A poem of despair and hope.
“Watchman! What of the Night?" is the title of one of my poems. It appeared in the May/June 2023 issue of Modern Reformation. The poem is available online on the magazine's website. You can read it by clicking on the picture below.
 |
| The following excerpt is from chapter 16 of Conciliatory or Irenical Animadversions, by Herman Witsius (1636–1708). |
That it is good and holy that in the study of good works we have a regard also to our own salvation
VII. Secondly, a mercenary baseness is certainly unworthy of the high born sons God; but their heavenly Father does not forbid them to have any regard to their own advantage in the exercise of holiness. He not only permits, but also willeth "that by a patient continuance in well-doing, we seek for glory, and honour, and immortality;" and to them who do so, he will render eternal life (Rom. 2:6-7). And though he requires us to love him above all, yet he does not command that all love to ourselves be entirely banished. For we are not bound to love our neighbour, and not to love ourselves. It is also just that the study of holiness be excited in us by this love to ourselves. For, pray, what is the end of all these promises, whereby God hath commended his precepts to us, but that stimulated with a desire after them, we might the more cheerfully obey him? Not to love the benefits promised, is to contemn the goodness of God who promiseth. Not to be animated to piety through a desire after them, is to abuse them to a purpose quite opposite to that for which they were designed of God. David himself confessed that the precepts of God were far more desirable than gold, yea, than fine gold; and sweeter than honey, and the honey-comb, even on that account, because in keeping them there is great reward" (Ps. 19:10-11). And the faith of Moses is commended "because he had respect to the recompence of the reward" (Heb. 11:26). Yea, that faith is required of all who "come unto God, whereby they must believe that he is the rewarder of them who diligently seek him" (v. 6).
Provided that love to ourselves be properluy subordinate to the love of God
VIII. But at the same time this love to ourselves ought to flow from the love of God, be subordinate, and referred to it. It is not lawful to love God for our own sake, so as to consider ourselves as the end, and him as the means, by the enjoyment of whom we are rendered happy. But since we are the property of God, whom we ought to love above all. things, therefore we are also bound to love ourselves in relation to him. Our good is therefore to be sought, that in it we may taste the sweetness of the Lord, and that his peculiar treasure may be so much the more increased. Thus love to ourselves shall at last be absorbed in the ocean of love Divine. The subject itself obliges me to repeat here what I observed elsewhere.
That godliness is profitable to all things
IX. Thirdly, neither is it agreeable to the perpetual tenor of the Scriptures, that we reap no real advantage from duties rightly performed; that no evil is averted by prayers, fastings, and penitence; and that neither peace of conscience, nor joy of heart, are promoted by the exercise of virtue. Certainly this is contrary to the Mosaic doctrine, Deut. 6:18, "Do that which is right, that it may be well with thee." Add verse 3: "He who followeth after righteousness and mercy, shall find life;" "righteousness, and honour,” saith the writer of the Proverbs, chap. 21:21. Paul tells us that "godliness is great gain, and that it is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come" (1 Tim 4:8), and that "good works are good and profitable unto men" (Titus 3:8). [Witsius also references 1 Tim. 6:6, "But godliness with contentment is great gain."]
When we believe the Scripture asserting all these things, we do not believe that the exercises of virtue or religion merit any such thing, or that the efficacy of these duties is so great, that of themselves, setting aside the divine blessing, they can procure benefits, or avert calamities: but we believe, so great is the goodness of our heavenly Father, that for Christ's sake, he liberally rewards the sincere endeavours of his children, who rejoice to please him. "For God is not unrighteous to forget your work and labour of love, which ye have shewed toward his name" (Heb. 6:10).
Joshua, tell us a bit about yourself and your research interests.
