposition of Leibniz. In that case, mustn't whatever set of propositions God knows us to be, whatever set of propositions we are, be changeless - which would make us eternal - on pain of making God's knowledge change? As propositions, we must be the objects of God's thoughts; if we change, God's thoughts and knowledge must change. Most Clarkians don't believe God's knowledge can change, but the resultant implication goes much farther than this or even a corollary to a B-series theory of time called eternal creation; in this case, we ourselves would cease to be temporal. We wouldn't change. This is opposed to Clark's own beliefs, and, at any rate, clearly unbiblical.

But suppose we allow that the set of propositions we are changes, and so God's knowledge changes. I've argued elsewhere (without endorsing the view) that God could be eternally omniscient and yet have determined that His knowledge will change in accordance with changes in time. In fact, per the above quote, it seems Clark unwittingly admits this to be the case in the incarnation (“I or my thoughts will assume or have assumed a human nature”). [Lest anyone think Clark's change of view on the incarnation may have affected this, he says on pg. 55 of The Incarnation (1988): “Neither the complex of truths we call the Father nor those we call the Spirit, has the proposition, “I was incarnated.” This proposition occurs only in the Son’s complex.”]

It would take someone extremely committed to Clark's metaphysic of personhood to goes so far as to admit God is temporal just to save it, for he would have to give up Clark's motivations for necessitarianism and divine eternality. Worse, however, I think this view leads to a kind of process theology or divine becoming. For if persons are propositions, the persons of the Trinity must be propositions. And if "the Father is a knower of [person] x as [a set of propositions] y" is true at one time and false at another (corresponding to the time[s] at which He decreed we change as persons), does this not imply metaphysical change on the part of the Father? 

One would have to state that this proposition ("the Father is a knower of [person] x as [a set of propositions] y") isn't essential to or found in the complex definition of the Father at any time (and likewise the Son and Spirit). But then, this implies "the Father is omniscient" isn't to be found in the definition of the Father either, for the truth of this latter proposition hinges on the truth[s] of the former. And then by parity of reasoning, all the other divine attributes appear equally unessential, and thus one couldn't even say that "the Father (or Son or Spirit) is God (or divine)" is essential to their personhood. Clearly this has been ad hoc reasoning for more than a while now, so the view that persons metaphysically just are propositions is problematic too.

K. Scott Oliphint on Clark and Van Til

There’s been a podcast floating around for some time now about the “Clark and Van Til Controversy” involving K. Scott Oliphint, a fairly popular Van Tilian (link). I’m a little tired of writing posts on Van Til, but I’m also a little tired of seeing Van Tilians link to this audio. So, on that cynical note, here are a few observations:

Clark and Rationalism

A recurring criticism of Clark throughout the conversation is that he is too rationalistic. His view of logic and philosophy is too high. Unfortunately, “philosophy” is never defined, so there isn’t much I can say about that, but regarding rationalism and Clark’s view of logic, I found it ironic that the only actual citation of Clark – which was explicitly acknowledged as having been derived from a second-hand source (a book by Greg Bahnsen) – was the following:

The more consistent unbelief is, the less can agreement be obtained. So long as the unbeliever is inconsistent, we can force him to make a choice. If he inconsistently admires Jesus Christ or values the Bible, while at the same time he denies plenary and verbal inspiration, we can by logic insist that he accept both – or neither. But we cannot by logic prevent him from choosing neither and denying a common premise. It follows that in logical theory there is no proposition on which a consistent believer and a consistent unbeliever can agree. Therefore the doctrine of inspiration, like every other Christian doctrine, cannot be demonstrated to the satisfaction of a clear-thinking unbeliever. 

If, nonetheless, it can be shown that the Bible – in spite of having been written by more than thirty-five authors over a period of fifteen hundred years – is logically consistent, then the unbeliever would have to regard it as a most remarkable accident. It seems more likely that a single superintending mind could produce this result than that it just happened accidentally. Logical consistency, therefore, is evidence of inspiration; but it is not demonstration. Strange accidents do indeed occur, and no proof is forthcoming that the Bible is not such an accident. Unlikely perhaps, but still possible. 

How then may an unbeliever be brought to admit the inspiration of the Scripture? Or, for it is the same question, how did “I” come to accept inspiration? (God’s Hammer, 1995, pgs. 15-16)

Clark then talks about the role of the Spirit in conversion. Of course, only the second of these paragraphs was quoted so as to give listeners the impression Clark himself believed the consistency of Scripture could have been an accident. But even if such were the case, and it’s not, is it not interesting that Clark believed logic was insufficient to establish the truth of God[’s revelation]? Compare this apologetic to that of contemporary Van Tilians (link) and ask yourself who is closer to rationalism.

To be fair, Oliphint himself cannot be included in this group of Van Tilians. He says (45^th minute) that Muslims, atheists, et. al. can use the transcendental methodology or apologetic structure that Van Til does – i.e. an argument of the impossibility to the contrary – but the but claims that the content of any such non-Christian argument will always be false. Why? Not because we need to know all false positions in order to know the truth; Oliphint explicitly mentions that this is not necessary. Rather, we know the transcendental argument for Christianity is true “by virtue of God’s grace and what He has revealed” (47^th minute). This is excellent, but it’s easy to miss that he really is essentially affirming divine revelation as his epistemic axiom. This just is Scripturalism – give or take its authoritative sanctioning of alternative means of knowledge – and it is at odds with contemporary Van Tilian apologists who seek to prove God by logic apart from Scripture. In my experience, the number of those who interpret Van Til as teaching the latter outnumber those who would side with Oliphint’s interpretation.

But getting back to the idea that Clark was too rationalistic, if they had simply noted a few instances in which Clark’s exposure to secular philosophy could have provided an explanation for why he believed several dubious doctrines – like his acceptance of Leibniz’s theory of personhood – I don’t think I would have had much of a problem with it. I think it’s fair to say that it would be difficult for anyone who has read and taught as much and as long as Clark has to have maintained complete doctrinal purity throughout. I think the same goes for Van Til (link). This isn’t to excuse either man, it’s just common sense.

But they don’t leave their criticism of Clark at that. What they really mean by a tendency towards rationalism becomes apparent later in the video, when Oliphint says it would be better to side with Bavinck and say that “all theology, all dogmatics is ultimately a mystery” than it would be to say that the paradox of divine sovereignty and human responsibility has been solved; in fact, Oliphint shockingly says that the latter indicates a “secular” or “pagan understanding of what logic is meant to do” (40^th minute). This is what Van Tilians usually mean when they say Clark is too rationalistic: he tried too hard to solve so-called theological conundrums.

But then what is the role of logic according to Van Tilians? For on the one hand, we hear that “we must use logic” (41^st minute). This is repeated several times, and yet on the other hand, “…the church is going to have to set out paradoxes, two teachings, side by side, that we don’t have laws of thinking that allow us to bring together those things neatly” (43^rd minute). The church has to set out paradoxes? As in must or necessarily set[s] out paradoxes? From what “law of thinking” is this conclusion derived? Where has God revealed this? On the contrary, the New Testament celebrates the dissipation of mysteries and the unveiling of the whole counsel of God. Granted, there are things which have not been revealed as well as difficult sayings, but in light of the doctrine of perspicuity, this should provide no basis on which to defend the idea that paradox is a theological necessity. What we have here, then, is a clear real-life example of David Hoover’s argument that the analogical knowledge licenses paradox and inhibits a defense of the faith (link).

