Standard Catholic critique of process theology and open theism.
Text taken from
here. Date not given; no
reference note cite cites anything published after 2000.
Also on this site is Lee's
“Evidentialism,
Plantinga, and Faith and Reason.”
Lee
is the Director of the
Institute of Bioethics at Franciscan
University of Steubenville, where he is also Professor of Bioethics.
See
his site.
Patrick Lee
In the
last several decades process philosophers and theologians have
vigorously criticized the tradi-tional Christian beliefs that God is
immutable and completely self-sufficient. The view of process
philo-sophers and theologians is that God suffers along with his
“creatures,” that he does not create from nothing, that he depends in
several ways on his “creatures,” and that he is fulfilled or deprived by
the success or failure of the world.1 Recently, other thin-kers,
who reject the label of process philosophers or theologians, and who
prefer to be called “open theists,” have also proposed such arguments.
Process
theologians and Open theists argue that Scripture reveals that God is a
person, that He knows and loves us, that He responds to our prayers, is
pleased or displeased with us, and that he invites us to enter a
personal relationship with Him. But these points, it is objected, imply
that God changes, and that what we do affects God. So, we must concede,
contrary to classical theism (the argument con-tinues), that God changes
and is affected by our actions.
I will
argue, on the contrary, that God is indeed immutable, and that God is
not dependent, for any perfection or fulfillment in himself, on his
creatures. To hold otherwise, as the likes of Augustine, Anselm and
Aquinas have made abundantly clear, is to deny (in effect) that God is
God, to fall away from theism itself. Thus, I will argue that classical
theism has much more to say in its defense than is usually admitted by
its detractors. God is indeed personal, and knows and loves us, but we
simply cannot assume that what is true of human persons,
knowledge and love (which involve change and dependence) is true of the
divine persons and knowledge and love. To make that assumption,
as process and open theists blithely do, is to compromise God’s
transcendence.
I will
examine the following points: first, the fun-damental truth that God is
the Creator, and what that entails; second, two views on divine
impassibility; and, finally, a more detailed look at a key claim of the
second view (on divine impassibility), namely, that even after
revelation what God is in himself remains unknown, though revelation
does tell us about God through the personal relationship we are invited
to enter with him.
When we
ask, does God have emotions? the most straightforward, correct answer
is, Yes, because he became man. Jesus is both God and man, fully divine
and fully human. So, Jesus has human emotions: joys, desires, fears,
sadnesses, and so on. The Christian faith holds that Jesus is one
divine person but with two natures, human and divine.
I do not wish here to examine in detail this central dogma (since I will
concentrate on the question of whether God has emotions in his divine
nature), but briefly the following should be said. A person
is an intelligent and free subject of actions, a morally responsible
agent.5
A nature is the intrinsic source of charac-teristic actions, that
by which or with which one acts. In Christ, the one who acts is God
himself, so he is a divine person. But Christ can act by his divine
nature or by his human nature (or by both). Thus, after the
Incarnation, literally, God does suffer as we suffer, he does
have emotions as we have emotions, since it is the person who has
the emotions, even though he has these emotions by his human nature.
Traditionally it was believed that at least one main reason why God
became man was so that the God-man Jesus Christ could be a mediator.
God’s transcendence, that is, the infinite difference between his
perfection and ours, did, from our angle, make approaching him
difficult, certainly somewhat frightening. God became man, however, and
we hu-mans can now be personally united to God, brought within the divine
family (the Trinity), in Jesus Christ. So, if one complains that
the classical theist’s God seems too different from us, and therefore
difficult to approach, I believe it is fair to answer that God in his
divine nature is difficult to approach, and it is partly for that
reason that God became man.6
Hereafter, when I discuss whether God does this or does that, I will
mean God in his divine nature without, usually, specifically
indicating that restric-tion. If by “emotion” one means a sensate
(psycho-somatic) reaction to good or evil, then, as most agree, God does
not literally have emotions, since he does not have a body. But the
question remains: is God affected in some way by our actions? Does he
literally suffer when we suffer or do wrong? Does he really become
angry, repent of his actions, or rejoice at the repentance of a sinner?
Does he literally feel joy over the way things are in himself, and in
his creation?
The
classical view, as articulated for example by Saints Augustine, Anselm
and Thomas Aquinas, said that God is immutable, impassible, and
non-temporal. In other words, since God is perfect, he does not
change. Since he is perfect, he does not undergo change from any other
being (he is impassible). And since he does not change, there is in him
no distinction between past, present and future. On the classical view,
to be sure, God does delight in his goodness and loves his
creatures, but this cannot be interpreted as meaning that God is changed
by, or different because of, his creatures.7
God the Creator of Heaven and Earth
Scripture and the teaching of the Church reveal that God loves us and
that he invites us to enter a personal relationship with him. This is
indeed central to God’s revelation. But the very first part of that
communication is an identification: it is God who speaks to us,
who invites us to enter a personal relationship with him. What is meant
by “God”? Prior to informing us that he invites us to a covenant with
him, God must somehow indicate who it is that is speaking. And it is
just here that we find a tradition in Scripture as equally central as
the theme of God’s love or patience, namely, God’s transcendence. The
one who speaks to us is not to be confused with “other gods,” but is the
Creator, and the Almighty.
