When people ask me what I'm studying, or what area of theology I'd like to concentrate in, and I tell them "patristics," I sometimes get a cocked eyebrow or a blank stare in response. So, as an aid to those folks, here's a little Q&A on said subject.
So what's this you're doing?
Well, since theology is an awfully big field, and you have to specialize somehow, I'd like to focus on patristics.
Huh? What does that word mean?
"Patristics" is the study of the Church Fathers.
The Church Fathers? Like my pastor, Father X?
Not quite.
Who are the Church Fathers, then? And why am I capitalizing that term?
The Church Fathers are those men who were most influential in developing Christian doctrine, and whose writings are considered to have a certain amount of authority. They're kind of a big deal, which is why you capitalize the term--think "Founding Fathers."
So is St. Thomas Aquinas a Church Father? He's a pretty big deal.
No, the term only applies to those who lived in the first several centuries of Christianity (though the Orthodox Church will use the term more broadly, e.g. calling Gregory Palamas, who lived after Aquinas, a Church Father, because he was so important).
Why only the first several centuries?
The idea is that at a certain point in the history of the Church, people sort of changed the way they did theology, moving away from certain methods of Scriptural exegesis to a more systematic approach which incorporated more frequently the authority of the Fathers themselves. Though the Fathers would refer to each other in the Patristic age (e.g. Cyril appeals to Athanasius, Maximos to Cyril, etc.), this became more commonplace later on.
When did the "Patristic age" begin and end?
Generally, we'd say it begins in the generation or two after the apostles, so that the earliest Fathers would be men like Pope St. Clement (ca. 90 AD) or St. Ignatius of Antioch (ca. 107 AD). These are the first men to be carrying on the apostolic tradition. The end of the Patristic period varies: the title "last of the Fathers" is usually given to St. John Damascene (8th century), though I've seen some people push it out as far as St. Bernard of Clairvaux (11th century).
What sort of "authority" do the Church Fathers have?
When some Johnny-come-lately heretic would crop up with a new theory on something, there would be those who stood up to say, "This is not in line with the faith we have always known and preached"--we later recognize these men as Church Fathers. The Fathers carried on the teachings of the apostles, assuring that Scripture would be read correctly and the Gospel preached in its integrity. Typically we'd say that if the Fathers agree on something, that's a pretty solid indication that it's right. It's not as though each of them were individually infallible or anything like that. But their combined witness to the Tradition of the Church carries a great deal of weight.
Who are some of the "big name" Church Fathers I might know?
Well, to start, there are eight that are usually regarded as pretty important: the "Four Great Western Fathers" St. Jerome, St. Augustine, St. Ambrose, and St. Gregory the Great; and the "Four Great Eastern Fathers" St. Athanasius, St. Basil the Great, St. Gregory Nazianzus, and St. John Chrysostom. St. Benedict, founder of the Benedictine way of monasticism, is also fairly important, I'd say. But there are sure a lot of them!
So who are some of the others I should know?
Oh man... St. Anthony of the Desert, a huge influence for monasticism; St. Irenaeus of Lyons, a great defender of the faith against the Gnostics; St. Justin Martyr; Tertullian and Origen, who both sorta became heretics later (Tertullian, definitely), but who wrote some very important and influential works in their orthodox phases; St. Cyprian of Carthage; St. Hilary of Poitiers; St. Gregory of Nyssa; St. Cyril of Jerusalem; St. Cyril of Alexandria; St. Maximos the Confessor; too many to name!
Are there any Church Mothers?
Well, being that not a ton of women were educated in that time in that part of the world, and being that the Church Fathers tend to be clergy, and the Church has only male clergy, there weren't a lot of women who gained enough influence to garner such recognition. But there are a few who have been noted for their influence and holiness, such as St. Mary of the Desert, St. Macrina, and St. Scholastica.
Why are you so big on these guys?