They also speculate that divine simplicity and the meaning of “logic” might complicate our ideas of what it means for God to think. Oliphint says that while humans need logic, “if logic is the science of necessary inference, God doesn’t have any because He doesn’t infer anything.” This seems a bit hasty to me. Of course, God does not derive His knowledge from anyone or anything else. But does that mean He has no grounds for His knowledge? I think not (link). It is at least debatable, depending on what Oliphint means by inference. And as to the question of whether a God without parts is eternally able to make “real distinctions,” the answer should be obvious:

To avoid and to confute Clark’s position, some of Van Til’s disciples contend that God does not think in propositions, and hence dependence on “mere human logic” is an untrustworthy crutch. To this Clark has made two replies. First, he remarked that his opponents cited no Biblical passage in which this is stated, nor did they deduce it by any “good and necessary consequence” from a group of such premises. Indeed, since the Bible is ninety percent propositional – commands and ascriptions of praise being the exceptions – it would be rather peculiar if the Bible would deny its own truths. Then, second, if God does not think in propositions how could he have given us all the information now contained in the sixty-six books? If he does not think that “David was the Kind of Israel,” how could he have framed that proposition for our instruction? Or, worse, if we say that God cannot think in propositions, we deny his omnipotence. And if we think in propositions and God does not, then Van Til’s statement will be true, that God’s knowledge and ours do not coincide at any single point. Since we “know” that “David was the King of Israel,” God cannot know it, and therefore it is false. So are all the Gospels, and Christianity is a delusion. (Clark and His Critics, 2009, pg. 414)

Analogical Knowledge

Speaking of analogical knowledge, it was disappointing to find that there was virtually no discussion of Clark’s concerns found, for example, in The Answer (link) in reference to The Text of a Complaint (link) which had been signed by Van Til.

Instead, they discuss in general terms what they believed Van Til’s concerns were which led him to positing analogical knowledge and emphasized that he was following the tradition of the Reformed Scholastics, concluding that if Clark had been aware of this, he would have been less likely to dispute it. But this is a strange assumption given that in the rest of the video, they mention several instances in which Clark departed from the mainstream Reformed tradition. What matters is whether an idea is sound, not whether it was taught by a group of people in the 16^th century and onward.

Oliphint does obliquely recognize that Clark wanted to ensure an “identity of content” between the mind of God and mind of man (10^th minute), but he does not explain why Clark could have thought this so important. Rather, he immediately goes on to say that following The Answer, which apparently was orthodox, Clark developed his views to the extreme. Far from this being the case, however, Clark’s reasons for his denial of analogical knowledge had been plainly spelled out in his reply to Van Til and company in the original answer:

On the complainants’ theory the proposition “the truth man has is analogical” is itself only an analogy. It is not the truth that God has. Nor could man know that it was God who was revealing such a proposition, for again the proposition “God is revealing that truth is analogical” is only an analogy of the truth. One can only be sure that such a proposition is not God’s truth. On the complainants’ theory there is no way of ever crossing over from an analogy of truth to the truth itself. All our thinking is shut up in analogies and resemblances and cannot coincide with God’s truth at even a single point. This position really cuts all connection between God’s knowledge and man's knowledge and plunges us into unmitigated skepticism. 

If the complainants cannot know what God means, how can they know God does not mean this or that? They affirm that there is a resemblance or analogy between the truth God knows and the qualitative different truth man knows. But by what right do they assert a resemblance when they cannot describe the qualitative difference? Or, how can they assert that two things resemble each other when they have never known and can never know one of them? One can say that two men resemble each other if one has seen both men. But one cannot legitimately affirm a resemblance between a man one has seen and a man one has not seen. Similarly, if a man knew God’s meaning, he could compare it with his own and remark the similarity or difference. If I know your opinion, I can say it is similar to or dissimilar from mine. But if I do not know your opinion, I have no way of knowing whether your opinion is the same or contradictory of mine. Similarly if man’s knowledge and God’s knowledge do not “coincide at any single point,” then for all we know, perhaps Christ did not die for our sins. (The Answer, pgs. 22-23)

And to all this can be added many more questions: is divine revelation, as God’s alleged “interpretation” of His archetypal thought (per Oliphint), itself thought by God? What does it mean to say ectypal knowledge is an interpretation of archetypal? If an interpretation gives a new meaning to that which is being interpreted, does that not imply God’s so-called “ectypal knowledge” (theology; divine revelation) is acquired? What does it mean and what sort of metaphysic is implied by the statement that “identity” is found in the “thing” rather than the “mind” (15^th minute)? Etc.

Now, I think the aforementioned link on Hoover’s critique of analogical knowledge covers the philosophical aspect. But as I got the impression that Oliphint was shying away from the stronger statements of Van Til, I think a few of these quotes from The Text of a Complaint will give the reader an indication of just what historical statements a proponent of Van Til must address in order to defend analogical knowledge (or whatever they now want to call it):

While we appreciate the effort to arrive at certainty with reference to man’s knowledge of God, in our judgment this is done at too great a cost. It is done at the sacrifice of the transcendence of God’s knowledge. His thoughts are not our thoughts. His ways are past finding out. The secret things belong unto the Lord our God. If we are not to bring the divine knowledge of his thoughts and ways down to human knowledge, or our human knowledge up to his divine knowledge, we dare not maintain that his knowledge and our knowledge coincide at any single point. Our knowledge of any proposition must always remain the knowledge of the creature. As true knowledge, that knowledge must be analogical to the knowledge which God possesses, but it can never be identified with the knowledge which the infinite and absolute Creator possesses of the same proposition. (The Text of a Complaint, pg. 5) 

It is clear again that the approach of Dr. Clark is quantitative through and through. It is the number of the propositions, rather than their content as such, not to speak of the inscrutable mystery of the mind of God which is viewed as excluding an exhaustive revelation of the divine mind. (The Text of a Complaint, pg. 6) 

It may be objected to the exposition of Dr. Clark’s views presented above that it leaves out of account the important consideration that Dr. Clark allows that beyond the knowledge of a proposition there is the knowledge of the implications of a proposition, and that the knowledge which man may enjoy of a proposition does not necessarily carry with it a knowledge of its implications. This qualification, however, does not affect Dr. Clark’s basic position in any substantial way. The implications of propositions are after all, on his view, also propositions. Consequently, the inclusion of such propositions among the number of propositions that are thought of as constituting the divine knowledge does not require any modification of the judgment that the distinction between the divine knowledge and the knowledge possible to man is merely quantitative. 

Another possible objection to the foregoing might take the form that he does not draw a qualitative distinction between the knowledge of God and the knowledge possible for men since he freely recognizes a fundamental difference between the mode of God’s knowledge and that of man’s knowledge. God’s knowledge is intuitive while man’s is discursive (Cf. 18:5f., 18ff.). Man is dependent upon God for his knowledge. We gladly concede this point, and have reckoned with it in what has been said above. However, this admission does not affect the whole point at issue here since the doctrine of the mode of the divine knowledge is not a part of the doctrine of the incomprehensibility of his knowledge. The latter is concerned only with the contents of the divine knowledge. Dr. Clark distinguishes between the knowledge of God and of man so far as mode of knowledge is concerned, but it is a tragic fact that his dialectic has led him to obliterate the qualitative distinction between the contents of the divine mind and the knowledge which is possible to the creature, and thus to impinge in a most serious fashion upon the transcendence of the divine knowledge which is expressed by the doctrine of the incomprehensibility of God. (The Text of a Complaint, pg. 6)

This is Van Til’s position put “in context.” References to archetypal vs. ectypal knowledge, original vs. iconic or image knowledge, intuitive vs. discursive knowledge, eternal vs. learned knowledge, self-contained vs. derivative knowledge, and so forth are fine. But if you want to defend Van Til against Clark, you have to deal with what Clark thought were the problem statements in Van Til’s literature, and the problem statements in Van Til’s literature have to do with the qualitative identity of content (or lack thereof) between the mind of God and mind of man. One can’t gloss over or re-frame, as the Oliphint tried to do in minutes 13-18, what Van Til says in particular and expect myself or others who disagree with analogical knowledge to be satisfied.