The
very first words of Genesis make this identi-fication: “In the beginning
God created heaven and earth.” Moreover, God is so transcendent that no
image should be made of him (Exod. 20:4). Ordi-narily, mere humans
cannot behold God directly and live (Exod. 33:20). He is the exalted
One, who dwells in the high and lofty places (Isa. 57:15; 33:5).8
Fur-thermore, this doctrine—that God is Creator, and transcendent, that
is, beyond what in this life we can understand—is reaffirmed in the New
Testament. For example, writing to Timothy St. Paul says:
In the
sight of God, who gives life to everything, and of Christ Jesus, who
while testifying before Pontius Pilate made the good confession, I
charge you to keep this command without spot or blame until the
appearing of Our Lord Jesus Christ, which God will bring about in his
own time—God, the blessed and only Ruler, the King of kings and Lord or
lords, who alone is immortal and who lives in unapproachable light, whom
no one has seen or can see. To him be honor and might forever. Amen.
(1 Tim. 6: 13-16)9
To say
that God is the Creator is to refer to him as the ultimate explanation
for the existence of the contingent beings in the material universe.
The things in this world do not exist by reason of what they are, but
are caused to exist by others. Those causes may, in turn, be caused by
still others. But such a causal series cannot go on indefinitely.
There must be a cause of the existence of these contingent things which
does not receive its existence, but which exists by reason of what it
is. That is, there must be a self-sufficient being, something which can
explain the existence of the things in this world because it has
existence of its own nature.
We find
in ourselves various natural inclinations, basic tendencies toward
activities or conditions such as life, health, knowledge, friendship,
artistic or skill-ful performance. These natural inclinations are to-ward
activities or conditions which are objectively fulfilling or perfective
of us as human persons. These inclinations or tendencies must be from
the creator. But they are inclinations directing us toward our real
fulfillment. It is reasonable, then, to conclude that the creator is in
some way intelligent (as directing) and benevolent (as responsible for
directives toward our good).
Moreover, every aspect of the material universe, including its matter
and energy, is contingent, and thus needs causation. Hence the
uncaused cause of the existence of the material universe is the
Creator.10
So,
whatever else is said about God must be consistent with the fundamental
truth that he is the Creator and all that that legitimately implies. We
may now ask, can one consistently hold that the Creator changes, or that
he is modified by creatures?
The
proposition that God is the Creator implies at least three other
points: 1) God creates freely; 2) God possesses his complete perfection
within himself, 3) God is immutable and is not in time (that is, his
existence is not measured by time). All three points are denied by
process theism, but the last one is also denied by others, for example,
“open theists.” In the rest of this section I will explain these
points. In subsequent sections I will present two other viae mediae,
which do not deny that God is immutable.
The
basic Judeo-Christian belief that God is Creator implies that God did
not have to create; it was only out of generosity that God created.
This point is taught by Scripture and the Church. It is taught so
frequently in Scripture, especially in the Psalms, which often figure in
the liturgy of God’s people, that it is impossible to cite all the
places which teach or imply it. The creation story of Genesis, while
describing God’s work of creation in a figurative rather than a literal
sense, does clearly teach that God created out of generosity rather than
need. Psalm 135 says that God wills events in heaven and earth:
Praise
the name of the Lord;
Praise
him you servants of the Lord,
you who
minister in the house of the Lord, . . .
I know
that the Lord is great,
that
our Lord is greater than all gods.
The
Lord does whatever pleases him,
in the
heavens and on the earth,
in the
seas and all their depths. (Ps. 135: 1-6)
The
book of Wisdom teaches:
Indeed, before you the whole universe is as a grain from a balance, or
a drop of morning dew come down upon earth. But you have mercy on all,
because you can do all things . . . . For you love all things that are
and loathe nothing that you have made; for what you hated, you would not
have fashioned. And how could a thing remain, unless you willed it; or
be preserved, had it not been called forth by you.11
(Wis. 11: 22-26)
The
book of Revelation teaches that God creates by his will: “You are
worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you
created all things, and by your will they were created and have their
being.” (Rev. 4:11).12
As a
Catholic, I believe that Scripture should be read in the context of the
tradition of the Church, which is articulated by the Church’s
authoritative teachings. In the First Vatican Council, the Church
defined that God created all things, “by his will, free from all
necessity.”13
And the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches: “We believe
that God created the world according to his wisdom (note omitted). It
is not the product of necessity whatever, nor of blind fate or chance.