I like studying the Church Fathers because of their proximity to the apostles, and their consciousness that they are carrying on the faith of the apostles in Jesus Christ. I like them because they developed the most important doctrines in the Christian faith: the Triune God and the nature of Christ. I like them because they treated the faith as a unified whole: in just one patristic homily you could find theological reflection on the Trinity, the sacraments, the nature of the Church, the need to serve the poor, and the meaning of the liturgy! I like them because of the beautiful way in which they find connections between the Old and New Testament--read Origen's homily on Genesis 22, and how the sacrifice of Isaac prefigures the sacrifice of Christ.
Anything else I should know?
That seems to suffice for now. Just go read them!
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Loving Your Everyday Enemies
I'd like to compare two situations in life.
Situation #2: When Osama bin Laden was killed, part of me was glad that SOB had finally been taken out, but another part of me knew I ought not rejoice in another person's death. As a Christian I am compelled by the Lord's command to love my enemies, and difficult as it may be to will the good for someone who would have gladly killed me given the chance, I know I must do the right thing and pray that God have mercy on his soul.
Question: Where is all my noble benevolence in situation #1? Why do I not pray for my enemies as they're endangering my life on the road?
It seems much easier to be forgiving and compassionate (or at the very least to think you're being those things) toward an enemy who is far away, nearly mythic in stature, and already dead, than toward one who is nearby, ordinary, and still living. It seems much easier to conjure up an attitude of holiness in a grand situation than in the ordinary and everyday. But the ordinary and everyday situations are the ones we face most often. Our habits are formed by how we react to situations; those repeated reactions form the shape of our character. It's like a path or a trail developing by repeated usage, like ruts in the road caused by the wheels going over the same spots. If we react in ways that are of God, that are responses to His grace, we will form a heavenly character; if we do the opposite, we will form a hellish character. In a real way, our eternal destiny will be determined by how we react to the mundane happenings in life. So what good does it do me to say "I forgive you" of Saddam Hussein or Joseph Goebbels yet revile the lady in the grocery store who brings 17 items to the "15 items or fewer" line?
G.K. Chesterton put it well once, as he tended to put all things well: "The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because they are generally the same people" (Illustrated London News - July 16, 1910). If I want my life to be such that it is Christ who lives in me (Galatians 2:20), I need to have a loving disposition when someone repeatedly sniffles instead of blowing his nose; when people say "ekkspecially" instead of "especially"; and yes, even when people change lanes without signalling. Even though that really, really bugs me.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Divine Logic
Catholics are very familiar with addressing the Blessed Virgin Mary as "Mother of God," just as we do in the Haily Mary: "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners." This is an ancient title for Mary, which was officially approved and sanctioned by the Church at the third Ecumenical Council, at Ephesus, in 431 AD. Some people objected to it then because they had a distorted view of the nature of Christ, but this should be an easy one, right? It's simple logic:
Indeed it is absurd, 'cause your logic is flawed.
There are two problems here. One is a formal problem, which may be a little complex to get into here (i.e. I'm not sure I understand it well enough to explain it), but suffice it to say that the way that syllogism is set up renders it invalid. I think it can be demonstrated with another example:
The other problem is called the fallacy of four terms. This is when a logical proposition uses one word in two different ways, so that the word does not mean the same thing every time it is used. Here is a handy example (borrowed from the Wikipedia page on the subject of this fallacy):
Just as the word "nothing" is being used in to mean two different things in this example, so "God" is being used to mean two different things in the Evangelical example.
The three Persons of the Trinity are each fully God, so that it can properly be said of each, "The Father is God, the Son is God, the Spirit is God." We say that "God" can be predicated of each person of the Trinity, and everything that can be predicated of God-ness can be predicated of each of them, e.g. omnipotence, omnipresence, eternity, etc. Think of it like this: Nick is human. Jim is human. That means both possess human nature. Everything that can be said of human nature can be said of Nick and Jim: they are rational, they can see humor, etc. Just so, saying "The Father is God" and "The Son is God" means both possess the divine nature, and everything that can be said of the divine nature can be said of each of them: they are all-loving, all-just, all-merciful, etc.
