Office Space

Great news. I got some office space from the Department of Theology that is in the heart of downtown Helsinki, on Aleksanterinkatu 7. The Faculty of Systematic Theology, my faculty, is on the 6th floor. I'm very happy about this, for it gives me an opportunity to study in a very productive and supportive atmosphere. In addition to fulltime research I will be teaching philosophy and ethics for a small group of first-year students. This will keep me pedagogically active, so I don't totally neglect my teaching vocation.

City Magazine: Ask a Catholic

"City" is a Finnish metropolitan lifestyle magazine. Or that's the general image. In truth it's one over-extended restaurant and club advertisement with sporadic sex-related articles to lure in readers. ;-)

Anyway, recently they surprised their anti-religious readership by publishing an article "Ask a Catholic". Readers sent in questions, all were difficult ones and some a bit sarcastic, and Emil Anton, a young Catholic apologist, answered them.

Emil is actually a close friends of mine. His apologetics blog Hyviä uutisia (Good news) has hundreds of hits daily. This is quite impressive considering the articles are only in Finnish (although Emil himself speaks 20 languages, really, he's a polyglot-freak). Emil just published his first theological book, A Catholic Paul (KATT 2009).

City's article confirms my conception of him: Emil is not afraid of critical questions, even hostile ones. Here are some questions that he answers in the article:

Who gets into heaven? Do Catholics argue about it as we do in the Lutheran church?
Woman, 29

What does the "Devil's advocate" do and how can I become one? Is my gender an obstacle?
Devil's advocate(ss), 19

Why is it that we constantly hear of new paedophilia crimes committed by Catholic priests?
Gay sex legal, paedophilia a crime, 24

Every now and again one hears of Catholic priests who have started a family. How many percent of priests break their vow of celibacy?
Priests are hot, 25

How do Roman Catholics in Finland feel about Papal power? Isn't replacing God by one supposedly infallible person against both reason and the Scriptures?
Paptiti, 28

Considering the obtuse ban against contraception, why don't we see huge Catholic families ... with 16 children or so? How many children do Catholics in Finland have?
Woman, 34

According to the Catholic Church's teaching of the Eucharist, the bread and wine become Jesus' REAL body and blood. Not symbolically, that is. Do you really believe you are swallowing blood and human flesh? Wouldn't it be enough to look at it as a symbolic act of rememberence?
Gross, 24

The Catholic Church does not allow/recommend divorce in any circumstances. This can be fatal. What should you do if you spouse drinks and abuses you and it's obvious that he will not change his habits?
Glad I left, 33

What are the relations between Catholics and Jews? Are you ashamed of the Pope's actions in World War II, or was he infallible then too?
Woman, 32

I couldn't stop laughing after reading his answer to the Eucharist question. The comments are worth reading too. Although I wonder whether the most vocal atheist is actually a Christian just pretending to be an obnoxious atheist so as to downplay and embarrass the case of atheism. In case you missed the link above, the article is here.

What is Worship?

Part I, Part II, Part III

This is an article on the nature of worship. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan's five-part marathon history of the development of Christian doctrine. Reference 4:45 would mean book 4, page 45.

-- -- --

To begin with, we should be careful with liberal uses of the word “worship” when addressed to saints. Historically it has been used for a lack of a better word before “veneration” became the proper word to express a devotional disposition towards saints.

But some, like Jean de Gerson, went as far as to straightforwardly suggest “adoring” Mary and saluting her as “the goddess of love” is “not going too far” (4:41-42). This, to me, blurs the distinction between “adoration” and “veneration” and undermines the “absolute qualitative distinction” between God and man that was mentioned above.

“Superstitions and abuses” concerning, for example, the relics of saints included “trafficking” and selling them (3:179), historically called the sin of simony. “Idolatry” included treating a creature with greater honor than is his due, namely, said Socinus, “honor that is clearly divine, and requiring from him those things that can and should be requested from God alone” (4:329). It is not explained what kind of honor is “clearly divine”, so this begs the question – yet again.

But elsewhere we find an instance of what can be requested from God alone: it was “essential to avoid … the notion that saints conferred grace” or that they “could rescue souls from hell” (4:261).

But it was as essential to avoid the opposite extreme too, “the hoary objection that the veneration of the saints was idolatrous” (4:261).

The potential threat of devotional practices to the integrity of monotheistic worship has not, of course, gone unnoticed. Counter-measures against excesses of devotion have taken many forms. Above all it has been necessary to remember where the true origin of saints’ honor lay.

The opening verse of the Latin version of the last psalm read: “Praise the Lord in his saints” (Ps. 150:1, Vulg.) and what this meant, explained Bernard of Clairvaux, was that “if I discern something in the saints that is worthy of praise and admiration, I find, when I examine it in the clear light of truth, that though they appear to be admirable and praiseworthy, it is Another than they who is really so, and I praise God in his saints”

The saints’ virtues had their origin in God, not in the saints themselves (4:177). Furthermore, saints are venerated “not for their benefit, but for ours,” since “the saints have no need of our honors, nor do they gain anything as a result of our devotion” (4:176).

One Catholic friend of mine, a layman, offered a few possible symptoms, concrete examples that would imply an unhealthy disposition towards saints. Among these were: “one does not pray directly to God anymore”; “does not understand, that the role of the saints is to direct us to Jesus – see Mary’s advice at the wedding at Cana: ‘Do whatever he says’ (John 2:1-11)”; “is attached to a saint but forgets God”; and “neglects the sacraments and the reading of Scripture through which one gets to know Jesus.”

Clichtove’s treatise from the sixteenth century, The Veneration of the Saints, traced the development of the practice of veneration, Pelikan comments, “with such balance and care that, despite Protestant attacks, it continued to serve as a model” (4:260) for a considerable time. Through a proper veneration of the saints, Clichtove urged against critique, the glory of God was not diminished but magnified (4:261).

(We find an echo of this in the order of loves. The type of love that pertains to Christian love is charity or agape, divine self-sacrificing love, the word John used when he said that “God is love [agape]”. When we love, agape, our neighbor, we love them through God, who is the source of love, and we love God through them, who are images of God, provided the order of our loves is proper. In this way Christ’s two commandments form one “great commandment”. They are two sides of the same coin.)

All we can take away from the above is that “worshipful adoration” of God means worshiping him for his own sake; whereas “worshipful respect” of saints means honoring them not for their own but for God’s sake.

In light of the degree/quality distinction, this, strictly speaking really amounts to neither. They’re not different qualities of worship, nor are they worship of different degree. Rather, there’s a difference in one’s basic attitude and understanding of why one worships. Does one worship the object for its own sake or for the sake of something beyond the object?

One could say that if this – one’s basic attitude – is really what we are looking at, if this is the only distinction, it is no wonder that the “accusation of idolatry and the response to it struck at a deep and sensitive point in Christian belief” (2:127). But, as with sacrifice, one’s basic attitude may make a greater difference than we may think. To this too, then, I shall have to return later.

From degree to quality: sacrifice and “basic attitude”

Let’s recap again. Here is the crux of the problem set in a historical context:

“From Augustine’s City of God came the explanation of the fundamental difference between the cult of the saints and the Pagan practices to which Protestant critics were comparing it. The ‘adoration’ paid to the Creator pertained to him alone, the ‘adoration’ of saints was that appropriate to God’s creatures; strictly speaking, ‘the church does not adore saints … but honors them.’ Christ was the only ‘Mediator of redemption,’ but the saints were ‘mediators of intercession.’” (4:261.)

It is probably clear by now that I find this distinction of “adoration to God only” and “veneration of saints” only partly helpful. It differentiates between the object of honoring, but it does not substantiate as to how the acts of honoring differ except as far as their object goes. So Augustine’s “explanation” begs the question. Over and over again I have pressed for a difference in the acts themselves, not only in their objects.

But we haven’t said all that can be said about “sacrifice” as a constituent of worship.

I said earlier that sacrifice belonged to both worship and veneration, if – but only if – the difference between them was only a difference of degree. And in this case sacrifice had to be defined vaguely as “something” that could be offered to both God and man. But, as it is, theologically sacrifice is defined as something that belongs to God solely. And in this case, what follows is that the difference between worship and veneration is not, after all, merely a difference of degree, but of quality as well.