I grew up in the broader St. Louis area. I was a military brat as they say. I went to school at Missouri Baptist University. From there I went on to study at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, then to the University of Bristol to study under Oliver D. Crisp (one of the forerunners of the Analytic Theology movement). During my doctoral work I focused on the relationship between human constitution and the origin of souls. This has probably been the area that has motivated the most interest across the disciplines of theology, philosophy, and science and religion. However, I have also done some work that motivates the new renaissance in idealism for philosophers and theologians. Additionally, I have research interests in science-engaged theology, theological anthropology, the beatific vision, Reformed theology, and atonement theology. My first book is a constructive theological exploration of Cartesianism in constitution and the origin of the soul studies. My second book is An Introduction to Theological Anthropology: Humans, Both Creaturely and Divine. My third book is The Creation of Self: A Case for the Soul, which makes an argument for the soul and that God is required as an explanation, even causal explanation.
What have you worked on that feeds into The Creation of Self?
Aah, yes, well I’ve been thinking about the philosophy of mind, the mind body relation, and the nature of consciousness since my dissertation. I had an intuition about a particular view of the soul that yields not only theism, but yields creationism of souls where God is the direct and immediate cause of souls. Of course, this text draws more heavily from my philosophical works, but it is also theological in nature. It is a piece of natural theology, which provides an important contribution in the context of Consciousness arguments for God. At its heart, however, this is a deeply theological work. It is theological in the sense that it points the reader to God as the explanation for souls.
What is the big picture in The Creation of Self?
The big picture has been suggested, but really it is all about the self as soul, which is ultimately theological in nature. It is not only controversial to talk about the soul and to defend it, but to argue for God. In fact, the argument that I make here raises additional questions about God’s relation to the world as well as how we understand the scientific method. Biological evolution, whatever you think of it or your commitments are, is insufficient to bring about individualized or personalized soul that is you. This is of course a ripe time to think about this as there is a lot going on in terms of consciousness studies, AI, soul studies, and so on. There is something about you that makes you you that is more than the generalities that you have. And, this is precisely why recent proposals of the self as a social construction, personality traits, animal body, the brain make a proposal like this controversial but also important. There is something about persons that is deeply theological.
What is a soul?
A soul is a substance of a certain kind. Substances are property bearers, they have some independence from other particulars or objects. They are the bearers of mental events and are characterized as the type of things that make choices, has thoughts, experiences, and is characterized more by qualities than quantities.
What are the main reasons you believe in the soul?
There is a question about the marks of the mental. I think these features require not only linguistic dualism (as different descriptions of the material), but property dualism and almost certainly logically presuppose a distinct type of substance of those features. These features include intentionality, privacy of the mental, introspection. These are features that seem, if they are true, to logically require a new substance—a thing that owns them, binds them, and is unlike that of the brain. Of course there are some who take the mental seriously who reject what you might call reductive physicalism, identity physicalism or eliminativism, and presume that the subject/individual remains material but the mind as a set of properties/capacities is totally new in nature. I think this is questionable and doesn’t work for a variety of reasons. One of the reasons is that the very modal intuitions we have about the possibility of survival, the distinctions between the substances, zombie and ghost intuitions require or, at a minimum, are best explained by a soul along the lines that I have described already.
What brand of the soul do you affirm in The Creation of Self?
I affirm a brand often called Neo-Cartesian substance dualism in contrast to what some call hylemorphic dualism, Thomistic dualism or Kantian dualism.
What is substance dualism?
Substance dualism, generally speaking, is the view that there exist two types of substances that are the bearers of distinct types of properties, the carriers of specific capacities and powers. These two include body and soul, but there are a variety of ways to make sense of them. My brand says that I am my soul or the core of me is my soul that has a body and interacts in deep and intimate ways with the body.
What version of the mind-body are you affirming and how might this impact how we see God and how we do theology?