BUT the process does not work in reverse: just because Nick and Jim share human nature, and just because the Father and the Son share divine nature, does not mean that everything that can be predicated of one can be predicated of the other. Though Nick and Jim share human nature, that does not mean that Nick is Jim. And though the Father and Son share divine nature, that does not mean the Father is the Son. The Father's fatherhood is unique to Him, and the Son's place as Son is unique to Him. Likewise, since it is only the Son that became incarnate in the Virgin's womb, only the Son can be said to have been born of her, and thus Mary is said to be Mother of God only as it relates to the Son.
No one should make the mistake of thinking that calling Mary "Mother of God" makes her the Mother of the entire Trinity, and no one should think that this title makes Mary superior or even equal to God. The title simply acknowledges that the one to whom Mary gave birth is truly the God, and that the God to whom Mary gave birth did truly become human. The only way you can deny the title Mother of God to Mary is to either deny that Jesus is truly human or that Jesus is truly God. And I don't think any who call themselves Christian would want to do that.
Jesus is God.But did you know that some Evangelical Christians object to this title today? They say it gives Mary too much honor to be called the Mother of God--to that I would respond, "If the shoe fits, wear it." I also heard one Evangelical in a debate try to show that calling Mary the Mother of God is absurd by making this counter-argument:
Mary is the mother of Jesus.
Therefore, Mary is the mother of God.
"But this is absurd! No Christian believes Mary is the mother of the Trinity! See, Catholic, your logic is flawed!"God is Trinity.
Mary is the mother of God.
Therefore, Mary is the mother of the Trinity.
Indeed it is absurd, 'cause your logic is flawed.
There are two problems here. One is a formal problem, which may be a little complex to get into here (i.e. I'm not sure I understand it well enough to explain it), but suffice it to say that the way that syllogism is set up renders it invalid. I think it can be demonstrated with another example:
God is Trinity.Well, that didn't work, did it? So the first issue is the form of the argument.
The Father is God.
Therefore, the Father is Trinity.
The other problem is called the fallacy of four terms. This is when a logical proposition uses one word in two different ways, so that the word does not mean the same thing every time it is used. Here is a handy example (borrowed from the Wikipedia page on the subject of this fallacy):
- Major premise: Nothing is better than eternal happiness.
- Minor premise: A ham sandwich is better than nothing.
- Conclusion: A ham sandwich is better than eternal happiness.
The word "nothing" in the example above has two meanings, as presented: "nothing is better" means the thing being named has the highest value possible; "better than nothing" only means that the thing being described has some value. Therefore, "nothing" acts as two different words in this example, thus creating the fallacy of four terms.
Just as the word "nothing" is being used in to mean two different things in this example, so "God" is being used to mean two different things in the Evangelical example.
The three Persons of the Trinity are each fully God, so that it can properly be said of each, "The Father is God, the Son is God, the Spirit is God." We say that "God" can be predicated of each person of the Trinity, and everything that can be predicated of God-ness can be predicated of each of them, e.g. omnipotence, omnipresence, eternity, etc. Think of it like this: Nick is human. Jim is human. That means both possess human nature. Everything that can be said of human nature can be said of Nick and Jim: they are rational, they can see humor, etc. Just so, saying "The Father is God" and "The Son is God" means both possess the divine nature, and everything that can be said of the divine nature can be said of each of them: they are all-loving, all-just, all-merciful, etc.
BUT the process does not work in reverse: just because Nick and Jim share human nature, and just because the Father and the Son share divine nature, does not mean that everything that can be predicated of one can be predicated of the other. Though Nick and Jim share human nature, that does not mean that Nick is Jim. And though the Father and Son share divine nature, that does not mean the Father is the Son. The Father's fatherhood is unique to Him, and the Son's place as Son is unique to Him. Likewise, since it is only the Son that became incarnate in the Virgin's womb, only the Son can be said to have been born of her, and thus Mary is said to be Mother of God only as it relates to the Son.