Everyone agrees that “the merit of salvation” (4:261) belongs solely to Jesus. There is such a sacrifice which belongs to worship only. We are talking about the sacrifice for the atonement of sins. Offering such a sacrifice to a creature rather than to the Creator would be idolatry. And asking for forgiveness of sins from a creature rather than from the true God would be idolatry.

The cult of the saints did not imply that “the church offers sacrifices to the [saints], but only to the one God, the God of the [saints] and our God,” explained Remigius of Auxerre centuries ago (3:176). The only one to whom Christ could “offer the sacrifice of his passion,” said Robert Pullen, “was the One whom he was obeying by his suffering” (3:139).

It is the “sacrifice of his passion” (3:139), the “body of Christ” (3:136). The Catholics believe that in the Eucharist the power of Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice – for Christ is not, to be sure, “crucified” each time anew – becomes manifest. (For Christians who don’t hold onto the sacrificial character of the Holy Communion such talk is likely to sound odd, if not blasphemous.)

But it is not only Christ’s suffering that is sacrificed to God only. Worship implies the “sacrifice” of each person’s life to God, understood as “a total commitment” to him only.

One Catholic friend of mine, a priest, explained what “a total commitment” meant for him. A worshipful disposition toward God includes at least the following (which, he was at pains to emphasize, can never be said of a saint): “acknowledging that the recipient of worship is the Creator and thus the rightful Lord of every creature”; “’letting God know’ that he is the rightful Lord of one’s being”; “knowing that you have been created and accepting it, and the voluntary transformation of this knowledge into worship”; “the coming together of humility and freedom in forming your inner attitude”; and “worshiping God unreservedly, that is, obeying him unreservedly.”

In Catholic tradition “worship” is clearly sacrificial in character, whereas other “types of reverence” which are directed to the saints are non-sacrificial. Of the latter, a further distinction is made between ordinary reverence (“dulia”) to saints in general and a higher form of reverence (“hyperdulia”) to Christ’s mother. This said, my friend said that it was important to remember that “hyperdulia” was not a “third” form of reverence in between sacrificial “adoration” and non-sacrificial “dulia”, but it belonged fully to the category of “dulia”.

We finally come to the end of this article. We shall close with saying something about the “basic attitude” which, as noted earlier, affects a difference between worship and veneration. But earlier I questioned its significance: I asked whether “mere attitude” can make the crucial difference.

But at the end of the day, when all outer criteria for evaluating the “purity” of one’s worship fails, isn’t one’s attitude – largely hidden from observers and fully seen only by God – at the heart of this issue after all?

Does not one’s attitude make all the difference in one’s spiritual – and moral – life? What happens outwardly is not unimportant, but it is secondary; an echo of what takes place in the soul. Isn’t one’s attitude what distinguishes murder from accident, authentic friendship from selfish manipulation – and worship of God from self-love (the story of the praying Pharisee)?

What is Worship?

Part I, Part II, Part III

This is an article on the nature of worship. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan's five-part marathon history of the development of Christian doctrine. Reference 4:45 would mean book 4, page 45.

-- -- --

Historical attempts at differentiation

Now, I must admit that as far as my central questions are concerned, Pelikan’s monographs offered me no new insights, though they frequently employed the terms “worship” or “adoration” and “veneration” – and even attempted to differentiate between them. Well, the monographs didn’t need to as they were books on the development of dogma, not books on basic theological questions. The author must presume that the readers know the answers to elementary theological questions, like “What is worship?” (or as for my other article, “Why is doctrine important?”). I didn’t. I don’t.

It truly was a challenge to sail through the 2,000 pages on the lookout for clarity, especially when the author often used “worship” and “veneration” interchangeably (see, for example, 2:96-99, 106). This was very odd. Why would he do that? I doubt that a theologian of his caliber would not distinguish between them in his private thinking, so it must be presumed that he was trying to faithfully follow the belief of his sources as it chronologically developed.

For early on in the chapter “Images of the Invisible” in the second volume we get the first (yet still minimalist) definition of worship: it is “paying honor” (2:103). The definition, though welcome, is unfortunately not very helpful, for it does not explain what “paying honor” means – and surely one can “pay honor” to both God and people, so “paying honor” belongs to veneration as well as to worship.

But later, a need for clarification and distinction becomes clearer. Eastern theologians made it clear that “it was one thing to pay proper respect [τιμή] to the saints, quite another to address worship [προσκύνησις] to them, and yet another to portray them in worshipful images” (2:112). But this distinction too, though welcomed, remains one of mere terminology, for “paying proper respect” and “addressing worship” are not defined.

Eventually the question that bothers me was raised in a straightforward manner. The italics are mine:

The orthodox “were obliged to set forth a theory of worship that would protect the uniqueness of the worship of the true God and yet permit other acts of reverence”.

When iconoclasts argued that “there is only one kind of worship, not many kinds,” the orthodox replied that “this is true of the worship of adoration [λατρευτική]” but that the worship of mortals “was nevertheless permissible by analogy and derivation from the single worship of God”. There was a “worship of adoration, which we pay only to the God who is by nature adorable”, but there was also a worship paid to “the friends and worshipers of God” for his (God’s) sake, because of “their derivative divine nature; this included both angels and saints”.

“Adoration pertained only to God, but either by love or by reverence or by law one was also bound to other to whom one paid worshipful respect. This distinction was grounded in biblical evidence about worship paid to creatures by men whose adoration of the one true God was beyond reproach.” (2:126.)

But even the distinctions above pertain only to the object of the reverential act, not to the act itself.

But as said, “adoration” in its technical sense as distinguished from “veneration”, could be offered to God alone. Saints could be venerated and even glorified, but only God could Anselm of Canterbury (who thought God was present even in the holy cross) “adore, venerate, and glorify” (3:132). One theologian said that “[e]ven though the saints are [sometimes] called ‘gods,’ they are not worshiped; only Christ is called ‘God’ and is worshiped” (3:55). “Believing in Christ,” said another theologian, meant “venerating and loving the Logos” (whereas “believing Christ” meant simply affirming “that he speaks what is true”) (3:4). If the “preexistent Son of God incarnate” was not in Jesus, “the worship of Jesus would be idolatry” (3:248).

“[W]hile the worship paid to the icons was one of honor rather than of adoration,” explained Cyril of Alexandria, “the worship paid to the Eucharist was one of adoration rather than merely of honor, because the presence in the Eucharist was that of the Lord himself” (2:291). If Christ, who was present in the Eucharist, was not true God, “there would be no reason to venerate the elements [of the Holy Communion] as the worship of the church did” (3:200). The elements were “adored”, but “such worship, addressed to a mere symbol of the body of Christ, would be idolatrous” (4:55).

Idolatry is precisely what it was (and is), according to Protestant critics of the practice.

But everyone agreed on this point, however: we are not to “adore or worship anything except the true God” (3:68) and “[t]he catholic faith is this … that we worship one God in Trinity” (3:19).

As for veneration, of all the saints Mary was “the woman who uniquely deserved to be venerated”, said Bernard of Clairvaux (3:162), one of her most ardent devotees. Her unique relationship with Christ was the basis of her uniqueness.

“Expressions of devotions” or “devotional expressions” to her (3:171), and in her honor, could include, say, the praying of the rosary and the commemoration of events in her life, like her birth, the “immaculate conception”. It was fitting that “veneration and prayer” should be addressed to her – which Pelikan calls “such worship of the Virgin” (making my head spin because of yet another “liberal” use of the word “worship”).

Not every theologian even during the Middle Ages was happy with the growing cult of Mary, but most were (3:178-179).

Yet Mary was not God. “The absolute necessity for a qualitative distinction between Christ and Mary,” Pelikan explains, “served as a restraint” (4:40; also 3:165-168) on the tendency of going too far, on “possible excesses of devotion” (3:176).

In search of concrete criteria

If find these “possible excesses of devotion” very interesting. Not from a (Protestant) polemical point of view, but from the point of view of establishing possible criteria for distinguishing between “true worship of God only” on one hand, and “idolatry” and “proper veneration of the saints” on the other. You see, there must be a way to differentiate and evaluate.