Neo-Cartesianism is a position not only on the soul but on the mind-body relation. I am strongly sympathetic to it, but that is not the main focus of the argument in the book. The argument of the book is more focused on the nature of the soul as an individualized thing, a substance of consciousness.. That being said, it seems to have implications for the mind-body relation (by mind I am largely taking as synonymous with the soul, but you might think of it more as a power of the soul). One of the implications is that the soul is so radically distinct from the body that it lends itself to not the sort of view called hylomorphism, at least not as it is normally construed along form-matter ontology, powers ontology or something of the sort. Rather the two substances are so different that they do not overlap, even if they are functionally integrated and fit for the other. But as John Foster noted: at one level there do seem to be reasons to affirm the functional integrity of the body and soul, yet there is not the scientific precision that can be given to it in say the way that you might give to brain mapping and explaining what is taking place when neurons fire and where they fire spatially. There is, in other words a reality there that we experience, but not one that should be construed along empirical lines. And, at one level the relation will point us back to God as fitting the two for the other. There is, then, a seeming of arbitrariness for some.
What do you see as the relation between philosophy and theology and how does this map onto history?
I see them as complimentary and respecting certain domains of knowledge. In a representative way as we see in the older distinctions of natural knowledge and supernatural knowledge, although I prefer the latter to be called ‘particular’ knowledge but still have some place for supernatural with reference to the beatific vision. There is some overlap between the domains and while I am open to the possibility of a demonstrative natural theological argument for the Trinity I think that it is unlikely to be a strong argument and should be reserved for particular revelation. We can be sure that the Trinity is true based on particular revelation. That being said I would include other categories and topics as properly a part of particular revelation (e.g., sin, aspects of human nature, salvation, ecclesiology). While these subjects should be rigorously thought through with the categories of reason, good metaphysics, they are properly located as arising out of particular revelation. We can use outside tools to illuminate our understanding of particular revelation or even interrogate it, but natural revelation does not override or replace particular revelation. We need both. A part of what is so distinctive about particular revelation is the ‘particular’ truths it gives to us about God, namely the truths that we find in the concrete historical person Jesus Christ. It is here that we find a particular revelation that is, arguably, Sui generis and not properly a piece of natural revelation (although some have considered history a part of natural revelation in a way that seems to prioritize the one over the other, someone like Wolfhart Pannenberg).
Do you discuss the modern question of subjectivity in your book?
Yes, in a round about way. The notion of subjectivity permeates the book and considers the unique contribution that you and I as individualized substances or subjects of consciousness make to the world. We are not just objects to be studied or harnessed empirically. We are more than that! And, these facts are not beholden to empirical methods. And yet these are the most important and interesting facts in the world. But if we give ourselves over to naturalism, we stand to lose not only clarity but insight that is given through persons, wisdom, traditions, and so on.
How does this relate today, to modernity, and to the past?
It relates to modernity insofar as the question of subjectivity, the particular, personhood took up more interest by the philosophers. This is clearly seen in existentialism and the various problems of particularity that it raises. The question of whether or not machines could become like us is alive and well in modernity leading to today. Just think of the classic story of Frankenstein, which has become a more interesting and in the minds of many a live possibility due to artificial intelligence.
How does this relate to the history of philosophy?
In part, I think it forces us to consider the nature of personhood, subjectivity more carefully.
How does this relate to the history of Christian theology?
Related to my previous answer, theology must wrestle with the particularity of persons and the implications that has in terms of who we are and how we relate to God and the rest of creation. These are not objectified facts or commodities that can be handled or should be handled simply as scientific truths ready to be empirically verified or studied in a lab.
Did anyone in Church history affirm the sort of view you are advancing?
Well, yes of course. I consider this view to be largely consistent with the Plato-Augustine-Calvin tradition and later taken up by Descartes in distinctive ways. After Descartes, of course there is a wide and varied reception of Descartes in what is known as the Cartesian tradition. There is of course a minority report of Cartesians in the Reformed tradition (i.e., they didn’t all follow Thomas on the question of human constitution).
What are the main views you have as targets for criticism?
The main views that I aim at include all bottom up theories of how it is that humans, particularly, souls come into existence. Specifically, I have might eye to all naturalistic theories of subjects including the variant physicalisms, emergentisms, and more recently panpsychism.
Do they map on to the history of philosophy and theology?
Yes, all of them (except maybe for emergentism as it is sometimes construed) finds support or traction in history.
Are there similar insights into the history of Christian theology that impact how you think about these fringe views of the mind-body?