No one should make the mistake of thinking that calling Mary "Mother of God" makes her the Mother of the entire Trinity, and no one should think that this title makes Mary superior or even equal to God. The title simply acknowledges that the one to whom Mary gave birth is truly the God, and that the God to whom Mary gave birth did truly become human. The only way you can deny the title Mother of God to Mary is to either deny that Jesus is truly human or that Jesus is truly God. And I don't think any who call themselves Christian would want to do that.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
On Male Modesty
Last week I read this article by Simcha Fisher humorously discussing the perils of dressing modestly in a society that does not value that particular virtue. The gist of it was: many a Catholic man will implore women to dress modestly so as to prevent the women from becoming sex objects and preserve the men from potential temptation, which is all well and good, but please recognize that this is no easy task, as this places women between the Scylla of being too hot during summer and the Charybdis of being unable to find clothing that is simultaneously sufficiently cool and sufficiently decent. The author was pleading for a little understanding from men and a little help from the fashion industry.
I heard a different sort of plea from a female friend on this same subject: as much as we hear about the need for modesty on the part of women so as to not be an occasion of temptation for men, we hear nothing about the need for modesty on the part of men so as not to be an occasion of temptation for women.
This may be a surprise to some. "Doesn't everybody know that it's men who are tempted by visuals, whereas women are tempted by... well, heck, are women even tempted at all?"
To which I respond: That's just plain silly. Now, I'm no expert on the internal workings of the feminine mind, but I hear tell that women can be tempted to lust, too. They tell me that women actually like the sight of a good-looking guy. They say that women can be tempted by the sight of a man's well-formed body.
This is the problem: a part of American Catholic culture stresses the need for modesty, but it only goes halfway--it addresses itself to women but neglects the responsibilities of men in this same area.
Now, fellas, let me ask: if you're a man with bulging biceps or panoramic pectorals, should you be wearing a tank top that would fit a 12-year old girl? If you've got legs like knotty tree trunks, should you be wearing those board shorts to the beach that cling like spandex when they get wet? Should you go jogging with no shirt on? Come on, bro, at least meet them halfway and wear a sleeveless. You might say, "Hey, not my problem if they can't handle that I look good." Great, now we're doubling up our sins: your wardrobe is not only feeding someone else's lust, but your own pride. Way to go, jackwagon.
So, gentlemen, if we are asking the ladies to dress in a way that won't be a source of temptation for us, ought we not to return the favor?
I heard a different sort of plea from a female friend on this same subject: as much as we hear about the need for modesty on the part of women so as to not be an occasion of temptation for men, we hear nothing about the need for modesty on the part of men so as not to be an occasion of temptation for women.
This may be a surprise to some. "Doesn't everybody know that it's men who are tempted by visuals, whereas women are tempted by... well, heck, are women even tempted at all?"
To which I respond: That's just plain silly. Now, I'm no expert on the internal workings of the feminine mind, but I hear tell that women can be tempted to lust, too. They tell me that women actually like the sight of a good-looking guy. They say that women can be tempted by the sight of a man's well-formed body.
This is the problem: a part of American Catholic culture stresses the need for modesty, but it only goes halfway--it addresses itself to women but neglects the responsibilities of men in this same area.
Now, fellas, let me ask: if you're a man with bulging biceps or panoramic pectorals, should you be wearing a tank top that would fit a 12-year old girl? If you've got legs like knotty tree trunks, should you be wearing those board shorts to the beach that cling like spandex when they get wet? Should you go jogging with no shirt on? Come on, bro, at least meet them halfway and wear a sleeveless. You might say, "Hey, not my problem if they can't handle that I look good." Great, now we're doubling up our sins: your wardrobe is not only feeding someone else's lust, but your own pride. Way to go, jackwagon.
So, gentlemen, if we are asking the ladies to dress in a way that won't be a source of temptation for us, ought we not to return the favor?
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Salvation History in Three Minutes or Less
For those who have trouble keeping straight in their head whether Moses was before or after Jesus, I offer this brief account of salvation history:
In the beginning (and we mean "beginning" in the broadest sense, the sort of beginning that could span billions of years), God created everything, from angels to galaxies to cockroaches, and as creation's crowning achievement, he made human beings, endowed with intellects so they could know God and wills so they could love God and bodies so they could serve God in the material world. Humanity was to live in union with God. But these very first human beings disobeyed God and did the one thing He asked them not to do: they ate the fruit of the forbidden tree, and bit off more than they could chew. Their bond with God was broken by their own actions. So God banished them from paradise, and thus began the long, sad story of human death and misery. But even then God planned, in the fullness of time, to restore humanity to unity with Him.