Let me expalin. In science, there is such a thing as “pseudo-theory”. Pseudo-theory is a theory or belief system, which cannot be refuted. It cannot be refuted, not because it is a “perfect theory”, but simply because it is eternally flexible: whatever you throw at it is absorbed and interpreted in its favour.

Marxism has been thought to be one such theory. Literally whatever you say in attempt to criticize it, it can respond by saying: “Well of course, that’s exactly what we should expect if Marxism was true.” If you say “White” it will reply, “Of course, white is what was to be expected.” But saying “Not-white” will give you the exact same reply, “Of course, not-white supports our theory.” How can one argue constructively with such responses?

Some social sciences, too, like sociology and social psychology, are sometimes dangerously close to being (at least partly) pseudo-scientific or mere tautology, as Alisdair MacIntyre has shown (After Virtue 1981). And the theory of evolution has been receiving a lot of flak lately for precisely its pseudo-scientific aura.

But the point here is not this or that theory of science, but only to acknowledge that the “cult of the saints” too, in order to make any sense, needs some criteria for knowing when “veneration” has become “excessive” (and in what way) or when it has turned into “idolatry” (worship of creature). Without such criteria the practice of veneration saints is “pseudo-scientific”, so to say.

“Superstitions and excessive credulity in the cult of saints” (4:248), it goes without saying, is to be shunned, but this advice is totally useless if it is not explained what such “superstitions” and “excessive credulities” could possibly be!

Well, what could they be?

What is Worship?

Part I, Part II, Part III

Some time ago I posted an article titled "What is worship?" I asked for comments and through email got several, from both Protestant and Catholic friends. The Catholics were more active. So, in response to my (slightly) increased understanding I have re-written the article. What follows in as extended, I hope both in length and in substance, version of my original article.

References are to Jaroslav Pelikan's five-part marathon history of the development of Christian doctrine. Reference 4:45 would mean book 4, page 45.

-- -- --

There was one question that loomed large in my mind as I read through Pelikan’s monographs. In fact there were two, but the second – “What is the point of dogma?” – has been discussed in a separate article. Both questions are theological questions that seem simple. Almost too simple to entertain seriously, but when further reflected on, they prove to be absolutely fundamental for a Christian, whether layman or theologian. I was hoping to find, if not proper answers to them, at least a satisfactory articulation of the questions themselves. The one I must discuss here is:

What is worship?

Indeed, what is worship? What exactly do we mean when we say we “worship” God?

We Christians believe that worship is the proper response of creature towards Creator. We believe that worship is the primary calling of man in relation to God. One could say that love is this primary calling. Yes, for our purposes here worship and love may be treated as one. Both overlap each other, and both are prerequisites for happiness in the truest sense (“human flourishing”).

We also believe that the object of worship must be the “true God”, not our construction of him, otherwise we worship and idol (in other words we are “idolizers”). Also, not only the object of worship but worship itself must be “true” or “right”, otherwise it is imperfect at best and meaningless at worst (making us unjust towards our Creator to whom, and only to whom, true worship is due).

Now, what constitutes worship? Or, put another way: How does worship towards God differ from a proper disposition towards other things, like people?

Catholics and Orthodox make a distinction between “worship” and “veneration”. The first, when applied to God is proper, and when applied to creatures (mainly to the saints and foremost to Mary) is not only improper but also a mortal si. The second, when applied to saints is proper, and when applied to God is either proper or meaningless apart from worship.

Thus far this distinction, however, is only object and of terminology. Where lays the “real” difference in the act itself, the difference in terms of “substance”, the difference that counts, the difference that can be experienced and observed in reality?

Or is what is “given” in worship and veneration the same, but just directed to different objects? Or if not, then what, exactly, is reserved for God only that is constituent to worship and not veneration?

Difference of degree or quality?

Let’s assume there is a real difference between worship and veneration. Is the difference a difference of degree or a difference of quality? To use an analogy, is veneration a mild electric current which, as it grows stronger, approaches worship (difference of “degree”), or is veneration a mild electric current and worship something quite different, like fire (difference of “quality”)?

What, then, if the difference is that of degree?

In traditional theology of love we speak of an “order of loves” (ordo amoris/caritatis). Loving objects in the proper order and in the right way is the (or a) key of right worship.

Is this backed by Scripture? It would seem so. The disciples asked Jesus of the proper “order of commandments”.

“The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:29-31.) Implicit in Jesus’ answer is an order of loves: the most important thing is to love God, and secondly, you must love your neighbor as yourself.

Since we have treated worship and love as partly interchangeable, what follows is some kind of “order of worship”. “Proper worship” would be “a proper order of worship”: God merits our highest form of reverence (which we call “worship”), and lesser things merit a lower form of reverence (which we call “veneration”). The right order is the “measure” and difference of proper worship and veneration. If the order is wrong, worship and veneration become corrupted in some sense.

So, we’ve established an order of things. What else can be said? By connecting worship to love and by establishing an order of worship we’ve found part of the answer to our question. But, the core of the question still remains: What, exactly, is worship (or love)?

Jesus provides another key when he says that: “If you love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15) and: “The person who has my commandments and keeps them is the one who loves me” (John 14:21). This is helpful. Love/worship is doing the will of God. (Here I am not going to ask if obeying, “works”, is merely the fruit of love, “faith”. I take it that they are organically connected.)

Continuing with the degree paradigm, we can add sacrifice as one constituent of worship/love. It is remembered that agape, the love which “God is”, is self-sacrificial. Now, what is sacrifice? This is a difficult question, and though I will address it here and again at the end of this article, an exhaustive answer cannot be offered.

But our presuppositions imply that if worship belongs to the degree category, and if sacrifice is constituent of worship, it follows that sacrifice also belongs to the degree category (if not also to “quality”). From this it follows that, if the “order” is right, sacrifice can be directed and offered both to the Creator and to the creature. This makes sense: humans often “make sacrifices” for each other, especially for spouses and children, and we commend them for that.

But we have to return to the sacrificial character of worship later: it might be the crux of the question.

We left many important questions unanswered. But, if the difference between worship and veneration is that of degree, at least we’ve established a few things. We know that worship, veneration, and love are all intimately connected. Their legitimacy or illegitimacy depends on the proper order of their objects. Worship of God implies doing God’s will. Lastly, worship is sacrifice (whatever that is).

So, when we say that we “worship God”, if our words are backed by our whole being, we are saying at least the following: that we love him, that we love him above all else, that we love our neighbors as ourselves, and that our love is sacrificial. We understand that we haven’t said what “sacrifice” is, and we understand that worshiping God requires knowing him (we cannot worship what we don’t know – worship and love require the right object).

Christian Churches and Same-Sex Marriage

As everyone knows, the question of same-sex marriage is dividing the Christian churches. Anglicanism may be the nearest to blessing same-sex marriage and right to adoption, but Lutheranism, at least in Northern Europe, is not far behind.

As far as the Lutheran State Church of Finland is concerned, I predict it will follow Anglicanism’s lead within the next five to ten years. This will result in a break within the church, which will be of much greater caliber than when women’s ordination was introduced (1986), because the nature of the issue is one of (biblical) morality and not of church structure.

On the other hand, the Catholic Church, the Orthodox churches, and (most of) the Free Churches (Pentecostal, Baptist, etc.) are no way near blessing same-sex marriage. Against unrelenting critique from without and within Christendom the Catholics and Orthodox have held on to male-only ordination, so it is unlikely that these churches will ever succumb to the demand to bless same-sex marriages.

My intention here is not, however, to dwell on individual churches’ position in this heated debate, but rather to (1) mention the very dissimilar approaches between mainstream Lutheranism and Catholicism and (2) discuss a possible reason for how such different approaches can exist in the first place.

At the heart of this discussion is the relationship between human nature and human action, or being and doing.

Human nature vs. human action

Catholic teaching emphasizes the difference between “homosexuality” (noun) and “homosexual acts” (verb). It is possible that in some cases a person’s “homosexuality” is a voluntary decision: not determined by an inbuilt “necessity” but more the result of repeated homosexual acts and behavior resulting in homosexuality itself which, upon retrospect, may falsely seem to have been there “all along”.