We believe that it proceeds from God’s free will . . . .14
That
God creates freely rather than necessarily is implied also by the
contingency of the things in this world. Each thing in this world might
or might not be. But if God had to create, this would not be so,
that is, these things would not be contingent.15
Moreover, since the Creator may or may not cause these entities to be,
and may cause these or those to be, it is reasonable to conclude that
the Creator causes them freely, somewhat as a free agent selects
among possible courses of action which course of action to adopt.16
The
belief that God is Creator implies, secondly, that God is perfect in
himself. That is, God must have his complete perfection within
himself. If God’s perfection depended on others, then God would have to
create at least something as a means toward his own fulfillment. In
that case, again, the things in this world would not be contingent.
Moreover, every perfection and being in the uni-verse is but a faint echo
of the perfection in God. Whatever perfection is in the effect must
pre-exist in the cause, though it may exist in the cause in a higher
manner. This is because the cause explains the effect. If all
of the perfection in the effect did not pre-exist in the cause (though
perhaps in a higher manner), then the perfection in the effect which did
not pre-exist in the cause would remain unex-plained.17
Since all being and perfection in the uni-verse finds its source in the
Creator, the perfection and goodness in the universe is related to God
somewhat as the rays of light are related to the un-imaginable brightness
of the sun.18
So, God has his perfection within himself, and it is greater than the
perfection of the created universe, which is but a reflection of it.
That God is Creator entails a third truth also: God does
not change and is not in time (these are two aspects of one point).
That which changes has its existence spread out over time, broken up, as
it were. What is temporal must be composed of parts; part of it is now
and part of it is not yet. But since God is perfect, and self-existent,
this cannot be true of God.
Some
have argued that God’s perfection entails his immutability, since to
change would be to move away from perfection. My argument, however,
does not presuppose that every change must be either for the better or
for the worse. Rather, my argument is that temporality involves a
continuous flow, a continuous transition from the present to the past,
and so a temporal being cannot exist wholly in any moment. What I am
saying applies analogously both to spatial beings (bodies) and to things
in time. No body in space, however small, can exist wholly at any one
point (an unextended location) in space; for, if it could, the
additions of those bodies could never add up to an extended space. But
several bodies in space must constitute an extended (increasingly
larger) space. Analogously, no temporal being can exist wholly at any
one moment, for then the addition of new moments could not be added to
equal an ex-tended time.19
So, every entity in time, every tem-poral being, must be spread out over
time, and thus, must be composed of parts. But if a thing is composed
of parts, then it cannot be actual of itself. It will depend on its
parts; and its parts, as being mere parts rather than wholes, will not
be self-actual either (but dependent on something else). Thus, it seems
to me that the traditional position that the temporal entails dependence
in being—and thus cannot be predicated of God—is correct. Temporality
must be denied of God.
Moreover, the Church, in her creeds as well as in definitions by Church
councils, has taught definitively that God is eternal and immutable.
These are pro-minent articles of the creeds. For example, the Fourth
Lateran Council.20
proclaims:
We
firmly believe and confess without reservation that there is only one
true God, eternal, infinite (immensus) and unchangeable, incomprehensible, al-mighty, and ineffable, the Father and the Son and
the Holy Spirit; three per-sons indeed but one essence, substance or
nature entirely simple.21
It is
important to realize, however, that to say that God is the Creator does
not describe God’s essence. Rather, it refers to him, and says
something about him, through the relationships that other things have to
him (more on this, below pp. 15-25).
This
negation of change and temporality, however, does not mean that God is
in no way responsive. There is no contradiction in holding that a
timeless God responds to our prayers. Suppose Joe prays for his wife to
be healed and God heals her in answer to Joe’s prayer. One need not
suppose God has changed his mind. Rather, one can suppose that God
eternally wills that if Joe prays then his wife is cured. Joe’s prayer
brings it about that the world is different from what it would have been
if he had not prayed, though God does not change.22
A First View on Divine Impassibility
So,
where does this leave us with respect to whether God has emotions?
Granted that God is not in time and that God has his perfection within
himself—in other words is not perfected or fulfilled by others—there
are, I think, two directions one could move in. I believe the second
direction or view is probably correct, but I must say that the first
view is also preferable to process theism and to the whole position
proposed by others, such as “open theists,” who deny that God is
immutable.
According to the first view, God does not change and God is not
perfected or fulfilled by others, since they receive all of their
perfection from him. Still, according to the first view, God is
different in his being, in certain respects, from the way he could have
been.23
God freely and eternally wills that these creatures exist rather than
those possible ones, though he also wills that they exist at par-ticular
times.24
He could have willed that other beings exist rather than the ones that
he freely chooses to create. And, according to the first view, God’s
willing that these beings exist versus God’s willing that those beings
exist, is a real difference in God. God’s will would be in some way
different had he willed a different world to exist.
The
same point, according to the first view, ap-plies to God’s knowledge.
God moves me to do a good deed. But suppose that, given that I have
free choice,25
I resist this movement, or I fall away from God’s movement of me to do
the good deed (call it Y) and that I do a bad deed (say, X) instead.26
How does God know that I do the one deed rather than the other?