Part of God's plan was to form humanity by establishing a special relationship with certain human beings, making covenants with them. He made a covenant with Noah that He would never again flood the entire earth and would no longer make war on humanity. He made a covenant with Abraham that He would bring forth from Abraham a holy people, a people set apart as God's own. He made a covenant with Moses to let Israel flourish in the land He would give them if they obeyed his commandments and laws. He made a covenant with David that David's descendants would rule Israel as a shepherd tends his sheep and always enjoy God's favor. And after the time of David, through the fall of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, through the captivity of the people in Babylon, through their return to their land, the prophets, from Amos to Isaiah to Jeremiah to Malachi, continually proclaimed God's promises of His covenant, assuring the people that they would one day be fulfilled.
Let's put the contents of these covenants together: God promises to have peace with humanity; God promises to make a holy people; God promises that the people will flourish if they obey Him; God promises that the Son of David will lead this people. God fulfilled all of these covenants perfectly when He Himself came to fulfill them. God took flesh and became man in the person of Jesus Christ, and through his life, death, and resurrection, brought peace between God and humanity, made a holy people of those who believe in him (his Church), gave them the sacraments to give them spiritual nourishment and new life, and became the Good Shepherd who leads his flock.
After Christ's ascension, the apostles spread the Good News of this new and everlasting covenant between God and all humanity, as Christ had sent them to do, traveling to all corners of the known world and building up the Church. (Tradition has various apostles going everywhere from India to Spain to Ethiopia.) The apostles then appointed those who would succeed them in guiding the Church in holiness and teaching the true faith, and those ones in turn appointed successors, so that, two thousand years later, via a sort of apostolic chain of custody, we still profess with the faith of the apostles, and are taught, governed, and sanctified through the work of the apostolic ministry (bishops, priests, deacons).
God keeps His promises.
In the beginning (and we mean "beginning" in the broadest sense, the sort of beginning that could span billions of years), God created everything, from angels to galaxies to cockroaches, and as creation's crowning achievement, he made human beings, endowed with intellects so they could know God and wills so they could love God and bodies so they could serve God in the material world. Humanity was to live in union with God. But these very first human beings disobeyed God and did the one thing He asked them not to do: they ate the fruit of the forbidden tree, and bit off more than they could chew. Their bond with God was broken by their own actions. So God banished them from paradise, and thus began the long, sad story of human death and misery. But even then God planned, in the fullness of time, to restore humanity to unity with Him.
Part of God's plan was to form humanity by establishing a special relationship with certain human beings, making covenants with them. He made a covenant with Noah that He would never again flood the entire earth and would no longer make war on humanity. He made a covenant with Abraham that He would bring forth from Abraham a holy people, a people set apart as God's own. He made a covenant with Moses to let Israel flourish in the land He would give them if they obeyed his commandments and laws. He made a covenant with David that David's descendants would rule Israel as a shepherd tends his sheep and always enjoy God's favor. And after the time of David, through the fall of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, through the captivity of the people in Babylon, through their return to their land, the prophets, from Amos to Isaiah to Jeremiah to Malachi, continually proclaimed God's promises of His covenant, assuring the people that they would one day be fulfilled.
Let's put the contents of these covenants together: God promises to have peace with humanity; God promises to make a holy people; God promises that the people will flourish if they obey Him; God promises that the Son of David will lead this people. God fulfilled all of these covenants perfectly when He Himself came to fulfill them. God took flesh and became man in the person of Jesus Christ, and through his life, death, and resurrection, brought peace between God and humanity, made a holy people of those who believe in him (his Church), gave them the sacraments to give them spiritual nourishment and new life, and became the Good Shepherd who leads his flock.