However, as far as I understand the Catholic Church’s teaching, it admits that in some cases the opposite is true: a person may, from a very young age, be sexually attracted to one’s own sex in such a profound way that there is reason to believe homosexuality, at least in these cases, is inbuilt.

So far, most would agree. But this is where mainstream Lutheranism (and by the way, secularism) parts ways with Catholicism.

Mainstream Lutheranism holds that, since (or when) homosexuality is inbuilt in one’s “nature” (part of one’s being), homosexual acts and behavior are only natural and thus should not to be condemned.

Catholicism, however, does not arrive at the same conclusion. Catholics emphasize that involuntary homosexuality (noun) is not sin; but voluntary homosexual acts (verb) are. This means that, in theory and in practice, a bishop or even the pope could be a homosexual provided he does not lead a homosexual lifestyle. Every Christian has a “cross” to carry; for some Christians their cross includes coping with a homosexual tendency.

For a modern mind that does not distinguish between human nature and human action, such reasoning sounds downright absurd. For it the idea of homosexuality itself not being sinful but homosexual acts being sinful is unintelligible and unacceptable. Either both the nature and the behavior are sinful or, which is more probable according to them, neither is sinful.

What is behind such vastly dissimilar positions as regards the relationship of human nature and human action?

Tendency to sin vs. sin proper

I think I have traced one reason that allows for such a radical disagreement. I’m sure it’s not an exhaustive reason but it may be profoundly suggestive. It involves Christian anthropology (view of man) in relation to the doctrine of justification (salvation of man), or the doctrines of sin and grace.

The Joint Declaration on the Doctrine Justification (1999) by the Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation was an ecumenical triumph. The Declaration stated that the centuries-old mutual condemnations the churches had proclaimed on each other in the aftermath of the Reformation over the question of justification did not apply to the agreement reached in this document. After many years of intense theological discussion both parties were able to proclaim that they agreed on the more fundamental parts of justification, and that the still remaining disagreements were not divisive.

The “still remaining disagreements” are of special interest here. In the “Appendix” to the Declaration added by the Catholic party are listed a few items that, said the Catholics, still divided the churches. One crucial point concerned the state of the forgiven Christian.

The Catholics stressed that, after repentance and forgiveness, a person is not sinful anymore; although the tendency to sin remains, condemnable sin proper does not exists until the person gives into the tendency to sin by actively sinning.

Traditional Lutheranism, on the other hand, stresses that the Christian is simultaneously both-sinner-and-justified; the tendency to sin that is always present is sin, just as sin proper is, although perhaps in a different way. Hence we are always sinning in one way or another, knowingly or unknowingly.

(Depending on which side one adheres to, the opposite side seems “unrealistic” and one’s one position “realistic”. Either the Catholic position is “falsely optimistic” or the Lutheran position is “falsely pessimistic”.)

Homosexuality reconsidered

Now, returning to the topic of homosexuality (noun) and homosexual behavior (verb). It seems that there is a certain parallel between it and the question of justification. The disagreement in the general question of justification allows for the disagreement in the particular question of homosexuality.

As regards justification, from the Catholic point of view the tendency to sin is not sin proper, only sinful acts are; but from the Lutheran point of view the tendency to sin is sin proper. This is the fundamental presupposition dividing the two. Hence, as regards homosexuality the Catholics are able to say that a homosexual tendency is not sin, only homosexual acts are. Lutherans, on the other hand, cannot make this distinction. For them it follows that either both the tendency and the acts are sinful or neither is.

And so, argues the mainstream Lutheran, we have two choices: (1) if the homosexual tendency is sinful, it means that the homosexual person remains sinful until he or she is healed from this tendency; (2) but if the homosexual tendency is not sinful, it follows that neither are the homosexual acts that spring from this (non-sinful) condition.

In a world where Christians are being encouraged (sometimes indiscriminately) to “love homosexuals”, it is only understandable that compared to the first grimmer option the second option looks more authentically “loving”. And so the State Churches fluctuate behind the States towards this latter “solution”.

For the Catholic Church, however, (1) and (2) are not the only options. In fact they are both false options.

For Catholics “loving the homosexual” does not differ from loving any other person. And loving a person means first acknowledging that some tendencies, though not sinful as such, are nonetheless disordered and unhealthy, and then encouraging the person not to “live out” these tendencies, but rather to seek transformation through intimate correspondence with grace.

-- -- --

Disclaimer: the “Lutheranism vs. Catholicism” juxtaposition above is not entirely accurate. Not only are there Lutherans who fall into the “Catholic” camp and Catholics who fall into the “Lutheran” camp, Northern/Western Lutheran churches tend to be far more “liberal” than, for example, their African sister churches. Also, as far as the question of homosexuality goes, my guess is that most Free Churches feel more comfortable with the “Catholic” position than the “Lutheran” position, even if in other questions the opposite is true.

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

-- -- --

Love as the Fulfillment of Doctrine

Simeon the New Theologian thought some monks needed to hear that “asceticism without love is in vain” (2:258). The same can be said to apply to doctrine: without love, true meaning and fulfillment of doctrine escapes us.

“Do not,” Simeon admonished his brethren, “try to describe ineffable matters by words alone, for this is an impossibility… But let us contemplate such matters as activity, labor, and fatigue… In this way we shall be taught the meaning of such things as the sacred mysteries” (2:258).

Just as doctrine is incommunicable apart from liturgy, doctrine is incommunicable apart from love. Love in action is the most appropriate way to articulate a truth that defies positive verbal formulation.

The “doctrinal explanations” of scholastic and speculative theology cannot do justice to mystical theology, because the ecstatic love that “consists in the experiential perception of the union of the soul, with God as its supreme object and goal, can in no way be communicated [tradi] through doctrine,” as Gerson put it (4:65).

Still it is essential to remember that there exists a tradition that does not separate, though it may distinguish between, “scholastic theology” and “mystical theology”; I hope to cling to this tradition. Doctrine needs to have experience as its “companion” (4:65).

But doctrine can “protect the experience”. For exacmple, as in the case of the mystical experience of union with God which, on the subjective level, can sometimes compromise the uniqueness of both God and the individual person (4:66). In this sense “mere practice” isn’t sufficient either (5:151-152). The truer the theology, the truer the experience.

However, in another sense the “right order of things” is “first do, then teach”, to quote Bede (3:13), for as earlier theologians have said, practice was the basis of theory. Gregory of Nazianzus’s epitaph of Basil the Great read, “his speech was like thunder because his life was like lightning” (5:55). This has served as a good guiding line for those who have wanted to hold on to the right relation between doctrine and life: thunder follows lightning.

Maximus distinguished between “commandments” and “doctrines”, and said the former were the prerequisites for the latter (2:8-9). Whatever the precise nature of the relation, at least this much is sure: the connection between orthodoxy and moral obedience has always been “a close one” (3:24).

Isidore of Seville’s comment about faithful preachers serves as a salutary model for all Christians in all times: “a shining example both in doctrine and in life,” for “the former without the latter made a man arrogant while the latter without the former made him useless” (3:13).

It is a shame to end this essay in a paradoxical accent. But the nature of things has not permitted any other way.

“The invisible things of God,” according to Hugh of Saint-Victor, “can only be believed, but cannot in any way be comprehended.” They transcend all analogy and likeness, whether of soul or of the body, and therefore “their very substance is the faith by which they are believed” (3:215). Or, as Balduinus said, faith was “the certain apprehension of unchangeable truth”, a comprehension that “exceeds all the experience of the senses and transcends all the conjectures of human reason” and that deserved to be called “knowledge” in the fullest sense (3:215).

Jean the Gerson’s approach was: “seek, through reasons based on the true faith, to understand the nature of God” and at the same time “hold principally to the love of God … without lofty inquiry” (4:63).

Doctrine is inadequate and inevitable; I must not inquire and yet inquire: Hier stehe ich und kann nicht anderes.

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

-- -- --

Liturgy as the Fulfillment of Doctrine

There may be satisfactory answers to the questions in this essay, most of which have been left open. Some answers may even be expressible in words (the topic of the previous post)!