According to the first view, the content of his knowledge is in some way
different than it would have been if I had done the other deed.
Suppose
I freely do or will X rather than Y. To say that this choice is free is
to say that in the very same circumstances it was possible for me to
will Y or per-haps not to will at all. According to the first view, my
willing X rather than Y somehow brings it about that the content of
God’s knowledge is in some way different from what it would have been if
I had willed Y. However, it is important to note that my willing X
rather than Y does not introduce into God some per-fection he does not in
some way already super-abun-dantly possess. After all, I will X or Y
only because these possibilities are already there for me because of
God’s inclining me toward fulfillment. It is also important to note
that the badness of the bad choice is not a positive something, but the
privation or fal-ling away from what is proper and right.27
So God’s knowledge is different from what it would have been, had I
chosen differently, but my action does not perfect or fulfill God.
According to this first view, one can literally say that God does have
emotions, in the sense of spiritual affections. One can literally say
that God is pleased with what I do, or is displeased with it. He
delights in it or is angry about it. He eternally de-lights in or is
eternally displeased at this deed, just as he is eternally pleased or
displeased by what I did yesterday or will do tomorrow. Since God is
not in time (is not temporal), what is past or future with respect to us
is not past or future with respect to God, but is in some way “present.”28
So, although God is not in time, his will and knowledge are in some way
different from the way they would have been if I had acted differently.
And so God has spiritual responses, or emotions.
But
there are difficulties for this proposal. One difficulty is that it
seems to involve thinking of God as composite. God is the uncaused
cause and a neces-sary being. If one then says that in some respects
God is caused, that some aspects of God are con-tingent (for example, in
some way his willing and knowing creatures is in some way dependent on
creatures), then it seems that one must distinguish the uncaused part of
God from the caused part of God, since nothing, not even God, can be
both uncaused and caused in the same respect.29
But it does not seem possible for any composite being to exist
necessarily. The whole will depend upon the parts, but the parts could
not be necessary beings--as parts, they must depend on their place
within the whole. And so, just of itself, the composite being might or
might not be.30
As we saw above, the Creator cannot be a contingent being.
There
also is theological warrant for the position that God is not composite,
but simple. The creed of the Fourth Lateran Council, as we already
quoted a-bove, taught that God is three persons, but “one, ut-terly simple
essence, substance or nature” (sed una essentia, substantia seu
natura simplex omnino).31
Speaking of the three persons in God, the Council of Florence taught:
“These three persons are one God, not three gods; for the three persons
have one substance, one essence, one nature, one divinity, one
immensity, one eternity. And everything is one where there is no
distinction by opposition of relation.”32
And the First Vatican Council proclaimed that God is “one single,
utterly simple and immutable spiritual substance.”33
Perhaps there is some way of interpreting this simplicity to be a
special sort of simplicity. However, the Councils seem precisely to
deny a substance-accident composition, like that in human persons, when
they deny composition of God. And it is just that sort of composition
that the first view seems to suggest.
A Second View on Divine Impassibility
The
first view seems to presuppose that when we say that God knows or wills,
at least part of the meaning of the terms “knowing” and “willing” is the
same as when we say that George or Mary knows or wills. But this,
according to the second view, is to overreach the limits of our
understanding and, what is more, to compromise God’s transcendence. It
wrongly supposes that we have apprehended some aspect of what God is in
himself.
One can
compare the existence of things in this world to the wetness of a patch
of grass. The grass is wet, but not by reason of what it is, and so
there must be an extrinsic explanation, a cause, for why it is wet. By
contrast, one does not need an explanation of why grass is a plant,
since that is what it is. Similarly, the existence of the things in
this world requires explanation. The things in this world do not exist
by reason of what they are, and so they need a cause of their
existence. But the Creator of all things is quite different. To say
that God is the Creator is to say that he is the uncaused cause of
everything else, the ultimate explanation for the existence of the
contingent beings in this world. So, unlike contingent beings, whatever
God is in himself, he exists by reason of what he is. His existence
must be related to him somewhat as being a plant is related to grass,
that is, as self-explanatory. What-God-is is sufficient for his
existing. And thus God exists necessarily.
Because
contingent beings (i.e., the things in this world) do not exist simply
by reason of what they are, it is possible for us to understand what any
of them is without knowing whether it exists or not. Understanding what
a contingent being is does not (by itself) tell us that it exists. For
example, under-standing what a human is or what a dinosaur is does not by
itself tell us that there are any humans or dinosaurs. But the Creator
exists by reason of what he is; what he is is sufficient for his
existing. Hence if we could understand what the Creator is, that
understanding would just by itself tell us that he exists. (This is
similar to grass’s being a plant: since being a plant is what grass is,
understanding what grass is just by itself tells us that it is a
plant.)