After Christ's ascension, the apostles spread the Good News of this new and everlasting covenant between God and all humanity, as Christ had sent them to do, traveling to all corners of the known world and building up the Church. (Tradition has various apostles going everywhere from India to Spain to Ethiopia.) The apostles then appointed those who would succeed them in guiding the Church in holiness and teaching the true faith, and those ones in turn appointed successors, so that, two thousand years later, via a sort of apostolic chain of custody, we still profess with the faith of the apostles, and are taught, governed, and sanctified through the work of the apostolic ministry (bishops, priests, deacons).
God keeps His promises.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Approaching the Trinity: Avoiding the Extremes
This Sunday is the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity. This great feast fittingly takes place very year after Pentecost, the holy day commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the Church--after the ascension of Christ, sent by the Father, comes the sending of the Spirit, and thus we see the Triune God, one God in three Persons, made manifest to us. It's an appropriate moment to stop and consider for a moment the most mysterious of the mysteries of our faith.
I titled this post "Approaching the Trinity" because it is downright foolishness to think one can comprehend the Trinity. To understand God in His inmost being, in which unity is three-ness and three-ness is oneness? You can't get your arms around it; the best you can do is walk up to it. It's very hard to say what the Trinity is, but a bit easier to say what it isn't. In this post I'll show you some of the boundaries of thought on the Trinity (this is why the other half of the post's title is "Avoiding the Extremes"): you can know then that, if you find yourself thinking in this way, you've gone too far and are no longer thinking of God as He is.
Now, if you're approaching a mystery in which you are trying to see in what way something can be both one and three, there are two obvious ways you can err: overemphasizing the oneness, or overemphasizing the three-ness. The first of these errors often becomes a sort of modalism, while the second tends to become tritheism.
Modalism is the idea that God really, truly in His being is one, but he only appears to us in different persons; that is, God appears to us in different modes. Under this framework, the Israelites would have encountered God in "Father mode," and then God would have incarnated in "Son mode," then been present to the Church in "Spirit mode." It seems nice and tidy, and avoids that messiness of trying to explain how one God can be three different Persons, and was the sort of thought that many an early heretic fell into (and not a few modern theologians, I'd wager). BUT this way of thinking doesn't fit our data from Scripture. When Christ speaks of the Father and the Spirit, he speaks as though they are different from him; yes, he says, "The Father and I are one," but he also says, "My Father and I will come and dwell with him," and "I will send you a Paraclete." Sometimes his language denotes unity, sometimes differentiation. What's the solution? Either there is, in some way, both unity and differentiation, or we would be forced to conclude that Christ is a liar, putting on some show to make us think there are three Persons involved when really there's just one. And since all parties would agree that Christ is God, and God does not lie, the last solution does not work. So modalism can't be true.
Tritheism is the idea that God really, truly is three different beings, is three gods, but that they are all one in willing the same thing, or something like that. I think that many people today tend to conceive of God in this way, that there are these three beings each of whom we call God, but we call them one God because they just seem to get along so well. Not only that, I think most people tend to become subordinationists, too, placing the Persons of the Trinity into different degrees or ranks, one being somehow higher than the other: when they think of God, they think of the Father as being really God, and then, oh yeah, the Son, he's pretty god-ish, too, and I guess the Spirit, we can't leave him out. Unfortunately, as with modalism, you could find scriptural support for such a position, as many early heretics did, simply by pointing to all those places where the Persons are spoken of as distinct: how can Christ pray to his Father if they are one being? Well, we could stray off into complex discussions of the Trinity sharing one act of existence, or the thornier questions of what exactly we mean by "God exists" if God isn't a thing among other things in the universe, but rather the ground and source of all that exists, and other such deep metaphysical topics that I'm not sure I understand myself, so instead I'll go with something a bit simpler. Anything that is to be called "God" must be infinite. There cannot be more than one infinite, because in order to be two, there would have to be something that was not the other thing, and thus neither one would really be infinite. So, if God is infinite, God must be one; hence, we cannot understand the Trinity to be three gods.
I would hope that this could be of help in your spiritual life. If you're thinking of the Triune God either as an actor with three masks, or three guys who are just super-chummy, then you're not really thinking of God at all. To help hammer these points home, take a look at the creed attributed to St. Athanasius of Alexandria, one of the great Fathers of the Church, who defended the divinity of Christ and the integrity of the Trinity against heretics of his day. Let this be a small start in coming to know God better as He is.