Theology Proper

While their conclusions regarding the falsity of Clark’s Christological views – or, more precisely, the definition of personhood which determined Clark’s Christological views (incidentally, Oliphint’s statement at the 14^th minute that God’s archetypal knowledge is His being sounds remarkably like Clark) – are correct, here too they don’t show any indication of having read Clark on the subject. The idea that Clark was so “philosophical” that he failed to even interact with historically accepted creedal statements of Christianity is not true. Actually, most of his book The Incarnation is historical. 

Some of their statements about what problems they have with Clark’s definition of person aren’t on point, however. At the 36 minute mark, the host argues that taking Clark’s definition of person in conjunction with the need for real distinctions among the members of the Trinity leads to the following conclusion: “there ends up being some impersonal essence of which the persons don’t exhaust or overlap. So you don’t end up with a full, divine exhaustion. You don’t end up with a perichoresis…” If we qualify Clark’s theory of personhood as referring to thoughts – not just a set of propositions – then there isn’t necessarily a problem at this point, though there would be at others, for the persons of the Trinity could know each other exhaustively without thinking the same thoughts (link).

But the idea that the divine essence is personal brings up the issue of Van Til’s one-person, three-person “paradox.” Unfortunately, Oliphint never follows through on the host’s request for him to explain Van Til’s definition of a person as well as Clark’s, for Oliphint goes on to rely on Lane Tipton’s solution to Van Til’s Trinitarian paradox (35^th minute). I say it is unfortunate because Lane Tipton, who wrote a dissertation on Van Til’s Triunism, mentions in a different podcast by the same host (link) that he sees no problem with the essence being regarded as a person, so long as the meaning of “person” is different than it is when predicated of the Father, Son, and Spirit. But how can an essence be “personal” without being a person? Is “human” or “angel” personal? This seems awfully ad hoc, and at any rate, it still must deal with other Trinitarian issues like generic vs. numeric unity (link), the relationships among the persons (link), etc.

Miscellaneous

It could just be that I’m in an irritable mood today, but the tone of the podcast bothered me. To me, it felt as if a professor were condescending to lecture on some event in which his tradition played a polemic part and came out clearly victorious. Familiar elements include:

1. a historical exposition primarily consisting of what doctrinal details his fountainhead and subsequent tradition thought important without much corresponding discussion of the opposition;
2. distancing from some of the terminology in his tradition without actually conceding any conceptual ground (“analogical knowledge,” “presuppositionalism,” “transcendental”);
3. a few, well-placed, charitable comments towards the chief opponent designed to appear fair;
4. implicit suggestion throughout the discussion that everyone should already know who was correct, rendering detailed evaluation superfluous.

These appear to me to be intelligent men. Honestly, though, I doubt that any of them have read more than half a dozen books by Clark, if that many. Oliphint mentioned Clark in his Reasons for Faith just once. The other two seemed to know Clark only in virtue of what Van Tilians like Greg Bahnsen have said about him. I can only assume their intended audience are those who are already members of their choir. If so, I guess that’s fine. But then like I said, it’s a bit irritating if you’re on the outside looking in. Of course, there’s only so much that can be said in one video. Still, I was hoping for more.

David P. Hoover on Van Tilian Analogical Knowledge

David P. Hoover was the evidentialist who debated Gordon Clark in 1983 (link). He also wrote an article one year after that debate, doing a much better job of critiquing Clark’s views than in that debate (link). Perhaps that is because he is in general a better writer than speaker - for he is a good writer - or perhaps that is because after the debate he better acquainted himself with Clark’s works. Regardless, some of it pinpoints sore spots - especially those which concern metaphysics - other parts, not so much. I don’t consider it to be fatal to Scripturalism, for whatever that’s worth.

While I may interact with his article on Clark some other time - which would probably be more entertaining for the reader than the unprecedented number of posts on Van Til[ians] these past few weeks, which I do not anticipate will continue hereafter - I wanted to provide a link to an online critique he wrote of Van Til’s apologetic (link). It’s a bit informal for my taste - especially after pg. 45 - but as a former Van Tilian, it is instructive to see what he believed to be the problem areas in Van Til’s philosophy. This includes his comparison of Van Til to Kant (pgs. 56, 104-105), his confirmation of my suspicions in my previous post that analogical knowledge is grounded on an acceptance of the doctrine of internal relations (pgs. 13-14, 72), and, particularly, the doctrine of “analogical knowledge,” i.e. the doctrine that the content of God’s knowledge and the content of man’s “knowledge” neither qualitatively nor univocally coincide at any point. 

Naturally, as Hoover is an evidentialist, I don’t agree with everything he writes, but so far as his internal critique of Van Til is concerned, I’ve categorized the following arguments against analogical knowledge which I found to be persuasive. Analogical knowledge:

1. Has Self-Referential Problems

Since Van Til insists that reasoning analogically is a necessary condition of knowing truly, it must be possible to tell, at least on some occasions, whether one has reasoned analogically. Yet according to Van Til, the ability to specify criteria would cancel the need to invoke analogicity in the first place. And why is that? Because to specify criteria entails a univocal access to at least some knowledge as God knows it in order to see whether one’s own noetic holdings are indeed analogous of God’s noetic holdings. That means we would have to have access above the ceiling in order judiciously to apply the analogy concept to our own thinking. But by the very nature of the case there can’t be any human peeking above the ceiling, for above the ceiling (as I am using this metaphor) there is only knowledge as God knows it. The very idea of human access to the latter is an ontological impossibility on Van Til’s reckoning, and things don’t get more impossible than that! So Van Til has put the Christian in the impossible position of having to “reflect” God's knowledge while being systematically cut off from it. (pg. 16)

So on Van Til's own logic, either (1) knowledge is impossible because no human belief can be analogically validated, or (2) “analogicity” itself, contrary to Van Til’s idea that he is somehow doing epistemology, is a speculative metaphysical concept which (somehow) merely characterizes human knowledge by contrast to divine knowledge. I say “speculative” because the only way Van Til could know (and hence not speculate) that there is “no identity of content” between divine and human minds is by peeking above the ceiling in order to confirm that this is so-and by his own principles creatures can’t do that.