Now,
every essence or feature that we do understand is such that our
understanding of it does not tell us by itself that something of
that sort exists. That is, everything we understand is, if it
exists, contingently existing, and we can understand it without thereby
knowing that something of that sort exists. But whatever God is, God
exists necessarily; hence if we knew what God is we would know thereby
that God exists. It follows that any essence, quality or action that we
truly understand or apprehend is not an intrinsic feature of
God’s essence.34
So,
whatever we understand—which includes change, bodiliness, but also
spiritual (non-physical) actions such as knowing and loving—must be
denied of God. That is, God does not change. God is not bodily. But
also, God does not know in the sense of “know” that is true of us. He
does not love in the same sense of loving that we understand. (This
also means that God is not inert, is not ignorant, is not indifferent,
and is not callous. God is not subpersonal. Rather, God is
more than, or higher than, what we can understand.)
With
creatures, we often understand something intrinsic to a thing’s nature
even if we have not directly seen an individual of that kind. For
example, if we have not seen a polar bear, we still might understand
something of what a polar bear is in itself. The polar bear shares the
same nature (to a certain extent) with horses and dogs: each is a
mammal, each is of the class of mammals. So, directly understanding
what a mammal is through observation of horses or dogs allows us to
apprehend an aspect of the intrinsic nature of the unobserved polar bear
(his being a mammal). However, God does not have the same nature or
feature as any creature, since all the natures and features of a
creature are such that they might or might not be, while what-God-is
exists necessarily.
This
means that one cannot know what God is through understanding some other
thing of the same essence, the same specifically or generically. One
cannot understand what God is as one might under-stand what a polar bear
is—by first understanding what persons are, for example, then inferring
that God must have some of the same properties.35
Since
creatures are effects of God they are like God in some respect. But
their likeness to God as creatures cannot consist in possessing the same
nature or in being of the same genus. Thus, according to the second
view, even our concepts that properly apply to ourselves,
understanding, willing and love, cannot be directly
applied to God in the sense that they apply to ourselves. Since our
concepts of features found in ourselves present to our minds realities
or natures that do not entail their existing, these realities or natures
cannot be aspects of God’s necessarily existing essence.36
Thus, to say that God understands or that God wills or loves, should not
be taken to mean that what is presented to our mind by those concepts
are intrinsic aspects of God. Rather, such statements should be
understood as being indirect or analogical: God understands,
should be understood somewhat as: creatures are related to God in a way
that is in some respects similar to the way what is understood is
related to one who understands, and God is in himself what it takes to
be the term of that relation. God wills creatures to be =
contingent beings are related to God in a way that is in some respects
similar to the way objects willed are related to a free agent, and God
has in himself what is necessary to be the term of that relation.
But one
might object that perhaps God could be uncaused and necessary in his
existence but con-tingent in other aspects of his being. Then perhaps we
might have concepts of features internal to his essence that do not
entail existence.37
In other words, granted that if we understood fully what God is
we would thereby know that he exists, still, we can understand certain
aspects of his being without knowing thereby his existence.
The
difficulty with this position is that it seems to involve a
compositeness in God. If God is not com-posed—and the arguments for
this seem strong—then one cannot apprehend a contingent aspect of God,
while abstracting from the necessary aspect. The objection would
succeed only if God’s being could be divided into a substantial,
necessary core, versus a contingent, accidental core. But we have
already seen difficulties in that view (see above, pp. 14-15).
How
then is it possible to know and speak about God at all? The answer
according to the second view is, through the relationships that other
things have to him.38
An analogy will clarify this position. In the late 1960’s astronomers
began to detect the reception of regular radio waves from outside our
galaxy. The waves came with such regularity that some astronomers even
suggested that perhaps their source was an extra-galactic intelligence.
Some time later it was correctly inferred that the source was actually
neutron stars, whose rapid spinning caused the radio waves. Before
this, however, astronomers coined the term "pulsar" to refer to the
source of these radio waves. For some time, then, astronomers referred
to pulsars, could speak about them, and theorize about them, but did not
know what they were in themselves. They referred to them only through
the relations which other things had toward them.
This
case is similar (in some respects) to our knowledge and language about
God. We do not grasp what God is in himself; we do not know what God
is. Still, we can refer to him through the relationship which creatures
have to him. He is the ultimate source of the existence, perfection,
and moral order in the universe. He is the Creator of heaven and
earth. This causal relation, the relation of creation, enables us to
know and speak about him. He is the entity at the term of this
relation. However, this causal relation does not enable us to apprehend
what he is in himself. On the basis of this relation we can affirm the
existence of the Creator, and can know that the Creator is perfect (as
the source of all perfections in this universe), is not bodily, is not
limited by time or space, and is a personal being, creating the world
with something like freedom and intelligence.39
All of this we can know even through natural reason, before or without
logical dependence upon, the aid of special revelation (e.g.,
Scripture).