I titled this post "Approaching the Trinity" because it is downright foolishness to think one can comprehend the Trinity. To understand God in His inmost being, in which unity is three-ness and three-ness is oneness? You can't get your arms around it; the best you can do is walk up to it. It's very hard to say what the Trinity is, but a bit easier to say what it isn't. In this post I'll show you some of the boundaries of thought on the Trinity (this is why the other half of the post's title is "Avoiding the Extremes"): you can know then that, if you find yourself thinking in this way, you've gone too far and are no longer thinking of God as He is.
Now, if you're approaching a mystery in which you are trying to see in what way something can be both one and three, there are two obvious ways you can err: overemphasizing the oneness, or overemphasizing the three-ness. The first of these errors often becomes a sort of modalism, while the second tends to become tritheism.
Modalism is the idea that God really, truly in His being is one, but he only appears to us in different persons; that is, God appears to us in different modes. Under this framework, the Israelites would have encountered God in "Father mode," and then God would have incarnated in "Son mode," then been present to the Church in "Spirit mode." It seems nice and tidy, and avoids that messiness of trying to explain how one God can be three different Persons, and was the sort of thought that many an early heretic fell into (and not a few modern theologians, I'd wager). BUT this way of thinking doesn't fit our data from Scripture. When Christ speaks of the Father and the Spirit, he speaks as though they are different from him; yes, he says, "The Father and I are one," but he also says, "My Father and I will come and dwell with him," and "I will send you a Paraclete." Sometimes his language denotes unity, sometimes differentiation. What's the solution? Either there is, in some way, both unity and differentiation, or we would be forced to conclude that Christ is a liar, putting on some show to make us think there are three Persons involved when really there's just one. And since all parties would agree that Christ is God, and God does not lie, the last solution does not work. So modalism can't be true.
Tritheism is the idea that God really, truly is three different beings, is three gods, but that they are all one in willing the same thing, or something like that. I think that many people today tend to conceive of God in this way, that there are these three beings each of whom we call God, but we call them one God because they just seem to get along so well. Not only that, I think most people tend to become subordinationists, too, placing the Persons of the Trinity into different degrees or ranks, one being somehow higher than the other: when they think of God, they think of the Father as being really God, and then, oh yeah, the Son, he's pretty god-ish, too, and I guess the Spirit, we can't leave him out. Unfortunately, as with modalism, you could find scriptural support for such a position, as many early heretics did, simply by pointing to all those places where the Persons are spoken of as distinct: how can Christ pray to his Father if they are one being? Well, we could stray off into complex discussions of the Trinity sharing one act of existence, or the thornier questions of what exactly we mean by "God exists" if God isn't a thing among other things in the universe, but rather the ground and source of all that exists, and other such deep metaphysical topics that I'm not sure I understand myself, so instead I'll go with something a bit simpler. Anything that is to be called "God" must be infinite. There cannot be more than one infinite, because in order to be two, there would have to be something that was not the other thing, and thus neither one would really be infinite. So, if God is infinite, God must be one; hence, we cannot understand the Trinity to be three gods.
I would hope that this could be of help in your spiritual life. If you're thinking of the Triune God either as an actor with three masks, or three guys who are just super-chummy, then you're not really thinking of God at all. To help hammer these points home, take a look at the creed attributed to St. Athanasius of Alexandria, one of the great Fathers of the Church, who defended the divinity of Christ and the integrity of the Trinity against heretics of his day. Let this be a small start in coming to know God better as He is.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Love & Lust on NCIS
Fans of TV's #1 drama, NCIS, will be well familiar with the long-running subplot of romantic tension between Special Agent Ziva David, ex-Mossad officer and femme fatale, and Very Special Agent (as he calls himself) Tony DiNozzo, ex-Baltimore cop and permanent wiseguy. Perhaps you think I could do better than to spend my time analyzing TV relationships, but I think there's an important point to be made in looking more closely at this one.