Well, I think (2) is the case: Van Til’s theory is a speculative metaphysics of knowledge and has precious little to do with practical epistemological matters. That is to say, Van Til gives us no help at all with specifying applicable conditions by which to certify knowledge, and it is only if knowledge can be identified in total independence of Van Til’s metaphysical doctrine, that that doctrine can have even dubious application to the ultimate character of the knowledge thus (independently) identified. To repeat, Van Til provides not a clue about how we acquire ordinary knowledge, and how to separate ordinary knowledge from ignorance. Bottom line: Van Til’s “theory of knowledge” is not a theory of how we may come to know things by examining data and evidence, but is instead a metaphysics of the contrast he alleges between the mind of God and the mind of man. (pgs. 17-18)

…in the complete absence of univocal criteria there is the problem of commencing an infinite regress of analogical evaluations. Evaluation itself insofar as it is presuppositionally proper in its rationality, must be analogical, so only analogical evaluation is competent to assess the strength or merit of a putatively analogical argument. But how does one tell whether the assessment itself bears a sufficiently strong analogy to God’s thought? Answer: that would take another analogical assessment of the immediately previous assessment-and so on forever; and fourth, there simply is no ana-logic and hence no structural means to assess outcomes of reasoning which “reflect” (i.e., are analogical of) divinely held truth. (pg. 51)

2. Renders Apologetics a Pointless Enterprise

Criteria are marks or discernible characteristics by which we can test our knowledge. An inherently indiscernible criterion is self-contradictory-no criterion at all. Analogicity, needless to say, is an inherently indiscernible property, and a Van Tillian analogy is an inherently indiscernible relation. Hence Van Til’s analogy doctrine is incurably speculative and systematically unavailable to do any work in epistemology or apologetics. (pg. 20)

Here is how to construct your own haven. Choose a deity. (Linus has chosen the Great Pumpkin.) Declare that your deity is creator of all things and enjoys absolutivity with respect to knowledge because of his supreme level of existence. Then draw the implication that all human knowing is at best analogical of the deity’s knowing so that there is no identity of meaning between anything in the deity’s mind and anything in a human mind. Stop. At this point, analogicity is fundamentally criterial for whether or not anyone knows “truly.”

This criterion, however, is inherently the abolition of all criteria. When in place, it is complete license to run religiously and spiritually amuck, for not only is substantive content noncoincident, principles governing logical coherence (the law of contradiction, for example) are as well. That is because (1) the deity is the only true knower, (2) humans are absolutely dependent on the deity's knowledge for their analogical knowledge, and (3) the logic of analogicity necessitates, first and foremost, the radical severance of cognitive linkage between divine and human minds. In effect, analogicity is Van Til’s metaphysical guarantee that there cannot be a semantic bridge between divine and human minds. I hasten to add that once the logic of analogicity is in place, no amount of pious language can be thrown at the resulting problem to alleviate it of the catastrophic consequence we have seen. (pgs. 28-29)

3. Licenses Paradox

And what of the Great Pumpkin? Since we are forever cut off from criteria to apply the analogicity concept to this or that claim, Linus can easily help himself to it without fear of later refutation. Linus, like Van Til, knows what he knows, and what he knows he knows analogically! Or to put it another way, Linus’s “special knowledge,” like Van Til's, enjoys an utterly inscrutable “resemblance relation” to the deity’s knowledge. And since this relation is inscrutable, hence not cognitively penetrable by way of criteria, there is simply no way to test it - no way, that is, either to confirm it or disconfirm it. Indeed, no refutation could count without itself being blessed with inscrutable analogicity! In a manner of speaking, to “analogize” your position is thereby to “immunize” it from criticism. Thus (once one's system is analogized) data can never interfere with cherished beliefs, whether you're a Christian theist, a Pumpkinologist, or an Elvis worshipper. Bliss! (pg. 29)

It might be thought, however, that Van Til’s rule to show “the impossibility of the contrary” might be used decisively against The Great Pumpkin. In logic, this is simply the procedure of reducing one's opponent’s position to absurdity by assuming the truth of its major premises and deriving a contradiction thereby.

There is a decisive objection to this that Linus can make, however: it is analogicity in Van Til’s scheme that secures the Christian’s position, not the strict logical coherence of Christianity s doctrines or an infallible construal of evidences. Indeed, he concedes that Christianity fares poorly when it comes to assessing, by standard logic, the Trinity or the coherence of the aseity doctrine with God’s having created anything. “So much the worse for standard logic,” is Van Til’s reply, “the analogical condition of being in the truth is what (argumentatively) secures the Christian position. Logical laws themselves are relativized to God’s epistemic absolutivily.” But that response is equally available to Linus in behalf of the Pumpkin. Analogically apprehended mysteries are exempt from straight logical critique (univocal critique, Van Til would say). Van Til’s line has always been that ‘contradictions’ at the core of the Christian faith are proper ‘mysteries’ while ‘contradictions’ at the core of opposing systems are conclusive evidence of their impossibility and falsehood. That is a darkish saying indeed. (pgs. 51-52)

4. Precludes Divine Omniscience and Communicability

…suppose that the “no identity-no coincidence” doctrine were true: in that case an omniscient God cannot entertain in his mind whatever the disciples did understand by his utterance! That is because the “no identity-no coincidence” doctrine is symmetrical. Regarding the prospect of communication, we must hold Van Til to his words: for both God and man “no identity” is no identity and “no coincidence” is no coincidence. So not only can't the disciples univocally entertain any of God's meaning; God can't univocally entertain any of the disciples’ meaning!

Van Til’s doctrine thus effectively renders divine-to-human as well as human-to-divine communication impossible so far as sameness of content meaning is concerned. And to boot (and ever so ironically), Van Til’s doctrine of analogy implies that an omniscient God is ignorant of the disciples’ precise understanding of him. (pgs. 22-23)

5. Restricts Divine Omnipotence

…there seems to be an ultimate irony in Van Til’s analogy doctrine, for that very doctrine places a rather catastrophic limitation on what an “omnipotent” God can bring about with regard to communication between himself and his creatures. To use a grammatical construction from Paul [Rom. 3:4], it is as though Van Til were saying, “Let God be incomprehensible and every man hopelessly ignorant!” Paul's actual comment, of course, is, “Let God be true and every man a liar!” Lying, unlike irremediable ignorance, allows some discernment of the truth which one is lying about. Paul's point, as I understand it, is that even if all men remained in unbelief through their own deception and self-deception, the truth of God and its epistemic availability would remain unaffected. If, however, God had created all men with an epistemic endowment that is semantically blind to divine revelation (blind, thus, merely because of human creaturehood!), then while God's truth would remain unaffected, it would be radically unavailable to man. And to provide emphasis, that is because if the ontological situation is as Van Til describes it, the Creator is powerless to create a being with whom he can communicate “in the same voice.” (pgs. 27-28)

6. Begs and Leaves Unanswered Questions Regarding the Incarnation

As applied to Jesus, I think the analogy doctrine implies a strictly bifurcated mind (within the thought processes of the historical Jesus) in which there would have to be two radically incommensurable ways of structuring knowledge (one divine and the other human) neither of which can fathom the other.

This question can be asked too: If our omnipotent God can become human-take on the same flesh as we ourselves who are saved by Jesus's sacrifice [“univocal” flesh, so to speak]-why can’t God also share some same level meaning within the constraints of the linguistic structures that he himself created? If, however, we accept Van Til’s doctrine of absolutely different levels of divine and human existence, then the very logic of this acceptance would seem to preclude that God could become a man. The question I raise is whether God can violate “the radically different ontological levels of divine and human existence” to literally take on our humanity on our level of existence. Given what Van Til has had to say about these levels, I don't see how he can escape this kind of difficulty regarding the Incarnation of Christ. It seems to me that both with respect to the cerebrally facilitated knowing of the earthly Jesus, and with respect to the Incarnation itself, Van Til’s speculations do not bode well for orthodox Christology. (pg. 30)

I think that Van Til’s notion of analogicity wreaks havoc, for example, with historic Christianity's doctrine of the Incarnation; for if he were consistent, there could be no overlap of meaning - no coincidence - between what Jesus had in his mind according to his human nature vis-à-vis what Jesus had in his mind according to his divine nature. If Jesus’s own cognitive nature was at all constrained by human cognitive architecture, there's a formidable problem here. (pg. 58)

As a cognitive agent Jesus is a single ‘integrated’ perceiver, believer, and knower, and this must be held as being logically consistent with Jesus being both divine and human. The problem is that these elements cannot logically coexist on Van Til’s ontological doctrine-his ‘theology of knowledge’ so to speak. That’s because, as we’ve already seen, there is an infinite, or shall we say ontologically unbridgeable, gap between divinely structured knowing and humanly structured knowing. In a nutshell, if persons individuate knowers, Jesus, on Van Til’s ontological doctrine, would have to be two persons, not one. That's the ancient Nestorian heresy, isn't it Charles?