Yes, well, nearly everyone in the history of theology affirmed some aspect of Divine creationism because they saw the soul as ontologically unique and needing a distinct explanation. Building on that insight, its important to point out the truth of Divine causal explanations in our contemporary setting when the soul is regarded by many philosophers as passé.
What about evolution? You mention it often in your book. Though I can’t speak for all Christians, I ask you this question knowing I speak for many Christians who would think about buying your book. I found the evolutionary hypothesis untenable. Scientifically, ministries such as Creation Ministries International and Answers in Genesis have gathered enormous empirical evidence against it, whether one likes it or not; exegetically and theologically, I think of Douglas F. Kelly’s impressive Creation And Change: Genesis 1:1–2:4 in the Light of Changing Scientific Paradigms, just to mention one example. What would you say to these readers?
Just to be clear, the aim of the argument isn’t to affirm Young Earth Creationism, Old Earth Creationism, or Evolutionary Creationism. My aim is more refined and could be compatible with any of the views listed. I specifically go after views of the mind that consider evolutionary mechanisms and the material worked with as sufficient for the arising of persons in biological history. To get more into the nitty gritty of biological development across history is a different issue and while there are connections, I don’t think the argument should exclude any of the parties from reading and engaging with the books argument. If anything, I show that evolutionary creationism requires a bit more explanatory resources and Divine action must be brought into the fore a bit more than their paradigm may allow.
So, you are saying that, even assuming a picture where evolution happens (which is assumed by the views you are opposing), those views still would not be able to account for the existence of the soul and its workings?
Yes, precisely. That’s the point. Even if it were true, then it would not follow that souls could emerge in that climate. Their mechanisms, laws, and so on, are not sufficient explanations for the origination of souls or persons as immaterial substances of consciousness. They just are insufficient quite apart from what you think about the history of biological evolution.
In conclusion: what do non-Christians and Christians gain from reading The Creation of Self?
Non-Christians are forced to take seriously the mind, the sufficiency of science, and the implications this has toward theism. There are important facts that are simply not present or foregrounded by empirical sciences. They are insufficient for arriving at knowledge of the world. We need the Creator God who is a designer of the world and we find a paradigm in the soul-body and it’s creation for thinking more robustly about persons. This latter point is important for Christians especially for those who are consumed with naturalism or have been influenced by its limiting space on our perceptions. This will of course help us to interact with Scripture as it relates to and sheds light on the created order.
Historian George Marsden, author of the masterful biography of Jonathan Edwards, Jonathan Edwards: A Life (Yale University Press, 2004), introduces the volume. The foreword is followed by the editors’ introductions in which they give a brief overview of the pre-existent reference tools for the studies of Edwards. After the list of contributors, the list of Edwards’s works, and the list of entries (whose usefulness should not be underestimated), the book contains three small but useful maps aimed at situating facts and events in Edwards’s life. After these initial sections and tools, the reader can begin his study of Edwards’s life, work, and thought thanks to the almost four hundred short essays in the Encyclopedia.
The entries of the Encyclopedia have been written by a large number of scholars. Therefore, it is rather unsurprising if the reader, especially the reader knowledgeable of Edwardsean secondary bibliography, will notice in the Encyclopedia a variety of voices and interpretations. However, this is not necessarily a flaw. From a theoretical point of view, it is an almost unavoidable symptom of the genius of Jonathan Edwards and of the richness of the interpretative keys that his brilliant works have produced. From a more practical point of view, the entries are generally well balanced, thus offering the reader the basic tools for further studying Edwards by himself on each debatable or less debatable issue.
The “Further Reading” section at the end of every entry contains a brief and useful list of some of the main works in Edwardsean secondary bibliography. However, in several instances I would have expected to see additional works in the lists (though here, different focuses and interpretative approaches might influence the individual judgment). Furthermore, the “Further Reading” sections contain references to Edwardsean primary sources only on very few occasions. This might be an editorial decision—which I am sure is based on good reasons. Moreover, the Edwardsean texts relevant to each entry are typically quoted, referenced, and expounded upon in the main text of the entry itself. Nevertheless, I wonder whether the inclusion of the main primary sources in the “Further Reading” sections would have made the entries more comprehensive, especially for the beginner student of Jonathan Edwards.