Initially, when Ziva first appears in Season 3, the relationship between her and Tony is simply flirtatious. Ziva would "slouch provocatively," as Tony accuses her of doing, or make titillating comments about her after-hours activities. Tony would leer and make the sort of comments he no doubt frequently did as a Ohio State basketball star. Any potential interest between them remained on the most superficial of levels, which is, unfortunately, where all too many TV and film romances remain.
Think about it: there are an awful lot of romantic comedies and TV shows that advertise a "love story" but present nothing more than two people either wittily or awkwardly flirting with each other, exchanging pithy one-liners full of innuendo and intrigue, with the grand culmination of a one-night stand. So superficial. So shallow. Bo-ring.
Where's the emotional depth? The sharing of hopes and dreams and fears? The intellectual discourse? The gradual deepening of care and concern by shared experience? The exclusive commitment? Too often absent. But Tony and Ziva are different.
At this point in the show, Tony and Ziva have been through a lot together, even apart from all the cases they've worked on. Tony saved Ziva's life when she was kidnapped by terrorists. Ziva supported Tony after his experience going undercover courting an arms dealer's daughter. The two have been there for each other, admitting their fears and insecurities, sharing simple moments of joy, fortifying each other in dark times. They've shown that sort of jealousy for each other that is a slight twisting of a real concern for the other's well-being and happiness, whether it was Tony regarding Ziva's relationship with "C-I-Ray" or Ziva concerning Tony's relationship with Agent Barrett. Most recently in the show, Ziva has been dealing with her father's murder, and Tony has been right there with her, from the little comforts like speaking kind words to her in her native language (perhaps he said, "I love you"?) to working with her to track down the killer, to the simple affectionate gesture of holding her hand. And that seems natural and obvious, because the show has established the strong bond between them. Tony doesn't just like Ziva. Tony isn't just attracted to Ziva. Tony doesn't lust after Ziva. Tony isn't infatuated with Ziva. Tony loves Ziva.
Too often our media feeds us the cotton candy of stories about relationships built on lust and calls them "love stories." Tony and Ziva's is a real love story. I'm glad it's on TV.
Initially, when Ziva first appears in Season 3, the relationship between her and Tony is simply flirtatious. Ziva would "slouch provocatively," as Tony accuses her of doing, or make titillating comments about her after-hours activities. Tony would leer and make the sort of comments he no doubt frequently did as a Ohio State basketball star. Any potential interest between them remained on the most superficial of levels, which is, unfortunately, where all too many TV and film romances remain.
Think about it: there are an awful lot of romantic comedies and TV shows that advertise a "love story" but present nothing more than two people either wittily or awkwardly flirting with each other, exchanging pithy one-liners full of innuendo and intrigue, with the grand culmination of a one-night stand. So superficial. So shallow. Bo-ring.
Where's the emotional depth? The sharing of hopes and dreams and fears? The intellectual discourse? The gradual deepening of care and concern by shared experience? The exclusive commitment? Too often absent. But Tony and Ziva are different.
At this point in the show, Tony and Ziva have been through a lot together, even apart from all the cases they've worked on. Tony saved Ziva's life when she was kidnapped by terrorists. Ziva supported Tony after his experience going undercover courting an arms dealer's daughter. The two have been there for each other, admitting their fears and insecurities, sharing simple moments of joy, fortifying each other in dark times. They've shown that sort of jealousy for each other that is a slight twisting of a real concern for the other's well-being and happiness, whether it was Tony regarding Ziva's relationship with "C-I-Ray" or Ziva concerning Tony's relationship with Agent Barrett. Most recently in the show, Ziva has been dealing with her father's murder, and Tony has been right there with her, from the little comforts like speaking kind words to her in her native language (perhaps he said, "I love you"?) to working with her to track down the killer, to the simple affectionate gesture of holding her hand. And that seems natural and obvious, because the show has established the strong bond between them. Tony doesn't just like Ziva. Tony isn't just attracted to Ziva. Tony doesn't lust after Ziva. Tony isn't infatuated with Ziva. Tony loves Ziva.
Too often our media feeds us the cotton candy of stories about relationships built on lust and calls them "love stories." Tony and Ziva's is a real love story. I'm glad it's on TV.
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