And to come full circle, Schroeder, you weren't seeing the difficulty when you said, ‘He, Jesus, could know both analogically, because he’s a man, and univocally, because he’s God.’ Do you see the contradiction in that statement? When you say ‘he’ you can refer to only one knower. Van Til’s ontological principle absolutely forbids mixing, melding, or somehow homogenizing divine and human knowing. Or, if you like, it is fundamentally incoherent to say of an ontically unified knower that he knows an item of knowledge both analogically and univocally at one and the same time. So if the ‘he’ refers to a single and fully integrated epistemic agent (personhood requires this), then Van Til’s analogicity/univocity distinction cannot be applied to Jesus. (pgs. 59-60)

Thoughts on Clark's Two-Person Theory of the Incarnation

During the fourth and fifth centuries the church was disturbed by many controversies, but the most prominent seems to have been the debate about Christ. Who, precisely, was Jesus Christ? Was Christ both God and man? Was he the first of all creatures? Was he God in a body? Was he one of the modes of God the Father? Was he merely a man? Was he two persons, Jesus of Nazareth and the Second Person of the Trinity? The debate was lively and acrimonious… 

 The relationship that obtains between the Logos, the Second Person of the Trinity, and Jesus is unique, unlike that between the Logos and every other man who comes into the world (see John 1:9). The Logos did not merely light the mind of Christ; the Logos Himself is fully in Christ. Christ could therefore say, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” No mere prophet could make such an astounding claim. Prophets, inspired by God, possess some of the divine propositions. Christ, however, possesses them all, as the author of Hebrews argues in his first chapter. All the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are in Christ, for in Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily. 

 If, as seems to be the case, we now have a solution to the puzzles of the Incarnation, a solution that avoids the contradictions and meaningless words of the traditional formulations, a solution that is supported by Scripture itself, we are obliged to accept it. Jesus Christ was and is both God and man, a divine person and a human person. To deny either is to fall into error. Once the key terms are defined and clearly understood, the Incarnation is an even more stupendous and awe-inspiring miracle than the Church has hitherto surmised. (The Incarnation, pgs. 77-78)

So begins and ends Clark’s book on the Incarnation, summaries written by John Robbins but which faithfully represents what Clark himself argues throughout the book: Jesus Christ, was and is both God and man, a divine person and a human person; he, Christ, was two persons, Jesus of Nazareth and the Second Person of the Trinity.

To some extent, Clark et. al. may be justified in complaining that theologians throughout church history haven’t provided precise definitions of “person” or “nature.” As historical theology is not my primary area of interest, I can’t say. More troubling is the point that it seems Clark exchanged one problem for another. 

Consider: if it is a problem to say Jesus is one person with two natures or minds or whatnot, why is it not a problem to say Jesus is one subject? Notice in the above summaries that Jesus Christ is still a single subject, evidenced by the use of singular personal pronouns. “He” was two persons. “Jesus Christ” was and is both a divine person an a human person. 

By rejecting the one-person view of the Incarnation, what means does Clark have by which to unify or identify the human “person” with the divine “person”? To say “Christ is a human person and divine person” is still to imply a single subject, Christ, which somehow unifies or identifies the two persons with each other. Well, how? Further, if Clark or any other advocate of a two-person theory of the Incarnation were to [have] explain[ed] why there can be a single subject, why can’t one simply define “person” according to that explanation?

I recently defined a person as “an ego, a mind or minds capable of reflexive indexation.” (link). I explicitly stated an ego can be “minds...” (plural) with the case of the Incarnation in mind. That is, both minds have the same referent in mind when each affirms statements using the first person pronoun “I.” Of course, the reasons those statements may be true may differ in respect to the natures (or attributes) which the Incarnate Son possesses, but the central point is that “I” is a reference to the ego, not the mind. In other words, I reject Clark’s equation of mind with ego. A mind necessarily implies an ego, but it does not necessarily preclude another mind.

Now, just as in my departure from Clark’s view of the Trinity, I am sure my departure from his view of the Incarnation will leave more cynical Scripturalists wondering why I still identify with Clark at all. For one thing, I think Clark is most well-known for his epistemological views, views with which I am in broad agreement. For another, Clark himself encouraged critical evaluation and modification of his own Trinitarian and Incarnational proposals. Though many of his followers seem to think so, Clark clearly did not consider what he wrote to be beyond revision:

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. It would turn the attention of the somewhat faithful churches from their sociological sentimentalism to the basic doctrine of the Bible. (The Trinity, Individuation)  

...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. But even if not, it could not be branded as meaningless nonsense (The Incarnation, pgs. 75-76)

Hopefully, those who disagree with me will follow Clark’s prescription and concentrate on the arguments rather than the arguers. My views are not above revision either, and especially in respect to areas in which I have not put years of study, I am willing to change my beliefs. But for now, what I argue is obviously what makes the most sense to me.

Gordon Clark, Metaphysics, and Personhood

Gordon Clark was a brilliant epistemologist. But it seems to this lowly layman that his aversion to empiricism at times prompted him to accept metaphysical positions which are equally unpleasant.

Now, I do not wish to give the impression I reject all of his metaphysical considerations. For example, while I am not sure when it was written, in some comments on Hebrews 11:3, Clark wrote (link):

A blueprint is the physical pattern of something to be constructed in three dimensions. A Tinkertoy, itself in three dimensions, can be a pattern of a larger physical body. But can a spiritual, intellectual, invisible, incorporeal Philonic Idea be a pattern of a three dimensional tabernacle? Can the things that are seen (phenomena) have been made of things which do not appear (noumenal)? Read 11:3. 

Yes, Hebrews 11:3 is an interesting verse. First, it must be translated. The King James, the New American Standard, Rienecker in his Linguistic Key to the Greek New Testament, and a similar work by Hughes, all agree on essentially the same translation: “so that what is seen has not come into being from things which appear.” The Roman Catholic New American Bible has the more positive rendering, “what is visible came into being through the invisible.” The Jerusalem Bible has a looser insipid translation: “so that no apparent cause can account for the things we can see.” Owen in his immense commentary remarks that “these words...have much of obscurity and difficulty in them.” The King James and the New American Standard are grammatically correct. I might put it a little more crudely, ‘What is seen is that which has not come from phenomena.” The New American Bible is not an accurate translation, but it seems to be an excellent interpretation. And the interpretation is not so difficult as Owen leads us to believe. Especially when compared with verses in the Pentateuch the words strongly suggest that the visible world came from a suprasensible, ideal world. The term noumena is not in the text; but what else could to me ek phainomenon mean? Phenomena come from noumena. Certainly the verse in Hebrews does not forbid this interpretation.

In the next paragraph he states “The Tinkertoy is real…” And earlier, he affirmed that “this visible olam hazeh” is “really ephemeral.” I find this analysis to be excellent. The contrast between physical phenomena and spiritual noumena, the assertion that the former is patterned after the latter, and his assertion both are real all seem to coincide with my own views.

But in Clark and His Critics (pg. 146-149), he rejects the “existence of an unknowable Ding-an-sich” or thing-in-itself, replying to Nash that he does “not remember saying that the created world is an imperfectly real, unknowable object.” He further states that there is no knowledge that is non-proposition.