On a similar note, the reader already familiar with Edwards’s works and world will perhaps wonder why one or more entries are absent. For instance, it seems that the topic of the divine image in mankind plays a significant role in Jonathan Edwards’s psychology and theological anthropology, both in the more speculative works (e.g., Freedom of the Will) and in the more practical ones (e.g., Religious Affections). To be fair, God's image in man is explored in the entry “Psychological Thought” and elsewhere, but perhaps it deserved a separate entry. Nevertheless, the editors themselves say that the volume “is not, and cannot be, comprehensive” (x). Additionally, the editors state that they “welcome hearing from readers about entries that are lacking” (x) as they are planning to produce an online edition of the Encyclopedia, a tool that will greatly benefit every student of Edwards. Edwardsean scholars should perhaps keep this project in mind.
In spite of these few considerations, the Encyclopedia is a remarkable volume. The great number of contributors and the variety of interpretations do not damage the final result, but rather they create a scholarly banquet where the reader can feast on theology, philosophy, and history. The Encyclopedia is an ambitious and successful enterprise, a very helpful resource not only for academics and non-academics specifically interested in Edwards, but for those who are interested in American religious history as well.
Originally published by Reading Religion, October 4, 2018
©
The beatific vision is a vision of God’s very own character as revealed in Christ… If it is within the eternal tabernacle, or with our eyes fixed on the heavenly groom…that we see God himself, then this must entail that we see the true or faithful character of God in Christ. Seeing God in Christ, therefore, is at the same time a vision of God’s nature or God’s essence… It is precisely inasmuch as we see Christ that we see the very character of God and so participate also in who he is, that is to say, in his being or essence. No matter how deeply we enter into the being of God—or, as the cover of this book depicts it, no matter how many icons we impose on top of each other—in the end we are still faced with the face of Christ, for in him alone do we see the essence of God. (12-13)
The book has several strengths that make its reading beneficial. However, there are also some weaknesses, and some of them raise reasonable concerns and necessary warnings.
Strengths
The book will certainly interest lovers of church history and historical theology, but it will also intrigue lovers of philosophy and systematic theology. For the latter group, in the Introduction and in Chapters 1-2, as well as in the final chapter, Boersma sets the stage of his book by offering the historical context and justification for a book of the beatific vision. In these sections, Boersma also expounds on a theological way of looking at the world that he calls “sacramental ontology,” a reformulation of Augustinian and Thomistic metaphysics that is at the basis of all his arguments (see 19-20 for a definition).
After that, lovers of church history will be glad to know that in chapters 3-12 the author offers very informative accounts of the doctrine of the beatific vision as formulated by Gregory of Nyssa, Augustine of Hippo, Thomas Aquinas, Gregory Palamas, Symeon the New Theologian, John of the Cross, Bonaventure of Bagnoregio, Nicholas of Cusa, Dante Alighieri, John Calvin, John Donne, Isaac Ambrose, John Owen, Richard Baxter, Thomas Watson, Abraham Kuyper, and Jonathan Edwards. These chapters are helpful because they provide windows on neglected aspects of the theology of well-known and lesser-known theologians. The Reformed reader will be pleasantly surprised to discover the significant length to which Calvin, Owen, Watson, Kuyper, and Edwards discuss the beatific vision. Moreover, these chapters show how these theologians connected eschatology and ethics. Godly living and Christian ethics need to be vitally informed by and grounded upon a proper eschatology.