Whatever the case, it must be admitted that even the best answers and formulations do not suffice. This is consoling, for I am lacking the best answers and formulations.

For, as it is, undoubtedly some “nuances”, say, of christology are unintelligible to us “simple” people. But fortunately what is said of icons applies to liturgy in general: they are “books for the illiterate” (2:132). When words fail us, liturgy and love in action take over and fulfill what mere words, by themselves, were never meant to fulfill.

Throughout Pelikan’s monographs liturgy has been a main source (see e.g. 2:6); and throughout my essays I have mainly ignored it, as well as the “powerful monastic movement” (2:5-6) and several other important and intriguing elements in the history of the development of Christian doctrine. But now liturgy comes into play.

Earlier it was said that the central obligation of the church is the “communication of what has been granted” it (2:31). Liturgy (worship) is uniquely “the summit toward which the activity of the church is directed and at the same time the fountain from which all her power flows”, as was stated at the Second Vatican Council (5:295).

Maximus’s reminder of the words of Scripture can be considered valid to theological words, too: “every word … is a forerunner of the more perfect word to be revealed … in an unwritten way in the Spirit” (2:31). “The heart” of all major churches, not only of the Syrian Jacobite Church to which this Hage’s expression originally refers to, “beats in its liturgy” (2:51). And Nicephorus’s formulation of the liturgical action of “their priests” can be generalized to encompass all liturgical action and participation: “they express the form of the orders of being that transcend this world” (2:134).

Worship has a special function in “theology”, for it can convey the knowledge of the unknowable (2:135). Liturgy is “participation in divine mysteries” and “completely manifest knowledge” (2:136).

Some dogmas are always “liturgical” rather than “dogmatic” in their fundamental character. Such a dogma, preeminently, has been the Atonement (2:137-138), even more so than the doctrine of the Incarnation (5:268). These belonged more appropriately to the “rule of prayer” articulated in the ritual rather than the “rule of faith” articulated in dogmatic theology (1:339).

Although it is true, as Newman said, that all dogmas and creeds “have a place in ritual, they are devotional acts, and of the nature of prayer, addressed to God,” (5:268) whatever the metaphors employed to the doctrine of atonement – satisfaction, deification, sacrifice – they all “spoke in the accents of worship” (3:129-144).

And as for the Holy Communion or Eucharist, perhaps “no theological theory … can adequately express this mystery, which is best apprehended by and through the worship of the church” (5:298).

Everything comes together in liturgy. Pelikan summarizes: “The place that brought together the scholarly exegesis of Scripture and the devotional recitation of Scripture, the technical dogmatic vocabulary of the erudite and the inarticulate affirmation of the simple, was the ‘melody of theology’ in the liturgy” (2:137).

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

-- -- --

The Relation of Words and Reality

So, there’s a difference between “real” assent and mere “notional” assent. There is also a difference between agreeing and disagreeing “really” or merely “verbally”.

Words seek to express in human language a reality that exists independent of them. Much of theological thinking – and dispute – requires as constant awareness of the relationship of words to reality. For, as history has repeatedly shown, oftentimes the thinking – or disputing – revolves around “mere words” without truly reaching the reality that is at stake.

We are told to avoid an “excessive preoccupation” with terminology (5:34), and to make sure our discussions and disputations are not “merely a dispute over words” (3:22). Anselm urged that we avoid “a quarrel about words” and stick to the substantive issues (3:230). Many stalwart theologians, such as Peter of Lombard and Duns Scotus, would consign much of theological dispute, even over the Filioque, to the category of “logomachy”, to mere dispute of words (5:34).

Everyone would agree that some differences did not pertain to dogma at all and that ways of speaking did not affect salvation. But some differences of Christology are “not merely of terminology but of doctrine” (2:57).

The controversy, for example, over whether original sin had become part of the “essence” of human nature is, most agree, “more than a quarrel over terminology” (5:35). Beyond some “methodological differences” in Trinitarian doctrine lay some “ultimate, metaphysical differences in the doctrine of God itself” (2:193). A fideist caution against logomachy can easily become an attack on doctrine itself, as in the case of Milton who questioned the entire Trinitarian orthodoxy (5:34-35).

Peter of Abelard said that although Mohammed “confesses that [Christ] is the messenger of God, the Word of God, and the Spirit of God, he does not understand or confess by the terms ‘messenger,’ ‘word,’ and ‘spirit’ what we do” (3:244).

Words are important for they point towards “something that seriously qualified” them (2:30), to the “fundamental content” of dogma (3:204).

I must, however, confess that I am lost in a hermeneutical mesh and swamped in a theological thicket.

For I cannot understand what, exactly, do we mean when we say that something is (or is not) of “fundamental content”, pertains to “the dogma itself”, conveys the “essence” of the thing, and so on.

All ways of explaining the difference between “real difference” and “difference in terms” seem to beg the question: What, precisely, constitutes this difference? How do words, even so-called “orthodox” ones, relate to the reality they seek to express (especially as this reality is, at times, nearly incomprehensible to begin with)?

Thus “clarifications” that appear (and portray) to be lucid and informative reveal, when considered more carefully, a fermenting series of serious problems of meaning and distinction. As in: “Theologians continued to recognize that the fundamental content of the dogma of transubstantiation was the doctrine of the real presence, rather than a particular philosophical definition of substance and accident” (3:204).

What an amalgam of ambiguities! What does “fundamental content” here mean? How is “real presence” less philosophical than a(nother) “philosophical definition” of the mystery?

It has sometimes been suggested that the difference between philosophical language and theological language is that theological language “contains the essence” of the reality it seeks to express. Unfortunately I have, to this day, no idea what this means.

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

-- -- --

“Hierarchies” of Doctrine

In addition for some kind of authority and criteria to settle the proper limits of doctrine, another thing seems to be certain as well. There seems to be some kind of “hierarchy of doctrines”, both as regards their complexity and their salvific value. These two may, or may not, coincide.

As far as complexity goes, the mysteries of the Trinity and of the Incarnation loom high up in the scale. One could say that their indirect, if not direct, role within the mystery of salvation is also extremely prominent. Perhaps only the doctrines of Redemption and with it the Atonement should be stressed more, although these cannot be comprehended without their proper relation to the Trinity and the Incarnation. And we should not forget the doctrines of the Resurrection or Ascension either…

Are, then, all so-called “levels of importance” fallacies?

Perhaps as far as the central Christian doctrines are concerned, one cannot set them in any hierarchy of importance. For they are all interdependent, organically springing from the same meta-mystery which is God himself and the drama of Creation.

But many have believed – and still do – a “domino theory” (5:57), according to which even the slightest alteration in orthodox doctrine has devastating effects, either immediately or eventually.

Without, for instance, a correct interpretation of the Eucharist, thought Durandus of Troarn, the integrity of the Christian faith was compromised and “the entire discipline of the Christian confession will perish” (3:185). Augustine taught that “who wants to be saved, must think this way about the Trinity” (2:191); for Bernard of Clairvaux the doctrine of the Trinity was not a speculative construct, or an exercise in dialectical subtlety, but “a soteriological necessity” (2:146); the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed stated, “This is the catholic faith; unless one believes it faithfully, one cannot be saved” (5:32).

In short, some doctrines are “a precondition for obtaining the salvation that is promised by religion”, as Harnack put it (5:268).

There are “fundamental truths” and “secondary truths”, and fundamental truth can not be ignored except “at cost of salvation” (5:57). But nearly everyone, albeit with varying criteria, affirms some form of distinction between “articles of faith” that pertained to salvation and “articles of doctrine” that do not (5:28).

The “lesser” articles of doctrine are not to be believed for salvation, but “for the integrity, connection, and neatness of someone’s theological system” (5:28). It is not wrong to defend “the truth and purity of doctrine, though within appropriate limits” (5:29).

“Faith” in these doctrines – whether salvific or non-salvific – has been defined in various ways. Faith refers either to the act of believing, to the content of what is believed, the basis of justification, to trust, to virtue, or to any combination of the aforementioned. Whatever the case, some form of distinction between “real” faith and “notional” or “conceptional” faith has always been held.