While I agree that there is no knowledge that is non-propositional (in the philosophic sense anyway), the implication that the created world is a knowable object rather than a Ding-an-sich calls into question just how visible phenomena contrasts with invisible noumena. Is the contrast merely that phenomena is ephemeral whereas noumena is not? Are both propositions? If phenomena is not propositional, is the assertion of such not an assertion of the existence of an unknowable Ding-an-sich? Then again, it is difficult to imagine what it means to say propositions are visible. It is even more difficult to imagine – especially considering Clark’s position as a whole – what it means to say propositions are created. Is God’s knowledge created? If so, then given Clark’s definition of individual human and divine persons, this would mean God is metaphysically dependent on creation: 

…a man is a congeries, a system, sometimes an agglomeration of miscellany, but at any rate a collection of thoughts. A man is what he thinks: and no two men are precisely the same combination. 

This is true of the Trinity also, for although each of the three Persons is omniscient, one thinks “I or my collection of thoughts is the Father,” and the second thinks, “I or my thoughts will assume or have assumed a human nature.” The Father does not think this second thought, nor does the Son think the first. (The Trinity, Individuation)

For the Father to think “I am Creator” presupposes a creation, the truthmaker for that proposition. But if God metaphysically just is what He thinks and one of His thoughts is dependent upon the fact of creation, God is metaphysically dependent on creation. I don’t have a problem with the idea that thoughts individuate. But I see no reason to leap from that conclusion to the idea that persons are equivalent to their thoughts, which is what Clark seems to have done.

Instead, I think a better definition would be that a person is an ego, the possessor of a mind or minds capable of reflexive indexation. These words could each be defined and each definition could be true without its being the case that some “real” Ding-an-sich can’t correspond to them. I think the so-called empirical representational theory of truth in which truth images the physical reality to which it merely corresponds scared Clark away from any type of correspondence – hence the seeming propositional monism. As can be seen in his book The Incarnation, it seems to have had significant consequences. But if we maintain the general priority of the noumena over the phenomena – or more broadly, propositional Ideas to things-in-themselves – I think these hazards can be avoided. At the very least, this alternative is certainly worth exploring.

A Special Kind of Scripturalist

It takes is a special kind of Scripturalist to use historical development of a doctrine as the basis upon which to say, “No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Yet, that is exactly what Sean Gerety has done (link)... or rather, is trying to do, as he as yet has not even correctly handled the history of the Trinity. I keep waiting for him to address the following arguments, any one of which is sufficient to devastate his view of the Trinity:

1. Scripture always refers to the Father alone is always the referent of “one God” (Romans 3:30, 1 Corinthians 8:6, Ephesians 4:6, 1 Timothy 2:5) or “[only] true God” (John 17:3, 1 Thessalonians 1:9, 1 John 5:20). (link)

2. Jesus is the Son of God. Jesus is not the Son of a set of divine attributes, He’s the Son of a person. (link)

3. Divine [or human] attributes are predicated of persons. Persons are not predicated of divine [or human] attributes. (link)

4. Scripture always refers to the Father as Παντοκράτωρ or παντοκράτορος (“Almighty”). (link)

5. Not once does Sean himself examine what the Nicene Creed says. Allow me: The Creed says “We believe in one God, the Father Almighty.” The Creed says the Son is “God of God.” When the creed says that the Son is “God of God,” it is saying the Son is God out from (ek) the Father, or the Father is the source of the Son. Thus, the Creed does not say the Son is “God of Himself” (autotheos), it says He is “God of God.” This is problematic for Sean, as he denied any kind of intra-Trinitarian“from/to relationship.” (link)

6. Sean cannot even seem to define “eternal generation” or “eternal procession,” not surprising since Sean affirms the aseity of the Son. At most, then, he must think the second person derives His personal property from the Father, not His person from the Father. But then it would be more appropriate to refer to the Son as eternally adopted. Further, this neo-Adoptionism appears to make the relationships among the persons arbitrary, since there is no reason to suppose that the personal properties could not have been reversed. (link)

7. Three Trinitarians minds and three Trinitarian wills are necessary to preserve the distinct thoughts each possesses and roles each has in the covenant of redemption and economy of salvation. In this case, the idea the persons are united numerically can’t be true (link). But if Sean rejects numeric unity and the subordination of the Son and Spirit, then just as there is one definition of human but multiple humans, so there must, on Sean's view, be one definition of God but multiple Gods. (link)

These are just several of the relevant points of Scripture and logic I have mentioned in the course of our blog discussion, all of which he has had ample time to address. I have also received no reply to my post showing a difference between myself and Samuel Clarke – I believe the Son and Spirit to exist necessarily – which has, thus far, been critical to Sean’s accusation that I am a Unitarian. Nor has he responded to my post showing that Alexander of Alexandria who, of all things, was the primary opponent of Arius, thought that the Son is subordinate to the Father. He has, however, admitted on facebook that Novatian constitutes precedent for our view. But I suppose these early church fathers were just a bunch of Arians and Unitarians? Right.

Speaking of curious views of history, Sean apparently thinks I should acknowledge my conscience to be bound to the Athanasian Creed. So much for Scripturalism and sola scriptura. If he doesn’t think it to be infallible, then why should I really care what Sproul thinks about it? On that subject, though, I would note that Sproul doesn’t make a normative or universal statement. Rather, Sean leaves it to the reader to connect the dots: Ryan rejects the Athanasian Creed, so Ryan is obviously arrogant and obviously wrong.

But even assuming Sean’s tacit denial of the formal principle of the Reformation, it’s preposterous that Sean would presume to moralize on Trinitarianism in church history when he can’t even consistently affirm the Nicene Creed. If I’m culpable for denying a non-ecumenical creed not even written by the person after whom it was named, how much more is Sean culpable for denying the Nicene Creed? He objects that I misunderstand the Nicene Creed. But he has yet to make good on that objection.

Meanwhile, I have consistently explained why it is that I am able to affirm the co-equality or co-essentiality of the Son and Spirit with the Father in terms of their unity in distinctly yet univocally possessing the same attributes, a fact which renders Sean’s insinuations to the contrary a lie and his citations of Athanasius irrelevant. It is his burden of proof to show that being self-existent and autotheos are divine attributes. It is his burden of proof to harmonize his idea with the questions and arguments he has so far been unable to answer.

Furthermore, I would point out that Sean has admitted his view of the Incarnation is not compatible with Chalcedonian Christology (link). This isn’t even a question of logical inference: Sean openly denies that Chalcedon is true. But then I too can cite modern theologians who think this council is, as Sean puts it, “affirmed by virtually every historic Protestant church,” leaving it to the reader to follow my own trail of bread crumbs. In fact, I don’t need to look any further than Nick Needham, a cohort of R.C. Sproul (link):

It’s hard enough to pronounce “Chalcedon.” Getting to grips with its theology can be even more daunting. But the effort will be very richly rewarded. For the past 1,500 years, right up to the present day, virtually all orthodox Christian theologians have defined their “orthodoxy” with reference to the Council of Chalcedon. That certainly includes the Reformed tradition. We may not think that the early ecumenical councils were infallible. But we have generally held that they were gloriously right in what they affirmed, and that Christians who take the church and its history seriously must reckon with these great councils as providential landmarks in the unfolding life story of God’s people.