However, there is an important sense in which our relationship to
pulsars is unlike our causal dependence on the Creator. The
pulsars are quite distant from us, outside our galaxy. That is, they
are separated from us by quantities of space and time. God, however, is
immediately present to every creature. God causes every creature
directly, and is causally present in every effect.40
God is also present in another and deeper manner to persons who abide in
his friendship. He is present in them as the lover is to the beloved,
as a friend to another friend. That is, God is present to them because
he is in personal communion with them. However, although God is not
separated from us by space or time, if by “distant” one means,
greater than, or other than, or beyond what we can
understand, then in that sense one can truthfully say that God is
“distant.” Thus, with picturesque language of distance Isaiah can say
of God, “He sits enthroned above the vault of the earth, and its
inhabitants are like grasshoppers.” (Isa. 40:22) and the letter to the
Hebrews can say that Christ, “took his seat at the right hand of the
Majesty on high, . . . .” (Heb. 1:3).
Scripture emphasizes that God is beyond what we can understand. He is
like no other god. He so transcends our understanding that no images
should be made of him (Exod. 20:4).41
And this, of course, has been taken up in the tradition in the Church.
One formulation of the Church’s faith recites as follows:
We
firmly believe and confess without reservation that there is only one
true God, eternal, infinite (immensus), and unchangeable,
incomprehensible, almighty and ineffable, the Father, and the Son, and
the Holy Spirit . . . .42
God’s
being or nature is incomprehensible and ineffable. To think that we
understand what God is in himself is to compromise his transcendence, to
carve him down to something much less than he is.
The
relation of creation allows us to speak about God through natural reason
(that is, without the aid of special revelation).43
But with grace and revelation God initiates a new relation to created
persons. With grace and revelation God is known not only as the first
cause of all things, and as the source of moral directives, but now as
the initiator of the covenantal relationship, a personal communion. What
God is, is still not apprehended. But now God is known on a new level,
on the basis of a deeper relationship.
In this
way, according to the second view, it is possible to understand
something about God and speak about God, without understanding what God
is, that is, without apprehending any perfection intrinsic to God’s
essence. All of our understanding and language about God are through
the relationships creatures have to him, the causal relationship (which
all creatures have), the relationship of moral directives to their
source, and the personal rela-tionship (shared by persons who have not
rejected his offer of grace).
It is
important also to note that, according to the second view, even these
causal relationships are not understood as they are in themselves. That
is, God’s causality, as well as God himself, is known only through
analogy. To say that God is the first cause is to say something like
this: the way the warmth of the sidewalk is related to the sun (namely,
as explained by it), is similar to the way the existences of the things
in this world are related to God. To say that God is present by grace
in a person is to say something like this: the way the bridegroom is
present to the bride is similar to the way God is present to the person
in grace.
Scripture and the teaching of the Church reveal that God loves us, that
he invites us to enter into personal communion with him, that he is
three persons in one being, that the second person became man and died
for our sins. However, according to the second view of divine
impassibility--the view I think more likely correct—even revelation
does not enable us in this life to know what God is in himself.
Revelation tells us about God through this new per-sonal relationship.
That is, the personal relationship, which involves much more than a mere
causal relationship, remains the vehicle by which we know about God.
But
what, for example, does Scripture and the teaching of the Church mean
when they say that God is personal, and that God loves us? According
the second view, Scripture reveals to us who God is primarily by shaping
our covenantal relationship to God. How we are to relate to God, what
this relationship involves, is not summed up entirely in any one
statement. Moreover, the statements about this relationship modify each
other. So, one must read Scripture as a whole, and, in the context of
the tradition and life of the Church, understand the covenantal
relationship God is setting up with us. And then, through that
relationship, one understands much more about God than one could by
natural reasoning unaided by revelation. We still do not un-derstand
God’s intrinsic essence. But we understand that God has in himself what
is necessary for this relationship to him to be possible and
appropriate.
Scripture reveals that we should fear God (that is, respect him), that
we should trust Him, that we should ask things of Him. Scripture
teaches that we should relate to God as to a king, as to a Lord. Most
significantly, Scripture reveals that we should relate to God as to a
father. To say that God is Father clearly does not mean that the
nature (a relation) which we apprehend in human beings is found also,
though in a higher degree, in God. Rather, in his being God has what is
necessary for this personal relationship in us toward him, to be a
fitting one. Scripture is not telling us that God is not really our
Father, but to act as if God were. Rather, God is bringing us
into a relationship such that we fittingly call God Father. And God
really is in his own being fittingly related to as to a father. But to
try to abstract some aspect of fatherhood common to biological fathers
and God is to miss the point and to evacuate the meaning that father
really has, as said of God.
In one
way, thinking that the language about God in Scripture is a
straightforward description of God’s essence overestimates our cognitive
grasp of God. But, paradoxically, it also underestimates the depth of
what Scripture and the teaching of the Church reveal about God’s
personal being. If we want to learn about who God is, then we need to
enter that rich, multi-faceted, covenantal relationship. In that
relationship we come to understand what God must be like. As the
relationship develops, our indirect understanding of God becomes
richer.