In fact, Newman uses precisely there terms. This is how he summarized his definition: “a dogma is a proposition; it stands for a notion or for a thing; and to believe it is to give the assent of the mind to it, as it stands for the one or for the other” (5:267). Therefore “to give a real assent to it is an act of religion; to give a notional [assent] is a theological act,” by which the “real assent” of religious faith takes intellectual form (5:267).

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

-- -- --

Setting the Scope of Doctrine

Church fathers of the caliber of Leo have asserted that “the birth … of Christ … passes understanding,” and therefore asked “what is it that these new scrutinizers of the secrets of God suppose that they understand” (3:17; see also 3:73).

In the face of such skepticism, whether warranted or not, one is forced to ask: Whom among us and by what criteria can acknowledge the limits and proper scope of doctrine, the line “that cannot be passed”?

It is useless to go on quoting Sirach’s admonition when, indirectly, it confirms the justification of our inner compulsion to theologize. How, then, can we decide if and when articulation of a mystery is possible and to what degree?

The outcome of Luther’s consideration of predestination, among many later Lutherans, was an admonition to “keep silent about the question as a possible source of either despair or presumption” (4:219). “Reverent silence to mystery”, in this case to the mystery of the divine will, can be considered laudable. However, if Scripture (or reason) has indeed revealed something relating to this question of God’s will (or any other question), such an admonition would “defraud the faithful”, as Calvin said it did, of something necessary and useful (4:219).

Regardless of the final answer to the particular question of God’s will, “laudable silence” does imply that there exists also such a thing as “unwarranted silence” or even “dangerous silence”. Hence, we return to the truth of the inevitability of doctrine.

In the face of “a mystery that is incomprehensible until the time of revelation,” a healthier attitude is what Calvin, quoting Nicholas of Cusa, called “learned ignorance”. The “appropriate response” to mystery is neither to pry into “what the Lord has left hidden in secret,” nor on the other hand to keep silent about “what he has brought into the open,” but to “pay attention to the word of God with awe and wonder” (4:231).

In one sense this sounds like good advice. But in another sense it does not help us one bit with our question of the scope of doctrine. For in order to follow this advice we need to, first, properly locate this “mystery”, then distinguish if it truly is “left hidden in secret” or if it “has been brought into the open”, and all on the basis of the (supposedly clear) “word of God” in Scripture. For the question remains, what doctrines fall into each of these two camps?

Theologians have tried to make a list of the “too difficult questions”. Bullinger said there are three: the two natures of Christ, the fall and the origin of evil, and the mystery of the will of God in predestination (4:231). These are certainly great mysteries, but surely not even Bullinger thought Sirach’s warning absolutely forbid the contemplation of these questions, but rather just served as a certain caution against “going too far”?

But again we are begging the question and arguing in circles, for the question remains: What is too far? And on what basis?

As of yet, we have no criteria for understanding what it means to say that “of course it is impossible to pry into ‘the inner secrets of God’ himself or to understand his mysterious will” (4:331).

One thing seems to be certain. Apart from every person's right to speculate privately, everything is pointing towards the need of some form of authority to settle these questions for the church. All easy fixes, such as a naive reliance on Sirach’s admonition or on “Scripture” and their irresponsible application, simply beg the question.

If some dogmatic questions are to be “ruled out of court” or “outlawed” (2:67) as “illegitimate” for either being “offensive” or for some other reason, there must be objective criteria and a body of authority capable of implementing these criteria. The same applies for doctrines and questions that are “legitimate”.

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

-- -- --

The Inevitability of Doctrine

Theology has to, at the same time, shun both speculation as well as doctrinal indifference, recognize its validity and limitations. It should concentrate on the task of communication.

Or as Maximus put it, “neither to concern ourselves with those things that are above us, nor to neglect the knowledge of God, but to give to others of the things that have been granted to us” (2:31). “Reverent silence” and “obliged confession” (3:220-221), not either or.

Some doctrines, such as the Eucharist or Holy Communion, have indeed produced “curious and useless investigation” and “bizarre theories” (4:53), but – and should we say precisely because of this? – faithfull expositors of Christian doctrine could (and should) not leave the problem alone.

There has always been an undulation between a form of reflection that “seeks, through reasons based on the true faith, to understand the nature of God” and a form that “holds principally to the love of God … without lofty inquiry” (4:63), although in most thinkers (including Jean de Gerson, the author of the words just quoted) both forms are present at the same time.

So, dogma was – and is – inevitable. Restoring the “proper order between doctrine and life” is the “central duty” of the church (5:55).

It is, of course, essential to “believe in Christ” personally, not only to “believe in Christ” dogmatically; but the first can not happen properly without the second, said Simeon the New Theologian (2:257).

As regards Christ, he had to be, said Simeon, what orthodox (Chalcedonian) christology had declared him to be, for only such a Christ could serve as “the exemplar” of man’s union with God (2:259). For Luther the proper understanding of the relation between the divine and the human in the person of Christ was, “not a speculative theory, but the basis for the doctrine of Christ’s work, and thus for Christian ‘consolation’” (4:160).

“Divine dogmas,” said Adlhelm, were a means of fostering the spiritual life (3:13). And true worship, reminded Nicholas of Cusa, requires a true object of worship (4:313).

But how can one know when reflection is possible and when it is not? When should we keep silent and is keeping silent impossible?

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

-- -- --

The Inadequacy of Doctrine

Doctrine relates to mystery; and mystery relates to the transcendental, what is above human reason.

Scripture, true to this fact, “spoke in a way that was not literally accurate, in order to enable its readers to grasp what transcended literal accuracy” (2:14), and “differed from later systematic theologies by refusing to [quoting Bushmill] ‘make up any formula of three or four lines’ that would attempt to encapsulate”, for example, the person and work of Christ (5:266).

“The knowledge of God was a knowledge of the unknown and the unknowable, in continuity with the witness of Scripture and the teachings of the fathers” (2:36). For Grundtvig dogmatic tradition was “not a part of the divine word separately from that which is written, but the content of Scripture itself as apprehended … by the church” (5:254).

The God to whom doctrines referred transcended philosophical categories, too.

According to Jacob of Edessa, even the terms used by the fathers and the councils – such as hypostasis and ousia – were inadequate (2:54).

In fact, all language was inadequate, biblical or philosophical or what not.

“Abstract or ‘spiritual’ language about God was not less figurative and ‘symbolic’, and hence no more literal or accurate, than concrete and physical metaphors were,” as Nicholas of Cusa recognized with special clarity (4:67). Each of the doctrines “pointed beyond itself to something that seriously qualified it”, and true “theological mystagogy” transcended dogma (2:30).

Scripture itself admonishes us: “Seek not what is too difficult for you, nor investigate what is beyond your power. Reflect upon what has been assigned to you, for you do not need what is hidden.” (Ecclus. 3:21-22).

This admonition of Sirach “not to seek what is too difficult for you” was embedded in the tradition of medieval thought (3:99). How is this possible considering that the high middle ages are considered the hay-day of speculative theology?

Upon closer look the admonition, in fact, allows a certain “investigation”. Erigena and Maximus, his spiritual master, both took it not only as an allowance but as a command to investigate (3:99). For investigation itself is, surely, the only way to know what is “too difficult” and “beyond our power” or “hidden” on the one hand, and what is “assigned to us” on the other.

Paradoxically, only by investigation can we find and set the limits of investigation.

Erigena, even as a “mystical theologian”, warns us that a conception, say, of transcendence beyond all existence, can make the name “God” meaningless (3:102). So-called negative theology which stressed the unknowability of God “refused to pry into the mysteries of the divine being”, admittedly, but it produced “a concentration on that which could be known” (2:259). It was the goal of Gregory of Palamas to protect both the unknowability and knowability of God (2:269). (Here we could ask, do dogmas pertain to what is “known” or “unknown” in God, but this is probably a false question.)

True theology is simultaneously both “negative” and “sublime” (2:32). Theology or doctrine is inadequate; but it is also inevitable.

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

-- -- --

Doctrine and Mystery

Doctrines seek to express and clarify what the church “believes, teaches, and confesses” to both its members (the faithful) and to non-members.