For good measure, here is what R.C. Sproul says (link):

The fifth century saw the convening of perhaps the most important christological council in all of church history at Chalcedon in 451. Here orthodox Christianity had to fight a battle on two fronts. On the one hand was the opposition to the orthodox view of the nature of Christ in His incarnation by Eutyches. Eutyches was a monophysite — he declared that Jesus had only one nature. This nature was called a single “theanthropic nature,” meaning a divinely human nature or a humanly divine nature. This position, saying that Christ had one nature (Greek: monophysis), obscured both the real deity and the real humanity that were united in the incarnation of Christ. 

On the other side of the debate, the Nestorians argued that if Jesus had two natures, He had to have had two persons as well, so they separated the two natures of Christ into two persons. Over against both heresies, Chalcedon gave its famous formula by which it declared that Christ is truly God and truly man, with the natures perfectly united in such a way that they are not confused — the natures are without mixture, confusion, division, or separation; each nature retains its own attributes. This was a watershed council because it set the boundaries or parameters of christological speculation. The two natures were not to be merged or confused; the human nature, for example, would not be absorbed or swallowed up in the divine nature and vice versa. At the same time, the two natures were not to be separated so as to lose their unity in the one person. 

Throughout history since Chalcedon, the church in virtually every generation has had to face the tendencies of either confusing the two natures or dividing or separating the two natures. Orthodoxy in the fifth century declared that the natures must be distinguished yet never separated. They must be distinguished and never be co-mingled.

Now, does any of this bother Sean? Clearly not. And why should it? He has elsewhere lamented that “It’s a shame more Protestants don’t think like Calvin when it comes to the so-called “ecumenical” Councils” (link). Little did Sean know that he would become one of those Protestants. Clearly there is a double standard at play, and the reason is that Sean is not able to address the above arguments.

Really, this whole discussion of historical theology is a distraction. I don’t mind exposing Sean’s farcical view of church history, and I am in the process of doing just that, but the idea that two Scripturalists should be arguing about anything other than Scripture or that which can necessarily be inferred from it in a conversation about so serious a topic as the Trinity is ludicrous. Or maybe Sean wants to take a crack at naming all of the Scripturalists in the last millennium too. Anyway, moving on...

Instead the Son and Spirit derive their existence from the Father who then delegates his authority to them.  Neither the Son nor the Spirit are “autotheos” or God in themselves.  Their divinity is derived and contingent on the Father’s essential and supreme divinity.  According to Hedrich and Shelton only the Father can be called God in the fullest sense and the Son and Spirit are merely his messengers or servants both of whom act as pointers or emissaries leading people to the “one true God the Father.”  Ryan calls Jesus Christ a “vicegerent,” which means that he is God’s deputy who exercises power delegated to him by the Father and something He lacks intrinsically and in himself.  Shelton refers to Jesus as an “icon” who is not strictly speaking God incarnate (which in his warped mind would mean the Father is incarnate), but rather is  “the representative of God on earth who has de jure authority over all men.”   The important thing to keep in mind is that when these men say “God” they mean “the Father.”

Autotheos means God-of-Himself, not God-in-Himself. Sean would like it if I let this slip by without notice, because then he would indeed have good reason to say I think the Son lacks intrinsic power. But that isn’t the case, and he knows it. The Son is divine in Himself – and thus He is God in one sense – but not of Himself – and thus He is not God in a separate sense. Similarly, I am a man in myself, but I am not a man of myself. Sean conflated “in” with “of” in our facebook discussion and, when corrected, withdrew it. It appears he has forgotten this miscue.

The Son indeed has power and authority, but it is power and authority received from the Father (Matthew 28:18, John 17:2). Sean may reply that these are references to economic activity, as if it could ever have been said that the Father received power from the Son. Let’s take a look at these Scriptures:

John 10:17-18 For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.

John 12:49-50 For I have not spoken on my own authority, but the Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment—what to say and what to speak. And I know that his commandment is eternal life. What I say, therefore, I say as the Father has told me.

John 14:30-31 I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me, but I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father. Rise, let us go from here.

John 15:10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love.

Now, can we really say the Son could have refused the commandments of the Father, or is it the case the Father “has a claim,” so to speak, on Him? If obliged to obey, does not the Father have authority over the Son just as the Son has authority over us (cf. 1 Corinthians 11:3)? Or is the capacity of the Father to charge and command the Son just an arbitrary happenstance which could have been reversed? Could the Son have commanded the Father? What does Sean think? Well, maybe he’ll get around to answering these things in one of his posts.

Given this, we have reason to say that the Father is the ultimate object of worship. Sean notes a host of passages which state we ought to worship Christ. Well, no one denied that. But ironically, the context of one of the two other passages Sean cited clearly connects our worship and honor of the Son to the fact it was the Father – the head of the Son, a head without head – who placed Him at the head of creation:

John 5:22-23 The Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son, that all may honor the Son, just as they honor the Father. Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent him. 

Next, Sean writes:

Sadly, Hedrich’s failure to honor the Son while thinking he is honoring the Father stems from a complete misreading of the Nicene fathers and Athanasius in particular. Perhaps the clearest evidence of this is the fact that all of church history, including the entirety of the Reformed tradition, stand in direct opposition to Hedrich.  Yet, this observation hardly gives this proud young man even the slightest pause.  But unlike “Athanasius contra mundum,” Hendich remains “contra Athanasius.” At the heart of Henrich’s departure from the faith lies the misplaced belief that the eternal generation of the Son necessitates the ontological and authoritative subordination of the Son to the Father, but that is precisely the  opposite of what Athanasius taught and what the Nicene creed affirmed.  For Hedrich, just as we derive out existence from our human parents, the Son as the only begotten of the Father derives his existence and divinity in a similar fashion, but that kind of one to one comparison is what the Nicene fathers wanted to avoid.  The irony is if Hedrich is correct then Athanasius would be advocating the very subordinationism he was opposing in his fight against the Arians and semi-Arians.   

Firstly, subordinationism refers to the heresy of stating the nature of the Son is unequal to that of the Father. I have not made that mistake. But his citation of Athanasius only proves that the nature of the relationship between the Father and Son is not corporeal. Who said it was? How does this prove that the generation of the Son can in no way be understood “after the manner of men”? For Athanasius also says “such as he that begets, such of necessity is the offspring” and asks, “for who hears of a son but conceives of that which is proper to the father’s essence?” (link) Likewise, in his chapter on Athanasius in The Trinity, Gordon Clark held that “Christ is the Son of God as Isaac was the son of Abraham: not a moral but a natural sonship.” I would admittedly be somewhat astonished that Sean could actually disagree with Clark. Interestingly, from that same work Sean quoted, we read Athanasius affirms the subordination of the Son (link):

(4.) Nor again, in saying that the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ is one only God, the only Ingenerate, do we therefore deny that Christ also is God before ages: as the disciples of Paul of Samosata, who say that after the incarnation He was by advance made God, from being made by nature a mere man. For we acknowledge, that though He be subordinate to His Father and God, yet, being before ages begotten of God, He is God perfect according to nature and true, and not first man and then God, but first God and then becoming man for us, and never having been deprived of being.

One can search high and low, but the context does not reference any economic activity. It is clear Athanasius is talking about the ontological Trinity. So will Sean say Athanasius a subordinationist? No. How do I know this? Because I’ve already pointed Sean to this passage in Athanasius, all he had to say in reply was: “You do have a problem as you no understanding of Athanasius and you read the economic Trinity back into the immanent Trinity. You're embarrassing yourself.” He almost convinced me with that one...

In fact, I see that he is recycling several Athanasian quotes from our facebook discussion, each of which only serves to show either he has forgotten the refutation or has hoped that I would. He says:

According to Athanasius, while the eternal generation of the Son is intended to individuate the Persons of the Godhead, it is the Godhead considered as “the eternal triad” that is the “monarche” or source of the essential divinity of the Persons and not the Father exclusively. Athanasius argues there is “a Holy Trinity but one Godhead and one beginning [arche], and that the Son is co-essential with the Father … while the Holy Spirit [is] proper to and inseparable from the essence of the Father and the Son.”