Consider the central affirmation that God is love (1 Jn. 4:8). First,
the form itself of the expression indicates that the way in which love
is in God transcends our understanding. For the love we understand is
never identical with the persons who love. The love we understand is an
act that inheres in the person who loves. To say that God is
love, rather than just that God does love, clearly suggests, in support
of the second view, that God’s actions are identical with his substance
and being.44
According to the second view, we do not apprehend a nature of love
common to God and creatures, abstract from finitude, and then predicate
this notion of God. This would assume that we directly grasp a feature
intrinsic to God’s essence. Rather, to say that God is love is to say
that we are being treated by God as a beloved is treated by his true and
faithful lover, and that God is in himself what is necessary for this
relationship to be real. The love that we can understand is only a
faint echo of the divine love.
Scripture contains many descriptions of God which are clearly intended
as metaphors. For example, God is a rock, a shepherd, a husband, one
who repents of his actions, shows the strength of his arm, and so on.
Should we think of God (in his divine nature) as really changing, as
really feeling regret, as really having an arm? There clearly needs to
be a criterion, or criteria, for determining how literally to take these
comparisons. I suggest that the fundamental truths that God is Creator
and that God transcends our understanding, which are basic and central
truths affirmed in Scripture, do provide, in part, the needed criteria.
The Mystery of God
Arguments against classical theism sometimes assume that to deny one
property of God, say suf-fering or grief in our senses of these terms,
commits one to affirming the contrary of that property. For example, to
deny that God suffers or grieves (in the normal senses of those terms)
is taken to mean that God is aloof and indifferent. Thus, Clark Pinnock
describes the disagreement between classical and open theism as follows:
Two
models of God in particular are the most influential that people
commonly carry around in their minds. We may think of God primarily as
an aloof mo-narch, removed from the contingencies of the world,
unchangeable in every aspect of being, as all-determining and
irresistible power, aware of everything that will ever happen and never
taking risks. Or we may understand God as a caring parent with
qualities of love and responsiveness, generosity and sensiti-vity,
openness and vulnerability, a per-son (rather than a metaphysical
princi-ple) who experiences the world, res-ponds to what happens, relates
to us and interacts dynamically with hu-mans.45
Pinnock’s argument here, however, is based on an incomplete
disjunction. He mistakenly assumes that one or other of those
descriptions must apply to God. He assumes that to deny one property is
to affirm the contrary. Later in the chapter Pinnock returns to this
contrast: “God is not cool and collected but is deeply involved and can
be wounded.”46
It must
be admitted that classical theists them-selves are partly responsible for
this confusion. For they have not sufficiently emphasized, or have not
consistently held to, the point that we do not know what God is in
himself. And perhaps their doctrine has at times seemed to imply that
God is aloof and indifferent. However, to deny one property of God is
not the same as to affirm the contrary of that property. According to
the second view, which I hold is probably correct, we should deny that
God (in his divine nature) suffers, because we understand what suffering
is, and whatever we can apprehend about other things cannot be a feature
intrinsic to God’s essence. God is greater than what we can
understand. But we must also deny, with equal insistence, that God is
indifferent or callous, for these also are properties we understand, and
are contingently existing. Similarly, to say that God is immutable is
not the same as to say that God is static. To say that God is
impassible is not to say that God is indifferent. Rather, in each case
both contrary properties should be denied of the Creator.
One
should not, then, think of God as inert, or unresponsive. To do
so is to make the very mistake which the negation was meant to exclude,
namely, to compromise God’s transcendence. God is greater than what we
can understand, so we must deny of him those attributes which imply
imperfection. But that means that in doing so we must not impute to him
even worse imperfections.
Even if
this mistake is not made (inferring a con-trary affirmation from a
negation), critics of classical theism almost always assume that we must
have some concept of what God is like in himself. For example, the
process theologian Schubert Ogden argued as follows:
Because
it [classical theism] rests on the premise that God can be in no sense
really relative or temporal, it can say that he ‘knows’ or ‘loves’ only
by contradicting the meaning of those words as we otherwise use them.47
Richard
Rice argues that the biblical view of God entails that God does change,
is affected by our actions, and suffers when we suffer. Summing up, he
says:
So the
statement God is love embodies an essential biblical truth. It
indicates that love is central, not incidental, to the nature of God.
Love is not something God happens to do, it is the one divine activity
that most fully and vividly discloses God’s inner reality. Love,
therefore, is the very essence of the divine nature. Love is what it
means to be God.48
God
certainly knows and loves. God certainly is love, but, according
to the second view, we do not apprehend any nature of knowledge or love
held in common by us and God, and so we cannot infer from the
characteristics of human knowledge or love to divine knowledge or love.
Both Rice and Ogden assume that many of the descriptions in the
Bible--not all, for they admit that many are meant
metaphorically--present to our mind features or aspects intrinsic to
God’s essence.
As
another example, Thomas Morris actually criticizes what he calls
“creation theology” for the fact that it cannot give us a clear idea of
what God is:
As a
way of thinking about God, creation theology has much to recommend it. .