The entire book is heartwarmingly Christological. The Bible does not tell us much about the nature and modality of our vision and fellowship with God in Christ in the age to come, but Boersma successfully keeps his proposal within the boundaries of Scripture. One of the reasons for his success is his repeated recognition that, even though we will never see God’s infinite and invisible being in itself, we will no less really see him in his incarnate Son Jesus. This is what Boersma says in relation to Matthew 5:8:
The Beatitudes (and in particular the one that holds out the vision of God to the pure in heart) have Jesus himself as their focus. Jesus does not position himself as a third party between God (the promised object) and his audience (who are told to be pure in heart); Jesus is not an outsider imposing on others an extraneous condition (purity of heart) for seeing God. Rather, in his Beatitude on the visio Dei, Jesus puts himself forward as the subject of both the first and the second part of his saying. In terms of the first part, it seems obvious that Jesus is the very definition of what it means to be “pure in heart.” We obtain purity only by participating in his purity. We participate in the life of God—in his purity—only inasmuch as we are united to Christ. The second part of Jesus’ saying makes clear that this purity of heart enables us to discern who God is in Jesus. If Jesus is the true revelation of God, then in him we see the character or being of God. Jesus’ words, then, hold out to the disciples the way to greater intimacy with himself. Both parts of this Beatitude dispel any notion of Jesus standing aloof from or in between the two parties (God and man) that he reconciles. It is in the hypostatic union of the Son of God that we come to know ourselves as well as God. Jesus does not simply pronounce this Beatitude; he is himself its subject. He is both the one in whom we are blessed (“blessed are the pure in heart”) and the contents of the promise (“they shall see God”). Again, therefore, in Jesus means and end converge: since the three persons of the Trinity are not three individuals, but are one in substance, there is no vision of the Father outside of Jesus Christ. (413)
The Christological nature of any vision of God is true, with the proper distinctions, for the saints of both Old and New Testaments:
The difference between Moses’s vision of God and the beatific vision is not that Moses saw one thing (say, created objects) whereas the blessed see another (the divine essence). When in the Old Testament God appeared in theophanies by means of creaturely objects, it is his own being or essence that was seen (though it was seen indirectly through the veil of the bodily appearance). Similarly, when in the hereafter the blessed will see God’s essence, they will see it in a theophany–that is to say, in God’s ultimate self–manifestation in Christ. To be sure, in one important respect the object is different: not every theophany is an actual incarnation. As Saint Augustine reminds us in De Trinitate: “The Word in flesh is one thing, the Word being flesh is another; which means the Word in a man is one thing, the Word being man another.” While the eternal Word (his essence) is mysteriously present in the burning bush, he does not identifies with it as he does with the flesh of Christ. The difference between the former and the latter is not just epistemological, therefore, but also ontological: only in connection with the incarnation can we say in a univocal or straightforward manner that “the Word became flesh” (John 1:14). (417-418)
Another interesting point the book argues is that a focus on the ultimate and highest end of men (the visio Dei, eternal life with God and fellowship with him in Christ) does not detract from a healthy engagement with the world and with our earthly callings. Relatedly, the author seems to show little sympathy towards Neo-Calvinism’s emphasis on “Christianizing the world” (my terms) as embraced and developed by Herman Bavinck (33-40) and Abraham Kuyper (351- 353). In fact, one of the (unintended?) results of the book is that it shows that the preoccupation with the earthly and the “culture” (espoused by Neo-Calvinists and supporters of the doctrine of common grace) was certainly not the norm in the church prior to Abraham Kuyper (a point that, although it does not demonstrate anything by itself, is certainly indicative).
Weaknesses
Many if not all the errors or flaws of this volume are symptomatic of the tradition to which Boersma belongs, that is, Anglo-Catholicism.
On one occasion, the choice of which theologians to discuss is questionable. Chapter 6 is entitled “Mystical Union and Vision: Symeon the New Theologian and John of the Cross.” The chapter belongs to Part 2, “Beatific Vision in Mediaeval Thought.” However, John of the Cross (1542-1591) was a Carmelite theologian chronologically belonging to the Early Modern period. The author, a most capable historian, knows that but does not offer any explanation for such a strange placement. More importantly, the chapter contributes little or nothing to the discussion. Still more, the speculations of John and Symeon, with their extreme subjectivism and unhinged mysticism, are often disturbing.