But that there is one genus “Godhead” and one “beginning” does not mean the Godhead is the arche. Again, I will cite for Sean now what I cited then (link):

Believing then in the All-perfect Triad, the most Holy, that is, in the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and calling the Father God, and the Son God, yet we confess in them, not two Gods, but one dignity of Godhead, and one exact harmony of dominion, the Father alone being Head over the whole universe wholly, and over the Son Himself, and the Son subordinated to the Father; but, excepting Him, ruling over all things after Him which through Himself have come to be, and granting the grace of the Holy Ghost unsparingly to the saints at the Father’s will. For that such is the account of the Divine Monarchy towards Christ, the sacred oracles have delivered to us.

The Divine Monarch is the Father, not the Godhead. Sean didn’t even bother to reply to this quote in our facebook discussion. His cherry-picking of Athanasius doesn’t imply his inferences, and any careful reader will see this.

Next, Sean highlights Giles as saying all subordinationists describe the relationship between the Son and Father is asymmetrical. Okay. So? Sean’s arguments leave much to be desired. If his conclusion is that all those who describe the relationship between the Son and Father as asymmetrical are subordinationists, that’s an obvious fallacy, but what else could have been the point of the quote?

Sean then cites my interpretation of Genesis 1:26 in which I state that I believed the Father to be referring to the heavenly court. This reason is given by Bruce Waltke: “the other four uses of the plural pronoun with reference to God ([Gen.] 3:22; 11:7; Isa. 6:8) do not seem to refer to the Trinity” (Genesis: A Commentary, pg. 64). Isaiah 6:2-7, for instance, pertain to the actions of seraphim. Are seraphim divine? No. Wallace writes (link):

In 2 Sam 24:14 David uses the plural as representative of all Israel, and in Isa 6:8 the Lord speaks on behalf of his heavenly court. In its ancient Israelite context the plural is most naturally understood as referring to God and his heavenly court (see 1 Kgs 22:19-22; Job 1:6-12; 2:1-6; Isa 6:1-8). (The most well-known members of this court are God’s messengers, or angels. In Gen 3:5 the serpent may refer to this group as “gods/divine beings.” See the note on the word “evil” in 3:5.) If this is the case, God invites the heavenly court to participate in the creation of humankind (perhaps in the role of offering praise, see Job 38:7), but he himself is the one who does the actual creative work (v. 27). Of course, this view does assume that the members of the heavenly court possess the divine “image” in some way. Since the image is closely associated with rulership, perhaps they share the divine image in that they, together with God and under his royal authority, are the executive authority over the world.

Does Sean’s view of the Trinity really hang on one Old Testament passage? What would it prove if his interpretation were correct? I think focusing on minutiae is Sean’s way of avoiding the more important questions while appearing to save face. He does, however, take this opportunity to conflate existing “in” oneself to existing “of” oneself, a notion Athanasius himself puts to rest here:

Christ is the Word of God. Did He then subsist by Himself, and subsisting, has He become joined to the Father, or did God make Him or call Him His Word? If the former, I mean if He subsisted by Himself and is God, then there are two Beginnings; and moreover, as is plain, He is not the Father’s own, as being not of the Father, but of Himself. But if on the contrary He be made externally, then is He a creature. It remains then to say that He is from God Himself; but if so, that which is from another is one thing, and that from which it is, is a second; according to this then there are two. But if they be not two, but the names belong to the same, cause and effect will be the same, and begotten and begetting, which has been shewn absurd in the instance of Sabellius. But if He be from Him, yet not another, He will be both begetting and not begetting; begetting because He produces from Himself, and not begetting, because it is nothing other than Himself. But if so, the same is called Father and Son notionally. But if it be unseemly so to say, Father and Son must be two; and they are one, because the Son is not from without, but begotten of God. But if any one shrinks from saying ‘Offspring,’ and only says that the Word exists with God, let such a one fear lest, shrinking from what is said in Scripture, he fall into absurdity, making God a being of double nature. For not granting that the Word is from the Monad, but simply as if He were joined to the Father, he introduces a twofold essence, and neither of them Father of the other. And the same of Power. And we may see this more clearly, if we consider it with reference to the Father; for there is One Father, and not two, but from that One the Son. As then there are not two Fathers, but One, so not two Beginnings, but One, and from that One the Son essential.

Athanasius rejects that the Word “subsisted by Himself” or “of Himself” – so much for autotheos or aseity – as such implies “two Beginnings” rather than one [God]. Yes, Athanasius did say, and correctly so, that “what is said of the Father, is said in Scripture of the Son also, all but His being called Father,” but what does it mean to be the Father? Until Sean can explain the doctrine of eternal generation, he has no answer. And even if he were to to do so, it appears he would disagree with Athanasius, the Nicene Creed, etc.

Sean wraps up his post by evading yet another question – does he hold to generic unity? – begging another – how is my explanation of generic and numeric unity faulty? – and relying on well-poisoning to prejudice his readers. I expect better in the future.

John Owen and Trinitarianism

Since I've recently written a few posts on the subject of Trinitarianism, I found this short summary by Owen in The Priesthood of Christ (link),  to be an excellent summation of my own position:

(1.) The Son was the essential and eternal image of the Father antecedent unto all consideration of his incarnation. He is in his divine person “the image of the invisible God,” Colossians 1:15; “the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person,” Hebrews 1:3: for having his essence and subsistence from the Father by eternal generation, or the communication of the whole divine nature and all its infinite perfections, he is the perfect and essential representation of him.  

(2.) The order of operation in the blessed Trinity, as unto outward works, answereth unto and followeth the order of their subsistence. Hence the Son is considered as the next and immediate operator of them. Thus, as he is said to have made all things, John 1:3, Colossians 1:16, so the Father is said to make all things by him, Ephesians 3:9; not as an inferior, subordinate, instrumental cause, but as acting his wisdom and power in him, to whom they were communicated by eternal generation. Hence, the immediate relation of all things so made is unto him; and by and in his person is God even the Father immediately represented unto them, as he is his image, and as the brightness of his glory shines forth in him. Hereon follows his rejoicing in the creation, and his delights in the sons of men, Proverbs 8:30, 31, because of their immediate relation unto him.  

(3.) Therefore should he have been the immediate head and ruler of angels and men, had they all persisted in their original integrity and innocency, Colossians 1:16; for the representation of God unto them, as the cause and end of their being, the object and end of their worship and service, should have been in and by his person, as the image of the Father, and by and through him they should have received all the communications of God unto them. He should have been their immediate head, lord, and king, or the divine nature in his person; for this the order of subsistence in the blessed Trinity, and the order of operation thereon depending, did require.

While I'm not sure I agree with Owen's seeming implication that the economic activity of the Trinity necessarily reflects the intra-Trinitarian relationships, it is encouraging to discover so much agreement with a theologian for whom I have great respect:

• He mentions the persons of the Trinity have distinct subsistences.
• He alludes to an "order" of subsistence among these persons, giving the [causal] primacy to the Father while carefully maintaining the co-equality of the Son in respect to deity.
• He agrees with a derivation, so to speak, of the "essence and subsistence" of the Son from the Father as conveyed by eternal generation.
• He willingly equates "the Father" with "God."
• He explains in what manner the Son can be said to perfectly represent the Father and enable communion with Him: as the divine Son, He images the Father.