. . But as a sole, independent method for articulating a conception of
God, crea-tion theology looks frustratingly incom-plete. The idea of God
arising exclu-sively out of this sort of explanatory reasoning inevitably
has a rather mini-mal content which is both religiously and
philosophically unsatisfying.49
But
Morris assumes that for some reason we really must have, or are due, an
idea of what God is, an idea of God that is not “frustratingly
incomplete.” Of course, revelation adds tremendously to our knowledge
of God, as I explained above, but even with revelation, in this life our
notion of God is in-direct and must remain incomplete.
Process
philosophers and theologians have cor-rectly argued, I think, that
classical theists have sometimes implied that God is indifferent or
callous to our triumphs and sufferings. On the other hand, process
theism overemphasized God’s immanence to such an extent that what
process theists call “God” could not be identified with the one “creator
of all that is visible and invisible” in whom Christians pro-fess their
belief. But the solution is not to com-promise God’s transcendence a
little less, in order to find a via media. Rather, the solution
is to see that both extremes—viewing God as indifferent, or viewing God
as changing or suffering (in his divine nature)—result from a single
mistake, namely, presuming that we really must have a notion of what God
is in himself. Once this presumption is consis-tently given up,
then we can see that denying that God changes, or that God is modified
or altered by us, in no way implies that God is indifferent, cool, or
callous.
Denying
that God changes and that God is inter-nally modified by our actions is
not a result of undue influence on the part of Greek philosophy. Nor is
it a purely philosophical conclusion imposed on the data of revelation.
In an essay defending an “open theist” conception of God, William Hasker
refers to “an a priori exegesis that knows in advance exactly what can
and cannot be truly said of God.”50
Clark Pinnock says of traditional theology, which insisted on God’s
immutability and impassibility, the following:
Traditional theology has been biased in the direction of transcendence
as the result of undue philosophical influen-ces. Greek thinking located
the ultimate and perfect in the realm of the immu-table and absolutely
transcendent. This led early theologians (given that the biblical idea
is also transcendent) to experiment with equating the God of revelation
with the Greek ideal of deity.51
However, what led Jewish, Christian and Islamic thinkers to conclude
that God is immutable and independent was the doctrine of creation, the
doctrine that God is the source of the total being or existence of the
things in this world. This doctrine was not found in ancient Greek
metaphysics.52
When Jewish, Christian and Islamic philosophers and theologians began to
seek an adequate explanation of the existence of things, rather than
simply of their motion (as in Aristotle) or of their structure and
design (as in Plato) they began to develop a distinctive outlook on the
relationship between God and the world. My job is not to recount that
history here. But it is important to note that the truth at stake does
not originate in ancient Greek metaphysics, but is a fundamental truth
of Scripture and the creeds, that God is the creator of heaven and
earth, of all things visible and invisible.
So,
does God have emotions or spiritual affections or not? I have presented
two views that I think have some plausibility. On both views the
doctrines that God does not change and that God is not perfected by
creatures are retained. According to the first view, God really is
affected by what we do and suffer, although he is not changed and he is
not perfected by his relations with creatures. He is in his being
different from what he would have been had we acted or suffered
differently—for his knowledge and will are different from what they
would have been had we acted differently—though he does not change and
is not perfected by the actions of creatures. On this first view there
are emotions in God, though of a very different sort than what we
normally conceive.
However, the second view seems to me more probably correct. According
to the second view, one does not simply deny that there might be in God
(in his divine nature) something like emotion. If the question, are
there emotions in God, means: Do our concepts of various emotions
present to our minds aspects of what God is? then (according to the
second view) the answer is, No. But we should remember that this is
equally true of other concepts, such as our concepts of knowledge and
willing. On the other hand, if one means (when one asks whether God has
emotions), can one truly and literally, not just in an improper or
metaphorical sense, say that God is pleased with us or is angry with us?
the answer is, Yes, in the relational sense explained above. That is,
it is true to say that we are related to God as one who pleases is
related to the one who is pleased, and that God has what is necessary to
be related to in this way. We are related to God as one who elicits
anger is related to the one who is angry, and God is in his own being
what is necessary to be the term of this relation. Each of these
predications indirectly tells us something about God. When we learn
through Scripture, through the teaching and liturgy of the Church, and
through our own meditation and prayer, how God is calling us to relate
to him, then we learn ever more about the transcendent being to whom it
is possible and appropriate to relate to in this way.
Notes
For example, Charles Hartshorne,
Divine Relativity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1948); Jorgen
Moltmann, The Crucified God (London: SCM, 1991). Some
theologians have argued for a via media between classical theism
and process theism. They say that God is really spiritually affected or
changed by his creation, and so does literally have emotions, and yet
God is not radically dependent on creatures, and is indeed
sovereign. Cf. Clark Pinnock et al., The Openness of God: A
Biblical Challenge to the Traditional Understanding of God (Downers
Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1994).
Posted July 7, 2010