Doctrines should, ideally, support and guide the faithful in life, both in worship (vertical relationship) and in morals (horizontal relationship). Alterations in doctrine result in alterations in worship and morality, for better or for worse.

In this way doctrine serves as a kind of “theological map”, to use C. S. Lewis’s analogy: alterations in the accuracy of the map pertain to the sailor’s ability (or inability) to sail from harbor to harbor through seas and oceans, not only safely but also “splendidly”, if you will.

Doctrine relates to mystery. The character of their relation is at the heart of this article series. Because this relation is to some extent itself a mystery, various expressions have been suggested to capture it.

Maximus said that “dogma” (in this case of salvation as deification) “belongs to the mystery of the faith” (2:30), and doctrines were “the articulation of the mystery of truth” (2:36). According to Harnack dogmas are “doctrines of faith, formulated in concepts” and these “comprehend the knowledge of God” and present “the objective content of religion” (5:268). Erigena said that theology, understood as road to doctrine, was “human investigations” of mystery, the deep things of God (3:99), that is, “the investigation of the divine essence” (3:100).

But formulating doctrine, in other words articulating the mystery, requires the locating of the mystery first. It implies the obligation to recognize that “this is a mystery”, and then “to know it”, as Werenfels put it (3:67). This is no easy task.

Some mysteries appear more frequently among the lists of “principle mysteries of faith”. Francke regarded the problem of evil as a “mystery”; for Sturza the resurrection of the body was an “unfathomable mystery”; Scriver saw the doctrine of predestination as a “heavenly mystery”; the economy of the incarnation was a “great mystery”, said Zinzendorf; and, according to Burnet, it is above all to “the mystery of Christ upon the cross” and to Christ’s mysterious cry of dereliction that faith turned (5:67-68).

Yet of all the mysteries of the faith, the dogma of the Triune God has been, by ecumenical consent, the most fundamental and the most “sublime mystery” (5:68) -- although so-called Unitarians have (happily) dropped it.

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

This is an essay on the nature of doctrine. References are to Jaroslav Pelikan’s monographs on the development of Christian doctrine. Reference (3:241) would refer to volume 3, page 241.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

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Doctrine is “Important”

“The Christian life must begin first of all with doctrine, from which faith flows,” wrote the Anabaptist theologian Balthasar Hubmaier (4:4), and most Reformers would have agreed. Henrich Bullinger, the German-Swiss Reformer, stated his axiom: “Doctrine is the most important thing, which stands out above all others” (4:4). Luther went so far as to say that some doctrines, foremost the sacraments, were so vital that whoever erred on them, “in even one point,” was to be avoided (4:178).

The Catholics and Orthodox of course agreed on this primacy of doctrine. It was pointed out at the Council of Trent that for the Protestant Reformers, too, the primary concern was the (supposed) “wrong teaching” of the church, from which the “wrong conduct” proceeded (4:247). In stressing the importance of, say, sacramental doctrine, the Catholics could be at least as adamant as Protestants (4:293).

John Henry Newman admitted that “from the age of fifteen, dogma has been the fundamental principle of my religion; I know no other religion; I cannot enter into the idea of any other sort of religion”; and he had never had any serious “temptation to be less zealous for the great dogmas of the faith” (5:267).

Clearly, then, doctrine (or dogma, as I will use these two interchangeably) is and has always been supremely important.

In this article I will not trace the development of this or that specific doctrine, but rather concentrate on “doctrine” itself and seek to better understand its significance. Where lays its importance? Individual dogmas shall come into play only in reference to this broader question. Doctrine is defined as “what the church believes, teaches, and confesses on the basis of the Word of God” (1:1).

The central theme of this essay, as stated in the title, is “the inadequacy and inevitability” of doctrine, its inherent limits and proper scope respectively.

In order to do justice to such a broad theme I shall have to consider doctrine from various angles: doctrine’s relation to mystery; what exactly constitutes the limits and proper scope of doctrine; doctrine as a “map”; the possible “hierarchies” of doctrine; and its fuller “comprehension” and fulfillment in faith, and – primarily – in worshipful liturgy and in love in action.

Throughout the article the reader will be asked to keep in mind the question (which is entertained in this series but ultimately not answered): What is the relationship of dogmatic formulations and the reality they seek to formulate? In what way can it be said that dogma “reaches” or “conveys” the reality it seeks to articulate?

The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine

Over the next nine days I will publish a nine-part series on doctrine titled "The Inadequacy and Inevitability of Doctrine".

I know, I know: it sounds like a very boring and long series. For the majority of people, boringly long is what it probably will be. Come back in about two weeks for more exciting posts.

But for the weirdos who find the topic interesting (or for those of you who'll read just about anything to kill time or to escape obligations) prepare for a marathon series starting tomorrow.

1. Doctrine is “important”
2. Doctrine and mystery
3. The inadequacy of doctrine
4. The inevitability of doctrine
5. The scope of doctrine
6. “Hierarchies” of doctrine
7. The relation of words and reality
8. Liturgy as the fulfillment of doctrine
9. Love as the fulfillment of doctrine

Holy Communion---Wine or Juice?

It is a well known (and laudatory) fact that Christ's first miracle was turning water into wine. It also a well known (and lamentable) fact that throughout history some Christians have been trying to un-do this miracle by turning wine back into water.

One expression of this “undoing the miracle” is the rejection -- against the 2000 year Christian tradition -- of using wine for the commemoration of the Last Supper which we call the Holy Communion, the Lord's Supper, or the Eucharist.

(The greatest of Christian heresies, Islam, went even further: it forbid wine altogether. I am using the word “heresy” in the technical sense: Mohammed, in his conversion from heathenism to Islam, learned his knowledge of “Christianity” from heretical monks and incorporated Jewish elements into his faith.)

The driving force behind an attempt to “undo Christ's miracle” is, unsurprisingly, not altogether Christ-ian. In some instances it echoes an anti-Christian prejudice. Although Scripture speaks univocally against misuses of wine, it is as unanimous in its approval of wine itself. Christ himself, our Lord and God incarnate, both made and drank wine; Paul adviced Timothy to mix wine with his drinking water to help him recover from some stomach problems; and so on.

I hope there's not too many unfriendly critics who think that I and other Christians who object to using juice instead of wine are “upset just because they can't have alcohol”.

The “paradox of puritanism” is that by denying something that is actually justified, the negative consquences outweigh the positive.

One negative consequence of adopting juice instead of wine is -- and this is pretty hard to explain but I'll try -- the making of the Holy Communion even less meaningful and profound than it already is in some churches.

It sends the message: We can change our customs, especially our customs that deal with bodily functions and outward signs, however we want to -- because after all, the Christian life is “spiritual”, not material. The Holy Communion is “only spiritual”, baptism is “only spiritual”, and so on.

This is not Christian at all. According to Christianity, a man has -- no, he is -- a soul and a body. You can distinguish between them conceptually, but in reality they are inseparable, man is a composite being, not a dualistic being. The soul is not the “good” part and the body the “bad” part, as Hinduism, Buddhism and early Christian heresies (Gnosticism and Manicheanism) teach. Man was made “good”, body and soul.

The “flesh” (as opposite of “spirit”) has never in authentic Christian understanding referred to the body -- “flesh” refers to fallen man in his totality, body and soul, insofar as he is opposed to God.

Similarly, the “world” (as opposite to “the kingdom of God”) has never in authentic Christian understanding referred to the creation -- “world” refers to the structures in creation and our societies insofar as they are against the will of God.

Of course, if a church does the other extreme -- replaces wine not with juice but with vodka -- the results would be as catastrophic. But in a different way: instead of Muslim puritanism we'd have alcoholism to deal with. Forced absolutism and alcoholism both spring from a certain “abuse” of alcohol.

So, as with everything, better just to follow Christ and avoid both extremes.

What is Worship?

I thought that a Sunday would be a proper day to ask a basic question that pertains to all Christians, whether layman or theologian. The question is:

What is worship?

As I read volume two, The Spirit of Eastern Christendom, of Jaroslav Pelikan's five-part history of the development of Christian doctrine, there were two questions that loomed large in my mind. The other one which I won't discuss here was “What is the point of dogma?” Both this and “What is worship?” are theological questions that seem simple. Almost too simple to entertain seriously, but when further reflected on, they prove to be absolutely fundamental for every Christian. I was hoping to find, if not proper answers to them, at least a satisfactory articulation of the questions themselves.