Boersma also seems to share some common misunderstandings about Calvinism (296, 302, 399), which is unforgivable considering both his learning and the fact that the book itself discusses several Calvinist theologians.
The book is also naively ecumenical, even to the point of claiming that the relatively secondary issue of the specific nature of the future vision of God in heaven can help contribute to “bridge the East-West divide of the church on a key point of spiritual theology” (192; see also 126, 163-165).
Both learned and less-learned readers need to be warned about these errors, and encouraged to develop any locus of systematic theology (including the eschatological doctrine of the beatific vision) within the boundaries of Scripture, which for the Reformed reader are well summarized in the Reformed standards. Ecclesia reformata semper reformanda est (the church reformed, always reforming), says the motto, but it adds secundum verbum dei (according to the word of God).
Conclusion
Keeping in mind the reservations expressed in the previous section, from the viewpoint of historical theology and constructive dogmatics the volume is certainly an impressive achievement. The book, besides being lengthy, is very scholarly and, therefore, not a popular-level book. The discerning theological student will benefit from reading the book by judiciously finding in it material and insights for thinking biblically about the doctrine of the beatific vision of God which, with few exceptions, is rarely addressed in contemporary Reformed circles.
©
 |
| John Owen (1616-1683) |
The light of grace
Wherefore God gives a superior, a supernatural light, the light of faith and grace, unto them whom he effectually calls unto the knowledge of himself by Jesus Christ. He shines into their hearts, to give them the knowledge of his glory in the face of his dear Son. Howbeit this new light does not abolish, blot out, or render useless, the other light of nature, as the sun, when it riseth, extinguisheth the light of the stars; but it directs it and rectifies it as unto its principle, object, and end. Yet is it in itself a light quite of another nature. But he who has only the former light can understand nothing of it, because he has no taste or experience of its power and operations. He may talk of it, and make inquiries about it, but he knows it not.
Now, we have received this light of faith and grace, whereby we discern spiritual things, and behold the glory of Christ in the imperfect manner before described.
The light of glory
But in heaven there shall be a superadded light of glory, which shall make the mind itself “shine as the firmament” (Dan. 12:3). I shall only say three things of it.
The progress of our nature
This is the progress of our nature unto its rest and blessedness. The principles remaining in it concerning good and evil, with its practical convictions, are not destroyed but improved by grace; as its blindness, darkness, and enmity to God are in part taken away. Being renewed by grace, what it receives here of spiritual life and light shall never be destroyed, but be perfected in glory. Grace renews nature; glory perfects grace; and so the whole soul is brought unto its rest in God. We have an image of it in the blind man whom our Saviour cured (Mark 8:22-25). He was absolutely blind, born so, no doubt. Upon the first touch, his eyes were opened, and he saw, but very obscurely; he saw men walking like trees. But on the second, he saw all things clearly. Our minds in themselves are absolutely blind. The first visitation of them by grace gives them a sight of things spiritual, heavenly, and eternal; but it is obscure and unsteady. The sight of glory makes all things clear and evident.
— John Owen, The Glory of Christ (1696), chapter 12.
[Subheadings are mine.]
David Ngien’s Luther's Theology of the Cross: Christ in Luther's Sermons on John is a thorough and enjoyable summary of and commentary on Martin Luther’s sermons on the Gospel of John. Its chapters, however, do not necessarily follow Luther’s order of exposition, and are thematically structured more than chronologically. This makes Ngien’s book an unusual introduction to Luther’s theology: it is an introduction in that virtually every pillar of Luther’s thought is discussed, and it is unusual considering that the exposition is meant to be practical and pastoral through the summary and exposition of sermons that Luther specifically intended to be so as they were offered to people in the church pews. Although the latter is, by no means, a negative characteristic, the reader who is looking for a survey of Luther’s thought should keep in mind the nature of this book.