Indeed, what is worship? What exactly do we mean when we say we “worship” God?

We Christians believe that worship is the proper response of creature towards Creator. We believe that worship is the primary calling of man in relation to God. One could say that love is this primary calling. Yes, worship and love may be treated as one. Both overlap each other, and both are prerequisites for happiness in the truest sense (“human flourishing”). And happiness includes (but is not limited to) eternal happiness.

We also believe that the object of worship must be the “true God”, not our construction of him, otherwise we worship and idol (in other words we are “idolizers”). Also, not only the object of worship but worship itself must be “true” or “right”, otherwise it is imperfect at best and meaningless at worst (making us unjust towards our Creator to whom, and only to whom, true worship is due).

Now, what constitutes worship? Here’s a sub-question: how does worship towards God differ from a proper disposition towards other things, like people?

Some distinctions

Catholics make a distinction between “worship” and “veneration”. The first, when applied to God is proper, and when applied to people (mainly to saints, “our forefathers in faith”) is not only improper but also a mortal sin. The second, when applied to saints is proper, and when applied to God is either proper or, when not accompanied by worship, meaningless.

Thus far the distinction, however, is only of terminology. Where lies the “real” difference, the difference in terms of “substance”, the difference that counts, the difference that can be experienced and observed in reality? What, exactly, is reserved for God only that is constituent of worship and not of veneration? In other words, what is the heart of worship?

Is the difference between worship and veneration a difference of type or a difference of quality? To use an analogy, is veneration a mild electric current which, as it grows stronger, approaches worship (difference of “quality”), or is veneration a mild electric current and worship something quite different, like fire (difference of “type”)?

If the difference is that of quality, “proper worship” would be a “proper order of worship” – God merits our highest worship, and lesser things merit lower worship. In traditional theology, such an “order of loves” (ordo amoris) is very common. But if the difference is that of type, we need to clarify more precisely what these two types – worship and veneration – are. I will not discuss the type option here.

An “order” of loves and worship

What, then, if the difference is that of quality?

We have treated worship and love as nearly synonymous. What follows is an order of love. Loving objects in the proper order is the (or a) key of right worship.

Is this backed by Scripture? It would seem so. The disciples asked Jesus of the “proper order of commandments”. “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:29-31.)

Implicit in Jesus’ answer is an order of loves: the most important thing is to love God, and secondly, you must love your neighbor as yourself. The right order is the “measure” and difference of proper worship and veneration: if the order is wrong, worship and veneration become corrupted in some sense.

We must remember that the type of love we are here discussing is charity or agape, divine self-sacrificing love, the word John used when he said that “God is love [agape]”. When we love (agape) our neighbor, we love them through God (who is the source of love) and we love God through them (who are images of God) provided the order of our loves is proper. In this way these two commandments form one “great commandment”. They are two sides of the same coin.

Faithfulness and sacrifice

So, we’ve established an order of things. What else can be said? By connecting love to worship and by establishing an order of love/worship we’ve found part of the answer to our question. But, the core of the question still remains: What, exactly, is love (or worship)?

Jesus provides another key when he says that: “If you love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15) and: “The person who has my commandments and keeps them is the one who loves me” (John 14:21). This is helpful. Love (or worship) is doing the will of God. (Here I am not going to ask if obeying, “works”, is merely the fruit of love, “faith”. I take it that they are organically connected.)

Continuing with the quality paradigm, we can add sacrifice as one constituent of love/worship. It is remembered that agape is self-sacrificial. Now, what is sacrifice? This is a difficult question, and I will not attempt an answer here. But one thing can be confidently stated. Our presuppositions imply that sacrifice belongs to the quality category (not to “type”), because sacrifice is a constituent of love/worship.

From this it follows that, if the “order” is right, sacrifice can be directed and offered both to the Creator and to the creature. This makes sense: humans often “make sacrifices” for each other, especially for spouses and children, and we commend them for that.

Summa summarum

We left many important questions unanswered. But, if the difference between worship and veneration is that of quality, at least we’ve established a few things.

We know that worship, veneration, and love are all intimately connected. Their legitimacy or illegitimacy depends on the proper order of their objects. Love/worship of God implies doing God’s will. Lastly, love/worship is sacrifice (whatever that is).

So, when we say that we “worship God”, if our words are backed by our whole being, we are saying at least the following: that we love him, that we love him above all else, that we love our neighbors as ourselves, that we live by his will, and that our love is sacrificial.

We understand that we haven’t said what “sacrifice” is, and we understand that loving God requires knowing him (we cannot love that what we don’t know – worship/love requires the right object).

Any extra light from Pelikan?

Now, I must say that The Spirit of Eastern Christendom offered no new insights to the question of worship. Well, it didn’t have to as it was a book on the development of dogma, not a book on basic theological questions. The author must have presumed that the readers know the answers to elementary theological questions, like what is worship. I didn’t. I don’t.

In the chapter on icons, “Images of the Invisible”, Pelikan uses “worship” and “veneration” interchangeably (see e.g. pp. 96-99, 106). That is very odd. Why would he do that? I doubt that a theologian of his caliber would not distinguish between them in his private thinking, so it must be presumed that he is trying to faithfully follow the belief of his sources as it chronologically developed.

For early on in the chapter we have the only (yet still minimalist) definition of worship: it is “paying honor” (p. 103). The definition, though welcome, remains a mere verbal one and begs the question: What, then, is “paying honor”? But later, a need for clarification and distinction becomes clearer. Eastern theologians made it clear that “it was one thing to pay proper respect [τιμή] to the saints, quite another to address worship [προσκύνησις] to them, and yet another to portray them in worshipful images” (p. 112). But this distinction too, though welcomed, remains one of mere terminology.

Attempted articulation

Eventually the question that bothers me is raised in a straightforward manner. The italics are mine.

The orthodox “were obliged to set forth a theory of worship that would protect the uniqueness of the worship of the true God and yet permit other acts of reverence”. When iconoclasts argued that “there is only one kind of worship, not many kinds,” the orthodox replied that “this is true of the worship of adoration [λατρευτική]” but that the worship of mortals “was nevertheless permissible by analogy and derivation from the single worship of God”. There was a “worship of adoration, which we pay only to the God who is by nature adorable”, but there was also a worship paid to “the friends and worshipers of God” for his (God’s) sake, because of “their derivative divine nature; this included both angels and saints”. “Adoration pertained only to God, but either by love or by reverence or by law one was also bound to other to whom one paid worshipful respect. This distinction was grounded in biblical evidence about worship paid to creatures by men whose adoration of the one true God was beyond reproach.” (p. 126.)

Yet the exact difference between “worshipful adoration of God” and “worshipful respect of saints” remains unclear. All we can take away from these clarifications is that “worshipful adoration” of God means worshiping him for his own sake; whereas “worshipful respect” of saints means worshiping not for their own sake but for God’s sake.

In light of the type/quality distinctions above, these really amount to neither. They’re not, strictly speaking, different types of worship, nor are they worship of different quality. Rather, there’s a difference in one’s basic attitude and understanding of why one worships. Does one worship the object for its own sake or for the sake of something beyond the object?

Question left unanswered

If this is really what we are looking at, it is no wonder that the “accusation of idolatry and the response to it struck at a deep and sensitive point in Christian belief” (p. 127).

Cyril of Alexandria rejected any “adoration or worship of them [images of saints]” (p. 284) but from this we cannot make out whether Cyril took adoration and worship to mean different things or the same thing (in either case, he rejected it). And since no explanation has been offered as to how the different kinds of worships differ concretely (mere use of different words does not count), even these potentially helpful passages shed no new light on the problem:

“The worship paid to them [images] was an act of ‘honor [τιμή],’ not one of ‘adoration [λατρεια]’” (p. 291). “[W]hile the worship paid to the icons was one of honor rather than of adoration, the worship paid to the Eucharist was one of adoration rather than merely of honor, because the presence in the Eucharist was that of the Lord himself” (p. 291).