The “Introduction” acquaints the reader with Luther’s general theological vision as presented in his sermons on John as well as with his rhetoric and terminology constituted by emphatic expressions, conceptual oppositions aimed at underlining the paradox of the cross and of the Christian life. Ngien also discusses Luther’s Heidelberg Disputation (1518), as its theses are the core of the theology that will permeate Luther’s ministry for the rest of his life. The reader is invited to keep in mind Ngien’s “Introduction” in general, and Luther’s Heidelberg Disputation in particular, as they offer key theoretical and hermeneutical concepts for understanding the German reformer. In a review such as this, it would be unnecessary to summarize every single chapter of Ngien’s book. The author’s clarity of exposition, together with the popular and practical nature of Luther’s sermons, makes such a summary quite unnecessary. Luther’s Theology of the Cross is a relatively easy read and quite accessible to the beginner, in spite of the depths of its treatments.
Nevertheless, there are a few places in the book that might be considered problematic, especially for a reader not acquainted with or not necessarily sympathetic to Luther’s theology. In particular, chapter 11 “Christological Predictions: The Usage of Communicatio Idiomatum” is representative of these problems which, although I do not claim they are irresolvable, nonetheless seem to be left unanswered in Ngien’s book.
Chapter 11 is dedicated to Luther’s treatment of the communicatio idiomatum, the doctrine of the communication of attributes between the two natures of Christ. The primary problem in this chapter is the fact that, in Christ, there are two natures (the human and the divine) in a single person. This, however, does not necessarily require the divine nature to share attributes with the human nature and vice-versa—which is Luther’s, and presumably, Ngien’s claim. This is a thesis that is not inherent to the doctrine of Christ, as expounded in the articles of the Christian ecumenical creeds and that needs to be argued for further. However, the reader looks in vain for a full argument, or interpretation of Scripture, or the ecumenical creeds, that is developed enough to support this additional claim.
Moreover, the claim in question—as expounded in chapter 11—is met with several prima facie contradictions. Ngien claims that, for Luther, “not only the man Jesus but also the Son of God was crucified, for there is one individual Person” (215). This means “suffering, proper only to the Son of man, since God cannot suffer, is now communicated to the Son of God, for there is one Son” (215). In addition to the fact that the Son as one person does not logically require any communication of attributes between the two natures, there is a problem with what Luther himself says elsewhere. In De servo Arbitrio, Luther says that God’s will is immutable because his nature and attributes are immutable and unchangeable (WA 18, 615-616 and 724-725, as translated by E.G. Rupp and P.S. Watson, Luther and Erasmus: Free Will and Salvation, Westminster, 1969, 118-119, 252).It is difficult to see how it is possible to coherently maintain that 1) the Son of God—according to his divine nature—not only suffers, but also that he begins to suffer at the incarnation; and 2) God’s nature—and, therefore, the Son of God according to his divine nature—is immutable. This issue is not addressed in Ngien’s book. This problem becomes even more evident when Ngien adds that this communication of attributes is real and concrete, and not merely ideal or verbal: “[t]he attributes of both natures are predicated of the whole person of Christ ‘in the concrete,’ so that the attributes of the one nature are shared with the other … Mortality, which is exclusively of the human nature, is now attributed to the divinity via the communication of properties in concrete” (215). The reader’s possible confusion is augmented when Ngien repeatedly claims that “Luther’s position sits comfortably with Chalcedon” (16, 84, 209, 220). However, the Creed of Chalcedon famously asserts that the two natures of Christ are without confusion and without change. It seems quite difficult to reconcile Ngien’s claim with these articles of the Creed of Chalcedon, or at least, Ngien does not offer enough material to make sense of this apparent contradiction.
Considering that an entire chapter was dedicated to this problematic point, it was perhaps necessary to address it somewhat at length. However, the critical considerations above do not necessarily lower the quality of Ngien’s achievement. His book is not intended as a developed defense of Luther’s position on the abovementioned or other issues, but rather an exposition of his theology from a pastoral perspective. In fact, Luther’s Theology of the Cross is not only helpful for the scholar, but also beneficial for the reader who wants to approach Luther for devotional purposes. From this point of view, Ngien’s volume has achieved its goals and it deserves the scholarly endorsements that accompany it.
Originally published by Reading Religion